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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

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Love On-Set (Pt. 07 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 3 K

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Kisses

The only reason why you didn't talk to Dacre at the airport was because you thought you'd have a couple of hours before shooting. But you were wrong. The flight was terribly late, and you had no choice but to go straight to set, and as soon as you got there, you and Dacre were pulled apart so you could get ready.

Already in your outfit, you stare at the mirror as your hairstylist gives the final touches, mumbling in response to whatever she's talking about. Your leg is bouncing nervously, as you regret not having called Dacre yesterday night. Or driven to his house. Anything really. Maybe it would a lot easier if you two had some time, but life has a way of complicating things.

“And you're ready,” Laura says and you manage to smile and thank her. “Now go before James comes yelling at us again.”

“Alright.” Mumbling under your breath, you stand up and leave the dressing room only to be rushed into the parking lot. Dacre is already there, talking to James. The wind makes you shiver and you brace yourself... Well, you think it's the wind that makes you shiver, what else could it be?

“...despite the delay, we'll get everything done in time so–” James swallows the words when he sees you. “(Y/N), great. Hope you made a safe trip here. I was just talking to Dacre about the upcoming scenes you two will shoot. There's just so much chemistry that I had to add more kisses.” Oh... You should've read the new script. “But I'm sure it won't be a problem since you two seem to be getting along very well.”

“Yeah, of course...” The first thing you'll do when you get to your hotel room is read every single line of this scrip. It'll be better if you're mentally prepared for what's to come.

But you're not prepared for this.

“Alright, everybody into position.” The director announces before walking away, leaving you and Dacre alone. Well, not exactly since you can't ignore the camera guys, the microphones... All the rest.

“Sorry, we couldn't talk before... This.” Dacre apologizes, but you shake your head slightly.

“But we will.” Nodding more to yourself than to him, you hope nobody is listening to this conversation. “Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, guys, c'mon,” James says and Dacre walks away as you take a deep breath. Thinking over the lines, you let yourself fall into character, remembering the backstory that leads to this moment. “Everybody set? Ok... Action!”

Turning around, you look at Dacre as he crosses the parking lot. “I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” You yell, walking to end the distance between the two of you. “There's a freaking Demidog in the pool!”

“The thing is dead. So why the hurry?” He flashes Billy's a cocky smile, and you struggle to keep the irritated expression on your face. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date?” Giving action to Amy's jealousy attack, you punch Dacre in the chest, and he gives a small step back as he rolls his eyes. “Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?”

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?” When you move to push him again, Billy grabs Amy's wrists. This was improvised, you think. Or is it on the new script? Dacre's grip is soft though, and you put on an annoyed face as you try to set free, uselessly.

“Because that's where you always are.” Putting a frustrating undertone in the sentence, you sigh. “But it doesn't matter. We have a much bigger fish to fry.”

“The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

You get why Amy falls for Billy. Or are your fellings for Dacre clouding your judgment? Putting up a fight, you try to free yourself of his grip, making sure to stumble backward until your back hits a car. “Let go of me! I'm tired of this shit.” Slowly, Amy gives up fighting. Physically and emotionally. The moment you stop moving, Dacre let's go of your wrists, his arms coming to trap you in between the car and his body.

“I know you're jealous. I just need to figure out why.” Billy leans closer, and you can feel yourself drowning in Dacre's eyes, more beautiful than the ocean.

“I said it once and I'll say it again. I won't be one of your many flings...” Your voice is low, and as the cameras move closer, you know it's about to happen. God, it's so damn hard to keep up the act. You can feel Dacre's chest every time he breaths in, and you want to pull him even closer. “...so... Back the hell off.” Putting your hand on his chest, you know that the action that would make more sense here would be Amy trying to push him away again... But you fail to do that, Amy slowly disappearing as you break character for the hundredth time. Instead of pushing him away, your fingers slowly clench around the collar of his jacket, grabbing it. Dacre's eyes burn on you, and you know he wants it to.

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

Then you don't know who moves first. If it's Dacre who leans forward or if it's you, pulling him. But it happens, fast and needy. First kisses shouldn't be like this. They're supposed to be short and sweet, shy even. But part of you is thankful for the situation you're in right now, because it justifies how you cling onto him, how deep the kiss is, hot and passionate. Billy and Amy were both craving for this moment, but so were you. And so were Dacre because his grip around you is tight, his lips keeping a quick pace, one that you're more than happy to follow. You hand find its way to his hair, as he holds the small of your back, needing to have you closer, if that even possible. The cameras are long forgotten, and there's no set, no show, nothing. Just his taste, fresh and sweet, inebriating. There's something in the background, some familiar sound trying to reach you, but you push it away, ignore it, tiptoeing even more to try and match Dacre's high, wishing he would lift you up.

“CUT!” James' voice sounds like a freaking thunder, and it wakes you up. With your heart beating insanely fast, you suddenly go back to reality, probably blushing harder than ever as you step away from Dacre. He takes a while to let go of you, intense eyes locked on yours as he tries to catch his breath, falling out of the stupor too. “That was... Good. That was good.” James says, and when you look around, you notice people staring. That wasn't... Discreet, and now you know that what you heard was James yelling ‘cut’ half a dozen times.

Running a hand through your hair, you have to fight back the urge to touch your lips, the kiss burning in your head... You really hope James will need another take.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks, taking a quick look around before taking your hand in his.

“Yeah...” Biting your lip, you nod, staring at him. This just gave you a rush of adrenaline, making you feel brave. “More than ok, actually.”

Dacre's lips break into a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Well, judging by James' obsession with the perfect lighting, I bet he'll need a couple more takes to get it done.”

“I really hope so. I–” You're cut short for a commotion. Several people move to surround James, who soon starts cursing. “What's going on?” You mutter, exchanging a glance with Dacre before walking over the sea of people. That's when you see the rest of the cast, and you just now remember they were here too... And they just saw everything... Millie won't let you hear the end of it.

“Who the hell did this?” James shouts, and a lot of people start apologizing. Giving the others a glance, you notice they have their eyes glued to their phones.

“Oh, no...” Something leaked, you're so damn sure. Rushing to the guys, you stand beside Noah, taking a look at his screen. “What happened?”

“The kiss. The first you shot. Someone here recorded and published on YouTube ten minutes ago.” As Noah speaks, he hands you over his phone and you read the news article he was reading. ‘Exciting scene from Stranger Things 3 leaks: Amy Halpert and Billy Hargrove are definitely a couple’.

“Shit.” You mutter, leaning closer to Dacre so he can read it too. “Who did it?”

“We have no idea,” Natalia answers, looking up from her phone. “But I watched it. Whoever did this stopped recording right before the cameras fell.”

This sucks. Giving Noah his cellphone back, you sigh. “It's really mean to do that. There's a lot of operations to keep the set free from curious eyes and someone from the inside leaks it? That's ridiculous.”

“James will sue whoever did this,” Dacre adds.

“Excuse me, guys.” Ryan comes, a tablet on his hand and a very worried expression on his face. “James wants you to stay here until we find out who did this.” He says, giving you a quick glance before looking back at his tablet. “You got the trailers here so... I think you'll be comfortable. Sorry, but James is–”

“RYAN!”

“James' orders. Sorry.” Rolling his eyes and sighing, he gives his back at you.

“We'll have to stay? I didn't do it.” Gaten exclaims, clearly pissed.

“Me neither. I was too busy watching the kiss with my own eyes.” Natalia complains but gives you a glance.

Well, you would like to get to your bed, but complaining won't help and you're exhausted from the flight. “I'm calling it a night.” You mutter, upset that this whole thing happened. The leaking, of course. “I'll take a shower to wash the 80's from my skin and I'll go see my trailer.” You haven't seen it yet, since it's meant for the Battle of Starcout scenes, which you'll probably shoot throughout the night.

“Me too,” Dacre says, then turning at you. “I'll find your trailer after if that's alright.”

“Sure.” Smiling, you blush to feel all those eyes on you. “See you soon, then.”

• • •

You're lucky to have your baggage here. Maybe the flight being delayed wasn't so bad as it seemed. After showering and handing the outfit back to your stylist, you follow her directions to where the trailers are. They're in the very back of the set, in a large area, set side by side. You're surprised to see the trailer doesn't look like a trailer on the inside, but like an actual house, only a little tiny. There's a main space with a couch, a table, and a TV, then a kitchen with a stove, an oven, and a sink. A bathroom with a shower. And on the very back, the thing you needed the most after this long day. A well-equipaded room with a huge bed. Smiling, you let your piece of baggage fall as you climb on the bed, lying on your back and sighing in relief.

Jumping back to your feet, you decide to change into something more comfortable. So you exchange your jeans for light gray sweatpants and a black spaghetti strap tank top before lying back down. You're happy you ate on the plane, or else you'd be starving right now.

But despite all the thoughts in your head, you can't help but come back to the main event of the day. Your fingers come to touch your lips, as you close your eyes to bring the memory back. You're upset you didn't get to do more takes. The cold and nervousness you were feeling vanished so quickly, at the same moment his lips collided on yours. So hot and intense. Breathtaking.

You're dragged away from your thoughts by a knock on the door. Dacre. He told you he'd come. Taking a deep breath and fixing your simple clothes the best you can, you make your way to the door, thinking you should've picked something better to put on. “Hey.” You mutter when you swing the door open, gesturing for him to come in. “Did you see your trailer?”

“Yeah. I stopped by to leave my luggage.” He answers, stepping inside and looking down at you. “These things look bigger from the inside.”

“Definitely.” Clearing your throat, you gesture at the back of the trailer, to the bedroom. You know how awkward it may be, but there's a burning on your back that won't let you sit on the couch. “I hope you don't mind but could we talk while I lie down? My back hurts real bad from the five hours we had to spend at the airport.”

“I don't mind at all.” Nodding, you walk back to the bedroom, throwing yourself on the bed. “So. Who do you think leaked the video?” Dacre asks as he sits on the edge.

“I have no idea. All I know is that is wasn't me. And it wasn't you.” Staring at the ceiling, you try not to feel very self-conscious right now. “I was too busy on scene.”

“Me too.” He mutters. “Where does it hurt, by the way?”

“On my shoulder blades.” You answer, looking at him. He looks very handsome, as usual, despite wearing a simple white T-shirt. “Those airport chairs weren't very nice to me.”

“I can give you a massage if you want.” Dacre stares at you dead serious, which means he's not joking.

You wish you had the adrenaline rush from earlier, so it'd push the words right off your mouth, and maybe you wouldn't be blushing. “Uhm... If you want to.”

“Alright, lie on your stomach.” He says, taking off his shoes and climbing on the bed.

“Fine.” Mumbling, more to yourself than to him, you roll over, grabbing a pillow to rest your head. Breathing deeply, you feel the mattress moving under Dacre's weight as he places himself beside you.

“Let me know if it hurts, alright?” The moment you nod, you feel his hands on your back. And he must know what he's doing because it does feel good. The butterflies on your stomach are wide awake now, since Dacre has his hands on you, strong but delicate at the same time, rubbing and softly pushing your muscles.

“If I knew you were good at this I'd have asked.” You say with a smile, pulling the small amount of hair that still falls on your back out of his way. Dacre gets this as a permission to put a little more pressure, just enough to make you relax. His fingers slide under the fabric of your shirt, but you don't mind.

“Glad I can help.”

You just mumble in response, suddenly feeling your tiredness taking over as you close your eyes shut. Falling asleep now is the last thing you want because it's so good to be around Dacre, and you think you may finally understand where you both stand in all this situation. What you're feelings are and if they can take you somewhere.

“It's ok, I'm alright now.” You speak up, moving to lie on your side. “If you continue I'll fall asleep in a matter of seconds.”

“If you're tired I can go.” He gestures at the door, already moving.

“No. Stay.” Bursting out, you sit up, grabbing his arm. You can't believe what you just said. What you just asked of him. “If you want, of course.”

Dacre stands still for a while, frozen before he settles down on the bed again. “Alright.” You can tell he's tired too, by the way his eyes are heavy.

“Let's play a game. Who sleeps first loses.” The idea comes suddenly to your head, and it seems to lighten up the mood.

“And what will I get when I win?” He has a cocky smile on his lips as he lies down, facing you.

“When? Don't get overconfident.” Moving a little to get comfortable, you take a deep breath when your eyes set upon his. Blue and calming. “I'm gonna win.” You say, winking at him.

“I really doubt that.” As he speaks, Dacre brings his hand to your face, fingers sliding from your forehead to your eyelids, forcing you to close your eyes. “You'll lose, so better start making peace with that.” His voice, low and deep, sends a shiver down your spine.

You were just about to answer, to say something, when you notice how his hand lingers, moving to caress your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin on your jaw until it reaches your chin. Slowly, painfully slow, it comes to your lower lip. His touch burns, making your head spin around. The memory of the kiss fills your head, and you know you want to do that again.

Swallowing hard, you gather all the courage you can to move closer to him, ending all the space between your bodies and, being really brave for once, going for the thing you want. That you need the most right now. You connect your lips to his, feeling relieved as if a burden was suddenly lifted when you feel him kissing you back. Dacre's hand remain on your cheek, and yours rest on his chest, feeling his muscles under the soft fabric of his shirt. The kiss is slower this time, as if you're both discovering, unrevealing each other. But you don't mind. You love it as much as you loved the other one.

It sucks when you have to break apart to breathe. But when you do, you remain close, your foreheads touching because you just can't force yourself to pull away from him now. “Sorry, I... I had to.” You mutter under your breath.

“It's alright.” Dacre's hand comes to encircle your waist, keeping you close. “If you didn't, I'd have to.” He giggles. “I've been dying to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You whisper. “What you said in the message... I feel the same way. That kiss... I really wanted it and that wasn't Amy, it was me.” Maybe it's the sleep winning over you, but the words just come out. You need him to know. You need to let it out and you hope it means something to him. “Dacre, I... I really like you. A lot.”

You blush when he smiles, but soon enough a giggle escapes your lips. “Then I'd like to take you on a second date. As soon as James lets us out of this set.”

“I'd love that.” Giggling like a teenager, you kiss him again, a peck on the lips that linger a little too long. But not long enough. “Uhm... You can crash here if you want.” You decide to offer since you just noticed you're already on the bed, all tangled on each other. “I think we already reached the point of no return here.”

“I agree...”

“Are we... Are we going to sleep like this?” You ask, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“However you like.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you turn around. Dacre is fast to hold you, a strong arm pushing your back against his chest. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You both move to get more comfortable and you lay your hand on top of his, on your stomach.

You've never been like that with anyone, so close, so... Intimate. But you like it. And you can't believe it's Dacre who's holding you this way.

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelaninn @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum @thisbreakableheaven

#dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery fanfiction #imagine dacre montgomery #billy hargrove x reader #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things imagine

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sailtoafarawayland · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Through The Dark (1/1) Alpha/Omega one-shot

Summary: There are no guarantees that life will be easy or happy, but Emma had finally found all that and more in the form of Killian Jones, her best friend, her alpha and mate. She’d forgotten what it was to fear, to run, to have the hope knocked from her body, but she’s about to remember, and so is he.

Rating: Explicit, read through A/N for trigger warnings, or skip to after the cut for spoiler-free

A big thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for beta reading and supporting this story!

AO3 or FF

Author’s Note: This is a hurt/comfort omegaverse based fic for CS. It is rated E for a reason. Tags/Trigger Warnings are as follows: Attempted rape/non-con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Heavy Angst, Sexual Assault Recovery

-Walk Me Through The Dark-

Emma hung onto the rail above her as the subway lurched into motion, her long curls falling around her face and giving some sense of privacy in the crowded car. She stared down at the screen on her phone, a soft smile on her face. Tapping a quick reply to Mary Margaret with one finger, she swiped back to the previous screen, selecting Killian's name and letting go of her hold on the rail so she could send him a message. The train swayed and she widened her stance, regaining her balance. Her stomach churned slightly at the motion and she frowned. She shouldn't have eaten the curry from the food truck for lunch, it never sat well.

She tapped send and reached for the support of the rail again.

E: What are you doing for dinner, babe?

Her eyes traveled the length of the car as she waited for his response. He'd mentioned earlier that his latest overhaul may keep him at the ship yard for some late nights, but the picture Mary Margaret had sent – something simmering in red sauce with a crispy layer of cheese – left her wondering what her mate would be doing to feed himself that evening.

Her cell vibrated in her hand.

K: If I'm lucky, there will be some takeaway left in the work fridge, though I'd much rather be enjoying the evening with you, love.

Heat rushed into her cheeks as she read his words, the echo of his voice in her head. He loved his work at the ship yard, and though it had taken her a long time to realize the sincerity of his words, she knew now just how much truth was in them. Despite having a job that he'd long dreamed about, his favorite place to be was always at her side. The way he made her feel, loved and wanted, was a far cry from how she'd felt her entire childhood into her adult life.

E: I miss you too. Don't forget there's leftover alfredo at home, if you end up not staying too late.

E: Looks like MM is making lasagna.

Their apartment wasn't too far from his office, and she hoped the idea of fresh food would lure him away from whatever dried out leavings had been abandoned by his coworkers.

K: Both of those sound very tempting at the moment. Give MM and David my love.

Emma smiled and slipped her phone back into her pocket, settling in for the rest of the ride out to the Nolan's. Friday night dinners had become something of a tradition between the four friends, but things had been so overwhelming at the ship yard lately that Killian missed them more often than he liked. Luckily, his latest overhaul was coming to an end soon, and they were both hoping things would be a bit more manageable.

The car rocked again and Emma swallowed, a sudden wave of nausea creeping up her throat as they moved, something about the steady creaking of the wheels and the sway of the train making her feel sick. Honestly, that was the last time she went with spicy food, it always made her feel off, despite how delicious it was. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers, sweat beginning to dampen her palm, more tightly around the rail, wishing she were anywhere else as the nausea worsened, her stomach churning and cramping. A tingling warmth worked its way up through her body, spreading along her arms and legs. Another cramp twisted deep in her abdomen, and that's when it hit her.

Her heat was coming on early.

Panic surged beneath the burning heat and nausea as she sucked in a deep breath. It was too early, by a week and a half at least. She would have never dared take public transit if she thought there was even a chance...and now she was stuck on the T with a crammed car. Her eyes darted to the digital map above the door, the light that indicated their position creeping along slowly to North Quincy station. They were only a quarter of the way along, and she cursed her luck.

The doctor had warned her more than once that she could end up suffering from unmanageable heats down the road due to her early use of suppressants, but so far she'd escaped having to deal with any of that. She'd thought she was in the clear.

She could feel the instincts that became heightened during her heats start to spike, the panic only making them sharper. She needed to get off this train, the locked doors and windows and the sheer press of people triggering an instinctual need to run, to get to a place that was warm and safe, a place that was familiar – their bed at home with the blankets piled high and smelling of her mate.

She needed Killian.

She needed her Alpha, but he was already too far, and she was stuck on a train heading in the opposite direction.

Another sharp cramp twisted her insides and she bit back a whimper, adrenaline pumping through her veins and sweat beading on her skin as she shifted, stealing a glance at the people surrounding her. Almost everyone seemed unaware of her predicament, which made sense. Her heat was only just at the beginning of its climb, and it was unlikely that betas would notice much difference in the pheromones her body was producing – not this early on. Only alphas and omegas possessed the hyper-sensitive ability to pick out those scents from the air at such an early stage.

Then her eyes fell on the far corner of the car, and she saw him.

He leaned casually into the corner, but his eyes were narrowed and hard, his lips touched by the start of a smile as he realized that she knew he knew. Flexing his shoulders, he lifted his nose to the air and drew in a deep breath, his mouth twisting into a feral grin.

Emma's eyes widened with fear and she snapped her head back down, breathing heavily as a shiver washed over her body, the hair on her neck prickling. That had been a mistake, she realized, looking away – too submissive and sure to goad the strange alpha into action. She should have stared him down, and normally she would have, but somehow, being stuck in a confined space so far from her mate, her heat bearing down on her in a way that was faster and worse than normal – she was utterly terrified.

The man staring her down – she could feel it, even if she refused to look back in his direction – seemed to be a typical alpha from what she'd briefly seen. He wielded his large, bulky frame with the ease of someone used to getting their way and being obeyed, looming over the people beside him with an air of authority. He'd made a show of scenting the air when she'd laid eyes on him, and the fact that he was so blatantly displaying his interest had the taste of bile stinging sharply in the back of her throat.

She wanted to be anywhere but here.

She wanted it to be yesterday, before her body betrayed her and she was stuck in this nightmare.

Another cramp twisted in her gut, longer and sharper, her teeth digging into her lip as she tried to hold back the whine she could feel building in her throat – a call that was always answered by the reassuring rumble of her mate, except he wasn't here.

He was too far, and despite the flush of heat consuming her, she was so cold, her body insisting that she needed the warmth and security only he could provide.

She wanted to call him, the urge to do so almost irrepressible, but she knew he'd be a frantic mess, worrying for no reason. As long as the alpha in the corner kept his distance, she'd be fine – and it's not like he was crazy. Her claim mark would have been clearly visible when she turned toward him, and she knew that her scent gland was in overdrive, producing copious amounts of not only her own signals for heat, but the potent scent of her mate as well, broadcasting to any other alphas in the area that she wasn't a free omega. The guy had to know, so she felt reassured that he'd leave her alone.

She had to believe it, because the alternative was too frightening to consider.

No, there was no reason to call her mate and worry him over nothing. She had time. She'd jump out at North Quincy and grab a car straight back home. Then she would call Killian and let him know that he'd need to cut his work night short. If she was lucky, he'd already be there, drawn in by the promise of chicken alfredo.

Sweat slid from her cold grasp on the rail down the inside of her wrist in into her jacket.

She had to believe that everything would be fine, and for a few minutes it felt that way. It was the movement in her peripheral vision that betrayed that hope. The stray alpha was leaving his place at the other end of the car, people parting around him as he made his way closer. His body was tensed as he took another deep whiff of the air around him, a look of impatience on his face.

“Sorry,” Emma stammered, apologizing to the woman she'd accidentally pushed against in her futile effort to put more distance between herself and the threat the man posed.

Another shiver racked her body, adrenaline amplifying every normal inconvenience that her heat brought out – the cramps, the chills, the clawing need for her mate, and with that, the steady rush of slick that was just starting to slip from between her thighs. She wrangled with her own body, fighting for control and losing, her attention so caught up in maintaining some sort of normalcy that she didn't realize the alpha had moved closer until she felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, the air around her thickening with a sour, deep musk that was simply wrong.

She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out, instead she fell forward, nearly on top of someone in the seat. She'd just managed to pull her feet back beneath her when she felt a firm hand wrap itself around her bicep, hauling her backward.

“Now, now, Omega,” the man chuckled close in her ear, the heat radiating from his body making her want to vomit. “Seems like you need some help.”

“No,” she ground out, almost unable to hear her own words, the hammering of her pulse in her ears drowning them out. “No. I'm claimed.”

She tore herself out of the man's grip and moved quickly toward the small circle of space near the door, uncaring of the people she elbowed or pushed aside to get there. The map above her was starting the blink, the little bulb beneath N. Quincy Station finally lighting up.

Thank god.

With any luck the man had taken the hint and wouldn't risk making a scene. At this point, there had to be at least one or two others on the car aware of what was happening, and there was no way any sane alpha would risk the trouble he could get into for pushing himself on a claimed omega. She hoped – but her heat always gave her tunnel vision, and the only thing she could think of was Killian, of how badly she needed him and how she'd never felt more vulnerable than in that moment.

The train finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. She'd never moved more quickly in her life, shoving aside the few people that tried to cut her off as she bolted from the train, never even hearing the muttered curses a few commuters send her way.

Her vision blurred in time with her heart, pinching and expanding as her heat slipped into the next gear. She stumbled forward and leaned heavily against a concrete support not far from the train as another cramp jolted through her core, leaving her nerves tingling in pain. She chanced a look back through the thinning crowd as the doors slid shut, but she didn't see him in the station.

Fearing what she might not see, she looked into the window of the car, but she couldn't make out his bulk there either. He wasn't on the train, but she hadn't seen him in the station either. She would have noticed.

The wave of nausea and cramps passed and she pulled out her cell, punching in Killian's number, her breathing echoing in her ears as she waited for the call to connect. He was at work, and she hardly ever called him there, so of course he picked up immediately, concern tainting the voice she'd needed so desperately to hear.

“Emma, is everything alright, love?”

Hearing his actual voice broke something in her, the wall she'd been holding up out of sheer determination, needing to believe that everything would be fine, that the alpha on the train was just going to forget her – but there was a small, niggling part of her brain warning that she would have seen him in the car if he'd stayed, if he hadn't followed her out.

“Killian,” she whimpered, every bit of that fear communicated through the tremor in her voice, in the way her breath fell in short pants as she moved farther out of the station, her eyes darting to the dark corners around her as she hurried toward the back parking lot.

“Emma,” he rushed, his voice laced with dread. “Emma, where are you? What's wrong?”

“My heat, it's early,” she muttered. “I was on the train when it hit. It's bad...”

“I'm coming to get you. What station?”

She nearly dropped the phone as another cramp rocked her, more slick cooling her thighs and dampening her jeans, her breath cut short as she struggled upright again.

“Emma!” Killian snapped just as she brought the phone back to her ear. “What station, Emma?”

“North Quincy. Killian...there was an alpha on the train.”

She could hear the sharp intake of his breath, something in the background dropping to the ground.

“Emma, I'm coming. Can you stay where there are people?”

“I don't know if he followed me,” she admitted, finally saying the thing she hadn't wanted to confront aloud. She hadn't seen him as the station emptied out around her, but there was no denying the odor of his musk that still drifted toward her occasionally. She wanted to believe it was lingering from where he'd wrapped his sweating hand around her arm, but she couldn't be sure. “There's no one here,” she whispered, blanching when she finally realized how far she'd walked in her daze. “I'm in the parking lot. I was gonna grab an Uber home.”

“Are there any cabs? Any cars, love?”

“No, it's so empty, Killian. There's no one here...”

“Stay on the line with me, Emma. I'm coming – right now. I'm on my way.”

Her mate's voice was wrecked, cracking with fear that she knew he was trying to keep at bay. In her gut she knew he was probably more frightened than she was, because she at least had the luxury of her heat muting everything it didn't deem important, but he didn't even have that. Entwining with hers, his fear only made her desire to burrow into their bed that much stronger, everything other than her need for him and a safe place dimming slightly. She wanted home, nestled in warmth with his weight on top of her. She'd be so full and sated, content with him curled around her back...

“Emma.”

Killian's voice broke through the fog, strained but firm, and she found herself humming in response, his voice sending a pleasing vibration through her body.

“Omega!” he snapped, and her purr turned into a whine at the sharp tone of displeasure, but his attempt to pull her back to reality worked, and some semblance of clarity came back to her as she hurried further into the parking lot.

“I'm here – I just...it's bad, Killian. It's coming fast and hard.”

“Just stay with me, love. Look around, do you see the alpha from the train? Did he follow you?”

She turned in place, trying to focus on her surroundings, the sidewalks and the slight glow of the lobby in the empty station, the parked cars and streetlights that cast wide circles of light across the pavement. She didn't see him, but there was this feeling, this warning in her gut that she'd learned to trust.

“I don't see him, but I think...oh, god, I think maybe he did. I don't know. I'm scared, Killian.” She stumbled backwards over the concrete lip of a planted median and grabbed onto the mirror of a car to steady herself. She needed to get farther from the building, someplace dark and hidden and safe – someplace he wouldn't see her. “I have to get out of sight. Maybe he'll just give up...”

“Can you get somewhere with people?”

“Not without going back through the station to the front...there's no one here,” she whispered, the tiny, logical part of her brain still working thinking how insane it was that the parking lot was this empty, like all of her bad luck had saved itself up for one day. “He could be inside still, if I try to go back.”

Just as she was threading her way between two vehicles, her eyes still locked on the station, she saw the silhouette of someone large approaching the doors she'd left mere minutes before, and she knew it was him. Before he could spot her, she dropped to the ground in a crouch, ignoring the sharp cramp that twisted in her gut with every ounce of determination she had left, gritting her teeth and moving farther through the parking lot.

“He's here,” she whispered, sliding her back against the front wheel of a car, her already soaked jeans pressed against the damp pavement. “He's here.”

Everything slowed, her heart beating like a dying drum against her chest, her breath shallow and drawn out on a tremble. She tightened her grip as her phone nearly tumbled from her sweat-slicked hand, her mouth dry with the taste of bile and metal.

He was going to find her. He would find her, and there would be nothing she could do.

The pain in her stomach had doubled, her body caught between fear and desperation, and she knew she wouldn't be able to stand, let alone run.

“I'm coming. I'm almost there, I promise. I'm not going to let him hurt you, okay? Just stay quiet, love. Please, just stay with me, Emma.”

He was too far, so far.

“I'm here,” she breathed. “Killian...I'm so scared.”

For a moment there was nothing more than the sound of his wrecked breathing and her quiet pants. Her hearing was sharpened, but she didn't hear any footsteps, didn't know if she even would over the rapid flutter of her pulse in her ears. There was a chance, if she had any luck left, that he'd glanced out the door and hadn't seen her. Maybe he was gone.

She exhaled and the air around her finally shifted, a gust of wind sweeping over the lot and cooling her heated skin. She almost sighed, the relief it brought making her forget for a second that she was drenched with slick, feverish and freezing at the same time – but then she smelled him, the alpha from the train.

He was close, the scent strong and just starting to deepen with notes of an alpha in rut, but nothing about it was heady and intoxicating like her own mate's. It was all wrong, and something feral in her snarled, wanting nothing to do with the male following her.

“Killian,” she broke, her whispered words nearly a cry, tears mixing with sweat as she realized her time was up, her vision blurring.

If she could smell the alpha, then he could smell her.

He would find her.

“Emma, I'm so close. I'll find you, I promise.”

“Killian, I love –”

Her phone clattered to the pavement at her feet, her words stolen as a strong hand grabbed her arm, ripping her up from where she'd been hiding. A pained yelp flew from her mouth as her shoulder twisted painfully, the world spinning as she was pinned against the hood of the car, a heavy body covering her back.

Her attacker's face pushed roughly into the crook of her neck, scenting her with a groan. She shuddered, squirming beneath him, her cries muffled as the suffocating weight of his arm pressed into her face. She sucked in meager, burning gulps of air, vomit rising in the back of her mouth as his tongue swept over the claim mark on her neck.

“You really gave me a chase,” the alpha groaned, his hips rutting against her backside, thrusting her own sore and cramping body into the wheel well. “I like a good chase though, and I've never smelled anything like you before.”

Twisting as much as she was able, she latched her teeth into an exposed section of his hand, her stomach lurching as the taste of blood filled her mouth, his angered snarl cutting across the dark parking lot. For a brief second the pressure eased and Emma hoped she might have a chance, but before she could even draw in a full breath he was back on her, changing his hold and wrapping his bloody fingers around the back of her neck instead. Cold air whipped between their lower bodies and she screamed as his other hand moved to her jeans, her knees banging against metal as she struggled.

“You don't know your place, Omega,” he growled, enjoying her whimper of pain as he pushed her more forcefully against the car, the sound of his zipper making her freeze. “I'll teach you. You'll thank me too. By the end you'll be begging for my knot.”

He kept talking, but his words were slipping away, everything moving farther away – even the piercing noise that Emma thought might have been her own screams, but she didn't know. She couldn't breathe, let alone scream. His fingers were tugging at her zipper, the wet, stubborn material of her jeans scrunching slowly down her hips.

She fought, struggled through the heavy fog settling around her. She didn't want this. It was all wrong. Not her mate, not Killian.

Then the world collapsed around her, lights and sounds finally folding into nothingness like a house of cards as her attacker grew more impatient, her body rocking against the car with each jerk as he struggled to lower the soaked material down her body, her position making it near impossible for him to get the jeans low enough with one hand.

Everything felt so distant, her breath on the hood of the car spreading like smoke and then fading away.

Then in a sudden rush the world snapped back to her, the hot weight against her back and fumbling hands torn away – the sound of something crashing into metal. The sound of a struggle as something was dragged across the pavement, grunts and curses and the sound of a fist hitting something over and over. There were voices now, shouts that come to her like a light through the fog. The sound of her jacket dragging against metal as she slumped to the ground. The sound of her sneakers pushing back gravel, and then the sound of her own voice as her knees hit the pavement.

“Killian,” she rasped, smelling him before she saw him, movement and light and clarity returning to her just as he rushed to her side, his blue eyes shining with tears and his hand, bloodied and swollen, moving to cup her face as he pulled her from the ground, as if she weighed nothing.

To him she never had.

She wanted to cry, finally enveloped by the heat and the scent and the person she needed, her hands twisting in his shirt as she strove to somehow get closer. Sensing her need, Killian shifted her carefully, juggling her in his arms as he shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her and shielding her in safety and comfort. His sweat and musk were soaked into the material, his scent flooding her, calming her frayed nerves and the part of her that still wanted to jump and kick at every noise reaching her ears.

His body was shaking with adrenaline, the tremors vibrating through her. She nestled against him, rubbing her cheek and neck along his skin in the way she knew would stir her own scent gland, easing his worry and calming him. She felt him settle around her, but then he started to move, growling out something unintelligible – it was then that she realized there must be people standing nearby. He paused and she clung to him tightly, his arms responding in kind. Fear crawled along her spine at the thought someone might be trying to separate them. From a gap in his jacket she could see the flicker of lights, red and blue against the metallic sheen of the cars. She knew he must be talking with a cop, that help had come, but she couldn't focus on the words.

Now that she was where she should be, the reality of her heat was falling back over her like a familiar weight.

The gentle swagger of his body resumed and there was the sound of a car door opening – a brief moment of terror when he let her go, her response immediate and frantic, but then he was back at her side, scooping her from the seat and back into his lap as he barked their address at whoever was driving.

The car pulled away, the fog of fear lessening and eventually falling away from her entirely as she basked in the comfort that was her mate, his arms wrapped solidly around her as he whispered her name over and over into her hair, his fingers caressing her sweat-soaked skin and soothing the writhing need inside of her, wordless promises that she wouldn't feel aching and empty for long, that he would take care of her.

~ * ~ * ~

She isn't sure how long the trip back home takes, but every moment she slides further away from the trauma she'd been put through and into the instinctual need that feels like it just may rip her apart. She's bathed in the scent of her mate – the deep, spicy musk heavy on his skin, laced with notes of sea salt and sweetness and something unique only to him. It's everything she's ever needed. Adrenaline and fear had triggered his rut in the same way they'd worsened her heat, and the familiar intoxicating tang that it edged his scent with was driving her wild with need, slick pooling once more between her legs as she core throbbed violently.

Her attack seems so distant, and far less important than finally getting into the privacy of their own home, to the place where her mate can soothe her and give them what they both desperately need. She wriggles in his lap, unable to hold back the needy plea that she presses into his skin, delighting in the low growl vibrating through his chest as he tightens his grip. Words are snapped at the driver and then Killian is tipping them both to the side as he digs into his pocket. A moment later the car slows to a stop and he's tossing something onto the front seat before easing them outside, her body still caged tightly within his arms.

His jacket is still draped over her, his arms holding it in place, but the collar had settled around her neck and she looks up into his stormy eyes, his pupils blown-wide, just as surely as her own are. There's an unquenchable need there, but below it she sees the fear, the regret and guilt, the anger. Her fingers drift up and cradle the tense line of his jaw, stroking until his muscles unclench, hoping he understands that everything is alright, everything will be alright.

They're together, and she's never felt more safe than she does right now.

He doesn't put her down, not once, despite the struggle it gives him in getting into the apartment, but she doesn't want him to, doesn't think she could stand to be separated for even an instant. She knows there are a lot of things to be said, to be asked, to be cried over, but right now she can't think past tearing off all of the layers that are keeping them apart.

They don't make it farther than the entryway, the door slamming shut behind them as he fingers the offending material of her jacket, the stench of the other alpha still wafting from the wool into the air. When he peels it carefully from her body, clearly resisting the urge to tear it from her, she sighs in relief, shrugging off the weight of it as he tosses it violently across the room.

Killian normally loves taking his time with his mate, using his fingers and mouth to bring her to completion before finally giving in to the crushing need to fill her and knot her, but her need is too great right now, too desperate, and his sudden rut is making it near impossible for him to walk her to the bedroom, let alone take care of her in the way he wants – to sit her down and ask what he can do, what she needs – he knows that she needs this, and he'll give it to her, to them both.

“Alpha...” she begs, suddenly falling to the floor at his feet, her chest pressed against his legs as she rubs her cheek against his crotch, her fingers trembling as she struggles to undo the button of his pants “...need you, Alpha.”

The air between them is thick with the mix of their scents, his blood pounding in his ears, need and fear and desire rolling together like some wild thing, the sweet scent of her slick so strong he can taste it on his tongue, wants to taste it on her soaked flesh.

“Omega,” he rasps, his vision sharpening to see her and only her, his cock hard and throbbing and every instinct in his body telling him that his omega needs him, that only he can give her what she craves. His hands settle tightly on her shoulders, turning her gently on the entryway carpet. “Present for your Alpha.”

Small, expectant whimpers tremble from her throat as she drops to her belly and slides her knees up behind her, her fingers hastily grabbing her rumpled jeans and pushing the sodden material over her ass and down her thighs, wriggling her legs to get them to her knees as an overpowering wave of her scent plows into him.

The sight of her sex, swollen and exposed, presented so wantonly in the air for him has his knot swelling at the base of his cock, his pulse racing as he shoves his jeans down his own legs and kneels behind her, holding the beast in him at bay so he can snatch one last human moment before he's lost completely, burying his mouth in her folds and greedily lapping her juices up, his tongue sweeping every inch he can reach before he pulls back with a growl, images flashing through his head – another alpha's hands on her, another male scenting her, imagining what she would feel like.

Somewhere in the back of his brain he knows that this isn't about that, but gods he needs to feel her to know that she's really there, that they're both here and he made it to her in time, that he didn't let her down completely when she needed him most, that she needs him in this way just as urgently as he needs her.

“Emma,” he whispers, her excited pants driving him on as he pulls back and hovers behind her, the swollen head of his cock throbbing against her scorching folds as his hands settle on her hips, “my Omega...”

“God, yes, yours, Alpha, always yours...”

“Mine.”

And then he's burying himself inside of her, her walls seizing around him the instant he does, her cries of his title and name muffled in the carpet as she gyrates her hips, trying to impale herself further. He wants to savor that first, heavenly wave of pleasure that sinking into her always brings, but the beast inside of him is unrelenting, needing to remind the both of them that she is his, and he is hers. Everything other than the ecstasy of their joining and her delicious noises falls away from him, lost beneath the haze of instincts he can't escape – his hips pistoning as he drags his cock from her grasping channel and thrusts back in, slick running freely from his omega and soaking the floor beneath them as she begs and pleads for all of him.

“Is that what you want, Omega,” he pants, the wet sounds of him pulling out and driving back into her filling the air, her firm ass bouncing as he rams into her again and again. “You need your Alpha's knot?”

“Please, Alpha, please, need it so bad,” she mumbles, her words running one over the next as she lets out a moan and shudders around him, so close to falling apart, but needing the fullness of his knot stretching her. “Just yours, just yours, Alpha...”

She tries to struggle upward, unable to shake the urge to feel her alpha covering her completely, his chest pressed against her back as he thrusts into her, claiming her entirely and leaving no inch of her body unmarked by his firm hold and powerful scent. She's shaking, her limbs barely able to support her own weight as he continues to plow into her, his knot fully swollen and catching the edges of her opening with each push deeper, but he senses what she needs, that the separation between them is too much, and he pauses for a second to move his hands from her hips, grabbing her arms and yanking her upper half closer, their two bodies bent together as he pulls her tightly against his chest, swallowing her small frame entirely as he holds her up, his rut bringing with it a strength that doesn't answer to weariness, but only to need.

His grunts are hot and rhythmic against her neck as he moves within her, his teeth sharper and gently razing the swollen gland that already bears his claim mark, sweat running from both of their bodies and sliding between them. Still riled by the threat to his omega, the beast inside of him is wild and frenzied, driving him to mark her again, to claim her once more – the only thing that will sate him. Beneath him her whimpers spiral into something keening and primal, her legs trembling despite the fact that he's holding both of them suspended as he thrusts, and he knows she's almost there, can feel her swollen walls spasming around him.

He slides one hand down her stomach, changing their angle and forcing himself deeper, his knot brushing further within her swollen walls as they begin to pulse around him.

“Mine, Omega...” he growls, completely lost to the beast as she keens beneath him in answer.

She is his, always his.

“Need it, need it, Alpha, please,” she cries, her walls pulling at the throbbing edge of his knot with each teasing thrust. “Need to feel you fill me up, make me yours, please...”

“Open up for me,” he pants against her skin, his teeth gliding down to clamp around the swell of her shoulder. He moves his hand lower and rubs against her clit, his calloused fingers pinching roughly, his words like liquid sin rolling over her, his cock thick and hard and stretching her in all the right ways, everything flowing and surging together in a brutal wave that crashes over her all at once, her vision fading and slipping into darkness as she shakes beneath him – the familiar sting of his teeth marking her shoulder a vibrant shock of blinding light beneath her lids, drawing every last pulsing moment of rapture from her body.

He thrusts into her one final time, his own peace finding him as he forces the swell of his knot into her tight sheath, the coil in his gut snapping and exploding outward as pleasure rocks his body, her walls milking every last drop of his seed – the beast inside of him quelled.

They come down together, Emma collapsing as he releases her shoulder and cushions her fall with his arms, stifling a groan at the pull between them where he's tightly joined with her still. He carefully maneuvers them to their sides on the damp carpet, Emma's breath leaving her in a gasp as the movement shifts him within her slightly, her walls shivering around him and drawing a last spasm from his still hard member.

“Killian,” she whispers, her voice tired yet serene, her head rolling against his chest so their lips can find one another. “Alpha...”

There are a few blissful minutes where their bodies breath as one, sighs traded between their lips and fingers tracing heated skin, but then the fog of need disperses and the weight of the evening falls back onto them, her body shaking in his embrace.

“Oh, love,” he murmurs, wishing he could pull her more comfortably into the safety of his arms, or that he’d spared a thought to getting them to the bedroom before they’d joined.

She reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressing small kisses into his skin, her tears running along her cheeks and into his palm as she weeps. He tries to hold and comfort her as best he can, his own tears darkening her hair as he presses her closer, whispering soft noises between them. He wants to tell her how sorry he is that he wasn’t by her side, that he hadn’t been able to prevent that monster from ever laying a hand on her, but he knows saying the words won’t make them true, and the last thing he wants to do is burden her with his own failings. With no words strong enough to soothe the hurt that’s been done to her, he simply offers what he can with his presence. As soon as their bodies slip apart, she’s turning into him, burying her face in the warmth of his chest and sighing into his embrace, neither of them sure of the next steps to take, or where those steps might take them.

~ * ~ * ~

It was never going to be easy – taking broken things and making them resemble what they once did never is, but its almost impossible when a new, jagged memory sits among the rest, waiting to find its place.

It wasn't easy the first week that swung violently between frantic couplings and emotional upheaval, a man and woman in uniform sitting opposite their couch as Emma recounted what happened, her hands gripping Killian's like a lifeline. He sat on the edge of the cushion, his body slanted between her and the police. Still mid-rut, his instincts to protect and shield her were at war with the man who understood she needed to tell her story, to do what she could to put the monster who had assaulted her behind bars.

It didn't get any easier the next week when her body finally gasped and released its need, her heat dissipating and leaving her an empty, broken shell that every happiness seemed to run straight through, spilling on the floor.

And none of the hours, or days, or weeks that came after were better. She'd wake at night with the memory of hands on her arm, pressing against her neck – the wrong hands – but there was never more than a second of panic before she was wrapped in the rightness that was her mate, her fears soothed if only for a few moments.

It wasn't easy when she sat on the couch with her therapist, sometimes talking, and sometimes saying nothing at all, but always wondering if those pieces she'd been broken into would ever amount to the strong, capable woman she used to be, or if that one dark piece meant they'd stay forever on the floor, waiting for the next blow that would crush them into an even finer dust.

It wasn't easy for Killian either, not the first week when he bent to the instincts they were both driven by, man warring with pure, primal need, unable to do anything but give in, but fearful that it was too much too soon – both the man and the beast left rabid with fury when the police informed them that while they suspected her attacker had a similar history in other cities, without corroboration or a record, he'd most likely be able to bargain down to a slap on the wrist.

It didn't get any easier after their rut and heat ended, reality slipping through their doorway as they searched for a new normal that didn't disturb the broken pieces that littered the floor and met them each day in the mirror. Killian confided that he'd decided to walk home for dinner when she mentioned the leftovers, that if he hadn't, if he'd decided to stay at the office, he was terrified to think of how much longer it would have taken him to get to her – how one little decision had meant so much. What other decision could he make that would be the wrong one?

None of the hours, day, or weeks that followed were better, waking from his own nightmares to comfort his mate, images he'd never forget still etched behind his closed eyes as Emma shuddered in his arms – the police holding him back from a scene he didn't want to see, Emma bloodied and broken on the ground because he'd taken too long to reach her, because she was a fighter, because he'd failed her.

He'd finally agreed to see someone, to try to find a way just as Emma was, but even then the weight of fixing things felt like a burden he'd crumble beneath, one infinitesimal crack away from shattering. How could he take the guilt, the anger, the resentment, the fear and wrap them up neatly into something that wouldn't drag him down with each step he took? How could he be there for Emma if he couldn't hold himself up? How could he forgive himself?

It wasn't easy, and it took more days and months than they could count, some of them passing in moments of brightness and others lingering like a sickness they couldn't shake, but they had each other. They had help, and gradually, like seasons shifting, the minutes between dark moments grew a little longer, the days between nightmares stretched.

It was months before they took anything but a car to get around Boston, and even then never alone. Emma still hated confined spaces, leaving the doors open to every room she was in, even at work or home, and neither of them were as comfortable with long absences than they once were. When Killian mentioned a transfer to a small ship yard in New York, Emma could see through his reassurances that he would be happy there. She knew his heart, and she also knew hers, so she knew it wasn't right for them.

This was their home, and she wasn't going to let that monster take it away from her, from Killian, from the future they'd always envisioned here.

So they fought for it, through the days that were easy and the ones that weren't, which a year later were few and far between, and on the day that Emma told Killian they would need to move his office out of the spare room, it had never been easier to forget that brief moment of darkness in the face of so much light and promise.

And on the day they painted it a beautiful sea-blue that peeked through the slats of the crib Killian had put together himself, they barely ever thought of all those broken pieces – the few that still lingered were familiar and softened by time, as ingrained into the foundation of who they were now as anything whole – instead, they chose to look ahead to where there was a happy beginning to a new story – and above all else, there was Hope.

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #omegaverse

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the-scooby-gang · 4 years ago

Text

Us... But not quite

Part 7

Summary: After falling thought a portal while they were being chased by their most horrifying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they have never been before. A place called Crystal Cove.

“We are here!” Younger Fred said.

Here, is a large white Spanish style building with red roofs were the front wall read City Hall in big brass letters.

The trip over here was mundane. It was a nice town, composed of small buildings, built like a picturesque Spanish village. Most buildings were painted either a soft cream or vibrant welcoming colours. If it wasn’t for the “Most haunted place on earth” sigh at the beginning of the town they would have happily stayed there relaxing a little and taking their sweet time researching until they found a way to go home.

“I will go inside. You guys wait for me here?” Young Fred was already outside the van. He had the coffee holder in one hand, one foot on the steps of the building.

“You got it, Little Me.” Older Fred gave him a thumbs up. The gang made their way outside moving towards the young man who by now had walked up the steps, looking at them expectantly.

“Ok, be right back” he waved at them as he went inside.

“He’s such a cutie,” Daphne said when young Fred was no longer on hearing range. “Remember when we used to be his age?”

Fred and Velma sat down on the third step, leaning against each other. Scooby laid on the sidewalk by their feet while Daphne and Shaggy perched themselves on the stone bannister. They took a deep, long breath, taking in the sea air into their lungs.

It was indeed a beautiful town.

“Like, bold of you to assume I remember anything at any point in time” Shaggy turned his head lazily towards his girlfriend.

“What you had for breakfast yesterday?” Velma’s left eyebrow disappeared under her bangs.

“That’s, like, different and you know it” Shaggy pointed his finger at the sweater-clad woman.

“Rood is unforgettable,” Scooby added from the ground.

They chuckled, a soothing silence fell over them. Scooby made himself comfortable, his head on Velma’s lap with Fred scratching behind his ears. Daphne turned Shaggy’s back to her and resumed braiding his hair. It was past his shoulders again, she noticed. They would have to decide what style they were going to cut it this time.

“What are we going to tell his gang, man?” Shaggy asked, looking at the street while Daphne’s fingers carted through his scalp.

“What do you mean?” Daphne asked, halfway through a five-strand braid.

“Well, are we going to tell, like, everything to them? Everything? ”

“I don’t see why not, it’s not like we have been the face of secrecy with him, you know,” Fred said, gesturing with his one remaining hand as the other was occupied turning Scooby into goo.

“Dude, I ain't talking about the powers and college degrees, that is a different can of worms, I’m talking about us.” Shaggy also started gesturing with his hands, pointing them towards his chest at the end of that particular statement.

“Us?” Fred was confused until Shaggy took his hand, a meaningful look on his hazel eyes.

“Us.”

“But Shaggy, what would be so bad if they knew about our relationship? For all we know, they may be right in the path of starting their own version of it.” Daphne questioned, undoing the five strand braid and starting a french one.

“And that is the problem. We don’t know anything about them. They may be us, but, like, not really us. Maybe nothing goes as they did back home. Then we parade into their lives, like, without knock or warning…”

“And you are afraid that we may accidentally start influencing their decisions or something.” Fred completed, his eyes wild when the information dawned on him.

Velma sprung to her feet, pacing furiously in front of them, her serious face on. “Jinkies, Shaggy is right! At that age, the world was new to us. If an older version of me had appeared to my fifteen old self and told me about my future, I would use all of it as a guideline.”

“But we are not even their future selves, we are from a different dimension altogether. Our lives were shaped by entirely different circumstances.” Daphne contra argued, finishing the french braid carefully to not pull Shaggy’s hair too much.

“It won’t matter. They will see in us models to follow, versions of ‘what could’ or ‘should be’.” Velma sat down once again, both hands under her chin.

“But Shaggy, if you had all these concerns, why didn’t you stop us from talking about our cases? Why expose him to your magic?” Fred asked, looking at his boyfriend expectantly.

“Because these types of things are, like, manageable on the long run, man” Shaggy rubbed his face “Dude, there is a difference between ‘things that I may do when I’m older’ and ‘My future relationship status’. What if we tell them we are together and then they, like, I don’t know, try to force it to happen between them? We,” he pointed to all of them “Clicked together after years of knowing each other, and like, late-night star seeing, but for them? I don’t know where their destiny was going to send them, man. Maybe they end up together. Maybe they would pass the rest of their lives in a harmonious platonic relationship. Maybe they will find love outside of the gang, I don’t know. We could inadvertently cause a sea of heartache.”

Silence fell between them. Fred had to admit that he hadn’t thought about it like that. Daphne hugged Shaggy from behind, her chin on his shoulder, pushing the now made french braid over the other.

“So you think we may cause them harm just by being here?”

Shaggy shrugged “That’s the thing: I don’t know. Not for sure. That’s the problem with interdimensional magic, the rules aren’t as clear cut as, like, time travel ones.” he groaned, resting his head against Daphne’s “Dude, I hate interdimensional magic. This shit is, like, way trickier than it has any right to be.”

Velma put her finger over her chin. After a minute of silence, she turned towards the gang “I think I get it. In time travel, everything you do affects you personally because you are meddling with your timeline. But once you start interacting with a different dimension you-“

“Your timeline is no longer in the equation.” Daphne completed.

“Exactly, but we are still present in a sense, so our actions will affect the world none less.”

“Just with zero consequences to us.” Fred laid lack on the steps of the city hall entrance, dissociating after such a bomb was thrown in his lap.

“So, we could tell this younger gang about our relationship and then go back to our dimension unaffected…” Daphne turned her body away from the bannister, no longer using it as a seat but as a support. Her arms crossed and her face contorted into a frown as she looked at Fred on the ground.

“But live behind a gang that may not be compatible romantically with each other trying to force themselves together and end up with a nice bucked off emotional issues” Shaggy also turned towards the gang, but remained seated on the bannister in a lotus position.

Daphne covered her face with both hands, her voice muffled “God, I hated having this kind of discussions in Philosophy class, applying them to real-life doesn’t make them better.”

“Well, we have left the room of hypotheses and entered headfirst in an actual ‘non-consequences free’ zone, so is bound to suck harder now. Be glad that you are not being graded by this particular dive into madness.” Velma smirked at the purple-clad girl who threw one of her patented glares.

“Thank you, Velma, for your kind words.”

“I’m here to serve” she mockingly bowed.

They laughed over the girls’ shenanigans. They were giggly since they arrived in this weird new world and they sure hoped it was no psychological effect of being so unceremoniously launched into the unknown. They, still laughing, set all in the steps of the city hall, side by side. Scooby was giving them worried looks. Not a good sight.

“So, what do you guys suggest we tell them?” Daphne was the first one to sober up from the laughing fit, cleaning the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“What they ask of us. Our best tactic now is to not lie. Lies have short legs and can easily trip” Fred said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“Especially when you are lying to a bunch of junior detectives.” Added Velma.

“Exactly, so if they ask about something that we deem reality shattering we tell half of the truth or we find a way to change the subject until we figure out if the information could or not have lasting effects. That way we would not be technically lying to them and at the same time we avert any emotional fallout.” Fred had a faraway look in his eyes, probably thinking about all the topics that he simply didn't want to touch again even with a ten feet long pole.

This dimension Jones Sr. better not be a masked villain too or he was going to deck him in the face.

“…When I had that one dream about becoming one of the faes, these were not the circumstances that I thought it would go down.” Daphne had a disbelieving look on her face, looking at her back as if she was expecting a pair of wings to sprout from there.

“I, like, will have to explain the magic, even if not all of it. Even if I erased his memory of the van merging -with by the way I will not do- magic always finds a way of being discovered. It’s, like, better we explain to them now instead of them finding out later by other means.” Shaggy said, remembering that one memorie in Salem where he and Daphne were accused of witchcraft. He was partially offended that the thing that put her in the stake by his side was not any magical prowess on her part and it was more in the line of “Adult Woman With Opinions Are The Devil”.

“Yeah, you said something about mind magic being volatile” Velma turned to him, always curious about magic and its applications and side effects. She was dead set in proving that magic was just another form of science, albeit more flashy. Shaggy thought that if anyone was going to prove that would be the small woman.

“It’s like magical brain surgery. Like, one wrong move and I give the boy an aneurysm. This kind of spell is for casters that have, like, one-third of my anxiety and nothing more.”

The day barely began in Crystal Cove and they had all these problems to think about. The exhaustion was slowly but surely creeping on them. Fred was feeling old. They were all feeling old. Everything was moving at a breakneck pace and seemed to never stop. A new world, new people, new gang, new problems. They prayed that nothing more was added to the list.

“I can wait for this all to settle down so I can find the closest bed and bloody shut down all my bodily functions.” Fred groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Same.” Was the unison response.

Silence.

Is either silence or laughter. That could not be healthy.

“Wait, does this mean no kissing???” Shaggy exclaimed which earned three hands flying over his mouth.

“Not in public, at least. It's a small town on the coast, isolated from major cities by some good miles, most people know each other one way or another” Fred said, removing his hand slowly.

“Yeah, and they would especially notice if the mayor's son was caught kissing all four of his friends” Added Velma, her hand leaving his mouth to find a place on his shoulder.

“Or, like, kissing said friend’s necks and behind their ears” Shaggy sighed, resigned to the ‘non-affection beyond normal friendly’ future.

“Nice just what we- Wait a second, ‘behind their ear’? Since when does Fred kiss behind ears??” Daphne turned her head so fast that Shaggy was afraid she may break her neck with the speed. When her head didn’t fall off her shoulders, Shaggy finally registered what she said.

“Like, since that one afternoon in grad year, on the roof of the culinary building. I thought he did it to all of us ” Brown eyes looked confused between blue and purple eyes, while said purple eyes were now glaring a hole thru the blue eyes owner's skull.

“Fredrick Jones, what affection partiality bullshit is this?”

“Yeah, Fred what gives?” Now pair of brown eyes was glaring at him, the glare somehow amplified by a pair of glasses, and Fred wanted nothing more than to flee towards the nearest desert to avoid vaporization.

“Ok, in my defence, none of you girls does the little shiver that he does when I kiss you guys there and believe me, I checked” He could feel the intense blush in his face and he just knew that he looked like a blond tomato right now.

“Shivers?” Daphne’s glare lost some of its intensity, her curiosity about new information about one of her lovers superseding her perceived slight.

Velma’s glare also mellowed down, her eyes now zeroed on Shaggy, who was doing his best to turn into a strawberry from how red he had suddenly turned.

“Yup. They run up and down his spine like a bolt of electricity. He gets all flustered, the most beautiful shade of carmine I have ever seen.” No longer under fear of vaporization via death glare, Fred perked up, a smile of one thousand volts on his face. He loved talking about his loved ones.

“Like, Freddie, man, come on” Redder by the second, Shaggy’s shoulders were perked, covering his ears. God, why didn’t he study those morphing spells more? He would give anything to be a rock right about now.

“Oooooh, so our Norvy darling is a shivery shiver boy, huh?” Daphne smirked, leaning against Shaggy, one arm going around his shoulder, essentially caging him from any last-minute spring to the mountains.

“I will pay you actual money to never say that again” He turned his head in the redhead direction, officially reaching ‘completely red’ status.

“Oh? But is the truth, isn’t it? Freddie is not one for lies.” Velma piped in, a mischievous look on her face.

“Are you lying, Freddie?” Daphne turned towards him, her own mischievous look making her purple eyes shine.

“I would never. Scots honour” Fred, the traitor, put a hand over his heart, the picture of sincerity. On second thought, maybe instead of turning into a rock, he could turn Fred into a rock.

“What do you say to me and Daph test it out? Just to see it for ourselves…” Velma gravitated to his other side. With Fred right in front of him, he was completely trapped.

Note to self: LEARN THE GODDAMN ROCK MORPHING SPELL!!!

Giggling like the villains they are, his lovers got closer and closer, their minds probably a mile a minute in all the ways they are going to make him have a cardiac arrest from the blushing alone when...

“Ah, ruys? Rhat rabout that rhing rabout rublic?” Scooby, the one that was the current owner of the brain cell of the gang apparently, commented from the ground. Those kids took too much influence from that Addams couple they met all those years ago. It had to be, because Scooby could NOT, for the life of him, remember them being THIS horny. One of these days he was going to get a cardboard box and write ‘HORNY JAIL’ in it to live them in time out.

The trio deflated, the wind completely blew out of their sails while Shaggy signed in relief, no longer trapped in the soon to be kiss cocoon…

And he was disappointed for some ungodly reason!

Lined side by side on the stone bannister, the gang groaned in frustration.

“I hate this already,” Shaggy grumbled, his red cheeks puffed.

“Yeah.” The other three agreed.

Scooby muffled a laugh. God, these next days are going to be an amazing shitshow to watch unfold. He gave them one week before they broke down.

Another groan came from the young adults, shoulder to shoulder, their heads touching, soaking in the small scrap of contact that they could have.

On second thought, a week may be too generous.

All of sudden, they could hear footsteps approaching from inside the building. Young Fred had a smile on his handsome face, putting his phone away as he walked.

“Hey, guys. Hope I didn’t make you wait too long” He was waving at them, smiling.

Young Fred was really happy with the presence of this new gang. They seemed so comfortable together, he hoped that they could all hang out. They could go to the beach, eat some Fruitmeir’s. They could even build traps together! He should ask them later.

“Nah, we barely noticed.” Daphne waved back “We were just chatting a little bit, nothing big.”

They had become really good liars along the years, huh.

“So, where now? Did you talk with your gang?” Fred, the older, asked his younger counterpart, making his way towards the van, Scooby softly head butting his left hand earning him a nice pat.

“I called them and told them to meet me at the radio station. It’s owned by a friend of ours that helps us from time to time”

“Groovy! Lead the way” Shaggy smiled, snapping his fingers in rapid succession, making Young Fred laugh.

We talk about this more later after we meet their gang and take a good long nap.

Three different winks of affirmation. Morse code is coming in handy in these weird times.

“Hey, does that radio station have any maps of the town? Not that I don’t enjoy you helping with directions, but I was hoping to familiarize myself better with the place” Daphne casually hopped to young Fred’s side, looping her arm over his shoulders, a sweet smile on her purple lipstick.

“Sure thing, Angel must have some lying around. I could show you the library too so you could look for them yourself” Young Fred suggested, lining on the embrace. He and his Daphne should do this more, it was nice.

“Really???” Her smile got impossibly brighter, bouncing in place like a child at a candy store. Young Fred soon found himself locked in a bear crushing hug, the older woman long red hair tickling his nose. “Thanks, Little Freddie, you’re the best”

He hugged her back, a soft look on his face. He had hugged his Daphne before, but this hug felt fundamentally different. Maybe it was her age difference with his best friend or the way she looked at him like he was the most precious thing she had ever seen. Maybe it was the effect of having talked with her about all his trap ideas during the journey here, her attention never wavering.

Maybe it was a combination of all of them. He didn’t know.

That didn’t stop, however, the small part in the back of his mind telling him that this is what a mother embrace felt like.

“Ah chucks, it’s nothing really. What are friends for?”

#Scooby Gang #Scooby-Doo #Shaggy Rogers #Velma Dinkley #Fred Jones #Daphne Blake #Gih Writes #us... but not quite #scooby doo crossovers #CrossOver #Oh fuck possible consequences for our actions!!!!#You heard about Older Fred adopting Younger Fred as his son #NOW GET READY FOR DAPHNE ADOPTING YOUNGER FRED AS HER SON #Daphne has fun mom energy #she cares #they care #with is more than any adult figure in fucking crystal cove combined #except Mrs Dinkely #she is a delight and should not be counted in meeds the garbage of parental neglect

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methylphenidating · 4 years ago

Text

Wild Things That Go Bump - Hollstein one shot

Read on AO3

Carmilla - student/teacher AU

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.942

A/N: Just some good old fashioned porny writing. A series of one shots that does have somewhat of a storyline.

Summary: Carmilla Karnstein, English and Physics teacher, decides to take things further with her gorgeous colleague, Elle Sheridan. Much to Laura Hollis' dismay. As things heat up between the two women, Carmilla is about to find out just how far Laura is willing to go to get her teacher's attention back to her.

Carmilla boringly plays with the spoon in her cup. The cute heart the barista had made from the milk foam was now turning into something more abstract. She hears Elle in the background talking about Sparkles, which she figures is her cat’s name and the only thing Carmilla can think about is how the fuck a math teacher, with a PhD nonetheless, can name their cat Sparkles.

She can't help but laugh at that and as it turns out it is just in line with something funny Elle had said. Which has gone completely over her head. They exchange a smile at each other.

Why did I bother to go out with this woman?

As her gaze travels from her coffee, to Elle, to the student standing across the street behind the gorgeous teacher, she remembers.

Carmilla can't get her eyes off of Laura, who is using a large sponge and practically her whole body to clean the dirt off of a SUV. Her white t-shirt and shorts are soaked through and through. A very tall redheaded girl is holding a hose and at first is pointing it at the SUV. But as Laura is practically mounting the car unceremoniously, she then points it at Laura. Both girls are laughing and seem to have lots of fun as the redhead is now full on hosing down Laura, with Laura trying to pretend she isn’t enjoying it.

Carmilla has to cross her legs to tame the ache between her legs, but she doesn't look away.

Just as she is about to figure out what Laura is wearing underneath her shirt, she feels a slight brush on her hand. As she looks down, she sees Elle brushing her thumb across the back of her hand. Carmilla’s gaze then travels from their hands to Elle’s face and they lock eyes for a moment.

Carmilla knows then and there that this isn’t just a routine coffee date.

I fucking fell for it.

She tries to ignore Laura in the background and moves her attention to Elle.

Maybe she won’t be as boring in bed. She is gorgeous after all. Something about more than meets the eye?

Carmilla retracts her hand, but never seizes the eye contact.

They had found a nice place to sit in the shade before ordering their coffee, but it was the middle of summer and the sun was beaming above their heads. The coffeeshop they were sitting at, called Carpe Diem, was close by the campus where the carwash was being held today.

“Such eager students aren’t they? I think that’s your SUV being washed thoroughly.” Carmilla finally speaks.

Elle turns her head and now both her and Carmilla are watching the redheaded girl and Laura hose down the black SUV.

“Danny, more to the left!” she hears Laura shout to the redhead.

It gives her an excuse to enjoy the sight a little more before Elle's attention goes back to Carmilla.

“Honestly, I feel like these things are nothing more than an excuse for students to gain easy credits. Kinda cheap as well.”

“It’s for charity.” Carmilla replies with a smirk.

She finally gulps the coffee down with a grimace, since the temperature of it is not that enjoyable anymore.

She puts the cup down and Elle gives her a chuckle.

“What? Did I miss some foam?”

As Carmilla is about to wipe her mouth with a napkin, Elle's hand is suddenly on her face.

“Just about there, yeah.”

Her words are a whisper as she stares intensely at Carmilla’s lips. Elle brushes away the remainder of foam on the corner of her mouth with her thumb and Carmilla can feel the tension being cranked up to eleven.

“Carmilla, you didn’t bring your car. Not in the mood for a free wash?”

Carmilla follows the movement of her hand as Elle brings her thumb back to her own mouth to lick the foam off.

This woman is moving at the speed of 'let's fuck right here' kilometers per hour.

She decides she has had enough of Elle's teasing and blatant flirting.

“I still have to pick it up from the garage. Come to think of it, I might do that now. And then we can have some iced tea at my place.”

Elle gives her a knowing smile. She knows Carmilla has no intention of picking up her car or feeding her iced tea for that matter. She knows she is going to get fed something else entirely.

“Yeah sure, I’ll come with.”

As they both stand up to leave to go to Carmilla’s apartment, which is about a block away, Carmilla gives a quick glance to the SUV. She has to do a double take as she now sees Laura standing there, looking straight at her, with what seems to be a very displeased and annoyed look.

If Carmilla didn’t know any better, it was a full on death stare.

Carmilla locks eyes with her for what seems like forever, then turns around and starts walking away with Elle. She knows exactly what just happened and grabs Elle’s hand as they go around the corner of the block, giving Laura a glimpse of what she’s about to do.

You don't own me, you little brat.

***

The walk seems to take forever and Carmilla is ready to trade the fuck sessions with her brat of a student in for this gorgeous teacher. Besides, less chance of getting caught and suspended, though she was more worried of what the principal would do to his precious not so innocent daughter, if he found out.

When she opens the door to her ground floor apartment, she lets Elle in first.

"Nice crib, Carm. I always wanted a ground floor, two bedroom."

Elle looks around as she walks further in. Carmilla throws her keys on a small dish on top of the dresser.

"Thanks, I took it over from a friend."

Before she realizes what happens, Carmilla is being pulled inside and Elle uses her to shut the door. She rams Carmilla against it and Elle immediately plants her mouth on hers, not leaving any questions left in the air about her intentions.

She feels Elle's hands roam all over her body, cupping her breasts roughly and Carmilla moans into the kiss. Elle quickly unbuttons Carmilla’s white blouse and the button of her black jeans. She feels her impatient fingers going inside of it, pushing her panties down.

Carmilla decides she’s done not having the upper hand and turns Elle around, pushing her against the door. She puts her thigh against Elles center and presses against it. Elle moans and breaks the kiss.

Carmilla starts kissing her neck, pleased with herself.

“Not gonna let me take control, huh?” Elle pants.

Carmilla chuckles.

“You’re way in over your head.” she purrs against her neck and continues her pathway with her mouth, while rubbing her nipple through the fabric of her blouse.

“Oh Carm, that feels so good” Elle whispers.

Suddenly, Carmilla stops dead in her tracks.

She holds herself there for what seems like forever and pulls back from Elle.

"Carmilla?”

She finally meets Elle's eyes and gives her a haunted look, but recovers from it before Elle takes note.

"I'm sorry Elle. I forgot about this appointment I have and I still need to grade a ton of tests before Monday. Maybe we can continue this another time?"

Carmilla hopes she sounded as nonchalantly as possible and Elle just stares at her for a good few seconds, her expression saying something in the line of ‘you can sit on my face while you grade your exams, I won't mind.’

Eventually she gives Carmilla a soft smile and kisses her cheek, lingering long enough for Carmilla to get another good whiff of her perfume.

Doesn’t smell as good as-

"Of course, I don't mind some old school hard to get." she says with a wink as she pulls away.

Carmilla just smiles and lets her out. After closing her front door, she leans against it with her back, closing her eyes as her mind yet again replays the scene Elle triggered with just a few words.

To yesterday.

To Laura.

Carmilla slumps down on the floor against her door as the memory unfolds in her head.

She was kissing Laura's neck, sucking on her pulse point when Laura had heard her call her ‘Carm’ for the first time.

"Oh Carm, that feels so good." Laura had whimpered.

At the time she had punished Laura for it, but she could admit it to herself now. She had loved it when Laura had said it. Called her name like that.

She lets her head fall back against the door as she realizes she didn't like it when Elle had just now.

Carmilla feels a twitch in her center as the memory of Laura unfolds further.

Whimpering. On her desk. Her legs spread.

She pinches her eyes, trying to make it go away. But then she remembers how her students tongue had felt. Lashing over her clit eagerly.

"Fuck, that girl is good with her mouth." she mumbles to herself.

The twitch is replaced by full blown aching and she can feel her swollen clit rub against the fabric of her panties.

She stays on the floor, her blouse and pants still unbuttoned. Her hand starts to travel downwards, past the hem of her panties, when suddenly her doorbell rings.

Carmilla lets out a frustrated sigh and gets up from the floor. She quickly buttons up her blouse and shoves them back in her jeans.

The doorbell rings again.

Someone is an impatient little fuck.

She swings it open, ready to fight some stupid mailman.

Instead, she kind of chokes on her breath.

"Laura."

Carmilla stands nailed to the ground. The sight of the younger girl instantly turns the full blown aching between her legs into full blown throbbing.

The white t-shirt she has on is still wet from before, but surprise surprise, no bra underneath.

"Hello, Miss Karnstein."

The girl smiles, but Carmilla senses a hint of annoyance coming off of her. And this would match her displeasing look from earlier.

Carmilla scrapes her throat.

"What can I help you with, Laura?"

She wants to mentally shoot herself for giving away her desire with a raspy voice and she knows it wont go unnoticed with Laura.

After all, they have heard the other orgasm multiple times now.

"Can I come in?"

Laura smiles at her. It's that innocent smile of which Carmilla doesn’t know why it just makes her want to see it disappear by jamming a few fingers inside her tight little-

"Sure."

Carmilla opens the door wider and Laura enters, looking around amazed. But Carmilla notices she is searching for something.

Probably someone.

"Nice apartment."

"So, what are you doing here?"

Carmilla crosses her arms impatiently.

"Well, Miss Karnstein, you never brought your car, for a wash. So I thought I would come by to remind you."

Carmilla isn't really paying attention to what she is saying as her eyes are glued to Laura's chest. More specifically, the hard nipples straining against the white wet fabric, of which she can swear are getting harder the more she looks at it. As Laura starts to walk closer to her, Carmilla finally meets her eyes.

"I'm sorry Laura, I got a little busy." she says in a bored tone.

Laura doesn't really seem surprised at that. In fact, it seems as if her annoyance just grows after she said that.

As Laura now stands a few inches away, her eyes get caught on Carmilla's top buttons of her blouse. They're undone.

"With Miss Sheridan, I presume?"

Laura never meets her eyes as she asks the question. Instead, she is fidgeting with the top button of Carmilla’s blouse, fixated on it.

"Laura," Carmilla speaks as she stills the hand that is sneaking its way inside her blouse, "that's none of your fucking business, is it cupcake?"

The last words are spoken in a mocking tone and oh did she love mocking this girl.

Laura's expression changes from playful to angry.

"You don't have to hide it, you know." she says as she distances herself from her teacher. "I saw her leaving your place not too long ago."

"Are you spying on your teachers now?" Carmilla asks, raising an eyebrow.

Laura's expression softens a little. "Not all teachers, no."

Their eyes meet again and Carmilla can feel the sexual tension practically dripping off of the walls of her house.

It would be so good, just to take her in my own bedroom. She’s practically screaming for it.

But she can't make Laura think she can just come into her house, invade her privacy, and interrogate her like some jealous lover.

Carmilla regains her composure and gives her student a mocking smile.

“You know, Laura, you're just a student who doesn't have any business poking around in my private life and I sure as hell don't owe you an explanation of who I'm fucking in my free time.”

"You can fuck me in your free time."

The words are out before Laura realizes it.

Did I hear her correctly?

Carmilla feels her composure slipping away again and she wonders why this girl has such an effect on her.

Laura's expression is now that of a begging student. Much like when she had begged for a higher grade. Much like when she had begged Carmilla to let her come.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Miss Karnstein."

Laura suddenly seems very sure of herself and Carmilla isn't liking it.

She decides to stand her ground and not let this younger girl manipulate her.

"No."

"No?"

Did I really just say no?

Laura looks flabbergasted and Carmilla guesses by her expression she really didn't expect her to say no.

Hell, even Carmilla herself couldn't believe it.

This girl is practically offering herself up on a silver platter to Carmilla, in her own damn house, ready to be feasted on whenever Carmilla wants and she refuses her.

"You heard me, Laura." Carmilla snaps back.

As she is making her way to the door to open it, ready to throw this brat of a student out, Laura is suddenly in front of it, blocking her.

"Laura, you need to go. Now." Carmilla feels her frustration turning into anger.

"Wait no, Miss Karnstein, please."

"Laura, get out. Leave."

Carmilla practically spits the words out.

She grabs the younger girl by her arm and tries to pull her away from the door so she can push her out of her apartment.

"No, Carm, I won't!"

As she shouts her name, Carmilla can hear it echo through her house and she can't help but still her movements.

Laura knows there are consequences to using her name like that. But at this point she doesn't care.

She won't let Carmilla be seduced by some floozy teacher. She would never be able to give Carmilla what she wants. What she needs.

But Laura can, she is sure of it. She knows she can please Carmilla in ways no one can ever imagine doing. Every time she catches her teacher staring at her, in the back of her class, she knows it means something. She knows it bothers her when Laura flirts with others.

Yesterday she finally had the courage to walk up to her. And when Laura had offered herself up like that, she knew Carmilla wanted her as much as she did. She has had a crush on her teacher since forever and this is her chance to turn it into more, to make her fall in-

"Laura, move, or there will be some serious consequences you can not begin to comprehend." Carmilla says in a very calm and collected voice. The menacing undertone doesn’t go unnoticed.

Laura's expression changes. Her eyes get dark and it makes Carmilla stare at her in confusion. The student innocently looks up at her.

“Miss Karnstein, you and I both know I actually can begin to comprehend the things you will do to me. In fact, the things you wanna do to me right here. Right this moment. You tell me you want me to go when what you actually wanna do, is suck on the nipples that have been pressed against my shirt for the past few minutes. You wanna take my tight wet pussy and put as many fingers in, and see which finger it is that's gonna make me beg for you to stop. But even when I do beg, you won’t stop.“

Carmilla just stares at her in shock.

“Don't you, Miss Karnstein?”

That bratty look returns, the one Carmilla knows all too well.

If Carmilla even had any resolve left after that, it disappeared as fast as the speed of light.

She grabs both her hands and slams them above Laura's head against the door. She kisses her, hard, reminding Laura who is going to be in control of this whole fuck session they are about to begin.

Although Carmilla has the younger girl pinned between the door and her own body, it is Laura that deepens the kiss, brushing her tongue eagerly against Carmilla's. Any lingering desire for Elle has long gone.

Carmilla lets go of her hands, to let her own roam freely over the young girl's body, going to where she wanted to touch her for the past few minutes when the student had stepped foot in her house.

As she squeezes her breasts, Laura moans in her mouth. But Carmilla wants more.

She pulls away from the kiss, spins Laura around and slams her face first against the door. She continues where she left off, her hands traveling under her shirt back to her breasts, only now she can easily squeeze her nipples too. She puts the hardened nubs between her index and middle finger and massages her just like that. Laura moans and lets her head fall back, and Carmilla starts sucking on that pulse point, of which she knows exactly what that does to both of them.

"Hey cupcake, tell me this." Carmilla pants in her ear.

Laura tries her best to listen to the words coming out of her teacher's mouth, while her breasts are being touched so eagerly. Her nipples have always been so sensitive. She plays with them quite often when she touches herself.

"Yes, Miss Karnstein?" she breathes, followed by a gasp as she feels Carmilla tug on her earlobe.

"Have you been braless all day long?"

Carmilla feels a small sting of what she would never dare to call jealousy while she asks the question, but somehow the thought of Laura washing other people's cars with that sight to behold makes her feel just that. At the time she couldn’t really check as Elle was there distracting her.

She turns Laura back around, bringing her mouth close to hers.

"Tell me, Laura." Carmilla purrs, her hands still under her shirt.

Laura blushes a little and bites her lip. She looks down before looking back up to meet Carmilla’s eyes.

"I… no. I waited till daddy went home after saying goodbye to the teachers, then I..."

Her words die in her throat and she moans as she feels Carmilla's tongue brush against her nipple.

She looks down and sees Carmilla has pulled her shirt up with both hands. She is slowly circling the hard bud with her tongue. Her tongue darts back in and Carmilla glances up at her.

"Then you..." Carmilla motions for her to continue.

She then takes Laura's nipple between her teeth and bites on it softly. Laura lets out a louder moan before continuing, although having trouble speaking now.

"Then I.. Ah, went to the changing rooms and... removed it… oh god"

Carmilla is now sucking hard on her nipple and that alone can send Laura over the edge if she keeps doing that long enough. She tangles her fingers slowly in Carmilla's black wavy hair and gently urges her to keep sucking on it. She expects her teacher to refuse and punish her, as she had done the last time.

Instead, Carmilla increases the pressure and Laura is letting out small moans now as her head falls back on the door and Carmilla continues to suck on her swollen nipple. She tugs it between her lips before kissing her way back up to Laura’s mouth.

"And then you came straight to my house, to spy on me and watch me fuck someone else, didn’t you?

Her tone has changed, Laura notices, and the look in Carmilla's eyes are the familiar displeasing look she had seen yesterday, which sends shivers down her whole body.

Carmilla begins to realize just what is happening between them right this moment. But she wants to tease the younger girl some more. Not wanting to acknowledge any of it, in fact.

She leans both hands against the door and brings her lips close to Laura’s ear again.

“Tell me, buttercup, how long were you standing there, outside my house? Did you watch, through the window as well? Did you watch as I took Elle hard, right here on this very floor you’re standing on?”

Laura has trouble controlling her emotions. She feels the familiar ache in her sex from hearing her teachers seducing tone in her ear and the oh so familiar jealousy she had felt whenever she saw Carmilla even being mildly flirty with someone else, especially Miss Sheridan.

She hates the wench for even touching Carmilla the other day, in front of her.

Laura regains some of her composure and she decides to put an end to Carmilla’s smug face.

“Nice try, Miss Karnstein, but I know for a fact that even if you fucked her, she definitely didn’t fuck you.”

Carmilla leans back and raises an eyebrow, eyeing her suspiciously, but listening curiously as Laura continues.

“You see, I know exactly how long it takes for you to come.”

Laura moves closer to Carmilla, her hands slowly unbuttoning the blouse she is wearing. As she reaches her pants, she unbuttons it as well and removes the blouse from her jeans.

“And since I saw Miss Sheridan going into your house and getting back out within a certain time, I know for a fact she definitely didn’t make you orgasm.”

Carmilla smirks and looks at her.

I might have underestimated this girl.

She is about to call her a stalker student, when her retort dies in her throat.

Carmilla didn't even realize her pants were undone. She was so mesmerized by Laura’s sudden confidence, until she felt fingers go through her soaking wet folds.

“Ah. Fuck.”

Carmilla’s hips jolt from the touch and she rests her hands back on the door. She remembers not so long ago she had been so turned on just thinking about Laura, she was about to take care of it herself, right on this exact spot.

It turns out she doesn’t have to anymore.

“You’re so fucking wet” Laura whispers, her lips brushing Carmilla’s cheek.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Carmilla hisses as she feels Laura’s fingers move over her swollen clit.

“Nothing that Miss Sheridan can do to you, I’m sure.”

“Shut up. Come here.”

Carmilla pulls her closer and kisses her. She takes her own blouse off, leaving her black lace bra on and unbuttons Laura’s shorts. At that moment she can't help but wonder if this time she will have briefs on or not.

“No more talking about Miss Sheridan.” she says with a strict tone.

Last thing Carmilla wants is to think about is Elle while she is relishing in the slow rubbing of her clit by Laura and her head falls back as she lets out a moan.

Laura is definitely good with her hands as well.

She puts her own hand over Laura’s and presses against it, seeking more friction.

Her hips buck. She is getting dangerously close, but to her own surprise she doesn’t want to come. Not yet.

“Keep going, slow, just like that.” Carmilla instructs her.

Laura nods and complies happily as Carmilla continues to get rid of her shorts. She unzips it and before she can do anything else, she feels a massive jolt go through her core.

“Fuck, damn it” she hisses, feeling her orgasm edge closer. Laura is putting just the right amount of pressure on her throbbing clit as she continues her slow, but oh so sweet up and down motions. She knows it will take just about five strokes more and she's done.

“Are you enjoying it, Miss Karnstein?” Laura says with a grin.

Carmilla lets out a frustrated groan.

Yes, too much.

She swiftly removes Laura’s hand from her pants and gets down on her knees, pulling Laura’s shorts with her. Much to Carmilla’s surprise, she is wearing a pair of white lace briefs, definitely from Victoria's.

“Not your usual attire, cupcake.” Carmilla says with a smirk.

“Do you like it? I bought them recently.”

Carmilla looks up at her and gives her an approving smile. Laura can’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach.

She gets rid of the briefs quickly and she stares at the younger girls sex, mesmerized. Her wetness is glistening in the sunlight and Carmilla can’t help but lick the opening of her folds, relishing in the taste.

“Ah, Miss Karnstein, wait, I wanna touch you first. Please.”

Laura is about to pull her shirt over her head when Carmilla stops her and gets back up.

“No. That stays on.”

The shirt had dried up a little, but with the fabric being as thin, there was still not much to hide.

As they kiss, Carmilla leads her to her bedroom.

She pushes Laura against her dresser and lifts her up on it. Their tongues are battling for dominance, but as Laura wraps her legs around Carmilla’s waist and pulls her in closer, Carmilla feels the edge of the dresser press against the seam of her jeans. She moans and it gives Laura an opening to kiss her neck. She moves her hair out of the way and licks along her pulse point. Carmilla shivers and she decides then she is done edging.

She impatiently shoves her jeans and her black briefs down to her thighs and puts one hand around Laura’s middle.

"Go inside." she pants.

Before Laura can reach to touch her, Carmilla has already taken her students hand and she pushes two of Laura’s fingers inside her. They slide in so easy and she takes them out half way, only to shove them in deeper, going straight for her sweet spot.

Carmilla groans and she feels her legs go weak.

She holds on to Laura while she fucks herself using Laura’s fingers.

“Miss Karnstein, here, let me do it. You feel so fucking good."

Carmilla holds her own hand there as she feels Laura mimicking her motions from before. She spreads her legs further to give the girl easier access and the sensation of it all is driving her crazy.

She is speechless, aside from the continuous moans and she is so close to orgasming, her brain content has gone straight to her center.

“Fuck, Laura... so good… gonna come...” is all she can manage to bring out.

Carmilla rides her hand as Laura thrusts in and out of her at a maddening pace.

I definitely love her hands as much as her tongue.

Laura pulls her in closer by the back of her head.

“You’re fucking amazing. I wanna feel you come.” she whispers in her ear.

Carmilla feels her walls tighten and then contract. She finally climaxes, very hard, grunting as her hips buck wildly against Laura’s hand.

She bites her moans down on the younger girl's shoulder, having shoved aside the fabric of her shirt.

Carmilla pushes Laura’s fingers even deeper inside her and holds them there to ride out the last waves of her orgasm.

They pull back and Laura slowly pulls her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth. Carmilla shivers and watches her intensely as she licks them both off.

Just from watching Laura lick off the fingers that had been inside her just a few moments ago makes her ache again.

Carmilla wants to taste her again, touch her again, have her whimpering again. She can’t get enough of hearing the younger girl beg.

"Laura, get on my bed, right now." Carmilla commands her student.

Laura’s face instantly turns into that of a puppy who just got thrown a bone.

"Yes, Miss Karnstein."

She swiftly gets off the dresser and Carmilla leads her to the back of her room. She is about to push her down on her white linen covers, when suddenly her doorbell rings.

Seriously, what day is it? Trick or fucking treat?

Carmilla gives out a frustrated groan and pulls her briefs and pants back up.

"Stay here. Don’t move.” she orders Laura. “I’m not done with you yet.” She gives her a quick kiss on the lips before exiting her bedroom.

As she enters her hallway she sees Laura's briefs and shorts lying there along with her own blouse. She smirks, picks her blouse up and puts it on. The remaining clothes are thrown through the bedroom door she left ajar.

As she buttons her blouse back up she tries to peek through the windows to see who it is, but the person is practically hugging her door it seems.

She rolls her eyes and annoyingly swings it open. She raises an eyebrow at the person standing in front of her.

Are you fucking kidding me?

#carmilla fic #carmilla #hollstein #carmilla karnstein #laura hollis #carmilla smut #smut #laura x carmilla #carmfic #text #carmilla x laura #ctws #myfic

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (20) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey hey! thank u so much if u gave a lil note or sent a bit of love my way for ch19. it was really my fav to write so far so i’m so glad it resonated with at least somebody!! there is only one more chapter to this whole fic after this and i’m emosh. after the rollercoaster ride we’ve all been on, i hope u enjoy this fun lil chapter as much as i loved writing it!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Brooke, Nina, Silky and Vanjie were locked in the library, and Brooke and Vanessa finally talked things out like adults.

this chapter: exams are over, dissertations are submitted, degree classifications are being allocated and the girls are nervously waiting for adult life to hit them like a freight train. what better way to avoid thinking about responsibilities than to go to the beach?

***

The day had started, as most of Scarlet’s days often do, with a message to the group chat.

Well, no, that was a bit of a lie. Scarlet’s day had started with her making breakfast, talking to her Mums over facetime as she ate it, and reassuring them that no, she hadn’t found out her degree classification yet and when she did they’d be the first to know. It was hard beginning each day with her heart in her mouth, frantically checking her phone to see if the website had been updated and then trying to relax when she found out it hadn’t been. Scarlet tried not to think too much about it, post-Uni life that is, but with each passing day it became an unignorable fact that she had to face. Graduation season was a mere month away and Scarlet didn’t want to face it but she had to, because the reality was that Scarlet didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. Not a single clue. Gone were the days of six-year-old Scarlet, who spent the mornings being an actress with a short break at lunchtime to develop her career in the veterinary sector and finishing the day off creating new play-dough recipes for her Michelin-star restaurant. High school had been so good at pushing everyone into a university-shaped mold but now that Scarlet had completed her three years there she felt a little like the aquarium fish in Finding Nemo once they had escaped their glass box: stuck in a plastic bag bubble, thrown out into the vast, unexplored ocean, and simply asking herself now what? Really, what could she do with a Philosophy degree? Everyone asked her the same question when she’d been making her UCAS choices and now here she was asking herself the same thing. She wished she could remember what 18-year-old Scarlet had replied. Her Mums had been surprisingly supportive of the whole endeavour, but then again they had probably been happy to have their pouty, whining teenage daughter out of the house. Funny how times change, Scarlet thought to herself as she squeezed a generous dollop of washing-up liquid onto the sponge and dunked her empty plate into the hot water she’d filled the sink with. Her Mums had just been on the phone encouraging Scarlet to move back home while she decided on what to do next. It was tempting, but the prospect of being back in the country all isolated and away from her friends and Yvie and the exciting busy-ness of the city didn’t exactly fill Scarlet with glee.

Hearing her phone buzz against the counter, Scarlet almost smashed her newly-dried plate in her haste to read the notification just in case it was an email about her classification. It wasn’t. It was, however, a message from the girls. Nina, to be precise.

Kim Kardashian-West: GUYS it’s meant to be the SUNNIEST day today and Monet’s flat are all going to the beach!!! we should all go too!

Scarlet frowned, looking at the decidedly grey sky. It didn’t exactly inspire much hope.

Yvie’s bitch: Are you sure you’re reading the forecast for today? It looks a bit grey outside xxxx

Kim Kardashian-West: Scarlet I’m a primary teacher. A basic knowledge of the days of the week are kind of an entry level requirement

cursed SatNav voice: Am I FUCK going to sit freezing my ass off on the sand watching the rain piss down all around me!!

cursed SatNav voice: If i wanted to get soaked I would just call Brooke xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No.

cursed SatNav voice: Ain’t that right @Brooke Lynn Hytes

Maple Syrup: you know it bby xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Hell. I’m in hell.

Scarlet snorted a laugh. Akeria could well have been joking or deadly serious. Looking up and out of the tiny little window that was positioned beside the sink, Scarlet swore she could see a small ray of sunshine fighting through the clouds. She tilted her head, considering Nina’s offer.

Okay Then: yes i am absolutely down to get blackout day drunk today

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Bitch it’s 11am who hurt you

Okay Then: listen this is perhaps the only time of our lives where we have literally no responsibilities at all. i’m getting drunk

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: I sent off nine masters’ applications yesterday.

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No responsibilities my ass

Okay Then: well as huge as it is, i’m sure even it could use a little sun xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WHY ARE YOU HOES ALL SO SENSIBLE AND GLOOMY? I’M WITH PLASTIQUE LET’S GO GET DRUNK

Maple Syrup: Ooooh now you mention it a fruity cider would go down so well right now

Yvie’s bitch: Yeah go on then, I’m down!! Xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s bitch: Scarlet it’s literally 13 degrees outside you’re insane

Scarlet’s bitch: but admittedly you are also my girlfriend who i love very much

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EW

Scarlet’s bitch: so if you’re down i’m down

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: UGH fine i’ll go if all you idiots are too

Kim Kardashian-West: AAAH you guys this makes me so HAPPY!!!

Kim Kardashian-West: We only need Vanjie for a full house

Maple Syrup: Vanjie if you come I’ll let you suck my dick

cursed SatNav voice: How big is it

Maple Syrup: 2.75 inches when fully erect

Maple Syrup: Invisible to the human eye when flaccid

cursed SatNav voice: Hard pass

Scarlet’s bitch: Jesus Harvey Christ

cursed SatNav voice: But you bitches convinced me so i’m in

It turned out that most of the girls were still in their pyjamas, much like Scarlet, so they were given an hour to shower and make their way there. They were lucky that the city sat on the coast, and although much of the coastline was dedicated to harbours and pebble beaches there was one little beautiful strip of sand that lay about a half-hour bus ride out to the suburbs. Yvie and Brooke were getting a lift from Plastique and so they offered the last seat to Scarlet, but Scarlet didn’t want to take the girls out of their way. Besides, the sun was peeking out a little stronger now, and if it was to fully appear then it would be perfect weather for earphones, a summer playlist, and looking out of a bus window pretending she was in a music video.

Stepping outside of her flat, Scarlet was glad she’d ended up choosing dungaree shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It was definitely warmer than it looked, and she had to sweep her hair up into a ponytail to stop her neck getting too hot. She stopped off at the corner shop for a four-pack of cider (Brooke’s message had made her want some) and then walked over to the bus stop, where she managed to get one after not too long of a wait and sat on the top deck, letting the growing rays of sun fry her through the window. Once she was off the bus, she checked her phone for the meetup point. Nina, Monet and her flatmates were sat on the sand “around 10 metres in front of the chippy. But Monet has no concept of measurement so it’s anyone’s guess, really.”. Scarlet didn’t mind a small walk to find them. The promenade was packed with people all dressed in Summer clothes, the pavement giving off that smell of hot gravel which always reminded Scarlet of hot days and happy memories. The platinum-white sun cast its rays over the deep blue of the sea so that little diamonds sparkled against the waves, all tumbling over each other lazily and every so often giving a satisfying crash which mingled with the sounds of dogs barking and children giving happy cries. Scarlet found the chip shop but couldn’t see the girls amongst the mass of bodies laid out on the golden sand, so she shot Nina a text. As she waited for a reply, Scarlet took a deep breath and was hit with the unmistakable smell of the sea and chippy batter combining at once. She was a Winter person- she preferred frosty mornings and dark twinkly nights and getting cosy with a searing hot coffee and her duvet, but she loved how happy Summer seemed to make everyone, the sense of community that came with a hot, sunny day. Once Nina had given the other landmark of “there’s a guy with an inflatable sofa to our immediate right”, Scarlet managed to find the girls with no trouble and she was soon dashing towards them excitedly and letting out an embarrassingly childish squeal as she reached Nina and crashed into her in a hug.

“Scarlet!” she greeted her cheerfully, much of her face obscured by a huge floppy woven sunhat. Breaking out of the hug, she turned to address Monet’s flatmates. “Guys, you remember Scarlet, right?”

There was a chorus of welcoming noises as the other girls greeted her, some more distractedly than others. Cracker was busy rubbing her arm with a thick streak of white sunblock which seemed to have the same consistency as double cream, Bob was laid out against a bright pink beach towel with a set of huge sunglasses over her eyes, and Monique was trying her best to remove the cork from a bottle of cava. Monet was by Nina’s side, her head resting against her girlfriend’s shoulder as she stretched her legs out and buried her feet in the sand.

“Hey, congrats for finishing uni, Miss Scarlet,” Monet smiled at her, Scarlet smiling back despite the fact she was being reminded of adult life hurtling towards her like a bullet train.

“Thanks! Congrats to you both too. How does it feel to have an actual certified genius for a girlfriend?”

“Like I’m horrifically inferior and will never amount to anything.”

“Shut up!” Nina battered her on the arm, outraged as Monet and Scarlet shared a laugh. Nina had received a mark of 95 on her dissertation, a number that the girls had considered impossible to attain at university, but Nina had managed it. It was quite revolutionary as far as undergrad research went; a study into how well-prepared teachers felt to support transgender children in schools, with recommendations as to how to do just that within its conclusion and a call for councils to give further money and resources to the cause. “Your diss was amazing as well.”

“Yeah, what do you mean that more research into ability groupings in maths isn’t groundbreaking?” Monet rolled her eyes, laughing again as Nina protested.

“Who knew so much effort went into a primary teaching degree? I always thought your dissertation would be to…I don’t know, write a children’s book, or make a picture out of pasta spirals and glitter, or create a nursery rhyme or something,” Cracker piped up, Bob giving a snort beside her. Monet looked ready to defend her degree angrily when Nina sat up straight and fixed Cracker with an intrigued look.

“Oh, a nursery rhyme? Like…there was a young girl named Cracker, who was an incredible slacker. Her degree was dumb, so she tried to make fun, of her friends who decided to smack her.”

Scarlet let out a screech, as did Monique and Bob. Cracker could only burst out laughing and throw her hands up in defeat as Monet grabbed Nina’s face and pressed an emphatic kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, babe, I love you so much,” she laughed, wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye.

“Love you too!” Nina smiled happily, just as Monique finally got the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying, hollow pop.

“Aw, you hoes got champagne on arrival? How fancy.”

The girls turned around at the familiar voice to find Silky, Akeria and Vanjie all making their way towards them from the promenade. Excited again, Scarlet ran to hug them, namely Vanjie who she hadn’t seen since their final exam. They hadn’t spent too much time together but it had been enough time for Vanessa to elaborate on the story she’d told the girls in the group chat of how she, Silky, Brooke and Nina had all somehow been locked in the library overnight. Scarlet knew that had had something to do with the fact that she and Brooke were friends again. She didn’t know whether they’d fucked their frustrations out or actually talked like adults, but whatever they’d done Scarlet was glad about it. Whether or not they were reconnecting with a view to getting back together or not, Vanessa and Brooke were back to flirting on the group chat like high schoolers, and all was back to normal.

“Right, who’s wanting some of this? I’m not sure I got enough for everyone, though,” Monique asked loudly. Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanessa stayed silent as the other girls clamoured for some fizz. She knew Vanjie had broken things off with Monique, whatever “things” were, and Scarlet somehow didn’t think she was enjoying being on the other side of a breakup much either.

“Did you even bring cups?” Bob asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow at her flatmate. Monique groaned.

“Ah, fuck, cups.”

“You absolute idiot sandwich,” Cracker rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes darted quickly to Vanessa before she stood up and grabbed her purse from her backpack. “C’mon. I’ll come to the shops with you and we can get some.”

The two girls walked away as Silky, Akeria and Vanessa all laid out what looked to be a duvet cover that they’d brought with them in lieu of a towel or blanket. Scarlet didn’t even think to question it. She knew it had been Silky’s idea without needing to ask.

“I feel like a dick,” Vanessa jerked a thumb towards Monique’s retreating frame.

“Don’t,” Monet and Bob said in unison, Nina letting out a small laugh.

“Y’all are The Shining levels of creepy,” Akeria frowned, digging out three huge bottles of beer from a shopping bag and giving one to each of her flatmates.

“Well, we’re right! You were friends with benefits, everyone knew that. It’s not Monique’s fault she caught feels but it sure as hell ain’t yours either,” Bob shrugged, ever the blunt but honest friend.

“So what is going on with you and Brooke now?” Monet asked, leaning forward and propping herself up on her elbows. Vanessa fixed her with an unimpressed look.

“Gee Monet, whatever happened to so how’ve you guys been, or how was exams, or literally any other small talk?”

“Yeah, and whatever happened to it’s none of our business?” Nina side-eyed her girlfriend disapprovingly.

“Well, girl! We’ve been in dissertation hell for a month and a half. Shit kinda got boring,” Monet shrugged semi-apologetically. “Anyway Vanjie, Monique’s away and Brooke’s not here yet and I doubt you want to talk about it when either of those two are here in front of you? And I’ve been trying to grill Neens about it but she keeps using lame excuses like we shouldn’t be getting involved and shouldn’t you be thinking about your classroom, so c’mon, bitch, spill.”

Vanessa smiled slightly, gesturing as if it was obvious. “Well, she knows I love her. And she loves me.”

Monet let out an “aaw!” at the same time Akeria let out an “ugh”. Vanjie ignored them both and continued.

“But she hurt me, so I ain’t lettin’ her get back in my good books that easy. Of course I wanna be with her, more than anything else in the world, but we need to get that trust back before I even entertain the idea.”

“So have you…y’know…had any kinky, passionate reunion sex yet?” Monet winked at her. Vanessa looked at her flatmates, a humoured smile playing on her lips.

“Akeria’s threatened to kick me out the flat if I even so much as think about it.”

The girls howled with laughter as Akeria tried to suppress a smile. “She thinks I’m joking.”

“I really don’t,” Vanjie raised her eyebrows at her, Akeria playfully shoving her onto the fluffy sand beside her and causing her to get it all up her side. “God fucking damnit, now I don’t even get to look nice when she arrives.”

“Oh, here she comes now, actually,” Silky said, nonplussed. Vanessa scowled at her.

“Quit playin’.”

Scarlet followed Silky’s gaze. “No, Vanj, she actually is.”

As Vanessa muttered a shit, Scarlet waved excitedly at Plastique, Brooke and Yvie, smiling when the latter pulled a goofy face and waved back. Plastique seemed to be carrying something huge and wooden underneath her arm.

“Lord Jesus, what the hell is she doing,” Silky shook her head as the girls came closer into view. Scarlet jumped up happily to hug her girlfriend, Brooke muttered a soft hey as she sat down next to Vanjie and hugged her, and Plastique, after she’d greeted the others, unfolded a multicoloured striped deckchair.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Scarlet let out a laugh, unsure whether to be impressed or exasperated by Plastique’s levels of extra.

“What?! It’s a sunny day, we’re at the beach, this is literally what deckchairs are for! Have fun getting sand in every possible orifice, losers,” she stuck out her tongue at them as she sat back and gave a happy sigh.

“Ariel not joining us today?” Nina asked.

“Nah, she’s gone home to see her parents. Why the hell you’d want to go home now when you could be dragging out your last month of uni life is totally beyond me, but hey.”

Yvie gave a deep laugh. “Plastique, your family have a townhouse in London, a chalet in Chamonix with membership to a private ski resort, and a literal penthouse in Dubai with an outdoor pool on a balcony. Why the fuck are you here?”

The girls all exploded with laughter, even Plastique conceding with a smile and a self-aware shrug that she was a rich bitch.

“Hey, I’m moving back in after graduation and won’t see you guys for ages, let me enjoy your shitty company.”

“You could fly us all out,” Brooke smiled hopefully, cracking the top off her bottle of cider with her keys.

“Yeah, lemme borrow twenty grand off my Mum real quick,” Plastique snorted sardonically.

Bob reached across to Monique’s cava, giving a small sip. “I’m moving home too. Gotta save money.”

“At least you both know what you’re doing,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, trying not to sound too bitter and accidentally just coming out with the verbal equivalent of black coffee. Luckily, Brooke held out her bottle and nodded emphatically.

“We can’t all have Akeria’s serial-killer levels of ambition or just walk into a job like Monet and Nina.”

“Hey! It’s a probationary year that we could literally fail if we screw up, stop thinking we have things easy,” Nina protested.

“How could you possibly fail being a teacher unless you literally boot a child in the face?” Yvie laughed in disbelief. Seeing Monet and Nina gearing themselves up for a verbal sparring match, she gesticulated wildly. “I’m kidding, ladies, I’m kidding! You work very hard and kids are little shits and you don’t get paid enough. Happy?”

“Very,” Monet rolled her eyes, accepting the cava that Bob held out to her and taking a swig before passing it to Nina.

“What’re you guys doing after uni?” Bob asked, then instantly cringed hearing the groans she got in response. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot that question is basically Satan incarnate.”

“Well, I applied to a bunch of newspapers. But the journalism industry is a shitshow anyway, so fuck knows what I’m doing or if they’ll even accept me,” Silky sighed. Her mood was decidedly flat. It was rare for her to be anything other than high-energy, volume turned all the way up to 100.

“Well, your classification might help!” Bob said comfortingly. Scarlet looked at Silky to gauge her reaction. She didn’t know if she’d been given hers yet, but the girl’s embarrassed face soon gave her an answer.

“Well I got a 2:2, so. Probably not,” she shrugged, Bob trying to backtrack apologetically. Scarlet felt bad for Silky. There was nothing wrong with a 2:2 and a degree was still a degree, but she knew how much Silky believed that despite her grades not being great, she’d still pull it out of the bag in the end, maybe manage one essay that pulled her marks up. Even though the girls were all still proud of her, it was another thing for her to let herself down.

“We’re still proud of you, Silky. You worked fucking hard and you got your degree, and that’s something to celebrate,” Nina smiled affirmingly, holding the cava out for Silky to drink. She smiled gratefully at the girls around her before accepting.

“Thanks, ladies,” she said quietly, before taking a swig. The cava seemed to return Silky back to normal, and she cried out after drinking. “An’ besides! 2:1s are boring anyway. Go hard or go home, bitch, and I’m goin’ the fuck home!”

The girls indulged Silky in a laugh. They sat for a while, chatting easily and passing the bottle of cava around, the lack of cups now not so much of a problem as it had seemed previously.

“Hey, anyone want a paddle?” Brooke asked suddenly. Scarlet gave a snort of outrage.

“You’re insane. That water’s got to be minus five.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! Vanj?” Brooke asked, her voice hopeful. Vanessa shrugged easily, casting the girl a quick smile and then dragging Akeria and Silky to their feet.

“To be fair, I am getting really warm. Getting my feet cold might be nice,” Nina reasoned out loud. Monet jumped up with her cheerfully. “Yvie, you coming?”

“Nah. Think I’ll stay here with my girl,” Yvie squeezed Scarlet’s hand, Scarlet smiling back at her happily.

“Awww, Yvie! You’re too cute,” Plastique cried sarcastically from her deckchair, the other girls laughing. She was too busy sunbathing to paddle, but Bob decided she’d follow Monet’s lead and join the others in the water. Scarlet laughed as she watched her friends tear down to the sea like children, the white spray flying into the air as they all hit the water at once.

“We’re friends with actual kids,” Yvie laughed, Scarlet nodding in agreement.

“God, we really are,” she smiled affectionately, watching Akeria take a step into the sea then jump back as if it was made of molten lava and not freezing cold water. Just as the girls had left, Scarlet became aware of two sets of footsteps approaching behind them. It was Cracker and Monique, back from the shops with a plastic bag twirling around Monique’s hand.

“Hey,” Scarlet greeted them cheerfully, then added, by way of explanation, “They’ve gone into the sea.”

“Oh, fun!” Cracker beamed. Monique picked up the bottle of cava and rolled her eyes. There was a shot-sized dribble at the bottom.

“You sons of bitches are nothing if not predictable,” she laughed, fishing a brand new bottle out of the plastic bag along with a set of cups. Yvie held her hands out apologetically and Monique shook her head, letting her know all was forgiven. Scarlet looked out to the water again. Bob had Monet on her back and Vanessa was leaping on Brooke’s, Brooke unable to catch her from the amount she was laughing. It looked as if they were about to do some sort of race or fight. Vanessa finally got onto Brooke’s back, her arms looping around her shoulders like a bush baby.

“So. That’s that then,” Monique gave a little sigh as she looked out to sea. Scarlet did a double-take as she looked at her. Her expression was mostly hidden behind her huge mirrored sunglasses, but Scarlet could see the small frown on her face. She knew who her gaze had fallen on. Scarlet felt bad for the girl.

“Hey, don’t take it personally. Vanjie thought you were great, she really did. She told me all the time,” Scarlet said reassuringly, Monique giving her a little smile of gratitude. “You know that way when you’re still hung up on someone you love. That’s all it is.”

Monique rubbed her arms, wrapping them around herself in a hug. “My own damn fault for catchin’ feelings.”

“Happens to the best of us, girl,” Yvie piped up. Cracker smiled at the pair of them gratefully, squeezing Monique’s shoulder supportively.

“We’ve been trying to tell her that.”

Monique laughed suddenly as she saw Silky chasing the girls with a huge, slimy-looking clump of seaweed she’d fished out of the water. The smile remained on her face as her laughter died down and she looked at Scarlet and Yvie inquisitively. “Brooke’s gonna treat her nice, right?”

Scarlet thought about Brooke’s helplessness after her and Akeria’s birthday weekend, her heartbroken confession of love in the toilets of the grubby karaoke bar. She watched how tightly Brooke was holding Vanessa on her back, as if to let go of her would be a crime. Scarlet smiled at Monique. “She will. I know she will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Monique kicked her sandals off and turned to Cracker. “You wanna go paddle?”

“Girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

Scarlet was satisfied staying with Yvie on the sand. They turned to Plastique only to find her napping in her deckchair, her skin beginning to take on an ever-so-slightly pink hue. Deciding to avoid Plastique’s potential wrath if they woke her up, Monique and Cracker dashed down to the ocean to join the other girls. Scarlet sat quietly with Yvie for a moment, taking in the scene of their friends all clowning around in the water.

“You still looking for jobs?” Yvie asked her. Scarlet sighed. She didn’t mind talking about post-uni life with Yvie, didn’t mind being honest about how scared and unsure she was with the person who loved her and she loved back.

“Yeah. It’s hard applying without my classification, though. And, I guess, even harder when you’ve got no idea what the hell you want to do with your life.”

Scarlet gave a self-deprecating laugh which Yvie gently joined in with. Yvie laced her fingers around Scarlet’s and gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, babe. There’s no time pressure on these things.”

“I know. It’s just hard when…hell, you’ve got Monet and Nina about to start their entire careers. I mean they’ll be in charge of a whole class of kids. Akeria knows what she wants to do and she’ll get there. Hell, even if Silky’s classification wasn’t as good as she wanted it, journalism is at least something she wants to go into. And Vanjie’s decided on events management. You know you want to at least do something with criminology,” Scarlet sighed, suddenly feeling so small. “It’s so hard trying to figure out what you want to do with your life when everyone around you seems to know. How the hell are you meant to know yourself?”

“Listen,” Yvie brought her thumb up to stroke Scarlet’s knuckle, calming her instantly by about 80%. “The great thing about your life is that…it’s yours. Nobody else’s. Just yours. Say you decide on a job and you hate it. Do you think you have to stay because the pay’s good and it’s something steady? No! You leave, because you can get another job. You don’t like it? You change. You want to go back to uni to doss about for another year? Do it! There is no rule to life that says you need to live it a certain way. And fuck yes, it’s scary! I’m scared! I don’t know if I’ll like any of the jobs I’m applying for, they could be so different in reality to what they are on paper. But you know I’ll support you whatever you decide.”

Scarlet’s voice was quiet as she watched the waves crash around her friends. “I just don’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“Scarlet, your parents love you unconditionally. And I’ll say it again- it’s your life. Yours. Not theirs. You can do whatever the hell you want to.”

Scarlet nodded, Yvie’s words a small comfort to her in the world that now seemed so big and scary. Yvie’s voice was quieter as she spoke again. “So…you’re going to live back home once all this is over?”

“I guess so. I don’t really want to, but I don’t want to live alone either. And it’ll help me save money, although if I don’t have a job I guess there’s not much money to save,” Scarlet snorted a laugh. She didn’t want to think about any of this, but Yvie was asking her so she gave an honest answer. Scarlet didn’t miss the way her girlfriend fell silent, nodding her head, a sad little frown on her face. She didn’t want to move away from Yvie. She didn’t want to return home. Yvie was her home.

Suddenly there came a splash from the water and Scarlet’s gaze was jolted away from her girlfriend and down to the sea. Silky had somehow fallen into the water and the girls were all howling with mirth as she screeched and tried to splash them all. Scarlet couldn’t help but join in with the laughter as she watched Akeria help fish Silky out of the water, the girl sitting in the wet sand and laughing so loudly that Scarlet could hear it even from farther up the beach. As Scarlet composed herself and her laughter died down, she turned to see Yvie looking at her, a dopey little smile on her face.

“What?” Scarlet laughed, touching her hair self-consciously. Yvie looked down at the sand, then back up to meet her eyes.

“Move in with me. After we graduate.”

Scarlet’s eyes grew suddenly wide in shock. Yvie was still holding her hand and Scarlet’s grip on hers had tightened. “Really?”

Yvie’s face was earnest, and Scarlet could see her gulp as she nodded quickly. She took a little gasp of air before explaining herself. “I mean, we both already basically live together. You’re at mine so often anyway, we know what we’re like to live with. We’ve not spent more than a full week apart since…fuck, I don’t know. I would do long distance for you, Scarlet, but I don’t want to. I want to go to IKEA and build flat pack furniture and make slow cooker casseroles and fucking…pay council tax with you. I hope you don’t…think I’m being too intense. Jesus, we’ve not even been together a year, fuck, sorry, this was a shit idea-”

“Well when you know, you know, right?” Scarlet smiled at her girlfriend, squeezing her hand. Yvie smiled back at her, reassured and happy, and Scarlet could hear the seagulls in the air and the crash of the waves and the laughter of their friends. She wouldn’t have had any other soundtrack to accompany the moment. “Yes. I’m in. Let’s get a flat together. Just the two of us. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know it’s going to be a lot easier if I’m doing it with you.”

Relieved, Yvie leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her once, twice, three times before pulling away and squeezing her hand. They met each other’s eyes and smiled, breathlessly giggling a little. Deciding to move in together didn’t seem to be the huge, relationship-changing milestone that society had hyped it up to be. It made sense to Scarlet: they loved each other, enjoyed the other’s company, they’d practically lived together for the past however-many-months. Okay, they hadn’t really hit any real speed bumps in their relationship really, but Scarlet trusted Yvie and she trusted herself. They were a team, two puzzle pieces that fit together. Whatever the crazy, scary, mixed-up adult world had in store for them after graduation, they would face it together.

Just then, Scarlet’s phone vibrated. She picked it up from its place underneath a carefully-folded corner of her towel. Opening it and reading the email, her heart dropped.

“Oh my God,” she said, her heart thudding uncontrollably.

“What’s the matter?”

“My classification’s through.”

Scarlet’s fingers were shaking and her palms were sweating as she frantically logged onto the uni’s intranet.

“Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be fine,” Yvie reassured her, but Scarlet could feel her blood racing in her veins. She didn’t want to look. She did want to look. As the page loaded, she squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing had ever seemed so catastrophically life-defining before. The page loaded, Scarlet blinked, then she screamed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Plastique flinch in her deckchair. Yvie’s face was expectant. Scarlet could hardly get the words out.

“A FIRST, I GOT A FUCKING FIRST!” she screeched, Yvie practically tackling her into the sand as she hugged her. Scarlet felt like her heart was about to burst. The three years had all been worth it and she felt like the biggest weight and worry in the world was finally lifted off of her. This was, admittedly, contrasted with the feeling of Plastique piling herself on top of the two girls, screaming excitedly the whole time. Scarlet suddenly batted them off of her, grabbing their hands and tugging them towards the shore.

“I wanna run into the sea! Can we run into the sea and tell the girls?”

Nodding excitedly, the three friends tore towards the coastline screeching like banshees. Scarlet could feel the wind in her hair, the sun beating down on her, and the sand shifting underneath her feet with every step she took.

She had never felt so conscious of her own mortality and yet as if she could live forever all at once.

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rvnclwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Romania 1999 Pt 5 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for parts 1 - 4.

Notes: I’m so sorry this took me a million years to post. Life got crazy, and proof reading this long of a fic took me years, but I hope you enjoy :) part 6 will be the last part in this series, so stay tuned!

Word Count: A lot. I’m talking ~11,500. Whoops.

(Y/N) brought her steaming mug of tea to her lips as Charlie sat down beside her on the couch. It had been a couple days since the pair returned from their time off, and the Sanctuary was busier than ever. They had to split up the past two mornings since Hank and Scott were the ones up to date on how the dragons were doing, and (Y/N) was grateful for the space. Between all the time they'd spent together and Charlie's Christmas present, she needed to distance herself from her feelings, which was a lot easier to do when the redhead wasn't around.

"Did Norberta do that?" (Y/N) asked when Charlie began applying a thin layer of burn-healing paste to his wrist.

"No, she did great. Aro on the other hand…" He flinched as the orange potion began to work its magic on the small patch of raw skin. "He wasn't as pleased to see me."

(Y/N) set her mug down on the wooden end table to her right and screwed the cap back onto the potion for him. That was the sixth burn she'd heard of in one week, and though it wasn't unheard of for the breed, it wasn't exactly normal either. "Does Hank have any idea what might be going on with him?"

"Not a clue. They did a physical evaluation yesterday and found nothing."

"Huh. Well, we can check on him again on Monday after Gertie and see if he's getting any better," (Y/N) suggested, placing the potion onto the coffee table in front of them.

Charlie smiled. "Sounds like a plan. How was Ventus?"

"He did great after about ten minutes or so. I'm pretty sure he was giving me the cold shoulder at first for being gone."

The redhead chuckled. "Guess I'm not the only one to notice when you're not around."

That caught (Y/N)'s attention. She tried to steady her heartbeat by forcing a laugh, ignoring Charlie's eyes on her. Was he saying he missed her? "I'm surprised you aren't sick of me after being stuck with me for a full week."

Charlie leaned back into the couch, propping his arm up on a pillow in his lap. "You're joking, right? That was one of the best holidays I've taken in years."

Not sure what to say, (Y/N) took a quick drink of her tea again to occupy herself, feeling her cheeks, and now her throat, burn.

"Did you mean what you said to my mum? About it being the best Christmas you've ever had?"

(Y/N) looked down at her lap, surprised Charlie remembered that. "Well yeah, but don't go getting a big head on me because that's not saying much." She bumped her shoulder against his, but Charlie frowned.

"You don't have to do that with me you know."

"Do what?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Use jokes to cover up your feelings."

(Y/N) swallowed, realizing it sounded like she was bitter over her family when in reality she just didn't want Charlie to know how much she enjoyed spending the past week with him and his family. "Uh, sorry. It's a bit of a habit."

"Don't get me wrong, I like how tough you are, but you can talk to me about anything."

(Y/N) stared at him, blood pounding in her ears. I like how tough you are. She tugged at her sweater sleeves awkwardly. "Okay, then I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous of your incredible family."

A smile grew Charlie's face. "I don't mind sharing. In case you didn't notice, my parents are pretty accustomed to taking in strays at this point."

Every nerve ending in (Y/N)'s body sparked, making it hard to think properly. Despite the fact that Charlie was talking about his siblings' significant others, (Y/N) reminded herself that Harry and Hermione had been Ron's friends at the start. Friends. Just like she and Charlie were.

She forced another smile, praying the dragon lover couldn't see the effect his words had on her. "Thanks. I'd like that."

"The only condition," Charlie added, narrowing his eyes at her, "is that you can't repeat any of the stories you hear to Hank or Scott."

The knot in (Y/N)'s stomach released and she burst out laughing. "Aw, come on. Can't I at least tell them you used to have a hippy ponytail like Bill does now?"

Charlie groaned, shaking his head adamantly. "Absolutely not. And I'm going to tell Bill you said that."

"I don't know why you're embarrassed by it. That picture of you was adorable." She glanced up at his orangey-red hair, which was still parted to the left like it had been in his Quidditch picture at Hogwarts but was now much shorter in the back. The thick layers up top fell past his ears and always seemed to droop in front of his face in the most adorable way. "You never did tell me why you lopped it all off."

Charlie ran a hand through the spiky strands up front, pushing them back like he always did even though they rarely stayed put. "I stopped wearing the ponytail once I left Hogwarts, but it actually wasn't until Bill's wedding that my mum had a go at it. I figured she had enough going on at the time, the least I could let her do was cut my hair."

"I take it you liked it short then?"

"No, she cut it really short. I used a spell on it a few days later but compromised by not letting it reach my shoulders."

The corners of (Y/N)'s mouth twitched as she pictured his trademark red hair as long as Bill's. "Well, if you ever grow it back out, I call dibs on braiding it. I love your hair."

The look in Charlie's eyes made her heartbeat stutter.

"You do?"

"Of course I do," (Y/N) said coolly, hoping her confession wasn't too intimate or weird. "Who wouldn't? It's the most distinguishable thing about you."

His gaze dropped back down to the orange paste on his arm. "In my experience, red hair and freckles have always been considered negative traits."

"Who the hell told you that?" (Y/N) asked, the sudden protectiveness making her body tense. "If anything, those are two of the most attractive things about you."

Charlie's eyes trailed over to meet hers, and the blood drained from (Y/N)’s face when she registered what she had said. It didn't have to be embarrassing, right? It's not like she admitted she frequently thought about touching his hair and kissing every last one of those freckles.

"Oh, come on," she added to be safe, smacking his shoulder with a pillow. "You don't get to be self conscious. The most sought after woman here was interested in you for crying out loud. That's gotta be an ego boost."

Charlie sighed, giving (Y/N) a look he usually reserved for Hank. "I take it you're referring to Sydney?"

"Of course. Who else would I be referring to?" (Y/N) considered the other women in their age range at the Sanctuary. Jessica was the only other one their coworkers obsessed over, but they would never admit it. She was Dave's younger sister and common sense told everyone she was off limits.

"Now look who's selling themselves short."

(Y/N) stared wide-eyed at the redhead before barking a laugh. "You're kidding, right?" The serious look in his eyes, however, said otherwise, and her amusement faded. "I can assure you literally no one here has hit on me. Sydney probably made it abundantly clear where I stand with them."

Charlie pursed his lips together, looking as though he had something to add to the conversation.

"What?"

"I don't think it's because of Sydney," he said hesitantly.

(Y/N) stiffened. She knew the teams gossiped, she had just always hoped it wasn't about her. "What do you mean?"

"The only reason they haven't chatted you up is because…" He trailed off, looking as though he was hoping she could somehow magically connect the remaining dots.

"Because…?" (Y/N) urged. She genuinely had no clue where he was going with this.

Charlie kept his eyes on her, but (Y/N) could tell he was embarrassed. "Well, based off of comments they've made in the past, I think they're assuming there's something going on between us."

"Oh." The word came out like a high pitched croak due to (Y/N)'s sudden dry throat. While she had always worried about Hank and Scott assuming she was pining over the redhead, she hadn't given a second thought about what the other teams likely presumed about their relationship.

"I've tried to tell them otherwise," Charlie added, "but they listen just about as well as Aro does."

The expression on his face made it seem as though Charlie had been teased about their friendship at one point or another, and (Y/N) tried to ignore the nervous pitter-patter of her heart at the thought. "Shit, I'm sorry. Did you want me to talk to them? I can tell them to piss off."

Charlie smiled a little. "No, I don't care what they think, I just- I thought you should know. You know, in case you wanted any of them to ask you out."

"What? No," (Y/N) said automatically, unable to stop the distaste from showing on her face at the idea of anyone at the Sanctuary asking her out. Anyone except… She swallowed, forcing herself back to the present moment. "If anything, I should say thanks. That's spared me a lot of trouble. But… doesn't it bother you?"

Charlie's brows drew together. "Why would it? You're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

Just like that, it suddenly felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Did he… did he really just say that?

An indistinguishable shift in tension settled over them as they stared at one another, and (Y/N) realized how easy it would be to make a move. She could practically feel the words pleading to leave her mouth- Charlie, is there something going on between us?

But Charlie continued speaking, extinguishing the opportunity and snapping her back to reality.

"Besides, they-"

Boots clomping on (Y/N)'s front porch followed by an abrupt knock on the screen door made both Dragonologists jolt in their seats and turn around towards (Y/N)'s front door.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hank said, pushing open the squeaky screen door, "but some woman's here to see ya, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) froze, and a heavy lead weight started to creep its way up her legs, settling itself neatly inside her stomach. "Did she say her name?"

"Nah. She said it's a surprise? Adorable little thing with blonde hair. Looks to be about your age."

"Oh my God!" (Y/N) squealed, jumping to her feet. "Charlie, hold that thought- I promise I'll be right back!"

She flew past Hank, not even bothering to grab a jacket despite the chilly temperatures. Dashing down the porch steps, she yelped again when she spotted the one and only Penny Haywood near the entrance gates.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) cried, colliding into her friend with the best bear hug she could manage.

Penny giggled, hugging (Y/N) back just as enthusiastically and refusing to let go even for a second. "My family decided to visit relatives in Britain over Christmas break, so I thought I'd surprise you for New Year's."

(Y/N) felt a tightness creep into her throat. She couldn't believe Penny was really here, she had missed her so much. "You scared the hell out of me, you know," (Y/N) whispered into the blonde's ear.

She could hear the dorky grin in Penny's voice. "Just making sure you're staying alert. You seemed to be getting quite cozy here in your letters."

"Alright, alright," came an unexpected masculine voice behind Penny, and (Y/N)'s mouth dropped open when she glanced up. "I gave you the first two minutes like I promised, but I want my hug now."

"Barnaby!" (Y/N) gasped, her heart swelling so much she could hardly breathe.

Penny conceded and released (Y/N) from her death grip long enough for (Y/N) to lunge at the Thunderbird. The six foot tall Magizoologist lifted her off the ground with ease, spinning her around in a full circle and squeezing her as tight as he could without crushing her. "You didn't think I'd miss out on this epic trip, did you?"

(Y/N) felt her eyes burn from the elation while Barnaby set her gently back on her feet. "I've missed you guys so much. How is everyone?"

"We'll catch you up on everything," Penny promised before a mischievous glint reflected in her blue eyes. "But first, you have to tell me who's waiting on your front porch for you."

(Y/N) turned to see Charlie leaning against the porch railing. He smiled at her, which only worsened (Y/N)'s over-stimulation and brought his earlier statement rushing back into her mind. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Shit, what had he been about to say to her?

"Merlin's beard, is (Y/N) (L/N) blushing?" Penny gushed, playfully shoving (Y/N)'s shoulder.

Barnaby howled with laughter. "Awh, come on, don't tell me this place has made you a softie."

"Would you two shut up, we're just friends," (Y/N) hissed even though neither of them had been remotely loud enough for anyone to hear. "I'll only introduce you if you guys promise to behave."

"Fiine," Penny huffed, and Barnaby drew an "X" over his chest.

"Cross my heart."

(Y/N) bit her lip, secretly excited for Charlie to meet her friends. She hoped he liked them as much as she liked his family.

An unpleasant thought struck her, however, as she swiveled around and saw Dave and Russell gawking from the researcher's picnic table. For a ridiculous moment, (Y/N) didn't want to introduce Penny to Charlie until common sense caught up with her. In fact, as they approached the porch, (Y/N) noticed his eyes weren't even on the blonde at all, but rather on Barnaby.

"Charlie, this is Barnaby and Penny, two of my best friends from America."

"It's great to meet you," Charlie said, extending a hand to Barnaby, but (Y/N) noticed a change in his demeanor since they had been talking. Was he mad at her for running out on their conversation? She sure hoped not.

The redhead turned to do the same for Penny, but (Y/N) was mortified when the blonde flung herself forward instead, hugging Charlie without warning.

"Thank you for looking out for her," she said, unapologetically squeezing him once before releasing him. (Y/N) was going to kill her later.

Charlie chuckled, his posture rigid as usual from the unexpected physical contact. "This one hardly needs taking care of."

(Y/N) smiled at that. Charlie needed to start being more careful or her head was going to be the size of a hot air balloon by the end of the night.

"Isn't that the truth," Penny muttered, shooting (Y/N) a pointed look. "So what now? We don't want to butt in if you're busy."

(Y/N) shrugged. "No, we were just hanging out. We're always done a few hours before nightfall. What do you guys want to do?"

"Can we tour the place at all?" Barnaby asked, the childlike excitement evident in his voice.

Unsure of the rules, (Y/N) glanced to Charlie, who checked the watch on his wrist.

"As long as (Y/N)'s with you and you stay far enough away from each dragon, then sure. Just stick to the paths and be back by dusk."

Penny beamed, instantly dragging Barnaby towards the winding pathway past Charlie's house. "C'mon then, what are we waiting for?"

(Y/N) moved to follow them, but when Charlie stayed put, she turned back. "Aren't you coming?"

His eyebrows raised. "Oh no, it's cool. Go catch up with your friends."

She shot him a funny look. Did he really think she was going to ditch him because her old friends showed up? Without questioning the urge, (Y/N) grasped his hand the way Penny had Barnaby's and tugged his arm once. "Then you have to come too."

His gaze trailed down to where their hands were connected before settling back on (Y/N). Refusing to feel self conscious, she squeezed his hand and urged him forward again, earning herself another half smile as he conceded and followed her down the porch steps.

And the best part? Charlie squeezed her hand right back.

Penny and Barnaby stayed at the Sanctuary for the weekend, celebrating the new millennium with (Y/N)'s team and catching up on everything they had missed in each others' lives. (Y/N) tried her best not to babble too much about the Sanctuary but could hardly help it as story after story came rushing to her head. She got to hear all about Penny's teaching position and Barnaby's new pets back home. They told her how Rowan and Jae were doing, and at night (Y/N) was able to confide in Penny about her confusing feelings for the redhead. It was so amazing to have them there that it went by in a blur and, as (Y/N) anticipated, saying goodbye became one of the hardest tasks in the world.

But the one thing that made the inevitable easier to stomach was Charlie, who was waiting for her with two brooms in hand as soon Penny and Barnaby left on Sunday morning.

"Figured you could use a ride right now," he said, extending one of the Nimbus 2008s to her.

She beamed at him, refusing to acknowledge the lump in her throat while she mounted the broom. What would she do without him?

He lead the way to the Thestrals, surprising (Y/N) again with just how well he knew her. The comfort of the creatures combined with Charlie's company meant more to her than she could put into words.

"So how you doing?" he asked, keeping his eyes on her as they sat next to each other on a large rock near the pond. The concern in his voice brought (Y/N) back to that bench at the Burrow and Charlie admitting he was worried she'd want to go back to the States.

"I'm okay. I still have the dragons and you, don't I?" She nudged him playfully, wanting him to know she would be alright. Even in America, (Y/N) jumped around so much she became accustomed to not seeing her friends for months at a time. Her sadness from today would dissolve soon enough and the redhead was undoubtedly expediting that process.

He smiled at her, his freckled face pink in the afternoon sunlight. "Definitely."

"So my crazy friends didn't scare you away then?"

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "No, they were cool. I'm glad I got to meet them."

"Me too. Even if they are humiliating sometimes..." She shuddered, remembering Penny revealed that (Y/N) spent most of their third year in the library reading about dragons.

"Just consider the playing field a little bit more even now," Charlie said. "More incentive for you to not tell Hank or Scott any of my stories."

"Yeah, yeah." She studied the resting Thestral in front of her and replayed the weekend events in her head a few times. "I would say it went pretty well though."

"Aside from Logan hitting on both of them. He's ridiculous."

(Y/N) laughed. The thirty year old research team member was the most flirtatious wizard she had ever met. "Oh, I considered it a win that he was the only one. Those two always get hit on, especially Penny."

Charlie didn't say anything in response, so she added, "It's okay, you know. You can admit she's hot, it's no secret."

Their gazes met and the guileless look in his eyes told (Y/N) he wasn't hiding anything. "Yeah, I mean she's pretty I guess."

(Y/N) stared at him, stupefied by his disinterest. In the fifteen years she had known the Pukwudgie, nearly everyone was a little stunned by her beauty. "Okay, was your girlfriend at Hogwarts some sort of rare godless-like creature or am I missing something?"

Charlie looked back toward the Thestral and (Y/N) had the sudden fear she made the dragon lover uncomfortable. Just as she was about to apologize and tell him to forget it, he said, "She was nice."

(Y/N) held her breath, waiting- or at least hoping- for him to continue. That couldn't have been the only quality he liked about her. Sydney may have walked a tight line on that one, but Penny and Fleur were nice too.

"And we were friends." The redhead sighed, rubbing the stubble across his jawline. "I don't expect you to understand because no one seems to, but I'm only ever attracted to someone after I know them. After we're friends."

(Y/N) prayed he couldn't hear the nervous hammering of her heart. They were friends. Did that mean that she could actually have a chance with him?

She shook her mind of the thought, scolding herself for being so selfish. Scooting closer to the dragon lover, (Y/N) allowed her shoulder to press against his as she placed a hand on his forearm. "Hey, what's wrong with that?"

He glanced down at her, his brown eyes searching hers for something. "I don't know. People have given me grief about it since I was a teenager. They just don't get it."

She frowned, not sure if she was more upset for Charlie or angry with those people. "I would've never made that comment if I'd known. I'd never make fun of or judge you for anything like that. Those people are assholes."

A grateful smile tugged at the redhead's lips. "Thanks."

Their eyes met again, and for a ridiculous, utterly delusional moment, (Y/N) thought she felt another shift in tension between them. Did he just lean in closer?

She was clearly losing her wits because Charlie merely turned to face the Thestrals again, saying, "So what about you?"

(Y/N) blinked, attempting to calm her rampant pulse. "Huh?" No wonder they called it lovesick. The way this man fried her brain cells was sickening.

"You've heard all about my lack-luster love life, and yet I've heard nothing about yours. Surely you left some bloke heartbroken back across the pond?"

Less than pleasant memories resurfaced in (Y/N)'s mind, causing an angst-riddled scoff to escape her lips. "Hardly," she muttered, the flashbacks leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Charlie waited patiently, clearly expecting further explanation, and (Y/N)'s gut twisted as she was forced to confront one of the many aspects about her past that she would prefer to forget.

She couldn't blame her ex's. (Y/N) had more baggage than most their age- baggage that had to be kept under wraps and constantly required her to move from place to place. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt when people you cared for called you selfish and a liar. Or when they betrayed you.

"My first relationship was great," she began, wanting him to know not all of her experiences had been shitty. "He was insanely sweet and was in the same Ilvermorny house as me, so we had a lot in common. But after my brother died, I needed space and he understood." She tried not to fidget, grateful the cool air kept her hands from sweating. "We never could rekindle what we once had, so I moved on to a new state and new career."

"And after that?" Charlie asked. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was stalling.

(Y/N) sighed, drawing her knees against her chest. "Let's just say I learned early on that it's better not to get involved with people until you're ready to settle down."

Charlie seemed to consider this. "I take it someone didn't like it when you switched jobs again?"

She shook her head. "I asked him to come with me, but he didn't want to." She shuddered, still able to feel the slap of rejection after all this time. "I'd never had someone be so angry with me before and it's not really something I ever want to experience again." (Y/N)'s head began to ache because the memories were only an earth-shattering reminder of why she and Charlie would never work. Of why she should never trust anyone but her four Ilvermorny friends with her secrets ever again.

Charlie tensed beside her, his jaw muscles flexing. "I'd ask if he hurt you, but I have no doubt the damage you've done if he tried."

A welcomed grin took over (Y/N)'s face. She and Charlie had dueled each other loads of times, most of which ended with Charlie on the ground first. "You betcha."

"Sorry for bringing it up if you didn't want to talk about it."

"No, it's okay," (Y/N) assured, feeling that it was only fair considering what he told her. "It's probably healthier to talk about it."

"Have you dated anyone since?" Charlie asked.

She shook her head. "A couple flings here and there, but he stabbed me in the back pretty good. Haven't really been able to trust anyone enough."

"No one at all?"

(Y/N) held her breath and glanced up at the redhead. Was he asking if she trusted him?

As her heart rate increased, Charlie added hesitantly, "What about Barnaby?"

A mixture of disappointment and bewilderment bubbled in (Y/N)'s stomach. "What?" Her shoulders shook with laughter, and she cringed at the mere thought. "No. Merlin no." She continued laughing until she saw unexpected tension release from Charlie's shoulders and remembered his expression when he met the Thunderbird.

Wait, was he…

"I just thought you two seemed close," he said with a shrug.

(Y/N) studied him closely. "I trust that guy with my life, but not like that. He's like my brother."

Charlie remained quiet, and a realization struck (Y/N). While she may have had several intimate bonds with a handful of friends, Charlie really only seemed to have his brother, who was now married, and her. Jealousy could exist in platonic forms, not just romantic.

"Charles Weasley," (Y/N) began, an arrogant grin spreading across her face. "Are you jealous of my friendship with Barnaby?"

Color flooded the redhead's cheeks faster than (Y/N) could say gotcha, and he jerked his head back towards the Thestrals. "What? No, of course not."

"Merlin's beard, you so are!" (Y/N) couldn't stop herself from poking his side, and he swatted her hand away.

"Sod off," he said, standing up to avoid her teasing, and she hurried after him towards their brooms.

"Oh, come on. There's no need to fight over me. I can have more than one best guy friend, you know."

Charlie turned back around unexpectedly, making (Y/N) reel back to stop herself from colliding into his chest. He stared down at her, his mesmerizing eyes piercing right through her, but a roar in the distance caught their attention before he could speak.

(Y/N)'s face lit up at the familiar sound. "Wanna go check on Aro?"

Charlie paused, the teasing seemingly forgotten as his eyebrows raised. "You want to go check on him? ...On our day off?"

"Sure, why not?" She was surprised he was even questioning her. Charlie was always down to visit the dragons.

Amusement reflected in those brown eyes and he stared at her so long, (Y/N) wanted to look away, but she didn't.

"Sure," he said finally, a grin growing on his pale face. "Race you."

To say Aro was more irritable than usual was an understatement. The Hungarian Horntail would barely let them stand a hundred feet away, let alone the standard fifty. The pair had to use the surrounding trees and boulders to sneak closer, keeping their motions limited and voices low.

"When exactly did he burn you?" (Y/N) asked, crouching behind a thick, leafless oak tree.

Charlie thought for a moment. "Actually, it was after I fed him, which I found odd. He's usually one of the easiest to manipulate with food, but he almost seemed worse right after he ate."

She considered this. While a physical exam wouldn't diagnose gastrointestinal issues, there was no way the food would have made it to the digestive tract that quickly. "No vomiting?"

"Nope. Felix thinks they're going to have to take a blood sample tomorrow unless they find out what's wrong."

(Y/N)'s heart sank. Withdrawing dragon's blood was no easy task. Their thick skin was hard to penetrate even with the use of magic, and it was usually a painful, traumatic experience for the creature. "No. We'll figure out what's wrong with him."

One of Charlie's heart stopping smiles made an appearance, releasing a hoard of butterflies in (Y/N)'s chest.

"What's the plan then?"

She peered around the tree, glancing at the dragon perched on the solid ground. His posture was tense and tail rigid, indicating he was either alert or in constant pain. Since there were no alarming sounds or threats nearby, (Y/N) assumed it had to be the ladder, but what could be hurting him that wouldn't show up in a physical?

"Charlie, do you think you could get him to open his mouth?" she asked suddenly.

The redhead chuckled. "I don't think that will be a problem."

She smiled apologetically. "Preferably without it being followed by fire though."

"Alright, that might be a tad bit more difficult." He reached for a Snitch-sized rock on the ground before standing and moving behind the next tree in line. "Mind telling me what we're looking for first?"

"The mouth is the only external part not checked in a physical."

Charlie quirked an eyebrow. "You think he's being this mean over a toothache?"

"He could've cut his tongue or have an infection," she whispered, hurrying past Charlie to duck behind a nearby boulder. (Y/N) was no longer thankful for the surprisingly warm January day; snow would have been a welcomed distraction for what she was about to do. "I'm gonna get as close as I can to see while you try to distract him."

Charlie nodded hesitantly. "You sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow? I'd say the probability of getting burned is pretty high."

Despite knowing the odds were likely not in her favor, they could keep looking for answers if they were wrong today. If they were wrong tomorrow, Felix would probably move forward with the blood withdrawal. "I'm willing to get a little banged up for Aro's sake."

The redhead still didn't seem as convinced. "Why don't you let me get close to him while you distract him?"

"Because you don't know what different injuries to look out for. How many dragons here have had gum infections or tongue abrasions?"

Charlie pursed his lips together. "Fair point."

She smiled at him, hating the way her heart warmed at his obvious concern. "I'll be fine as long as you promise to apply the burn-healing paste for me."

The worry instantly left Charlie's face, replaced by an amused smile. "Deal."

(Y/N) ignored the butterflies in her stomach, along with the thought that maybe the burn that was likely to follow wouldn't be so bad. "Now throw the rock while I try to get a good view of his mouth."

Charlie obliged while she army crawled forward, staying low to the ground and wiggling her body as little as possible. When the rock hit the ground, Aro's head lifted in response, body seemingly frozen as those intense eyes darted around the clearing. (Y/N) froze, hoping she was far enough to the dragon's right that he would miss her. Thankfully, Charlie sent another rock past Aro this time, causing the dragon's head to jerk in the opposite direction. He growled at the pebble, displaying the right side of his mouth to (Y/N). No black teeth, purple gums, or bleeding there.

She glanced back at Charlie, motioning for him to toss the next rock up into the air. He did one better by withdrawing his wand and using the levitation spell on the rock. Aro's head followed the rock as it climbed through the air, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to center herself with the dragon. His growl was a low grumble, clearly more intrigued by the rock than threatened, but his mouth was just wide enough for her to spot the blood oozing from his top left canine. It was no wonder the team didn't notice it- most would assume the blood was from the raw meat he was being fed.

Realizing Aro was losing interest in the rock, she scrambled to her feet, retreating to the nearest tree. He howled in anger when she made a break for it, but the Hungarian Horntail surprised her. Instead of letting out an angry burst of flames like she was anticipating to dodge, Aro whipped his tail from out behind him, nailing (Y/N) right between the shoulder blades.

She stumbled forward from the blow, letting out a gasp as the spikes punctured her skin. She caught herself from face planting on the rock solid ground and instinctively tried to push herself up until agonizing pain unfurled inside her, forcing her arms to give out. She tried to crawl forward, just barely registering Charlie distracting Aro in the background. Thank God for that.

Once (Y/N) reached a large enough rock, she used her abs instead of her arms to pull herself up and leaned against the chilled stone for support as she made her way back to her feet.

"What hurts?" Charlie asked once he reached her, his voice gentle as always. He had always been the best at staying calm under pressure.

"Upper back," she gritted, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. She couldn't stop herself from slumping against the redhead when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away from the rock, carefully trying to avoid the injury.

"Madam Rosetta's is at least a ten minute walk from here. Can you make it?"

(Y/N) shook her head, but not for the reason Charlie was thinking of. Despite the stinging pain, she could force herself to make it just about anywhere, but thankfully she was cognizant enough to know better.

"Do you want me to carry you there?"

Burying her face into that forest green shirt he was wearing seemed like one of the most appealing options in the world, but she willed herself to shake her head again while her body and subconscious called her a traitor. "Just help me get the nearest emergency shed first."

Even though the pain was isolated to her back, each step felt worse than the last as (Y/N)'s adrenaline wore off. Once they reached one of the dozens of sheds scattered throughout the Sanctuary, (Y/N) rested a palm against the dark wood for support while Charlie held the door open for her.

Blinking through the black and white dots clouding her vision, (Y/N) eased her way into the cramped shed, stumbling toward the familiar oak table against the left wall and letting out a hiss of pain while she leaned back against it. "Son of a bitch."

As the shed door banged shut behind Charlie, she squeezed her eyes shut and eased herself up onto the wooden table, gripping the ledge on either side of her. She was probably going to bruise her palms from how tightly she was holding on, but she didn't care. She'd do anything to find relief from the searing pain emanating from the space between her shoulder blades.

Two creaks of the floorboards and a sudden nearby warmth told her her Charlie was now beside her, undoubtedly surveying the damage.

"We've got to get you to Madam Rosetta."

His voice seemed to be about the only thing that could bring (Y/N) any relief. Smooth as honey and concern for her threaded into each syllable. But there was no way she could do that. The Sanctuary had rules when it came to serious injuries. Rules that required documentation and professional review- more written proof of her being here.

(Y/N) shook her head once, releasing a slow, calming breath before she blinked her eyes open. She was wrong- her best friend’s freckled face brought her an ounce of relief too.

"I just your need help," she insisted as calmly as she could while brushing hair away from the nape of her neck. A light smear against her fingertips indicated just how deep the wound was and Charlie let out a hiss of breath.

"Bloody hell."

She attempted a pathetic smile while she wiped away the faint trace of blood smudged across her fingers with the sleeve of her sweater. "Quite a literal choice of words there, don't you think?"

Charlie didn't laugh. His intense brown eyes were laser focused on her back, and embarrassment settled over her when (Y/N) realized she needed to take her shirt off.

"What are you doing?" he asked, more alarmed than (Y/N) had ever heard him before as she fumbled behind herself to grip the back of the sweater.

With a wince and a frustrated sigh, (Y/N) lowered her hands back to her sides. "Can you help me lift the back of my shirt over my head?"

Considering this was the man who flinched at hugs and flushed at cheek kisses, (Y/N) waited for him to protest, but it never came. To her surprise, Charlie moved without being told twice, carefully sliding the hem of her gray sweater up and stretching out the collar to guide it seamlessly over her head.

(Y/N)’s shirt now rested in front of her, giving her a view of the slashed and blood soaked material. Despite how off putting the sight of her own blood was, she kept her arms in the sleeves, thankful the bunched up fabric managed to cover up most of her cleavage. Why couldn't she have worn a sports bra today?

“It’s over a centimeter deep,” Charlie said, averting his eyes from the wound. The raspy falter in his voice made (Y/N) wonder if it was the severity of the injury or the fact that she was practically shirtless that left him so unnerved. They were best friends right? This was no different than him seeing her in a bikini top.

(Y/N) slowly straightened her slumped shoulders, forcing away all visible signs of insecurity for Charlie’s sake. Anything to make him feel less uncomfortable. “Can you speak American for two seconds? My brain is a little too overwhelmed to handle the metric system right now.”

Charlie smiled for the first time since they had stepped foot inside the shed and held his thumb and index finger up to show her.

“Okay, about half an inch. Thank you.” She attempted to pull her hair free from the neckline of the sweater but stopped abruptly as the abrasion moved with her shoulder blade. She let out a second grunt of irritation and pain, hating nothing more than the temporary loss of her independence. Just as she was about to try again, her breath caught as Charlie’s fingertips brushed against her neck, freeing the trapped strands and brushing them over one shoulder.

“What do I do?” The look in his eyes was urgent, and (Y/N)’s heart squeezed in response. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t tell her she was an idiot for not going to the nurse. He just wanted to help her.

She smiled gratefully and pointed to the top shelf on the back wall. “Grab one of the purple bottles on the right.” Staring down at her sweater, her head pounded argumentatively while she racked her brain for the blood cleaning spell. It started with a T and was right on the tip of her tongue. “Ugh.” She roughly rubbed a hand over her face, wanting the throbbing sensation in her back to stop for just one second.

“What?” Charlie asked, instantly stepping back in front of her and setting the potion bottle onto the table beside her thigh.

She turned away from him as a frustrated flush reached her cheeks. Two of the traits she prided herself most on were her intelligence and independence, both of which were failing her right now. “I can’t remember the stupid spell to clear all this blood up. I was a Healer for an entire year and I can’t remember the damn spell.”

“Hey.” Charlie’s cold fingers rested beneath (Y/N)’s chin, gently forcing her to look at him. The touch was quick, but the striking contrast to her scorched skin made (Y/N)’s head spin. “Your body is beat up enough. We don’t need you taking swings at it too, okay?”

(Y/N) nodded, still slightly dazed from the feeling of his hand against her skin. “Okay.”

Charlie grabbed a stack of towels from the shelf and set them beside the potion bottle. “This may hurt,” he warned, tugging on a fresh pair of work gloves, “but I’ll try to put as little pressure as possible.”

(Y/N) nodded, squeezing her eyes shut again as Charlie picked up one of the towels and began blotting away the excess blood from around the wound. She calmed herself by breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth while counting to ten, the technique she used to encourage her former patients to use.

“What now?” Charlie asked, setting the blood stained towel off to the side.

(Y/N) twisted the cap off of the potion and poured a generous amount of the purple liquid onto a fresh towel before handing it to Charlie. Leaning forward so her back was more accessible, she said, “This will clean it and prevent infection. Just dab it until it starts to smoke.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie muttered when she sucked in a sharp breath as the wet towel touched her skin.

She knew the potion stung and had anticipated the pain, but it was even worse than the burn-healing paste. She bit her lip hard and was relieved when the antiseptic started to settle into the wound, alleviating some of the discomfort.

Charlie’s forehead creased with concern after he set aside second towel and gloves. “It’s smoking, but it’s still bleeding a little.”

“It’s okay. Do you remember the third healing spell I taught you?"

Nodding, Charlie withdrew his wand but hesitated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather Madam Rosetta do it? We've only practiced that one a handful of times.”

“Now who’s beating themselves up? You also mended Gertie’s broken claw last month on your first try and bandaged Scott’s leg two weeks ago like a pro.”

“But none of those were this severe.” He glanced down at the infliction for a minute before their eyes met again, and his voice was barely audible when he spoke. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at him. “You won’t, you’ll help me. We’re best friends, right? I trust you.”

Something sparked in Charlie’s eyes at those words, and after a minute, he nodded. “Vulnera Sanentur, right?” The melodic phrase fell from his lips with the perfect inflection on each syllable.

She grinned and leaned forward again. “Just like that, three times.”

He did exactly as he was taught, tracing his wand back and forth and performing the spell with so much elegance, (Y/N) was too distracted to notice the poking of his wand or the feeling of her broken skin knitting back together. When the words stopped, it felt as though someone had used a Time Turner, reverting back before Aro had ever scratched her.

“Merlin’s beard,” Charlie breathed, his voice full of wonder and pride while (Y/N) exhaled in relief. She knew what he was feeling- Vulnera Sanentur was one of those spells that had the ability to take your breath away when you saw it work. Without warning, he set his wand down and traced his fingers across her upper back, making (Y/N)'s head and heart go haywire. She sucked in a shaky breath and Charlie paused, looking alarmed. “Does it still hurt?”

Mortified, (Y/N) shook her head and hopped off the table. “Are you kidding? You did it perfectly!” She wanted to hug him but stopped herself once she registered her current sweater situation, which only led to a second wave of embarrassment. He probably wouldn’t appreciate (Y/N) pressing her blood covered shirt or her bra-clad chest against him. Studying the material, she realized she still couldn’t recall the blood cleaning charm and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

Her attention returned to the redhead when she heard rustling, only to find Charlie now in a white undershirt, extending his long sleeve shirt toward her. For a moment, (Y/N) just stared at the green fabric in his hand while her heart continued to have a mind of its own. He was offering her his shirt. It took a moment for that realization to sink in, and (Y/N) wasn't sure which outcome was worse- having to put her mangled, bloody sweater back on or Charlie continuing to stand there in his nearly see-thru t-shirt that clung to his body like static. Neither were great options.

“You don’t have to,” she began, but he pushed the cotton material into her hand.

“Take it. I don’t want you to start freaking out about that spell again.”

(Y/N) smiled softly, deciding she was hardly about to put up a fight after what he had just done for her. As soon as she began to slip her arms free from her sweater, Charlie rotated around towards the table, turning (Y/N)'s insides to mush. He was so sweet she couldn't take it.

All the nerves in (Y/N)’s body jolted to attention when she pulled the fresh material over her head and a wave of Charlie's scent hit her. It took all of her self control to not bunch the material up against her nose and breath in that overwhelmingly pleasant honeysuckle and grass smell. "Thanks," she muttered, letting him know it was safe to look once the hem of the shirt fell past her hips. Charlie was only four or five inches taller than (Y/N), but the shirt was easily two sizes too big because of his broad chest and defined arms.

She tossed her sweater onto the table and was surprised to find Charlie staring at her. His eyes held an intensity (Y/N) had never seen before and she started to feel claustrophobic in the tiny shed. Why was he looking at her like that? She attempted to take a step back, but the heel of her boot clacked against the wood panel wall behind her. His gaze somehow managed to feel more invasive now than when she was standing beside him in her bra just moments ago.

(Y/N) was about to ask what he was staring at, but she didn't have a chance to speak. Without warning, Charlie closed the distance between them, his hand suddenly cupping her cheek, his body pushing her back against the wall, and before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her.

Butterflies erupted in (Y/N)'s stomach and her brain short circuited as Charlie's mouth met hers. Her palms landed on his chest while Charlie's free hand gripped her waist, and she was frozen in place. The only move her instincts allowed her to make was to close her eyes and kiss him back.

She may have imagined kissing the redhead more times than she'd ever admit, but this was nothing like those fantasies. She had always assumed he would be sweet and gentle, maybe even shy. Boy was she wrong.

(Y/N)'s heartbeat pounded like a Bludger trapped inside her chest as Charlie's body pressed against her own. His calloused fingers dug into her hip, keeping her firmly in place, and (Y/N) sucked in a breath as their tongues swirled against one another, sending a wave of pleasure over her. She involuntarily curled her fingers into his shirt to tug him closer, unable to believe how good this man's mouth felt on hers. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. She never wanted him to stop. She wanted to do this all the time.

But unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end. (Y/N) wasn't sure if it had been a few seconds, minutes or hours when Charlie finally jerked back. Both of them just stared at one another for a minute, wide eyed and breathless. Charlie's heavily freckled cheeks burned a shade of red (Y/N) had never seen on him before.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, and (Y/N) could tell by the panicked look growing in his brown eyes that he was about to freak out. He took a step back and closed his eyes, roughly rubbing one of his palms over his forehead.

(Y/N) just blinked at him, her chest still heaving up and down as she tried to circulate more oxygen to her brain. Anything to help the gears in her head start moving again. In that moment, she wanted to be bold. (Y/N) wanted to pull Charlie back against her and tell him to do it again. She wished more than ever that she hadn't accepted his shirt so there would have been something more substantial to clutch onto, forcing him to stay close for as long as she wanted. But instead, there she stood, dumbfounded, confused and unable to form a single damn sentence. Her chin still tingled where his stubble had scratched her, which somehow managed to be both the best and worst feeling all at the same time.

"Chaarlie," a muffled voice called from outside, breaking their staring contest.

Hank. Of bloody course.

The redhead looked tormented as his gaze alternated between (Y/N) and the shed door. His brain seemed to be just as rattled as her own.

"Go see what he wants," (Y/N) encouraged with a weak smile, reaching for her sweater on the table. "I'm good." She was referring to her back but hoped it passed for both the injury and the... the word kiss lit up in neon inside (Y/N)'s head. Holy shit. Charlie Weasley had seriously just kissed her.

He hesitated, frowning slightly. "You sure?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure what to make of his expression and still couldn't think properly, so she nodded. The last thing she needed was to have a mental breakdown in front of him while overthinking what the hell just happened. "Yeah, of course. Let's go see what he wants."

"There you are," Hank said, jogging down the path as soon as Charlie emerged from the shack. "Everything okay?" His greying eyebrows ratcheted up as (Y/N) leaned against the door frame, and her face flamed once she realized all the scenarios undoubtedly running through the forty-three year old's mind. She was wearing Charlie's shirt for heaven's sake.

"All good," she said, quickly folding her sweater over her arm so the deep red patch faced Hank.

His cocky smile vanished immediately. "Merlin's beard, you sure? What the hell happened?"

Charlie and (Y/N)'s gaze met briefly before they both looked away.

"We found out what's wrong with Aro," (Y/N) answered, hoping to lead the conversation to the safest territory she knew- dragons.

Hank sighed, shaking his head. "Seriously? You guys can't even take the weekend off?" When neither Charlie nor (Y/N) responded, Hank's forehead creased. "Is that all? You two look like you've seen a dementor."

The anxious look in Charlie's eyes made (Y/N)'s chest ache. Did he really think she was going to tell Hank right then and there that he had kissed her?

"Just shaken up," (Y/N) explained, feeling a lump bob in her throat. "I was expecting fire, not his tail. Charlie was great though and healed it for me. It hurt too much for me to make it down to Madam Rosetta." Her stomach twisted at the lie. Why did her life have to be this way?

Hank nudged Charlie in the shoulder with his knuckles as the trio turned back toward the village. "Good on ya, Weasley. Why don't we go grab a Butterbeer? To two look like you could use a good drink right about now while ya tell me about Aro. I'm sure Felix will be thrilled."

Food and drinks were the last thing on (Y/N)'s mind, but she went along with it. They told Hank about the Horntail's infected tooth, and (Y/N) managed to stomach half of a Butterbeer before the tension in the room was too much for her to handle.

"Where ya goin'?" Hank asked when she stood up from their picnic table.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up and fix my sweater," she said, taking a step back and jabbing her thumb towards her place. To (Y/N)'s surprise, Charlie looked more startled than relieved.

"Do you want any help?"

(Y/N)'s head started spinning again as she tried to decipher what that meant. Was that code for let's sneak off and kiss again? Or for wanting to tell her to never mention what happened ever again?

"Nope, I've got it," she reassured a bit too forcefully.

The concern in his eyes made it seem like that wasn't the answer he was hoping for, and that just made everything that much more confusing. She needed a moment alone to think. Her brain was about ready to explode.

"Just let us know if you need anything," Hank said, raising his glass to her.

Backing up towards her front porch, she forced one last smile and waved. "Yep. I'll catch up with you guys later."

She felt Charlie's eyes on her until the door closed behind her. Letting her back rest against the wood, she slid down to the floor and began racking her brain, finally letting panic sink in.

Why had he kissed her? Was it some sort of response to her being hurt? Was it something she had said? Most importantly, why did he look so regretful after he had done it?

Maybe he hadn't enjoyed it. Maybe he thought he might feel something and didn't, and now he didn't know what to say.

The kick to her gut was quickly remedied by the inappropriate reminder that at least one part of him had enjoyed the kiss. Goosebumps broke out across (Y/N)'s skin, and while she forced away thoughts of Charlie's body against hers, a lightbulb flicked on inside her head. The look in his eyes and the unanticipated hunger behind the kiss. He was only ever attracted to someone after they were friends, and she had been practically shirtless while they were crammed in a small space together. How could she be so oblivious? It was probably a purely hormonal response and now he was mortified. But (Y/N) couldn't blame him… eight years was a long time. She just wished that realization didn't make her heart feel so heavy.

Forcing herself to breathe, (Y/N) told herself she was being ridiculous. Whatever the reason, it wasn't a big deal. It was just a kiss. Sure, it may have been a mind-numbing explosion of one for her, but she could put it behind her. A relationship was the last thing she needed to worry about anyway. It was too dangerous. (Y/N) barely could afford to make friends, let alone date someone. She didn't want anyone to get hurt or into trouble because of her.

Charlie continued sitting across from Hank, barely able to take his eyes off (Y/N)'s door as the minutes ticked past. He was completely conflicted between staying glued to the picnic table all night and pounding on her door until she opened it.

"You two have been acting weird ever since you got back," Hank said, setting his Butterbeer down onto the table. "Everything okay?"

Charlie shook his head, drumming his fingers nervously on the table. "No, I'm an idiot."

"Oh, Lord. What'd ya do now?"

"I kissed her."

Hank straightened so abruptly he knocked his Butterbeer over, but the man hardly seemed to care. "You what?"

The redhead dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his temples and sighing. "I bloody kissed her."

"What the hell are you groaning about?" Hank boomed, slapping a hand against the table. "This is the best news I've heard all month!"

"No it's not. The walk back here was awkward as hell because we were interrupted before we had the chance to talk." Charlie shot his buddy a look, but Hank hardly looked apologetic.

"You could have told me to piss off."

"And say what? We're busy in here, come back later? I'm sure your reaction to that would have been real appropriate."

Hank rubbed his stubble to hide is grin, not even attempting to correct the redhead. "Well, did she kiss you back?"

Charlie averted his eyes, hating how easy it was to recall (Y/N)'s mouth on his- the way her hands gripped his t-shirt, the muffled gasp she had made into his mouth. He had never been kissed like that before, and he wanted to do it over and over again. He blew out a breath, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He had more self control as a bloody teenager. "That's not the point."

Hank grinned the biggest toothy smile that Charlie had ever seen from him. "That's one hundred and ten percent the point. I know she's into you- even if you are a total wanker."

"She didn't say anything after." Or try to do it again, his subconscious added unhelpfully. "For all I know, she could've felt cornered."

Hank barked a laugh. "You're kidding, right? That wild thing could'a kicked your ass if she wanted to."

Deep down Charlie knew that was true, but he also knew that (Y/N) had a soft spot and just might not have wanted to hurt his feelings. Her quick dismissal of him offering to help reverberated in his head. "What if I've screwed everything up?"

"Here's a crazy idea- if you're so damn worried about it, why don't you try talking to her instead of me?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Hank despite knowing the forty-three year old was right. With a sigh, Charlie forced himself off the bench, slowly making his way to (Y/N)'s porch and praying he didn't mess up their friendship.

A knock on (Y/N)'s door made her freeze at the kitchen sink. After scouring through her books for that stupid spell, she managed to fix her sweater and was now rinsing out her tea mug. Her heart thumped nervously and she cleared her throat. "Come in."

She fumbled with the mug as the door creaked open behind her and wondered what the odds of it being Hank or Scott were. Or Felix or Dave. Hell, she'd probably even take Sydney right now. Setting the cup in the sink, she turned around and her stomach plummeted. They apparently weren't good enough.

"Hey," Charlie said, shutting the door quietly. He could hardly look at her. His eyes flicked around the room, just barely jumping up to meet hers, and he hadn't moved past the first chair at the dining room table. He looked more uncomfortable than (Y/N) had ever seen and her heart cracked open in response. She didn't want him to feel that way.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked with a smile, picking up a dish towel to dry off her hands. She could ignore the elephant in the room.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but her tone must have resonated with him on some level because his stiff posture eased and he stepped a fraction closer. "Uh, are we- I mean are you… okay?"

She could see the concern in his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat in response. Even though he was clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed, he was asking if she was okay. How could she not be head over heels for him?

"Yeah, of course," she answered, taking the time to fold the towel and set it neatly on the counter before turning back to face him. She hoped her casual tone said, Why wouldn't I be?

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the soft red strands away from his face, and a horrible thought entered (Y/N)'s brain before she could stop it: Why hadn't she done that?

The thought of touching Charlie's hair as they kissed left (Y/N)'s face flaming with embarrassment. Averting her eyes only made the situation worse, however, because she realized she was still wearing his shirt. She had changed into leggings in place of her jeans but didn't take off his damn shirt. He was going to think she was mental.

Charlie took another step forward, now leaving only two dining chairs left between them. "Look, about earlier…"

"You don't have to do this," she interrupted, glancing at him again. "It really isn't a big deal. We can pretend it never happened if that's what you want."

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, and (Y/N) watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "What if I don't want that?"

Chills scattered down (Y/N)'s entire body and she gripped the chair in front of her for support. She couldn't have heard him right. This was the off-limits dragon lover that had been single for years. She must've misheard him. "What?" Her voice was as unstable as her legs were.

"Look, I know I'm not good at this," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "In fact, I'm probably just about as rubbish as you can get. But I fancy you, (Y/N). A lot."

(Y/N)'s lips parted and the wild pulse in her throat was nearly all she could concentrate on. She tried to speak, but his words made her head dizzy and mouth dry. Ginny was right? He… he liked her too?

Charlie's face was beat red now as he took one final step forward. "And I was wondering if… if we could be more than just friends."

(Y/N) tried to calm her rampant heartbeat, and it wasn't until Charlie cleared his throat that she realized how long she had merely been staring at him, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Charlie looked down at the floorboards beneath his feet, his expression turning stony. "But I completely understand if you don't think of me in that way. Or if my… lack of dating experience is-"

(Y/N) surged forward before he had a chance to finish that ridiculous sentence, wrapping her hands behind his neck and crashing her mouth against his. Charlie stumbled a little to catch his balance, letting out a raspy breath before his arm slid around her waist and he kissed her back, sending (Y/N)'s heart into overdrive. He pulled her closer and she tangled her fingers into his hair like she wanted to earlier, feeling like her whole world was complete.

Their fevered kisses faded down to delicate and when they slowly pulled back for air, (Y/N) could feel Charlie's warm, ragged breath on her lips. "Is that a yes?"

Reality struck (Y/N) like an earthquake as her promise to Ginny echoed inside her head. Easing down from her tiptoes, she rubbed her face, feeling the overwhelming bliss diminishing inside her. "Shit. I- I don't know."

"What's wrong?" Charlie asked, his brown eyes searching hers. "Is it the team? I'll make sure Hank keeps his comments to himself if that's what you're worried about."

(Y/N) shook her head. "It's not that. I just- I don't think it would be fair to you." The words cut her to the core. Life had never been this cruel to her.

Charlie didn't look angry or annoyed- he looked concerned. "Why not?"

She turned away from his gorgeous face, ashamed, heartbroken, and angry. "Charlie… There are things you don't know about me. Things you can't know."

He seemed to consider this. "Does this have to do with why you've moved around so much?"

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip.

"Why can't you tell me?"

Despite her trust issues, a part of her knew that wasn't it. As much as (Y/N) tried to fight it, as much as her past experiences told her not to, she really did trust the redhead every bit as much as Penny, Barnaby, Rowan and Jae. "It's too dangerous."

The corner of his mouth twitched the slightest bit. "More dangerous than being a Dragonologist?"

She nodded, trying to convince herself more so than the redhead. She knew him too well to think danger would scare him away.

He was now in front of her, the tips of their boots nearly touching. "What if I care about you more than my safety?"

Her nerve endings crackled like static, and it took every ounce of her self control not to touch him. "I- I refuse to put you or your family at risk. I just can't." Her lip trembled at the mere thought. She couldn't handle being responsible for anyone getting in trouble because of her. Charlie's dad worked for the Ministry for Merlin's sake. He could lose his job.

"Did you do something bad?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N)'s heart weighed down with heaviness as she considered how to answer. "People think I did," she finally whispered.

"But did you?"

She shook her head, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. She hoped to Merlin that he believed her. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't.

“Ah." He nodded slowly. "I think I’m starting to piece together the whole Sirius Black obsession.”

That made (Y/N) laugh- a pathetic, hollow laugh that caught in the back of her throat. “Pretty stupid, right? It’s not like that story has even a remotely happy ending.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to suppress all the conflicting emotions she felt. “Don’t you get it? There’s no happy ending for me. There’s no case for my innocence, I’m just a fugitive to catch. They may come after me again, and if you know what happened, they’ll say you were involved in it. I can’t have that on my conscious.”

"There’s one thing you’re not accounting for," he said, leaning his face closer to hers.

(Y/N) glanced up at him, but her voice was still overruled by defeat. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

Charlie smiled, clearly accepting the challenge. “You probably picked the only career where we could care less what the Ministry thinks.”

“They’re our government, Charlie. You really expect me to believe wizards here don’t care about the Ministry of Magic?”

He looked genuinely surprised by her response, as if he expected her to know better. “Do you know why reserves like this even exist?”

She waited for him to answer, sensing the question was rhetorical, and the frown forming on Charlie’s face told (Y/N) the subject made him upset.

“It’s because wizards like Newt Scamander stuck up for the safety and preservation of all creatures, even the XXXXX category. In the Ministry’s eyes, dragon’s are probably the largest nuisance in the wizarding world. They’re massive, loud, and lethal. Bloody terrible to conceal from muggles and untamable. If they had it their way, most of these creatures would likely be killed and sold for parts.”

An unpleasant knot yanked on (Y/N)’s heartstrings at the thought of losing any of these dragons. “No… they wouldn’t do that. I mean sure, maybe decades ago when we didn’t know as much, but they have to feel differently now, right?”

“Some of them do, sure,” Charlie conceded. “But we still get hassled about our work when they visit. Some badger us about our numbers, demanding if we really need this many. Some suggest expediting mother nature when one falls ill or grows old. Like I said- to them, dragons are a headache. They make up a large portion of what makes their lives miserable when an accident happens and they have to repair the damage.” He leaned his forehead against hers and brought a hand up to stroke her cheek. "So would you stop worrying about protecting me? Because I don't really give a damn what the Ministry thinks and I'd really like to kiss you again."

And just like that, (Y/N)'s entire resolve crumpled, and she kissed Charlie Weasley like her life depended on it.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley #charlie x mc #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #Harry Potter #Romania #romanian dragon sanctuary #fic #mine #mywriting #rvnclwrites

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asherranceoftheheart · 5 years ago

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Icarus Falls - III - The Good Doctor Comes Home

Story Summary: “You’ll never leave me alone right?“ “You think I’d actually let you go?”

A story about the slow descent and corruption of a lonely man, a demon who learns that bonds go both ways, brothers who deeply regrets their words spoken out of anger, and a conflicted man watching them all fall down from the distance. Here’s a Puppet!Chase AU that was written with extreme self-indulgence so beware and read the tags before entering.

Chapter Summary: Chapter title says it all lol but also a breather chapter Pairing/s: None, Platonic Character/s: Jack McLoughlin, Chase Brody, Antisepticeye, Henrik Von Schneeplestein, Mentions of Other Septic Egos Genre: Angst, Fluff Chapter Warning/s: Self-Deprecating Thoughts (Thoughts like I’m not as good as the others, etc.), Sadness, extremely vague mentions of torture (Archive Of Our Own Edition) (Prev. Chapter)

Do you ever have one of those days when you wake up feeling both numb, and raw and sensitive on the inside and thinking ‘Ah. It’s one of those days…’ and wondering if it’s even worth the effort to open your eyes and move?

Chase felt emotionally and physically drained with a rocking throbbing headache as he woke up in a cold empty bed, tucked in like a child under the blankets. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, looking and thinking of nothing in particular until the memories began to come in crystal clear film in his mind. His hand twitched as he remembered the warmth of another person enveloping him even if that person had been his mortal enemy.

A part of him wanted to hate himself for missing, for yearning for the addicting affectionate touches that his enemy showered him with while he had been dreadfully sick. After all, had he become so desperate after nearly nine months of having no positive physical contact with other people that he would take comfort in the demon who was the main cause for why it was happening in the first place? However, a bigger part of himself was just tired, so very tired of the constant emotional olympics his self-hatred would force him to go through every single day.

He closed his eyes and for a moment, he allowed his own mind and heart to fool himself and pretend that the last part of yesterday never happened. He chose to believe in the fleeting happiness of the illusion that his best friend had never gone into a coma and tht Anti was merely a part of an excruciatingly long nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had gone down outside but he can’t find the energy in himself to give a fuck about time moving on without him.

Chase heard his phone buzz with new notifications. He stomped down the flickering spark of hope that it would be any of his brothers finally answering his messages and calls. He knows that he can’t keep blocking out the world like this especially when the world needs him to be Jack McLoughlin so with an exhausted grunt, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position and reached over to the left bedside drawer to grab his phone.

He pressed the button on the side and was relieved to see that it was just Doctor Adam rather than one of Jack’s friends asking Jack if he was alright.

Dr. Adam: Mr. Brody? You haven’t replied to my messages for a while. Is everything alright?

The concern from the doctor melted some of the ice numbing his heart. This man really reminded him of Henrik albeit softer and more formal.

Chase: I’m ok doc. But I don’t think I’ll be able to drop by for a while. Think I caught a bug on the way back or something and I don’t want to transfer any of it to Jack. I’ll try to take a few more days off until I’m sure I’m okay. :)

Dr. Adam: Ah! I thought so… You’ve never missed a day visiting your brother unless you were really sick. So I was worried. But since you said that you’re okay I have to trust that you know yourself and your limits by now. Do take care of yourself! Get a lot of sleep, eat something even if it’s just buttered toast (altho I would prefer if you ate healthier foods…), drink lots of liquid, and make sure you take your medicine.

Chase: Yea, I’ve been doing all that Just keep me updated on Jack pls?

Dr. Adam: But of course, I know how much you worry over your brother. Anyway, I’ll leave you to rest. I hope you get well soon!

‘I hope I do too, Doc.’ Chase wiped a hand over his weary face with a loud sigh.

He placed his phone down on his bed when his eyes caught sight of something sharing the same drawer that his phone had been placed in earlier. It was his medicine and it was placed on top of what appeared to be a note. He knows what the pills were obviously for but the note awakened some of his curiosity and anger.

It was obvious who wrote that note.

He wanted to run over to his desk and grab his lighter to burn that seemingly innocent looking white paper as anybody with a shred of common sense should. However he knows himself. He knows his curiosity over what the note would contain would itch at him for a long long time if he didn’t find out what it said.

He inhaled deeply and slowly let the air out as a low hiss through gritted teeth while he mussed up his already messed up hair.

“Fucker,” Chase insulted both the demon for taking advantage of his thrice damned curiosity that could rival the stubbornness of a spoiled cat, and himself for falling for this obvious show of manipulation as he forced his arm to reach out and grabbed the paper.

He crumpled the note into a wrinkly ball and stared down at it with some trepidation. What horrific message will this paper contain? Was it going to contain some blackmail worthy secret? Maybe taunt him for his complete breakdown yesterday? Jesus Christ… He literally fell apart on top of the bastard. He’d wish he could erase the memory but Anti would probably take that as permission to completely fuck him up mentally and maybe possess him as a little treat.

Well, he can’t keep stalling for more time like a coward. He uncrumpled the paper, smoothing it out on his covered lap, and read it with some trepidation.

One pill every eight hours from the moment you wake up. Going to be busy for a while. Don’t wait up for me, little brother. You’re still sick so don’t have a breakdown every other hour. Remember I’M ALWAYS WATCHING

Chase stared down at the note that was practically dripping with sarcasm with an expressionless gaze. A form of calm had settled down upon him and he almost absentmindedly started to rip the note in half. He doesn’t know what to feel about the laughably simple note. Should he get angry? Should he spend the time away from the bastard trying to decode some sort of hidden message from it?

In the end, he decided that it wasn’t worth the energy to get annoyed or obsessed over the taunt. He spent the next few minutes tearing the note into teeny tiny pieces before he left it scattered all over the top of his lap in unsalvageable scraps.

The ripping and tearing actually brought him some satisfaction which he relished in no matter how tiny it was. He swept the mess off his bed with a wide wave and watched it free fall to the floor like snow during winter. The man slid off his bed and spitefully ignored the medicine before he dragged himself over to the bathroom to freshen up.

He took a short shower, changed into fresh new indoor clothes, and dried his hair with a towel before brushing it up until it stayed neat and fluffy on his head. A sudden burst of productive energy suddenly shot through his entire body when he looked over the entirety of his room and realized just how filthy he had let it become over the months.

Chase could almost hear Anti sneering at him at the back of his head, telling him how useless and broken he was when nobody is there to pull him forward like a fucking donkey.

A massive wave of spite mixed in with his burst of energy and he began walking around the room to gather up his dirty clothes to put inside a hamper that he carried over to his laundry room to load up inside the washing machine. Then before working the machine, he went back to his room to change his bed sheets and blanket to a clean one before hefting them all up to the laundry room. While the washer was humming and vibrating as it got to work, he grabbed two big trash bags from his current location before he walked back to his bedroom.

The first step to feeling better after another one of your long episodes is to clear up the clutter that built up around you. It will help you associate clearing up as another way of resetting your own point of view.

A tiny smile twitched up at the corner of his lips as Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice as he coaxed him from his bed in the past. He separated his trash into two bags and straightened up to look around his now cleaner room. Chase tied up the trash bags so that none of them would spill out before he opened up his window and smiled faintly at the refreshing evening breeze that brushed against his heated face.

Then he walked over to his closet to bring out the Roomba that he hasn’t used for a while, letting out a victorious ‘heh’ when it still worked and placed it in the middle of his room before turning it on to roam around the floor to suck up the dust that built up over the past months.

He gave his cleaner and brighter bedroom another look over with satisfaction pulsing in his chest before making two trips up and down the stairs to take out the trash that he just collected and move the piled up dirty mugs on his desk down to the kitchen.

“How’s this for being useless and broken, asshole?” Chase spitefully said into the empty air towards the absent being who insulted him daily when he was there. “Fuck you.”

Chase huffed to himself in the middle of the kitchen while he was crouched over his dishwasher, loading it up with all the dirty dishes. After he closed the thing’s door, he realized as his stomach growled rather loudly, that he was pretty hungry.

“I’m hungry but I’m not in the mood for anything too heavy or chewy…” Chase hummed while he browsed the contents of his fridge. He leaned over and grabbed the covered bowl at the back of the fridge. “Oh hey, this was the cream of mushroom soup I ordered a week ago… It doesn’t smell bad so I guess it’s still fine!”

He heated it up on the stove before scooping them all up into a clean bowl. He placed a spoon with it before he walked over to the living room. Chase turned on the TV before laying on his side at the couch while he slurped up his soup.

‘Man… If Hen was here he’d probably be telling me that this soup isn’t healthy enough for me,’ Chase chuckled to himself, eyes misting over with nostalgia over the memories of his most fussy older brother. ‘Then he’d threaten to tie me up on a chair and feed me his horrid homemade food.’

Henrik might be one of the smartest people in the world but his cooked food… There’s a reason why he was never allowed to cook for them during their weekly gatherings. He remembered Marvin telling him a story about his first time of coming into contact with Henrik’s Mystery Food and swearing on his name and magic that it had a living soul.

“It’s not that bad!” He would hear Henrik stomping his feet on the floor while imagining the lethal glare he’d give his brothers while they gently redirected him even as he’s protesting the discrimination loudly from the kitchen.

“Henrik please… Every single bite Jackie makes of your food immediately sends him to the hospital and you of all people know that he’s immune to nearly all sorts of poison.” Jack squeezed the fuming doctor’s tensed shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

“Come on, Jack-Jack. You don’t have to sweeten the truth up for our mother hen,” Marvin’s delighted and mischief-filled voice would snicker from the other room where he was probably curled up on the floor near the window to get the maximum sunshine. “Henrik, your food tastes so bad that Jackie’s mind blocked out any memory of the taste to protect him from relieving the trauma.”

“As if your cooking is any better!” Henrik would shoot back scathingly.

“At least I can survive on it on my own and feed some of it to others!” Marvin would have puffed up as he readied himself for their banter.

“Guys please,” Jackie, ever the peacemaker, would try to calm the duo down while Jack wouldn’t even try and raise the white flag the second they start.

Chase laughed to himself at the present time as he recalled the loud racket Marvin and Henrik would make while they exchanged light-hearted insults. He would’ve been in the kitchen, humming and smiling while he busied himself with his cooking. A few minutes later would find Creator and Hero skulking back to his safe grounds with their tails tucked neatly between their legs and trying to help him but he’d just easily shoo them off to pout at the kitchen table.

‘I wish Jamie had experienced that before everything went to complete shit,’ Chase’s smile turned bittersweet at that stray thought. ‘Henrik and Jack would’ve loved him. He and Hen would probably spend some nights drinking tea in the middle of the night with each other. He’d have helped curtail some of Marvy’s sharp nature with a light smack on the shoulder. Jackie would’ve been so glad to have someone helping him act as the peacemaker of the family. Jack… Jack would’ve adored him. He’d gush about how Jamie was so spirited, so sassy, expressive and—and how he and Marvy always loved so fiercely…’

Chase licked his spoon clean (Marvin would’ve been looking at him with disgust and tell him that he’s a mannerless savage which… bold words for someone who would lick their balls while in their cat form) and dropped it down with a loud ear ringing clang on the now empty bowl before placing them on the living room table. He scooched over and laid down on his back on the couch and crossed his arms at the back of his head as a makeshift pillow while he reminisced.

Anti might insult him for doing nothing else but think of the past but it was the only thing that gave Chase the energy to keep moving forward even if he didn’t really want to. For the sake of all his loved ones who would’ve wanted to experience those memories in the future with them after all of these bullshit… Yeah, he’d trudge through all the painful days for them.

He closed his eyes and tried his darnest to remember anything memorable that had happened since the others left him behind but other than Anti’s unforgettable presence, everything else passed by in a blur.

“Damn,” Chase sighed, his smile lacking any light nor humor to it. “Anti really had a point when he said that I’m useless without the others huh?”

It is not your fault, Chase. Depression has the tendency to mix all your memories together in an unrecognizable blur. Do not worry. We are always here to help you remember.

“Unfortunately Doc,” Chase sighed as he sat up and grabbed the dirty bowl and spoon to place them together in the washer. “The only person left who’ll help me remember the past months is a complete bastard who I wouldn’t entrust my head to even if I had to choose between him and pain.”

Not that he really wanted to remember anything… He’s pretty sure that if he remembered anything it would just be of him whining about his loneliness, Anti fucking him up, and trying to keep up the Jack mask so that nobody else would find out that something had gone wrong.

He went back upstairs and moved the wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer and loaded up the dirty bed sheets and blanket to the washing machine before heading straight for his bedroom. The Roomba died under his desk, having lost all of its battery while he was downstairs, and he scrounged through his dark closet for its charging adapter. Once the Roomba was set up and charging, he changed into his new pajamas and slipped back under his blankets.

He continued ignoring the set of pills on the drawer and turned on his side so that he could curl up under the sheets. Chase powered on Jack’s phone and waited for it to load so that he could check the comatose man’s social media. Another mentally and emotionally draining part of his imitation job was to maintain the Jack mask while pretending that the man was A-Okay and there was no reason for concern.

First, he pulled up Twitter and made a face when he realized that somebody posted something on the account while he was sick. Thank god it was just a little message to everyone that he was going to be on a break for a while because he was sick. It was still creepy that Anti could perfectly copy Jack’s mannerisms as he looked through the little retweets-interaction with everybody. Even he had some hard time fully copying his best friend’s posting quirks.

Either way, it was still annoying and stressful to Chase how the demon could keep pulling these kinds of shit with Jack’s social media. Maybe he should change to passwords and login info to everything while Anti was god knows where.

…

Chase sighed and shrugged. Then again, it’s not like that would be effective anyway. He knows that Anti was the one who keeps reblogging art of himself on the tumblr account even though he was pretty sure he changed the password nearly fifty times over the past few months. It never fazed him.

Speaking of tumblr… A part of him wanted to resent the community for giving the demon so much power through their attention via art, theories, and stories but he knows that it wouldn’t be fair of him to blame them for something that is completely out of their control. It’s not like they knew that the thing with Anti which they knew to be an ‘ARG-like’ story for the channel was actually his and his brother’s reality. Most of them were just people who were enthusiastic for the escapism their ‘story’ provided and he couldn’t exactly fault them for that.

He decided to update twitter that he’s feeling much better than before and that he’ll go back to filming videos tomorrow. The replies were almost immediate as the community reassured him that it would be fine if he took more days off to recover fully and he can’t help but smile at their unending support even if it was actually directed towards Jack. He knows that they wouldn’t mind it if he took an entire week off but he gets really antsy when he’s not putting up any content for the channel.

It feels like if he doesn’t keep it up, there’ll be nothing left for Jack to wake up to, all the hard work he put into this channel and community has been one of his brother’s ultimate joys. He doesn’t want to see Jack’s devastation if he also loses the community that he so dearly loved to the coma.

Besides… It’s not like he can afford to slack off while the others are trying their hardest to save Jack. This and taking care of Jack was the only thing that he could do to be of some use rather than become another burden to his brothers.

After he read and replied to a few more retweets, he turned off Twitter and moved his attention to the other big gathering place for the community. He tapped Tumblr’s app button and scrolled down Jack’s blog and let out a sharp, annoyed exhale when he saw that Anti had been busy reblogging things related to him or him torturing the other egos while Chase had been indisposed. A lot of the theorists hit the nail on the head when they theorized that the one who had been reblogging Anti-related things without any caption had been Anti.

It must have been something about Tumblr’s wonky programming but Anti can’t say anything or it’ll come out all glitched and zalgoed. Of course, he could’ve gotten maximum attention that way but he probably thought that it would be much better to have the fans stewing and trying to obsess over every single action that may or may not relate to Anti by having it all be a mystery.

Sometimes Chase wondered if maybe he and his brothers could make use of the community’s eagle-eyed observations that tend to hit right most of the time to help them find out a way to save Jack. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve managed to notice something that he hasn’t noticed such as a little subtle glitch on the video’s audio, a flash of someone in the back of his facecam, or even changes in the description or titles of the videos that was definitely not made by him.

Their skills would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t downright frightening for how obsessed they seem to be with Anti.

He reblogged a few cool artworks and edits with little words of encouragement under their captions. Then he’d like some of the little sneak peeks to the daily lives of the community members that always made him smile because at least these funky little people are doing their best to live. It’s a nice reminder and boost to the morale that there was a reason why he was also doing this other than to keep the channel up and running for Jack’s comeback.

Chase stretched out his arms and legs with a jawbreaking yawn as he felt the sleepiness settle in. He looked at the time on his phone and made a face when he saw how late it was. No wonder his eyes were starting to blur with sleep. He decided to set his alarm clock up for the morning. He’s gotta wake up early to prepare himself to go under the Jack mask and record a video after all.

The tired man scooched underneath the blanket, covering himself up to his bed and curled up into a tight ball while tugging the sheets around him. A spark of pride welled up inside his chest when he thought back on how he managed to do a little bit of productivity in tidying up his bedroom. While he definitely started out the day rough and numb, he managed to salvage it by the end.

At the end of the day, it’s these teeny tiny baby steps that would bring you much farther than you thought when you look back in the future. So do not sell yourself short, Chase Brody.

Never forget that we are always proud of you no matter how inconsequential you believe your little progress was.

Henrik’s gruff but gentle voice echoed through his mind, easily drowning out all the insecurities and dark voices sneering at him for his pride. For the first time in a long while, Chase fell asleep with a faint but sincere smile on his lips.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Maybe you should’ve jumped higher for that trick shot so that you wouldn’t have fallen over and broken your foot,” Jack’s voice shook with silent laughter as he leaned on Chase’s side while they both watched Henrik scrambling around, fussing over Chase’s foot that was placed in a cast, and fluffing up pillows to squeeze behind Chase’s back while he’s relaxed on the couch and worrying his head over whether his broken foot was raised high enough.

Henrik spun around and levelled a death glare towards his creator who instinctively raised both hands in a show of harmlessness, the doctor bared his teeth at him, “If you keep encouraging him to do more reckless acts I will break your own leg.”

Chase coughed and choked on a laugh and gave his doctor older brother a smile full of innocence and sunshine when he swiftly turned around to glare at him as well while Jack sputtered in the background. Jackie was dying on the floor. He sounded like he was about to upgrade from his booming cackling to wheezing, dying laughter.

“Wh— You took an oath to never harm another human when you became a doctor!” Chase turned his head to look at Jack when he felt him sitting up straight and leaning forward with an outraged look.

“I did no such thing,” Henrik snubbed. “It was whichever fake Schneeplestein that magic made to explain my existence in this universe that made such an oath.”

“You’re still a doctor!” Jack yelled vehemently, slapping a hand on his knees.

Henrik sniffed. He looked down at Jack from behind his nose and made him feel like he was some worm tainting the bottom of his shiny shoes. Then the doctor dramatically turned his back on the pouting man obviously giving him the cold shoulder.

“Chaaaase,” Jack twisted his body to ‘sob’ into his best friend’s shoulder. “Henny’s being mean to me again!”

“There, there,” Chase snickered as he patted the older man’s curly hair. “I won’t let the big bad doctor bully you anymore.”

Jack turned his head so that his cheek was pressed on top of Chase’s shoulder and he stuck his tongue out at Henrik who rolled his eyes back at him.

A massive white maine coone glided into the chaotic living room, jumping up on the back of the couch, and strolled over to smack Jack’s face with his outrageously long and fluffy tail—while ignoring the annoyed yelp ‘Marvin!’ before the poor man started sneezing and cursing the magician’s existence—as he slid down a bemused Chase’s torso into his lap. He rubbed his fluffy body against his little brother’s chest with a loud meow for his greeting.

“Hey to you too, Marvy,” Chase chuckled as the cat began to purr.

Marvin’s purr grew louder until he was practically like a growling motorcycle and arched his spine when Chase’s fingers stroked him from the bridge of his pink nose down to his tailbone. The heavy white cat kneaded his claws into Chase’s baggy shorts before circling around—ignoring Chase’s agonized groan at his weight—and curling up into a smug self-satisfied ball on his lap.

“You satisfied now, Drama Queen?” Chase teased the magician with a fond smile while he scratched the cat on the perfect spot behind his ears. “I think we should put your cat form on a diet. You’re getting pretty heavy.”

The cat nipped at his fingers with a hint of a warning bite but Chase just tapped his prickly older brother on his nose as a gentle reprimand. He only got a bunch of annoyed chattering for his daring gall to touch his majesty.

“Marvin, you better not bite anyone again,” Henrik dryly warned the magician who hissed at him. “Don’t think I can’t sedate you into going to the vet and getting you neutered.”

Marvin let out an offended yowl and attempted to stuff his massive unit of a body under Chase’s shirt, drawing giggles from the man who tried pushing his fluffy butt away as his squirming body dragged his soft fur over his ticklish stomach.

“Marvin, you fucker!” Chase squealed and tried to pull out the squirming cat who somehow managed to find the perfect position and perk out only his head from under his shirt. “Really? You’re going to subject me to your stinky butt for the entire movie marathon?”

His only response was a thick tail that thwapped his sputtering face.

“Aww… It’s just his way of showing you his love, Chasey-wasey,” Jackie giggled without looking up from his phone. “Also I can’t blame Marv for wanting to snuggle up to you. You’re like a portable heater slash teddy bear.”

“Yeah well, I’d say Marvy would be like a teddy bear too if it weren’t for the fact that he weighs like a rock on top of my kidneys,” Chase deadpanned before smacking Marvin’s back through his shirt irritably. “Use your claws on me again and I’ll neuter you myself without the help of a vet.”

Jack snickered at the irritated mewl from the cat while Henrik huffed and rolled his eyes at their antics. The doctor sat on the right couch seat and pulled the side lever up so that he could fully recline his body and feet. Jack leaned over and grabbed the remote from the table in front of him and Chase.

“Everybody finally settled down for our movie night?” He asked, just to make sure so that nobody would suddenly whine in that childish sort of voice that he didn’t wait for them again.

coughJackiecough

Jackie gave him a thumbs up and finally looked up from his phone. He was laying on his stomach on the blanket he set on the floor with a variety of pillows forming his nest around him. His own bowl of popcorn and a massive bottle full of Sprite was set in front of him.

Chase makes an agreeing grunt while he leaned on him on his side, taking care not to move his cast while Marvin chirruped from under his shirt, his little head poking out directing his nose to the bowl of popcorn on the table. Henrik just shrugged and gestured his head towards the screen.

“Just get on with it. If anybody was not ready I am sure that they’ll be letting out some godforsaken complaint through their loud mouths,” Henrik scathingly said but his eyes glimmered with laughter, taking off the bite from his words. He merely arched an eyebrow at everyone when they childishly stuck out their tongues at him.

Jack huffed and shook his head at the brotherly banters. No family activity would be the same without these chaotic preparations and quips from the others. He pressed play on the remote and started the movie. He sat back on the couch with Chase, his smile unconsciously growing wider when the youngest ego scooched closer to him.

…

“Is he asleep?” Henrik asked in a hushed tone as he craned his neck to look at Chase’s face which was hiding away against Jack’s side.

Jack nodded with a gentle smile and pressed a finger against his lips in the universal sign for silence. He slowly began to shift himself so that he could move Chase into laying down fully on the couch and for his head to be placed on his lap. Henrik assisted him, carrying the younger ego’s legs into the couch and made sure that his injured foot was raised with a few pillows propped underneath and around it to keep it from moving.

Chase made a soft noise and pressed his cheek on Jack’s stomach while the older man petted his head, idly rubbing a thumb against the healed over scar that would ache from time to time especially when Chase is particularly emotional. The sleeping man sighed contentedly in his sleep and murmured something far too unintelligible for either man to hear. Henrik grabbed one of the free blankets remaining to place it over Chase, tucking him under the warm sheets.

“I’ll get the other blankets—Marvin!” Henrik hissed as the cat that had been watching them from the table, slowly walked over to jump on Chase’s chest. Chase’s breath hitched but thankfully he didn’t wake up. Chase wrapped his arms around the cat who had stretched himself out over his little brother’s body and tucked his head under his chin. “You’re so lucky he’s a heavy sleeper. If you woke him up I would have shaved you, you needy cat.”

The cat flicked his ears at Henrik and made a show of nuzzling the bottom of Chase’s chin and purring almost as loud as a starting motorcycle to spite the doctor by showing just how comfortable he was in his makeshift bed.

Jack rolled his eyes at the little drama queen before he looked back at Henrik with a pleading smile, “Blankets please? It’s pretty chilly around here at night.”

Henrik sighed and nodded. He carefully maneuvered himself out of the crowded living room. Jackie had spreaded out his entire body on his own side of the room, snoring lightly while drool trailed down his cheek. Henrik made sure that he didn’t touch on the territory of the unknowing human venus flytrap who’d snap his arms around your legs in a flash the moment you stepped within his area of attack. Last time one of them (poor Marvin… despite screaming and trying to squirm out of those iron arms...) fell for that trap, they had to deal with a clingy as a leech Jackie for the entire night.

He went upstairs to grab extra blankets and pillows for him and Jack since someone (Jackie…) hoarded most of them for their nest and one of the original blankets was placed over Chase. When he went back down, Marvin was already asleep, his cat body slowly moved up and down to his rhythmic breathing. Jack was staring down at Chase’s face with a blank look which generally meant that the man was probably thinking something that was bothering him again.

As he passed by his creator, he gave the man a gentle smack on the back of his head with his elbow. “This is not the time for complicated thoughts. This is family time.”

Jack jolted at the hit and his voice, turning his head to make a silly face at him.

“I know, I know, I just can’t help it, Hen,” Jack sighed and patted Chase’s head. He peered at the doctor when he saw what he was carrying. “Huh, you got those from the closet in the hallway?”

“Where else would I get it? Here,” Henrik made Jack lean over so that he could place two pillows on the back of his neck. “Support for your neck.”

“Thanks,” the other man gave him a thumbs up with one of his free hands. “Can you uh place my blanket over my lap? I’ll move Chase’s head a bit.”

“Wait your impatient butt. I am just going to move around the couch.” Henrik said as he walked over to his own spot to drop his pillows and blanket before moving over to Jack.

Jack carefully lifted Chase’s head so that Henrik could slip the blanket over his lap. He absentmindedly rubbed a thumb over the sleeping man’s head when his brows furrowed at the movement and he looked like he was about to wake from his sleep. Thankfully, he settled down once he was returned to his previous position only he curled closer to his creator’s warmth.

“Ah man, Chase really is the best little brother I could ever ask for,” Jack sighed with a fond smile softening the weariness from his face.

Henrik snorted, giving Chase a little pat on his head before he walked back to his couch chair and dropped his body on it.

“And you say you don’t play favorites,” Henrik accusingly narrowed his eyes at Jack who stuck his tongue out at him.

“And I’ll keep saying it no matter how much you guys accuse me of it,” Jack grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The doctor rolled his eyes before spreading his own blanket over him. He turned over on his side and snubbed Jack with his back, ignoring the ‘Oh real mature, Henrik!’ that Jack shot towards him quietly.

“Goodnight Mister McLoughlin,” Henrik said in the snobbiest tone he could muster.

“Are you seri— Oh whatever, goodnight to you too, Doctor Schneeplestein.” He heard Jack huff and mutter something incomprehensible with his distance under his breath.

Henrik stifled a smile and his chuckle as he felt his creator fake pouting even with his back turned against him.

As he closed his eyes, he was highly aware of the sounds of soft breathing (or snoring in Jackie’s case…) coming from everyone in the room and he thinks that it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard his entire life.

He wished that he could stay in this single moment in time for as long as he wanted, to engrave it in his memories for when the nights are cold and when deep regrets are keeping him awake.

0-0-0-0-0

“Testing! Teeeeesting… Alright, the mic and audio seems to be okay,” Chase squinted at his face cam, flicking a finger in front of its lens to get its autofocus clearing up on his face. He brightened up when the camera finally focused just right! “Attaboy! Now we can finally start recording.”

He’s done his vocal warmups before he started setting up everything and even made sure that the house was nice and locked up and made sure that he doesn’t need to go for a pee break for one to two hours. Those moments are always a hassle and awkward for him and Robin to cut out. Not to mention it’s always a bit of a distraction especially when he is finally in the zone for the camera.

He also has his own lil water container filled with delicious fresh water in front of him, out of the camera’s point of view, just so he could freshen up his voice from all the screaming and yelling that he was about to do. While voice cracks are fun to jump from from a comedic point, it’s not nice to be known as the loudest Irish youtuber who still has voice cracks like a teenager going through puberty.

The phone has been muted and set on vibrate, and the games have been pulled up and listed on his desktop ready for recording!

Today’s video recording theme is… those medical surgery related games.

It had been an idea that had been drifting around his mind for a while but he didn’t have the mental and emotional energy to bother with the vivid reminders of his missing older brother. Maybe this was just another way of spiting Anti for what he had done to him a two days ago in his vulnerable state just like how his sudden burst of energy fueled him to prove that he wasn’t completely useless all alone by tidying up his wreck of a room in the middle of the night.

He knew that Anti seems to have it out for Henrik just as personally as he has it out for Jack since any mention of his brother has the demon hissing and spitting rage which he found rather peculiar since he’d have thought that the demon would be using what he’s doing to Henrik as another one of his taunts and considering he probably has the upper hand over the doctor right now. He stopped mentioning Henrik after that one moment when Anti had gone frighteningly still with his eyes glowing bloody murder towards him and then disappeared for a few hours. When he came back, he was covered in blood and Chase wisely didn’t ask him from whom it came from.

Since then, they never talked about it although Anti’s presence would be unbearable whenever he played any medical related game since it always felt like the demon was breathing down his neck (although knowing his luck he probably did but since he didn’t care enough to turn around and see that horrifying sight he’d like to believe that it never happened) just daring him to mention anything about his beloved doctor of a brother. The only time Anti made any comment about Henrik was literally that postcard hack on tumblr. That was a hell of a thing to open the app to.

He could feel the smugness rolling off Anti’s shadowed corner in waves during that day and he had to stop himself from vaulting over the couch to grab the demon who’s been pestering (severe understatement, he knows but still—) him for months and demand what the fuck he’s planning with the postcard.

Anyway, now that Anti wasn’t here (and thank fuck for that) he’s free to record and post this fun little thing for the channel. Honestly, it’s pretty odd to have the past two days of complete silence from Anti but it was also extremely refreshing and absolutely rejuvenating for his spirit. Oh, he didn’t doubt the ‘Always Watching’ threat from his last note but this was the most peaceful and private he’s been for the past months.

Chase adjusted the headset over his ears, checking to make sure that it wasn’t uncomfortable, before he stretched out his arms and body for the long recording session, releasing a satisfied groan at the obscenely loud cracks that his joints made with the stretch.

Okay… Close your eyes…

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

In the next few hours, Chase Brody will not exist. Instead, another man will take his place. How would he react to certain things and events? How would he act out a carefree skit of a parodied impersonation of their resident doctor?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Turn the chair around and…

Click

Something snaps into place as his lips stretched itself out into a familiar crooked goofy grin at the sound of his mouse clicking. The metaphorical mask slipping over his face felt so much more natural than when it was taken off at this point in time. He swung his chair around and greeted the invisible audience on the other side of the screen.

“Hello and welcome back! I am Doctor Jacksepticeye,” he both recognizes and doesn’t recognize the face that was looking back at him on the recording screen, “and welcome to my ER!”

It was easy, always so so easy to step into his shoes, to become someone who is dearly beloved by so many people, to become someone who has inspired this community to follow him. Every time he slips this mask on for the screen he always experienced this high knowing that for once he won’t be someone who was miserably alone and useless to his loved ones. If he immersed himself deeper into this mask, he could even believe that the people are seeing him and not Jack but that’s a thought that he’d brush off the moment it lingers at the surface of his mind.

However, while it was highly tempting to keep the mask up even by his lonesome, it always faded away the moment the camera stopped and left him far more drained than before he started recording.

Stop. Don’t think about that now.

Chase does not exist at this very moment.

Only Jack remained with that cheerful smile on his lips.

Finally, he allowed himself to fade into the background and push that persona forward to take his place.

In the next blink, Chase closed his eyes and Jack opened them.

0-0-0-0-0

The deep blue sky stretched over the horizon.

It was much too big. Much too hopeful.

It was too much for him who has been stuck in the darkness with no one but Him for company—

No.

Do not think.

Not yet.

Later. Yes, later. In safety. In his family’s safety and warmth.

The door had been unlocked. Why? Why had it been unlocked?

Then he was running, stumbling about in the abyss like a drunk and suddenly there was light—

It had been too bright, too warm on his cold skin that it felt like it was burning his flesh off like the hot po—

No. Regroup. Stop.

Do. Not. Think. About. It.

He ran and ran and ran amongst the crowd, deaf to the rude words that had been tossed towards his way when he crashed into someone and jumped away as if he had been shocked, deaf to the concerned strangers’ questions before he shoved their wandering hands away.

Don’t touch him. Don’t fucking touch him!

It hurts. His eyes hurt. His ears hurt.

It’s so loud. He missed the blissfully subtle static that always kept him company in his cell—

Stop speaking… Stop speaking! Shut up… Shut up. Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup—

The colors began to shift around him and they… became familiar? Familiar streets. Familiar names.

There was that sound from the annoying dog barking from a neighbor’s—

Ah.

This must be another one of his games.

The front garden was unkempt. Why was it unkempt? There were no flowers blooming from the bushes that looked as dry and thirsty as he normally felt. His little brother loved—loves his gardening hobby. He loves seeing the smiles of the passersby and his family when they see the colorful flowers he’d carefully tend to every week.

Yes, this was just further proof that this was all an illusion. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Him to stop this farce. However, he knows that he must continue the show lest He becomes angry for his disobedience once more.

He walked on. There. The front door was in front of him. Instinctively, he reached into his coat’s pocket (since when had he started wearing this coat?) and of course, of course, the key was there.

The door is opened and he is greeted by a cold, silent hou…

No.

Wait.

He looked up. There was a voice. It was faint but there it is.

Which show was he putting on this time? A replay of that fateful day? Or perhaps it was another one of those games where He makes him pretend that he was finally free?

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He walked up the stairs.

One.

Two.

Three.

The fourth door.

The Recording Room.

What sort of cruel joke awaits him behind this door he wondered?

He was tired. So so tired… Perhaps if he pretended to be the brave, cool headed doctor that he had been He would grow bored of this show quick.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The ice on the doorknob was a welcome sting to his constantly wandering, constantly moving mind. It keeps him still. Keeps him in the moment just like all of the pain—

Take all the shattered pieces of your bravery now, good doctor, and let it all out…

The door was flung open and the familiar—unfamiliar man in the room spun around in his chair and looked up at his heaving, shuddering body with a wide-eyed look. Yes, that face—that impossible face was the face of a comatose man as He often taunted him during their sessions— sat in front of him just told him that this was all just another one of His cruel mind games.

A flash of anger.

A dash of fear.

Then the ridiculous words streamed out of his lips as he pointed a shaking accusing finger angrily, fearfully at the shocked mirage before him.

“I-I am the good doctor,” he started, his voice growing louder to mask the racing, thundering heart attempting to rip itself out of his chest, “and that is my chair!”

“... Henrik?” At that trembling, fragile voice, the mirage shattered and suddenly his baby brother, the one who has always looked up to him like he knew all of the secrets held within this universe… the younger brother who had always, always undervalued his own existence… The baby brother that he so dearly loved was looking up at him, no traces of the impossible man were left behind. “Henrik, is that you?”

And for a second, he allowed his guard to drop, allowing the fragile piece of hope in his chest to wriggle up the surface of his beaten heart.

“Help me,” he begged. His voice was painfully raw and vulnerable as it clawed itself out of his throat.

Then as if he was just a puppet whose cruel puppeteer cut his strings out of nowhere just because he had grown bored of his broken toy, he crumpled forward, all remaining energy in his pathetically weak body dropping to a complete zero, and his legs toppled underneath him. He braced himself to meet the cold unforgiving floor of his cell while his warden cackled at his show of weakness…

But it never came.

Instead, someone caught his body and he was suddenly engulfed in that familiar softness and warmth as two arms gently but firmly wrapped themselves around his bony waist.

“I gotcha… I gotcha big bro. I gotcha,” Henrik closed his eyes and in a fit of broken exhaustion allowed himself to believe in this dream.

“Don’t let this be a dream,” he whimpered. “Don’t… Don’t let me wake up—”

“Shh… It’s not a dream. You’re home. You’ve come home. I promise,” he shuddered at that almost comforting voice and the hand that was stroking the back of his head tenderly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Chapped lips were brushed over his forehead and he slipped away into the familiar abyss.

Oh how the good doctor dearly wished that he could remain in this single moment of time rather than face the cruel reality of what was waiting for him the next time he opened his eyes.

#jacksepticeye #writersofjack #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye

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hqwkeyes · 6 years ago

Text

‘Til Death Do Us Part (1/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,567

Warning(s): slight angst (not really though), just fluff

Summary: Y/N learns to readjust to life after returning from an extended mission pretending to be married to Bucky.

A/N: This is the first part of my first ever series! I'm not sure how many parts there will be yet, but I do hope you enjoy this one. I know it’s a bit short, but hopefully the other parts will be longer.

Series Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Sitting in the silent quinjet, all she can do is think. It was a long three months and she is glad to be heading home. She’s pleased with the result of the mission. After all, the two of them hadn't kept their act up so long for nothing.

The mission had been prolonged, and they were supposed to be home about a month earlier, but plans changed. It took more time than expected for the pair to gain the trust of the couple they were targeting, which makes sense now that she thinks about it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had gotten wind of the couple's connections—both direct and indirect—to many recent attacks, during which dangerous and valuable intelligence was stolen. The agency had also discovered that the couple—Aaron and Vienna Sabino—would be vacationing in Florence, Italy and staying at a hotel that is a rather convenient distance from another intelligence facility. Steve and Fury were both extremely suspicious. Too much information had been lost already and they couldn't afford to lose any more, so they ultimately decided that it was time to send someone into the field.

"Barnes, Y/N, the two of you will be under the guise of a newly married couple vacationing in Florence," Fury informed the pair. Y/N glanced in Bucky’s direction gauge his reaction, but when their eyes met she turned her attention back to Fury and Steve.

"The two of you will need to change up your looks and study both the targets' profiles as well as your own," he continued as he handed the files over to them.

"Buck, your new name is Connor Everly. Y/N, your new name is Aurelia Everly," Steve stated. She quirked an eyebrow, her gaze shifting from the open file to his face, which featured eyes that held an amused glint.

"You really had fun with this one, didn't you?" She joked, and Bucky stifled a laugh.

"Don't worry, Connor's nickname for her is Lia." Steve winked at her and she let out a deep sigh, shaking her head.

"You have too much time on your hands," she quipped, shaking her head as she walked off to read through the files and commit them to memory.

"You leave tomorrow night," he called out to her.

"Of course we do," she shouted back in mock enthusiasm, flailing her arms dramatically for emphasis. She could hear their peals of laughter from down the hall.

To her it feels like just yesterday that the two of them were taking off for Italy. The mission was to befriend the couple, gain their trust, and figure out the plans for their next attack—bonus points if they found out the couple’s master plan along the way.

She had dyed her hair the next morning to a color that was only slightly unnatural, but different enough that it made her less recognizable. Bucky cut his shoulder-length tresses in a style similar to the one he sported in the photos that Steve had showed her of the two of them in their youth. She made a comment about it as they walked to the jet that night, mussing it slightly with a laugh. Bucky simply rolled his eyes, seemingly unamused. In reality, he had been planning on getting a trim for a while, although this was much shorter than what he had in mind. Part of him didn't mind it, though. It felt normal—familiar, even. He ran a hand through his newly-trimmed hair in an attempt to neaten it, pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to do so.

Now, as they arrive back at the compound, Y/N has no idea what she is going to do with herself. The rest of the team had been waiting in the common room to welcome them home.

As she enters the room, she is immediately engulfed in a group hug that included Wanda, Natasha, and Sam—they had especially missed her during those three long months.

"Do you know how much it sucked having to go on morning runs with Steve again?" is the first thing out of Sam's mouth aside from the initial "Welcome home!" She laughs and pulls him into another hug, promising to begin their morning runs again.

"But not tomorrow morning. I just need to relax tomorrow," she tells him, and he nods in understanding.

Natasha and Wanda tell her how much they’ve missed her and that they couldn't have Girls' Night without her, which warms her heart.

Bucky gets a firm hug from Steve, who asks how the mission went.

"It was a success," is all he says. As Y/N turns to hug Tony, she notices the look on Bucky's face. He's trying to hide it, but she can tell just how tired he is.

"No, I mean how was it?" Steve presses with a small smile. Bucky knows he doesn't mean anything sexual or perverted by it, but Sam clearly doesn’t as he snorts to hide his laughter.

"It was fine. Florence was nice. You should go sometime. There's this museum that Y/N and I went to that I think you'd like. She sure loved it." Steve grin grows as Bucky tells him the details. He had hoped that the two would grow closer during the mission, as they never really spoke to each other one on one prior to it, despite the fact that they had been living at the compound together for about a year and a half now. Bucky was still somewhat closed off from the team, but he had improved quite a bit since he arrived—with everyone but Y/N, that is. For some reason that Bucky did not—or rather would not—disclose with Steve, he distanced himself from Y/N more than he did with the rest of the team. He thought that maybe he didn’t trust her. It had been part of the reason why he assigned Y/N to the case with him, aside from the fact that Natasha and Wanda were more recognizable.

"You guys went to museums together?" Sam chimes in, having left Y/N to catch up with the girls. Bucky nods. "Isn't that the kind of thing that couples do though?"

"It is."

"Oooh," Sam says, wiggling is eyebrows suggestively. "So you and Y/N were doing couple things together."

"Did you forget the part where our mission was to pose as a newly married couple or are you just ignorant?" Steve takes this as his cue to step in.

"How was the food? Italian pizza any different from the pizza here?" It’s a desperate attempt to diffuse any tension—he knows too well how Bucky and Sam can get. Those two sure love to push each other’s buttons.

"The food was great, actually," Y/N says, having heard the question. "The pizza is different but still delicious. Everything there is fresher and more vibrant. It's all lovely, really, but I still missed everything here after a while." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. She did miss everyone back at home, as well as genuine New York style pizza, but part of her felt like she could stay there forever.

Truthfully, Y/N hadn't been in a real relationship for quite some time now. Sure, she had gone on a few dates since she joined the team, but it was so hard to find someone who wanted her for her, not the badass superhero; or someone who didn't mind the fact that she would be away on missions and couldn't talk about the details; or someone would understand her hardships and love her despite the fact that she had done some questionable things throughout her life—that she was something questionable.

She gave up after her last date a few years prior. The guy, Damian, had been texting his friends throughout the entirety of the date to talk about how hot she was and how it was so cool that he was going to hook up with an Avenger. She had read the text messages in the reflection of his glasses and fled after excusing herself to use the restroom, leaving enough money to cover her meal under her dish despite the fact that she hadn't even touched it.

In Italy, though, she wasn't really herself, she thinks. She wasn't an Avenger. She was Aurelia Everly, a happily married woman vacationing with her husband Connor in Florence, Italy; but damn did it feel good to be someone else for a change. And it didn't hurt that Bucky Connor was an absolute dream of a husband. They fought at times, of course, but he was still the closest anyone could possibly get to perfection. They went on cute dates to museums and cathedrals, strolled through the Piazzale Michelangelo, and even enjoyed the serenity of the Florence River Cruise together.

The truth was that she didn’t really mind the mission's extension. She didn’t mind being whisked off to gardens in flowing summer dresses or attending quaint restaurants with incredible food or being held tightly against someone’s chest while she slept. How could she be bothered by any of it? The hardest part of it all was befriending the Sabinos, but even that wasn’t too difficult, despite the setback.

She is pulled from her daze by the team’s questions about the trip, as they call it. It was like an actual vacation, after all.

After about two hours of catching up, Y/N decides that she’s hungry and tells the team that she’s going to get a bite to eat. In an attempt to keep the Welcome Home party going, they decide to order a few pizzas to “remind you guys of what real pizza tastes like,” as Tony says, earning a chuckle from both Y/N and Bucky.

“This is even better than I remember,” Y/N practically moans over the cheesy goodness. Steve lets out a hearty laugh, patting her shoulder.

“So, Y/N,” Sam starts. “Bucky was telling Steve and I about this museum that you just loved.” Bucky rolls his eyes at his teasing, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice any of it. Her eyes light up at the mere mention of the museum, and her excitement makes Bucky’s heart soften just as it had when they strolled through the exhibitions themselves. It reminded him of when he really began to get to know her.

“I know the majority of the pieces here are religious, but even with that aside they’re absolutely stunning works of art,” Y/N gushed as they roamed the vast halls of the Galleria dell'Accademia. It was only the third day since arriving in Florence and Steve contacted them with a tip that the Sabinos had plans to attend the gallery that day. Y/N was nothing short of thrilled, being a fan of the arts herself.

As they wandered down another hallway, Y/N noticed people crowding around a statue.

“Oh my God!” she nearly shrieked as she grasped Bucky’s left arm, absolutely elated. He had tensed up initially, not expecting her to be so comfortable around the metal limb which was being masked by some of Tony’s incredible tech. He quickly relaxed, though, as her hand traveled down to his interlace their fingers and practically dragged him over to the Statue of David.

“I can’t believe I’m in the presence of Michelangelo’s artwork,” she said breathlessly as she gazed in amazement at the 17-foot-tall statue. Bucky couldn’t help but stare fondly at her. He hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know her prior to the mission, but he was slowly discovering that she was kind, caring, considerate, and an absolute dork. It warmed his heart, seeing how passionate she was about something unrelated to missions.

He was plucked from his thoughts by Y/N informing him that she had eyes on the targets entering that section of the gallery, and the mission finally began.

“Oh, the Galleria dell’Accademia? It was lovely!” She told him, her cheeks dimpling as a broad smile took shape on her lips.

“Yeah, he said that you-” Steve elbows him in the ribs, shutting him up. She’s very confused; Steve can see it in her face.

“That I what?”

“I told them that you were excited about the Statue of David,” Bucky pipes up, and she gets that sparkle in her eyes, her smile brightening even more—as if it wasn’t positively blinding already.

“Oh! It was just stunning,” she gushed, gripping the couch cushion beneath her. “Even being in the same building as a piece by Michelangelo was exhilarating.”

Sam bites back another comment when he notices Steve’s warning glare. Steve doesn’t know what’s going on with Bucky, but he doesn’t need a fight to break out between the two Avengers.

“That sounds great, Y/N. Maybe one day we’ll visit as a team,” Steve says to mask the tension in the room.

“Yeah, like some kind of seventh grade field trip, right?” Tony jests, lightening the somewhat heavy atmosphere a bit, as it earns a laugh from Wanda and Bruce.

“I’d love to show you guys around Florence. I think Bucky and I know our way around pretty well by now. We’d make pretty good tour guides, right, Buck?” She’s still beaming and it is absolutely contagious.

“Yeah, I think we would,” he says, the corners of his lips upturned in a grin that matches hers.

Y/N chats for a little while longer, spewing facts about famous artists with Vision and enjoying the greasy pizza as well as the company of her teammates before deciding to call it quits.

“Well, I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” she says as she gathers empty plates from the coffee table and disposes of them in the kitchen.

“What? It’s only 8 o’clock.” Sam turns to watch her from his seat with a perplexed expression on his face.

“My body is still six hours ahead. It’s gonna take a few days for me to get back on track,” she reminds him. “I really appreciate the warm welcome home, guys. I’ll see you all in the morning.” She waves and blows kisses as she exits the room, a chorus of “goodnight”s and “love you”s following her into the hallway that leads to the elevator.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed too,” Bucky tells the group, much to their disappointment, as both of their guests of honor were too tired to continue the little party. He apologizes for cutting things short and bids them all a good night before heading to his room.

He had just missed Y/N in the elevator and had to wait for the next one, which didn’t bother him much. What did bother him, though, was the silence in his room as he finally rested in his own bed. There was nothing but silence and it was driving him crazy. His own room felt unfamiliar to him, and he tossed and turned until fatigue finally took over his body.

A floor below him, Y/N was having a similar experience. She wasn’t used to not hearing Bucky’s soft breathing as she drifted off to sleep, or not having the heat that radiated off his body to keep her warm throughout the night. She had found comfort in things like this over the past few months, and it was weird going from waking up in Bucky’s presence every morning and then going to sleep without him that night. It would be something that she would have to get used to again.

Series Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

#hqwkeyes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel post #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel writing #bucky x reader #bucky #fluff #series #marvel series #bucky barnes series

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reactingwithexo · 6 years ago

Text

Bonnie & Clyde (6) - Baekhyun

Part 1/ 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Summary: “Already in your heart crying has already filled it , no song could save that”

genre: angst, fluff?, mafia/gang au!

warnings: cursing I guess, still not the smut y’all waiting for

word-count: 1.6K (kinda short but that’s because there’s a lot of dialogue)

A/N: I know it’ been so so so long and I am truly TRULY sorry but I think this is my only decent story and I had to continue, have fun and forgive me!

click here to check out my patreon and help me realize my biggest dreams

“You want me to be honest?”, Taehyung asked you as you two sat down on a table at the cafeteria of the station.

“Yes, please”, you assented with an anxious nod.

“From what I see you have two options”, he placed the salt and the pepper on opposite corners of the table.

“Here, you’re the salt”- he holds the container- “after what you just told me, you were a victim, definitely not a criminal, so you should be set free, no harms done to your name”

“Ok...” you mumbled.

“But Byun Baekhyun....” he let out a small laugh “I’d say he is one of the strongest peppers, he’s been involved in too much, he knows too much, he is of high value for us”

“But what if he tells you everything, maybe he’d get a lighter punishment ?” you ask.

“Hm...” he seems to think of it for a while but eventually shakes his head “Doesn’t diminish the things he’s been a part of, he’d still get a lot of time in jail”

“Bu-” you try to say but Taehyung cuts you off.

“I thought you were even willing to help with his arrest, that’s what you said yesterday”

“I know! But i’m not sure he deserves all that”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, honestly”, he says while playing with the pepper.

“excuse me?”

“This guy, he watches you for months, closely, gets you in love with him, sleeps with you, all while informing your brother of your every move behind your back, and you’re still thinking about the possibility of him being innocent?”

“I know that sounds stupid of me, but you don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nevermind” he looks the other waya before continuing, “so what will you want to do? he is almost good enough to talk to the police, and that’s when things will start to go down and complicated, what do you wanna do? stay and help? leave and never hear of this anymore?”

You knew the most logical thing to do was leave, get your freedom back after so long and leave all this Baekhyun, mafia, police story behind you, maybe even move somewhere else to get a fresh start. But you were still scared, your brother is still out there and something tells me he is not just sitting around going through his bussiness like nothing hapenned,

And then there’s Baekhun, who you were still mad with but for some stupid reason you couldn’t let go of, you felt pain thinking about how he could be arrested at any second, even though you knew he has done terrible things, Deep down you hoped he didn’t really have a choice, you hoped he was being manipulated and blackmailed on like you were your entire life by your brother, but you were still very dissapointed in the way he treated you the last time you two talked.

“I wanna talk to Baekhyun one more time, then I’ll-, then I’ll decide”

You caught a glimpse of Taehyung rolling his eyes before saying “Ok, your call, I hope you do the right thing... he’s at a room already, tomorrow he begins the interviews with the police”, he got up and you followed him to what you assumed would be the room Baekhyun was staying.

The path wasn’t that long and you were certain that along the way some people stared at you , though your thoughts were far from that, you couldn’t help but imagine what these people thought of you, maybe they were all skeptical of your presence, like Namjoon was that night.

Before you got in, Taehyung stopped you “you seem like a smart one, don’t let him fool you, be alert always, believe me, your own good should always come first”

You nodded and said “I can take care of myself, don’t worry”

You opened the door slowly and suprisingly found Baekhyun pacing through the room till he stopped to stare at you. You remembered vaguely of Baekhyun pacing trough your appartment when he was anxious about something and thinking of a way to deal with it.

“Trying to figure out how to escape?” You asked with a small smile.

“Pretty much”

“How are you feeling?”, you ask wanting to know his health condition.

“Good as new...till I go to prison and get beaten up to death”

“Right.”

“You know it is true...and how are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I told you”

He nodded and mumbled a “good” before asking “so you’re here to deliver any messages or?”

“Deliver any messages? no, I just wanted to have another chat with you I guess, before I leave”

His expression softened at your answer, “you’re leaving? I thought you said you’d help with the investigation or something”

“Nah... I’m not for these stuff, It is too overwhelming, and I don’t know if I’d be able to see you getting arrested”

“I’d rather you didn’t either..”

After a minute of silence passed as you searched for something to say, Baekhyun was faster and asked “so is this supposed to be a goodbye ?”

You let out a faint laugh while still staring at the ground “you’re too dramatic Byun”

“You know what I mean”

“Honestly, I don’t know, it should be but-”

“But?”

“It feels harder than it should, so let me ask you some stuff , but you have to promise me you’ll be honest okay? 100%” you say as you finally got enough courage to look at him and took a few steps closer to him as he sais he promised honesty, “pinky promise?” , as stupid as that was , you knew he knew you took that seriously, so he just gave you a half smile and touched your pinkies while mumbling “You have such ways I swear...”

“Ok, first of all, do you actually enjoy what you do with my brother? or is it just for the loyalty as you’ve said previously”

He seemed taken back by the question but still answered “ I...I enjoy some of the sensation of power, I’ve made some good friends there as well, but do I enjoy the negotiations, the violence, the pretending not to know the consequences of what the investments are and the feel that someone can break me in half at just a snap of bosses’ finger? Definitely not”.

“How the hell did you get there Baekhyun? You used to speak so fondly of your family to me, maybe it was just the wine? or maybe you were lying?”

“Ah.. that’s..” he lets out a sigh “that’s a little harder to answer but hm, I do have fond memories of my family, but that was a long time ago, not worth remembering”

“So you searched for this type of job?”

“No! I didn’t, it just happened, I needed someone’s help and he found me, that’s it”

“So you’re paying a debt of some sort?”

He smiled sadly before answering “I’d like to think it is not like that, but maybe”

“Do you have ambitions of getting to higher positions there or something like that?” “I do, because that’d give me more freedom, and maybe I could change some things around”

“Like what?” , you ask curiously.

“Hm, some of the things that are negotiated and their consequences for example, some people suffer a great deal just for some drugs to get around, I know that’s how it is supposed to work but I have other ideas that might diminish that effect”

“So you’re not willing to stop crime, just diminish the consequences?”

“Angel, you are very naive if you think it is possible to stop crime, even if it’s not your brother’s familiy, there are tons of others out there , that’d grab the empty spot the first opportunity they got”

“Ok.. but what if you could get out completely of this life, would you do it?”

He seemed to think for a while before answering “maybe If I’ve had a chance of changing some things there first, yes I would”

Suddenly an idea went through your mind “What if you worked alongside the police to uncover these stuff? I mean, you have so much knowledge about it, you’d help so many people along the way”

He shook his head immediately at your suggestion “You’re so wrong if you think the police offers security, some would say the biggest criminals are here, I’d even go as far as put your friend on that list”

“Baekhyun...stop, this is not about him”

“I know, but you should still know.”

You were still trying to get all the things he just told you inside your head and try to make sense of some of it and how you felt about them when you asked “so, you’re just gonna get arrested?”

He put his hands on his pockets and paced a little bit “I don’t know yet”, he stopped and looked at you “Can I ask you something now?”

“Hm, yes, one question”

“That might be a little bit selfish of me but, would you be willing to go on another adventure with me?”

“What? Baekhyun, you’re being investigated”

“I know”

“What the hell are you planning?”

“Ah” he takes exact three steps in your direction and stops right in front of you, you could feel his breath on your cheek before he said “you didn’t answer my question”

A/N: Question is, does this suck? Give me your feedback! I’m not 100% unsatisfied with it and it made me realise how much I missed writing this, thanks for reading and supporting! Depending on the response, next chapter will probably be longer (and smut is coming up bye)

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blondecarfucker · 6 years ago

Text

Bed of Roses (Chapter 12)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: So this is a bit of a more introspective chapter - a bit shorter as well. I love writing these too - mostly set up as it was a few chapters earlier. But what is being set up in this chapter? Well, I guess only time will tell... lol I sound like an asshole. Sorry guys. Hope you enjoy this as well, and sorry again for not posting yesterday

Words: 1866

---

ACT TWO - NIGHT

“Everything is more intense at night.”

Chapter 12

You murmured the lyrics to White Queen (As It Began) as you kept on reading On The Road. The constant view of fields bored you in the first few minutes of your ride back to London on the bus, since you told Roger to keep his car around - and visit you when he got the chance - and now you were missing class on this Monday morning, hoping to make it in time for your work in the afternoon.

You were annoyed at yourself again - how you, once again, was unable to balance your relationship with Roger and your professional life. Your parents asked you about this sometimes, when you told them you would be out for a week to accompany him on tour, and you pretended to have everything under control. They sent you to England to study, and you did so - but you also loved Roger, and loving Roger was an activity that took a lot of your time and energy.

Those two sides of your life were usually in friction, conflicting, and sometimes you were scared you'd have to choose. But when you were wrapped around Roger's arms, it was easier not to think about it. Now, that you were alone, missing class and about to go to work without makeup, with dirty hair and casual clothing just so you wouldn't have to lie and call in sick - something you had to do many, many times before - it was harder to avoid these thoughts.

Also, you quickly found out that your work at the Sir John Soane’s Museum was uninspiring, unlike it would be if you actually got to work to the British Museum. You were not an Architecture major, but you were hired because your professor was close to the manager, and said you were one of his best students. And you could provide background to the neoclassical art, so it was fine. But it was far from what really got you studying Ancient History, and you were still working there just so you could network your way to the British Museum.

You knew that you could probably use Roger for this, and he would definitely try to help, using Queen's influence. But just the thought of this made you want to disappear; you were already known in your university and work as The Drummer From Queen's Girlfriend, and not that it was something that you were embarrassed of - you loved Roger and you were close with the rest of the band - but you wanted to be known as your own person. You even knew that most people thought that you were recommended by your professor for your job because he liked Queen and you arranged for them to meet, which was obviously not true, but if you acknowledged the rumours enough to deny them, they would only get stronger.

And Roger did everything he could to get you out of the spotlight, knowing how much you hated it. Unlike Mary, you weren't mentioned in interviews, Roger only saying that he's taken when asked directly, and only saying your name in interviews when he did them drunk. But people always found out you dated him, somehow. And treated you differently as soon as they found out, always being nicer to you, in the hopes they can get something from the band, until they realize you were not gonna do that, and then being cold to you, saying that you were a snob.

You always considered yourself a loner, but dating Roger really took that away from you as a choice; it was now something you had to be. You never knew when someone really wanted to befriend you for your personality or for Roger, so you were not able to trust anyone that came close to you. That distance that you had to keep from others made you even closer to Roger and the band, and that was a bit scary to you - they were all quite different from you. You sometimes craved not having to worry about all this.

But the moments you were with the band and especially with Roger made you hopeful; hopeful that your professional life wouldn't mess up your love life, hopeful you would get the job you've always dreamed of. Both things were deeply associated in your head, your two ultimate goals.

And it was easier to be around them and not think about pessimistic stuff; yesterday night, after you and Roger got back from the woods and went swimming naked on the pond - immediately regretting it when you had to walk back in the cold wind completely soaked - you both showered and went back to the studio, where Roger and Freddie tried to emulate the sounds of an orchestra with their voices for a song called Seaside Rendezvous. You were all outside of the recording booth, laughing as Roger did his best to sound like a kazoo. Usually, you loved to watch Rog as he did a high note or one of his famous falsettos; his control over his voice was always impressive. But now, he sounded like a cat screeching. "It's a work in progress, dear. You know how it is", Freddie told you while you laughed non-stop with Brian on the couch.

You got back to reading the book for a while, and as you read "I think of Neal Cassady, I think of Neal Cassady", you realized you just finished reading Roger's favourite book. You were both always trying out things the other one liked, like it would help you get a better insight to each other. A writer you liked once said that there are questions that haunt every relationship, sooner or later: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

You always thought about how dramatic that sounded, but it actually made sense to you after being with Roger for three years now. What's the point of a relationship if not trying to figure each other out and say, with certainty, "I choose you before anyone else in my life"? Belonging. Relationships are always about trying to belong with someone else, you thought.

The bus stopped and you grabbed your duffel bag. You moved to through the station and found your way to the underground, and you looked at your watch as you found a place to sit on the tub. It was a thirty minute ride to your work from where you were, and you were supposed to be in a meeting with an international researcher alongside your boss in ten minutes. "Fucking hell", you said to yourself, and an old lady looked at you, pursing her lips.

You looked like a teenager, in a button up skirt, a loose Fleetwood Mac shirt tucked in and yellow Chuck Taylors. You definitely didn't look like a respectful historian about to have a serious meeting.

You got to the museum, accidentally hitting one of the interns with your duffel bag as you went to the locker to store it and brush your hair. You said sorry, but you could still hear her talk to someone else outside the bathroom. "She's already twenty minutes late. I don't know how she keeps the job", the other intern says. "Well, she's a groupie. This is just her part time job. I doubt she's ever late to suck Roger Taylor's dick if he tells her to do so", the one you hit with your bag says. "I know I wouldn't. It must be nice to know you don't have to work, just look cute and have your legs spread open every night and boom, your life is easy. That's why she doesn't care if she's twenty minutes late. She has her boyfriend to pay for anything she wants", the first one answered.

You wanted to punch them in the face until your knuckles were bruised just to relieve the stress. At that moment, they represented everything you hated about your life; your stupid architecture museum job and the people that will never take you seriously because you're Roger Taylor's girlfriend.

But you had a meeting to attend, so you breathed in, looked at your visibly tired face - you wish you had some makeup on - and tied your hair up, so it would look less messy. You went outside, saying excuse me to the girls, and walked to the room the meeting was being held in.

When you opened the door, you saw your boss, a look of annoyance in his face, but you were soon distracted by the man across his office desk. He had really short hair, even shorter on the sides - that was a bit of a shock to you, used to seeing guys with long hair - and icy blue eyes. He was wearing a plain maroon sweater, his shoulders filling it perfectly, and fitting dark jeans. He also looked older than you - he was probably in his thirties. His smell filled the room and hit you - he smelled like cologne. Drakkar. It was a perfume you haven't smelled ever since you moved from New York.

"This is my Greek history specialist, Y/N. She's usually on time", your boss said, and you shot him a shy smile. "Sorry, I had a bit of a problem with my commute today", you explained, and you felt the two men analyzing you; your boss was not approving your look for the meeting, and the man was just mysterious. "Y/N, this is the researcher I told you. He works at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. His name is William Antigonos Argyros", he said, and that caught your attention. Antigonos and Argyros are greek names.

"Or, you know, you could just call me Will. But it's up to you", he said, and you had to hold a laugh. But something else caught your attention. He had an accent you knew very well, even though you only heard it from your own lips, nowadays. He had a Manhattan accent. "Sorry for asking, but are you from New York?", you said, and he shook his head in agreement. "Born and raised. But my parents are greek immigrants, so that's the reason for the weird names. William was chosen so I could fit in more nicely", he said with a smirk. You laughed a bit.

"You sound like you're from New York, as well. Odd to meet another fellow new yorker in London while talking about neoclassical architecture. But I guess Ancient History was never Manhattan's strongest suit", he said, and you agreed. "Where did you study?", you asked, and he answered. "I actually studied in Greece. It was easier, knowing the language and such", he shrugged his shoulders. You were admired.

"Mr Argyros is here for his research on Ancient Greece's influence in architecture. It's for a new exposition at The Metropolitan" your boss said, and you and Will corrected him at the same time. "The Met", you said, and looked at him when you realized the coincidence. This could be interesting, you thought to yourself. You really needed a friend - just a friend, you reminded yourself. Just one friend that was actually like you.

---

Chapter 13

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @patrick-the-stumping @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

Text

Watford Cove

Chapter 10: everything back and more

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word count: 2580

Chapter: 10/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Simon and Baz have some time before exams start. They decide to go on a date before the storm begins.

Read on AO3

AN: Okay okay omg two amazing people made fan art of this fic and I'm so happy and grateful. There's this fantastic piece of my punk Baz by @neck-mole and this wonderful art of my pastel and punk beauties by @jessethejoyful. I love them so much and I'm still freaking out about it so thank you to those two again. Now onto the chapter. It's more fluff cause my boys need it tbh. Also I posted this to the wrong blog for like 30 seconds because I’m an idiot sorry!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

“You and your boyfriend are gross.”

I plant myself on the picnic table with a thunk, giving Niall a curious look. “And good afternoon to you too, mate.”

“I’m serious,” he says, arms crossed. “You two are disgusting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t peg you for a homophobe, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes and shoves my leg. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. You two are snogging everywhere all the time. Didn’t you just get caught in the gym closet yesterday?

That’s unfortunately true. We did get caught, with Simon’s legs around my waist and my hand up his shirt. Coach Mac was certainly not amused. He made us reorganize said closet as punishment. It was totally worth it though.

After our talk last week, I assumed Simon and I wouldn't be around each other as much, no longer afraid that our relationship would end abruptly. But it’s the exact opposite. We sneak off between classes, after school if I’m not with Bunce, at night if we both can’t sleep. He’d be here right now hanging with my friends if he didn’t have a makeup chem lab to do with Bunce. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s something about our promises, the trust we gave each other. Confessing our fears and understanding them.

Or maybe we’re horny teenagers who like to snog and cuddle. That would also make sense.

“He’s my first boyfriend, give me a break.” I snatch Dev’s cigarette carton and take a stick out for myself. “And I might not see him again for a year if exams go badly.”

“We get it, man,” Dev says. “And we’re happy for you. But you’re also snogging 24/7 and it’s gross.”

I take a deep drag and grin. “Yup.”

Niall sighs and leans back, his stupid aviators slipping down his face. (He thinks they’re cool. And I hate that he’s right.) “Whatever, fine. Be gross. But I have some questions for you.” He points his cigarette at me very dramatically.

“Okay...”

“One: if you go to Switzerland, how the hell are we going to contact you?”

“Simon said he’d mail me. You know, snail mail. You two can do that as well.”

“Good. Two: Are you going to come home for the holidays?”

“Probably not. Only if I behave maybe.”

“That sucks. And three: can I have your bike while you��re gone?”

I blow smoke in his face. He coughs, Dev laughs loudly. “No, you git. My beloved motorcycle will be stored in Simon’s garage so my father can’t dispose of it while I’m away.”

Niall groans pathetically. “That’s not fair. I’ve wanted that thing for ages and now I don’t even get it if you’re gone? Rude.”

“You’ll crash it.”

“Will not.”

“Will to. Simon is scared to ride it without me, so I know he’ll just leave it alone. Unlike you.”

Niall pouts, crossing his arms. “You and your stupid responsible boyfriend.” He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a curious look. “Have you two horny idiots even been on a proper date yet? Or are you just defiling everywhere you go?”

I open my mouth to protest, but quickly have to shut it. With all the excitement and exam cramming and sneaking around, we haven’t remembered to do something so simple as a date. That is a grave injustice. And I must correct it.

I pull out my mobile and open Simon’s contact in my phone. He’s still listed as “Pretty Moron”. I’ve refused to change it even since we’ve started dating.

Baz [12:36] Hey wanna going on a date after school? If so, meet me outside the north entrance.

Pretty Moron [12:37] ok sure this is kinda out of the blue luv

Baz [12:38] Do I need an excuse to want to go on a date with my boyfriend?

Pretty Moron [12:38] no it’s just odd and spontaneous

Pretty Moron [12:38] i like it tho

Pretty Moron [12:39] i’ll meet you then <3

Baz [12:40] See you then. Now go back to your chem lab idiot.

Simon doesn't reply, thankfully. He needs to pass his classes as well. This is perfect actually. Exams start tomorrow. Simon and I can have a good time before mentally dying. I lean back, eyes closed and smiling.

“Ugh he looks all lovesick again,” Niall groans. “Gross.”

I kick his shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. Dev snorts.

“Careful, Niall,” Dev says, “he’ll tease you just as much when you get a girlfriend.”

"If he gets a girlfriend,” I say flatly.

Niall punches my feet. Dev roars with laughter. Fuck, I’m going to miss these two if I leave. I wish I’d put my pride aside earlier, and given myself a better chance of staying. I only hope it will work out now.

———————————————-

Simon saunters out of the north school entrance with his typical sunshine grin. He’s wearing floral shorts, mismatched floral shirt, a rosebud bracelet, and his checkered Vans because he has no regard for fashion norms whatsoever. It's amazing. Bunce is by his side, holding her heavy textbooks. When Simon spots me, he runs up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hi, darling,” he purrs.

“Hello, love,” I reply hushed.

Bunce promptly ruins the mood by fake retching onto the sidewalk. I roll my eyes. Simon chuckles. “Thanks, Pen.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to help Basilton just so you two could be gross for longer.”

I shrug. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the help. Thank you, Bunce.”

“Aw,” she drawls sarcastically. “You’re going to make me actually sick up.”

Simon sticks his tongue out and holds onto me tighter. “You think he’s going to ace his exams tomorrow, Pen?”

“If he follows my brilliant teaching? Yes.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say genuinely. Because I will, no doubt. Because I have too much to lose if I don’t. Bunce notices, observant as she is, nodding with a genuinely kind expression.

“So,” Simon says, “are we off to our date now?”

I grin wolfishly, excitement brewing in my gut. “As soon as you get on my bike, yes.”

Bunce sighs, already turning on her heels. “Bye, arseholes. Don’t defile too many places, please.”

Simon shrugs. I flip her off. He swings his legs over the back of my bike and wraps his arms around my middle automatically. Two engine revs, and we’re off.

Originally, I thought about taking him to Mount Olympus. But that’s too predictable. Simon and I need more than one place to call our’s. So we don’t head north towards my neighbourhood, but west, towards the Wavering Wood.

It’s another secluded area in town, surrounded by willow trees and thick brush. Most people avoid it. But I know of somewhere perfect for us. With some brilliant manoeuvring and and careful driving by me, we end up in a small clearing by a pond. The grass is soft and flat. Willow trees give us just enough shade to be comfortable. The water sparkles in the sunlight like something out of a dream.

“Wow,” Simon gasps, “this is gorgeous.”

“Our little town is full of surprises. And,” I pull out a large plastic bag from my knapsack, “so am I.”

I bring out the plastic tablecloth first. It’s white and red checkered, like something out of the fifties. Then I take out the roast beef sandwiches and sour cherry scones. Cousin Pritchard was more than happy to give me some fresh ones for free. Simon’s eyes light up beautifully at those. I spread out my arms with flourish.

“Ta-da,” I announce.

“A picnic by the water?” Simon giggles. “Really?”

“I’m feeling romantic. Sue me.”

He quickly plops himself down cross legged on the crinkly plastic. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Especially if there’s food.” He opens the takeaway container, grinning at the roast beef. “When did you get all this? At lunch?”

I sit down too, stretching out to lounge next to him. “No, free period at the end of the day. I broke many speed limits getting all of it.”

“Baz! You’re supposed to study during free periods!”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Simon, exams start tomorrow and I’ve been studying intensely for three weeks. If I’m not ready, then neither Bunce or I are as smart as we think we are.” Simon still looks concerned. I reach out and grab his hand, running my thumb over the back of it. “I’ll be alright, love. Trust me.”

His expression finally breaks, a corner of his lip pulled up. He stretches out next to me, not letting go of my hand. “Okay.”

Simon digs into his food. I laugh at all the crumbs around his mouth. Part of me wants to kiss or lick them off, but I settle for just brushing them. Simon giggles and blushes, making my heart soar. He goes after the scones almost immediately after finishing his sandwich. Of course he inhales them like a vacuum cleaner.

“Leave some for me, Salisbury,” I grumble.

“Fine,” he groans, handing me a pastry.

“Sorry I’m not letting you eat all of the sugary treats, love. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

He glares, but the weight of it is lessened by his bulging chipmunk cheeks filled with crumbly pastry. I just keep smiling as I bite my singular scone.

Once we’re done, I end up on my back with my eyes closed, Simon half resting on my chest. He uses an index finger to slowly run over my collarbone. I trace circles in the small of his back. His strong chin digs into me slightly, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fantastic. I’ve sitting by a pond, resting in willow tree shade, all with a gorgeous boy pressed against me. This might be heaven. But I wish Simon seemed to feel the same.

“Simon,” I sigh, “stop looking at me like that.”

I can practically hear Simon frown in confusion. He knows I can’t see him, but I’m incredibly perceptive. I can feel it. “Like what?”

“Like I’m going to disappear the second you close your eyes. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“O-Oh.” He lowers his head, putting his arms around my middle and his cheek over my heart. “Sorry.”

I sigh, petting his hair. “It’s alright, love, I understand. Everything starts tomorrow. Just...” I wrap both my arms around, trying to get him even closer. “Just don’t start letting me go until I’m actually gone.”

Simon growls slightly, like a defensive animal. He scoots up and buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. I can feel his every huffy hot breath.

“I’m not letting you go ever,” he whispers harashly. “I promise.”

I chuckle, amused by his affection and determination. “I know, love. Me neither, and I’m going to fight like hell to stay. I promise.”

He starts moving around. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle. Suddenly, Simon is lifting up my hand and putting something around it.

“Simon, what are you-”

“It’s for good luck,” he blurts. “For tomorrow.”

I lift up my wrist. It’s a rosebud bracelet like the one he's wearing. But strangely, the flowers are black instead of pink. It looks handmade. The roses are meticulously hand coloured, each flower obviously glued on one by one. I strain my neck down to kiss the top of Simon’s soft hair. He squeezes my sides

“Thank you, love,” I whisper.

Simon hums in approval. I fall back and look back out the sky. We go quiet again, and I bask in the moment. This perfect moment just before the storm really starts. With Simon against me, my fingers in his hair, him breathing softly, gripping my shirt, and everything calm around us.

For a long while I thought I wanted to burn the whole world down. But now, I think I could be content just staying here forever.

———————————————-

Watford is looming over me even more than usual. I feel like the whole building is going to lean down and fucking eat me. Students walk in without noticing me. Most look like they’ve been hit by a bus, with messy hair, baggy eyes, and piles of loose notes in hand. I try to look calm, but my hand is fiddling like mad, spinning Simon’s bracelet over and over. The smooth glide of it is comforting. I try to focus on that. Until something crashes into me so hard I nearly fall over.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

Suddenly, a familiar freckled face pops in front of me. “Hi.”

“Bloody hell, Simon,” I breathe out harshly. “You scared me, arsehole.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, absolutely not sorry at all. He’s wearing his rose flower crown again. He does tend to wear it when he’s excited. “You seemed really deep in thought, love.”

I sigh, running a nervous hand over my hair. “Just, this is it. Whatever I do starting now decides my fate. Ugh, Christ, that’s so over dramatic.”

“It’s fine, I understand. And don’t worry.” He reaches down to squeeze my hand, the one with the bracelet on, his matching one right next to it. “You’re going to do great.”

“You better! Or I’m going to have to deal with a very weepy Simon.”

Penelope Bunce saunters her way up to us, pushing her glasses up her nose. Simon grins and throws his arm around her shoulders. “Well, if you taught him well, then we all should be fine, right?”

“Teaching can only get you so far depending on the person.” She flashes me a smug as all hell look, and if Simon wasn’t in my way, I swear I’d kick her. But that smug smile soon becomes genuine, and to my utter surprise, she walks in front of me, stands on her toes, and ruffles my hair. What the hell?

“Good luck, Baz,” she says. “You might not want it, but I’ll give it anyway.”

Huh, not what I was expecting. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I nod. “Thank you.”

She nods in reply, then turns to walk into the school. Simon and I are the only ones left outside. I feel him lean against me, his arm perfectly lined up with mine.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “I don’t think you need it, but I want to say it.”

I kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, love. Good luck to you too.”

In a split second, before I can register what happens, Simon reaches up, turns my head, and kisses me. It’s insistent and passionate. He’s obviously holding nothing back, so I don’t either. I put hands on his hips and pull him against me. Simon’s arms wrap fully around my neck, pressing us together even more. If I could, I'd never let go.

But we do have to pull apart eventually, though our faces stay close. I keep my eyes closed and lean my forehead against his. He breathes heavily. The smell of cherries tickles my nose.

“Good luck,” he whispers.

“You already said that,” I reply. He smacks my head lightly.

“Shut up.”

“Nope. If I do well, you’re going to be stuck with me and my smart mouth.”

He pulls back, letting his arms fall down until we’re holding hands. “Yeah, I know. So go ace those goddamn tests.”

I start walking us towards Watford, fingers laced together, so tight and unwilling to part. “As you wish, love.”

———————————————-

AN: I know this chapter may feel like filler but I wanted it really badly. Baz needed to settle shit with his friends of course. And Simon and Baz need some normalcy through all this craziness. Like, I wanted them to have a calm moment before exams. I also felt like I needed to show them being normal. Just them go on normal dates with no snogging and being happy together. Sorta shows they could continue after this insanity and excitement, hm? Hope that got across. This is probably unnecessary but I always feel the need to explain my writing. Thank you for reading! And thank you again to the amazing fan artists! :D

Chapter title is from "War" by Sum 41

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #dev #niall #fluff #angst #punk/pastel #mysnowbazfanfic

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lostinfic · 6 years ago

Note

Hardy x Hannah • 12

Enchantment

#12 Storm clouds

Thank you for the prompt, I hope you like it!

Rating: all-ages

Word count: 2124

Summary: Hannah is a witch afraid to fall in love, until one of her spells backfires in the best of ways.

@tinyconfusion here’s your Practical Magic AU (although maybe not the one you dream of) (early birthday present?)

Ao3

Hannah had swam too far. The cliffs were a mere copper line in the distance. Not a soul on the beach, they’d all gone home for supper.

The water turned grey. It shivered around her, stirred, restless under the gathering clouds.

Hannah swam towards the beach but the undercurrent pulled her back. Waves sucked at the strength in her legs. Rain fell like a lead curtain. She couldn’t tell the sea from the sky, the beach from the horizon.

Panic flared in her guts, short-circuited any rational thoughts. She tried to scream for help but waves slapped her face and salty water splashed into her lungs.

In the conservatory of her aunts’ house on the Isle of Wight, a young Hannah— nine and a half years old to be exact— carefully chose her ingredients. A sprig of valerian, a row of foxgloves, a blackberry leaf. And she whispered to herself: “He will hear my call a mile away. He will quote my favourite books. He can see the future in his dreams.”

Jackie walked into the room and watched her sister for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Summoning up a true love spell called ‘Amas Veritas’,” Hannah replied. She sprinkled dried lavender into her wooden bowl and added a bunch of bluebells to it. “He can flip pancakes in the air. He’ll have a big heart, as big as the world. Too big. And he’ll wear ties all the time.” She added sunflower petals. “And he’ll have golden eyes.”

“I thought you never wanted to fall in love,” Jackie said.

The Baxter women were cursed, any man who fell in love with them was doomed. Or so the family legend said. Was it fate or just an accident that had killed her father? Whatever their mother believed, she’d died of a broken heart. And thus, Hannah promised herself never to fall in love.

But today, she had witnessed a woman begging her aunts to cast a spell on a married man she loved. That woman’s desperation, bordering on madness, had shaken Hannah. There was nothing beautiful or dignified about it. Love dragged you in the mud.

As the woman pierced a dove’s heart, Hannah had decided to take concrete actions to protect herself from love.

“That’s the point,” she explained to her sister. “The bloke I dreamed of doesn’t exist. And if he doesn’t exist, I’ll never fall in love and die of a broken heart.”

She carried her bowl to the balcony on the second floor. The warm night air fluttered the petals, and when she recited the spell, they twirled and rose towards the moon.

Hannah coughed up water. Salt stung her throat. Sand chafed her cheek.

“You alright? Miss? Bloody hell, d’you have a death wish?”

With a great effort and a moan of pain, she turned her face towards the voice. A thin man, all scraggly hair and unkempt beard. His tie dangled above her.

The sun came out, piercing the clouds, and illuminated his face. The brown of his eyes shone almost golden.

“How…?” She didn’t have the strength to finish her question.

He helped her to her feet and supported her through the short walk to a small blue house.

As if he’d expected her, there already were towels and blankets in the living room.

“I was folding the laundry,” he explained as he arranged towels over the couch.

She shivered in her bikini, and he promptly draped a knit blanket over her shoulders. Then a second one. He peered into her face— her teeth were chattering— he scrunched up his nose, and covered her legs with a duvet, tucking it tight under her knees and feet.

“What’s your name?”

“Hannah.”

“I’m Hardy… Alec.”

“Thank you, Alec.”

“How are you feeling? You were pretty out of it.”

“I feel… tired.”

“Is there anyone you want to call?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

Well, there were people she could call, but no one she wanted to. Actually, inexplicably, she wanted to stay right here, in this cozy, seaside shack.

“You can rest here for a while,” he said.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I know the harbour master.”

“He came to get you?” That seemed like a strange protocol.

“I heard you calling,” Alec said.

“From here?”

He shrugged and disappeared into a bedroom.

There was something familiar about Alec Hardy that she couldn’t put her finger on.

The files spread on the coffee table told her he was a policeman.

In the full bookcase behind the sofa, she spotted a worn-out copy of Peter Pan and even her first novel. Maybe she’d met him at a book signing. He didn’t seem the type.

Underneath, there was a family portrait, outdoors, at some birthday party. Alec with his daughter and wife. “She looks more like a witch than me,” Hannah mumbled.

Alec had changed into a dark blue jumper, and he tossed another one her way. She’d stopped shivering, but put it on anyway. It smelled of Irish Spring soap.

“The books were there when I moved in,” he said.

“And the family picture?”

“I’m on it, aren’t I?” He offered no further explanation.

She tracked his movements as he prepared two cups of tea in the narrow kitchen. He opened crooked cupboards, searching for saucers, sugar and snacks.

Looking at him was as maddening as having a word on the tip of her tongue.

“Have we ever met?” she asked.

He looked up from the cups he was filling, his eyes wide, and he spilled water from the kettle all over the countertop.

“Shit.” He quickly cleaned up the mess.

He place a cup of tea with two Jammie Dodgers in front of her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She stirred milk and sugar into it, and the spoon kept spinning much longer than it naturally would. When he noticed it, she put her hand over the mug— she was slipping.

She held the cup in two hands and brought it close to her face, she closed her eyes, basking in its warmth for a moment. The first sip soothed her.

“Are you from Broadchurch?” he asked.

They compared places they’d been to and people they knew, but nothing overlapped. He admitted uncomfortably to appearing in newspapers, but Hannah wasn’t one to keep up with the news. They were complete strangers after all.

Alec was rough around the edges with his scruffy cheeks and sharp nose and blunt questions. She thought of thistles, the floral emblem of Scotland. Still, his actions revealed a genuine concern for her well-being despite his small talk flaws.

“What were you doing out there?” he asked.

“Swimming?”

She took a long sip to dissipate her uneasiness.

“You were very far into the sea. Do you have suicidal thoughts?”

“No! No, don’t worry. Really don’t. I was, er, you know, training for… a swimming competition. Amateur competition. Obviously.”

He quirked an incredulous eyebrow at her excuse and inquired further as only a detective would. Thankfully, he relented when she rubbed her forehead in pain.

If she told him she needed to bathe in the first high tide of the summer equinox to ward off evil, he would laugh in her face.

Hannah always “scanned” her clients to keep the creepy ones away. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to her to do the same for this handsome man she’d met at a writing workshop. She’d ignored the red flags, chalked it up to his passionate nature. When she finally listened to her fear and tried to break things off, he already knew too much about her to get rid of him easily. She’d had to resort to belladonna and magic.

That bloody spell better have worked because it almost cost her her life.

Thinking back on these events, Hannah decided she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Can I use the loo?”

In the tiny bathroom, she found a dusty candle that might have belonged to the previous tenants. She blew softly on the wick until a flame blossomed. Then she whispered one of the few spells she knew by heart.

The beating of Alec’s heart echoed in her head. There was something off about it. She sensed anger in the irregular beats. But he was not a bad person, on the contrary, his kindness washed over her mind like the gentlest waterfall.

Her skin goose-pimpled.

“He’s a good one.”

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror and then noticed she looked… well, she looked like someone who’d almost drowned.

She asked Alec’s permission to take a shower, and he lent her sweatpants and a police t-shirt.

The hot water and soap made her feel better in an instant.

She noticed— with some satisfaction— the lack of women’s beauty products in the bathroom.

Hannah braided her hair in loose pigtails and rolled the sweatpants’ elastic waistband low over her hips.

When she came out, he stared for a moment. “Looks better on you,” he said, rather gruffly.

Hannah had fallen asleep on his couch, and Hardy didn’t know what to do. He stood beside her, hands on hips, contemplating the situation. He couldn’t possibly wake her up and kick her out of his house after what she’d been through today. And to be honest, he enjoyed her presence. He welcomed it even if she snored. He’d been alone for too long.

The last sun rays descended behind the horizon and momentarily alighted her hair.

He’d heard her call for help from impossibly far away. It didn’t make any sense and yet, somehow, it did. He knew why but the explanation vanished as soon as he tried to grasp it.

He thought of Peter Pan.

“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming…?” he whispered.

He knew the quote by heart from reading the book multiple times in his childhood and then to Daisy, but in this moment he could not finish saying it.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered as he adjusted a blanket over Hannah.

In the morning, sunlight bounced off the water surface, slipped through the windows and shimmered on the ceiling. Through blurred eyes, Hannah watched it dance above her for a moment.

How could something so beautiful have nearly killed her yesterday?

A healthy fear and respect of nature was what every witch needed. Perhaps it had been a reminder to not abuse her powers.

A delicious scent pulled her out of her musings. Alec, in a grey t-shirt and PJ bottoms, looked at her from the kitchen doorway.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Famished.”

“Pancakes?”

Hannah smiled, wide and bright, and jumped to her feet. He returned her smile.

As he cooked the pancakes, she set the little table by the window.

“Let’s see if I can still do this,” he said.

He shook the pan until the pancake slid around then flicked his wrist to make it flip. But the pancake landed on the floor, and all of his good mood vanished in an instant.

“Give it another try,” she encouraged him.

This time, a few words whispered in latin made sure the pancake landed in the pan.

They wolfed down the pancakes and washed it down with coffee, between bites, they chatted some more.

Hannah had a gift to make people talk, and there was nothing magical about it. She asked the right questions and gave people time to reply rather than rush to fill the silence. And in desperate cases she had a go-to, self-deprecating, anecdote that usually put people at ease. She didn’t need it with Hardy, she didn’t want to use it, she wanted to just be herself.

She told him about her ex and coming to Broadchurch to escape.

“I suppose it’s the place to get away from exes,” he said.

He told her, in very few words, about his divorce.

“Why Broadchurch?” she asked.

He scratched his cheek and gave this some thought. “I don’t know… there were other towns where I could’ve worked.”

The question really seemed to bother him, he kept frowning as they carried dishes to the sink.

“Well, if you hadn’t been here, I would’ve been in trouble,” Hannah said.

He gripped the edge of the sink and stared as it filled with bubbles. “Aye.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No… maybe you’re right. Maybe I was here to save you.”

She leaned closer. Her arm brushed his, and he looked at her, straight at her. An earnest gaze that made her ribcage feel too small for her lungs and heart.

And she realized, she’d experienced attraction before, but never like this, never more than physical.

“Hannah,” he said softly.

She nodded as a lump rose in her throat. She didn’t understand why.

He cradled her face in his palm, his thumb stroked her cheekbone, and Hannah leaned into his touch.

“I think I know you,” he said.

She stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his heart. “Yes. Somehow.”

“I was waiting…”

“Between sleep and awake.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer to him like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

She was in a daze. Everything made sense even if it didn’t. In that moment, the only truth worth believing in was that they’d found each other at last.

Both turned their heads at the same time and, with a sigh, pressed their lips together. Shyly, at first, a chaste kiss, until Hannah licked the syrup off his lips. He pressed her against the counter and deepened the kiss, ravenous after a lifetime of waiting. Each caress of tongue and smack of lips brought to light hints and clues, moments, words, images.

They broke the kiss with a sudden gasp.

“My spell.”

“My dream.”

░

Full Peter Pan quote

#meanwhileinpetesworld #tinyconfusion #Hardy x Hannah #teninch fic #practical magic au #lostinfic writes stuff #two-word prompts #I'm sorry I took a movie about sisterhood to write a shippy fic

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written-s0ul · 7 years ago

Text

Misdialed (3/4)

REQUEST. I really liked that AU you reblogged that was like you have the wrong number but you sound pretty upset about that person, wanna talk it out, if you want could you write a Steve Rogers x Reader fic based off of that please. From anon.

SUMMARY. Lawyer AU. Steve Rogers x Reader. Your boss gives the case you’ve been working so hard on to someone else. Out of anger, you call a friend to rant — only to realize that you called the wrong number.

WARNINGS. Curse words. Fluff + angst = all our doom.

WORD COUNT. 1k.

AUTHOR’S NOTES. Finally! Here is the update! Unfortunately, with this updated Tumblr, it seems the entire chapter wasn’t able to fit HAHAHA so we only have this first, kind of short scene. The next is rlly long, so it had to be cut. Anyway, enjoy! :D

#1 / #2 / #3: you are here / #4 / epilogue

You don’t remember the last time you were called to the principal’s office at school, but you do remember how it felt: the rabbit-speed of your beating heart; the tautness of your sewed ribcage; the sense of some sort of impending doom. It didn’t show from your smooth strides and perfect posture, but that was how it felt like now. Why would Barnes want to see you again? Possible reasons gushed out and into your mind, pouring in like a waterfall, loud and rapid and inevitable. God, what if he found out about your ranting last night?

What if he knew you called him a dick?

Your heart bounced even higher, stronger against your chest. But that’s impossible. No one heard that — except, of course, Steve. But you doubted he had any connection with Mr. Barnes or the firm. The chances of that has to be so little.

Speaking of Steve — you took your phone out of the pocket of your blazer, and clicked on your inbox, pressing on your chat with him:

Hey, Steve! I’m actually glad you did text me, thanks. How are you? You and your best friend doing okay? Text me any time! I hope your day goes better than mine. (:

Sent last 8:04AM. Steve’s text was around 7:10AM this morning. Almost an hour difference — and you don’t blame yourself for the huge time gap. Sometimes, the words didn’t feel right, and you had to retype the entire message several times. It had to come out right.

But now an hour and a half later, there was still no response. Your message sat there, smiling and patient, as it spoke out into the void, waiting for someone to call back. You tried not to think about why he hasn’t.

Pocketing your phone, your gaze shifted to the glass wall separating Mr. Barnes’ office from the hall, then on Mr. Barnes himself, who was leaning back in his seat, ankle on knee, and one corner of his lips pulled up to a half-smile. This was the most laid back you’d seen him. Even during the few team buildings you’ve had with the other partners, he wasn’t this — affable.

On the seat where Natasha was yesterday, though, was another man. Sun rays pouring in from the windows lit up his blonde hair, framing his head like a golden halo. You furrowed your brows. Who was he? And why do you feel like you’ve seen him before?

“There you are, right on time,” Mr. Barnes said, looking up as you stepped inside. He sat straighter, pulling his blazer closer to himself, and there he was: the unflinching, professional Mr. Barnes you’ve always known. “Take a seat.” He gestured to the chair you’ve sat in last time, and you complied, keeping your back straight as a pipe.

“Did you need something, sir?” you asked, hands clasped on your lap.

“Y/N, you remember our of-counsel attorney, Mr. Rogers—” He flourished a hand at the man beside you, and now, you turned to face him.

Mr. Rogers looked at you now, and the puzzle pieces clicked in your head. Memories flashed: seeing that same face in the conference room, helping out in a case or with a client; during the occasional Christmas party, standing by the bar and rarely on the dance floor; with Mr. Barnes or Mr. Wilson or both, inside or outside the firm. Many times as grim and undaunted as Mr. Barnes, and occasionally as warm and amiable as Mr. Wilson. You wondered, for a moment, why you’re meeting him now, after nearly a decade working in this firm.

Stretching out a hand, Mr. Rogers’ lips stretched to an ever more golden smile, and slipping your hand in his, he shook it, firm yet gentle. “Please,” he said. “Call me Steve.”

Your heart stopped.

“Steve?” you said, echoing him.

Something glinted in his eye, something playful. He nodded.

No.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. He wasn’t — this can’t be the Steve.

But that voice. That’s the voice. The Steve’s voice — the same Steve who texted you this morning, the same Steve who heard you rant about your job, the same Steve who heard you call Mr. Barnes a dick.

Shit.

Quickly, you composed yourself. “Good to meet you, Steve,” you said, extracting your hand from his, and forcing on a polite smile. It was almost an effortless feat — thanks to the bountiful experiences you’ve had in settling cases and persuading clients.

“He’s here for the Wakanda case,” Mr. Barnes said, fingers loosely weaving together on his desk. “I’d like you to bring him up to date with all the details about it.”

Your brows furrowed. “But I’m out of the case.”

He leaned forward, chest falling as though heaving out a resigned sigh. “You were. But, not anymore.”

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering. Did he — does this mean —

“To be honest,” he said, voice hushed and raw, almost vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have removed you in the first place.”

It felt like you stopped breathing. You tried to suck air in through your nose, chest expanding, then pushed it out, deliberate for a few more breaths before you were sure your lungs were functioning properly again.

“I’ll talk to Natasha.” He rested back against his chair, and the raw moment was gone, his features lining back up to their usual somber expression. “Now, could you please—” he gestured to Steve, flourishing an exasperated hand. “We have to be in court by Friday, so — get moving.”

Your heart was fluttering like an excited little bird at the arrival of its mother with food, but you kept yourself composed, rising from your seat and nodding in determination. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

He shot Steve a look you couldn’t read. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

A/N. I don’t know if I like this Tumblr update with the text posts. It’s cool but kind of annoying; for some reason, I can’t do HTML on mobile?? ): Anyway, next scene will mostly be with Steve alone! <3 It will be posted on Friday!

Tagging: (If you’d like to be tagged to the story or permanently, let me know!)

@courtneychicken @riddikuluslyemily @zadyalyss @iamwarrenspeace @smilexcaptainx @coltcas @mymarvelobsessions @magickandmoons @sheep-demon @a-girl-who-loves-disney @bexsbaxters @l-tay @flowxrsforyourgrxve @acunningstargazer

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert #avengers fic #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes #modern au #avengers modern au #lawyer au #avengers au #avengers fanfic #marvel fic #my writing #steve rogers au #misdialed

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sad-af1121 · 7 years ago

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Magnets (One-shot)

Summary: What could possibly be the best way to let someone know some exciting news? You went with an easy plan in such a short amount of time but you wanted to cherish the moment with Bucky, even if it was cheesy. At least you’d have a story to tell your firstborn and how exactly it went down. Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1825 Warnings: FLUFF A/N: Credit to @ruby-white-rabbit for the cute hc. Thank you, dear! Feedback is welcomed 💜

The sweet and strong taste of green tea flooded your mouth as you take a sip to wake yourself up. The earthy fluid rested on your tongue, awakening some of your senses. Caffeine was a dire need now, especially if you had to wake up this early for what you planned about 24 hours ago. You couldn’t have your usual expresso due to well… you being pregnant. It was only yesterday when you found out about the exciting yet frightful news. You told yourself this was good. More than that.

This was a new beginning.

And honestly, it sucked ass that you couldn’t indulge in caffeine because you couldn’t go a day without it. Yes, you were more productive and lively when you drank a couple of cups throughout the day. But you didn’t want to risk intaking too much for the sake of the little bundle of joy you were soon going to have.

You were sitting on the couch watching Friends when you had the sudden impulse to puke. It ran itself up your throat before you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. Relief washed over you once you made it to the bathroom, sweat resting on the top of your brows. Just in time too or else you would had used Bucky’s combat boot as a waste bin again.

He wouldn’t have been too pleased about that. It could explain the other times you got drunk and used his favorite pair to do exactly that. He obviously forgave you, but he kept his shoes hidden whenever you got to that stage. That taught him a lesson too: not to leave his things lying around or else bad things might happen to them.

Aka they’re shit out of luck.

You thought back to the food you ate the night before. Maybe the buffalo wings you ordered from that sketchy restaurant were bad? It’s not like you haven’t had them before; they were your lazy food whenever you didn’t feel like cooking for the night. And on those nights Bucky wasn’t home. Missions and paperwork kept him busy for most days out of the week, so you didn’t have to worry about his strict diet guidelines he set for you. So what you like eating fries dipped in chocolate sauce. It tasted so fucken good to you.

However, Bucky refuted that. Telling you ‘you should eat foods to fuel your body. Not to fill it up with nonsense things.’ You just agreed and ate food that were good for you. But hell, it didn’t stop you from having cheat days.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The color of your skin lost its beautiful warmth, the awful taste in your mouth made you queasy and the slight pain in your tummy troubled you. It wasn’t too bad, it was bearable. The soft chill of the Fall season didn’t raise any questions to catch the common flu or cold, so it was hard narrowing down the source.

Your face scrunched in thought before the light bulb in your head went off. Mother Nature didn’t visit you last month and it was starting to look like she wasn’t going to come this month either, making you smack your forehead with frustration. Quickly, you laid out about three pregnancy tests (thank god Wanda gave them as a gag birthday gift), and peed on them, waiting for the results. Those 5 excruciating minutes had your nerves wrecked and your heart almost gave out with the tension you built inside your head. Whether or not Bucky would be happy was a constant thought. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t talked about having kids.

Because he wanted them. Badly.

Your body was under utter stress, screaming with anxiousness as you shut both eyes, exhaling deeply before opening one eye to peak at the tests. Your vision wasn’t that great, especially since you were about 3 feet away from lines that are smaller than the size of a rice grain. Stepping closer, and opening both eyes, you looked down on the counter as they widened at the double lines on each test, informing you that you’re pregnant. Every emotion possible danced inside of you and you didn’t know what to do next.

Squealing with joy, you ran out the bathroom to call Bucky home, but you stopped in front of your phone, wanting this moment to be special- something to remember when thought back to. Thus, you called Wanda. And boy was she jumping up and down like a five-year-old. You could have sworn you lost your hearing with her shriek of enthusiasm and cheerfulness. You two gossiped about how excited you were, discussing a plan to tell Buck that you were carrying his child.

And here you are, setting the little box filled with children’s alphabet magnets on the comforter of the bed as you carefully sit on your knees beside Bucky’s metal arm. You could have gone with a better way of telling him, but you wanted your husband to know as soon as he woke up. His hair was disheveled, covering most of his face. You brush his chestnut locks out from his eyes, smiling down at his peaceful state. Leaning in, you place a chaste kiss on his forehead. Bucky sucks in a breath, making you still in that position, your lips just inches away from him. You were afraid to move because he might wake up and ruin the little plot. But he simply turns onto his side, giving you a better access to his arm.

“This better fucking stick.” You assertively murmur under your breath before placing the letters onto his arm, releasing a breath of hope as they adhere to the metal. These were cheap magnets and you were content that they worked. After about 15 minutes of perfecting each character on his arm, your eyes roam over to his alarm clock that was about to ring in 30.

“Shit!” Hissing, you hurry off the bed, pushing the little box under as you rush out the bedroom to leave for work. Thank goodness you got ready beforehand or else Bucky wouldn’t have let you go after finding out. Grabbing your bag and keys, you run out your apartment, the foolish grin on your face never leaving as you made your way to your car then work.

Humming in his sleep, Bucky’s eyes flutter open, lids heavy with slumber as he groans. “Baby?”

He calls out to you, only meeting silence in return. He gets the idea that you left for work like usual, nothing in his head to facetime you later to see your beautiful face. Bringing his flesh hand to his eyes, he rubs away the remaining of his sleep, narrowing his sight at the clock before shutting off the alarm the second it began to ring. Smirking, he turns over again, pulling the covers up to his neck as he snuggles with the fresh cotton before tensing when his phone rings throughout the quiet home.

“Jesus Christ.” He growls, throwing the blanket over to reach for his phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, buddy. We need you down at the tower, like now.” Clint informs, nodding over to Steve as he walks beside him. “We got new recruits and you and Cap need to do some early training with them. Orders from Fury.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky stares at the ceiling, irritation laced in his tone. “I need to shower -”

“You can shower here. Now get your ass up. See you soon.”

“I- Hello? Did he just hang up on me?” Bucky scoffs, eyeing the phone with disappointment before tossing it to the side. He gets out of bed, his feet weighing a ton as he drags them across the wooden floors. Exhaustion resided inside him, but duty calls.

After using the toilet and splashing cold water on his face, Bucky walks out, quickly grabbing his jeans and a new t-shirt before slipping those on. Within a short time, Bucky’s out the door, throwing his jacket over his shoulders before getting in his car and driving to the tower.

The usual elevator ride to the gym wasn’t anything exciting. He wondered what he would have to do today when he’d get free time to himself, or if his mind would mess with his day. He could only hope and pray.

The elevator grabs his attention as the steel doors open, the sounds of grunts and groans coming from the distance as Bucky makes his way to the locker room. There, he’s greeted by Clint who happens to be changing out of his training clothes.

“I thought we were training the newbies?” Bucky asks, pressing his flesh thumb onto the padlock of his locker as it turns from red to green.

“Nope. I said you and Steve were. I just got done working out. Got a mission later with Nat.” Clint informs, stuffing his boxing tape inside his locker before shutting it. “Besides. You guys are great history teachers too.”

Just then, Steve enters, chuckling at Clint’s words. “Really, Barton?”

Bucky huffs, shaking his head as he pulls off his coat and hangs it on the hook. “That joke’s old.”

“Yeah, like you.” Clint snorts, making Bucky turn slowly in a creepy yet terrifying manner. His fists clench by his sides as his nostrils flare with anger. But both Clint’s and Steve’s widened eyes and surprised expression cause confusion.

“What.”

“Your arm man.” Clint chuckles with excitement. Bucky looks down before interrupted by Steve.

“Congratulations!” Steve beams, wrapping Bucky in a bone-crushing embrace.

“What?” Bucky asks again, harsher than before. Steve pulls away, grabbing Bucky’s metal arm and showing him the magnets that spell out “u r a dad.”

“Wh-what.” Bucky stares at the magnets, his features turning light. His heart is racing and thudding incredibly fast to the point where it feels like it might give out. He re-reads the words, processing the information before seizing his phone from his back pocket, face-timing you.

Ring, ring, ri-

“Heeeeeey.” You grin, taking in Bucky’s flabbergasted expression as a hint. He knows.

“H-hi… Magnets? Really?” He laughs out, taking a seat before his feet decide to give out from under him. He had millions of emotions coursing through him right now.

“Yes!! I only had 24 hours.” You playfully pout, giggling as the butterflies return in your stomach.

“I love it... I love you.” Bucky blurts, laughing louder as he looks around the room. He can feel the tears forming in his eyes but he’s holding them back, knowing he needed a private moment with you. “Get your things. I’m coming down there. Can’t believe I’m going to be a dad!”

“No Buck. Stay- Jesus Christ, he hung up on me.” You chuckle breathlessly, leaning back in your seat.

You should have waited for the weekend because there was no way he’s going to let you out of his sight from now on.

Goodbye cheat days.

PERM TAGS: @thatawkwardtinyperson @jezzula @finallybreathee @plumfondler @atari-writes @angryschnauzer @badassbaker @papi-chulo-bucky @amrita31199 @cumonbucky @soldatbarnes @random-fandom-girl2000 @lostinspace33 @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @rda1989 @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @melconnor2007 @feelmyroarrrr @iamsooooohappy @elaacreditava @broken-pieces @ms-potts-to-you @hardcollectiontrashworld @i-kneel-for-king-loki @hufflevirgoclaw @charliexowrite @valkyeries

FIC TAGS: @3brosangel @ruby-white-rabbit @chrisevanshh

(permanent tag list is open/ also tumblr won't let me tag a few of you. I apologize.)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #bucky #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader fluff #seb stan

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whentommymetalfie · 7 years ago

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Blood on my name

A/N: Yeah. This turned out very angsty. But of course there's some fluff and comfort in there too, at the end, so fear not. Set some time after Bad things. Not much else to say, I'm an awful person who wrote this. And quite enjoyed it, on top of it all. I hope you enjoy it too! But do read the warnings, I don’t want to cause anyone unwanted pain!

Summary: Tommy has another run-in with Darby Sabini. Things end quite badly. Alfie tries to pick up the pieces afterwards

Warnings: Derogatory and explicit language (could be read as homophobia, so if that is a trigger for you, perhaps skip this <3), violence. A lot of cursing.

Wordcount: 4000

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13420776

Tommy has begun to rather enjoy London, he decides as he walks through Camden town. Could very well be due to the man associated with it, but yeah, it’s definitely grown on him the past months. The city doesn’t show itself from its best side on this evening though, it’s absolutely pouring with rain. And added to that, there is wind. A lot of fucking wind. Alfie muttered about possible a power-cut to and fro all morning. Tommy is mostly bothered because it means he can’t smoke while on the move somewhere. Unacceptable. So it’s a walk without a cigarette on the way to Alfie’s office this evening. In the rain, and the dark. Still, feels like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

Afterwards, he’ll think that maybe what happens next is his own fault.

Because he’s distracted, and his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. So, when he hears the familiar sound of a gun clicking behind his head, he is caught off guard. His ears pick up the sound in spite of the rain and wind, and the reaction is ingrained in his backbone. In one motion, he turns around, grabs the arm holding the gun and throws a punch at the assailant’s face. Bit of a shot in the dark, but his fist hits it mark and he hears the crunching sound of bone breaking as the figure staggers backward, grunting in pain. Running footsteps approach him from behind, and quite suddenly, he is surrounded. He can hold his own in a fight, but there are four of them and the odds are against him. It doesn’t take long before they have him cornered in a dirty alleyway. He stays on his feet at least, until suddenly there is a gunshot. Tommy freezes, instinct telling him to find an injury. Sometimes, it can take a moment for the body to register the pain… There is none. Just a warning shot then. He looks around for the shooter. The four men have backed off.

“Take one step and I’ll put a bullet through your fucking head.” Sabini comes sauntering down the alley, breaking out of the shadows. Great. He should’ve known the minute the four men jumped him, Sabini isn’t known to fight fair. His mind does the usual thing, quickly, efficiently sifting through the cards he could play, the possible outcomes. What it always does. What has always gotten him out alive before. But he’s drawing a blank here. He’s quite clearly taken up with the opposing side in the conflict between the Italians and the Jewish gang, but he would be surprised if Sabini considered him important enough in his rival’s operation to be of any value. To him, he is just a nuisance. Another pawn in a bigger game. And he’s overstepped.

Sabini has probably killed for less

Tommy stands still, suddenly feeling every blow he’s taken, weighing him down. The man is out of reach, aiming a gun at his head. And he realises he may die now.

“Thought you’d learned your lesson the last time,” Sabini says. “To stay the fuck away. But what do you do instead? Not only do you take up with the Jews, but now I hear you’re sucking Alfie Solomons cock too?” Sabini takes a step closer and Tommy straightens up a bit, suddenly realising he’s been hunched over clutching his aching ribs. He offers Sabini a slightly raised eyebrow.

“So, Mr. Sabini, aren’t you well-informed? I’m impressed.”

Sabini’s expression betrays him for just a second, showing something akin to surprise. Fuck it, let him know he’s right. It’s fucking below Tommy to be ashamed of anything in front of this man. Especially if he’s about to have a bullet put between his eyes.

“So, it’s true then. Thomas Shelby is whoring himself out to move up in the world.” Sabini looks to his men, who laughs and holler jeering remarks.

Tommy wishes the man would just get to the fucking point. Because the longer he stands here, the more he realises how little he wants to die. How much he’s got to lose now. But there is no swaying Sabini. No deals to make. Nothing to offer. If he’s made up his mind, he’s going to shoot him no matter what Tommy says. Better to just have it over with. Before he starts to feel something.

“If that’s what you’d like to call it.” He tilts his head to the side just a bit. Shrugs. “Have to say, if I’d known it would be so effective in taking control of London, I would’ve done it a lot sooner. Maybe you should try it sometime. Seems like your current strategy isn’t working out that well for you.”

Sabini’s face twists into a scowl.

“Get on your knees,” he says, voice filled with fury that bubbles right under the surface, as he takes a few steps closer and cocks the gun. “Get on your fucking knees and beg me to spare you, and I may consider it.”

He doesn’t move an inch, merely stares at Sabini, offers him a mocking smile. Alfie always said his mouth would get him killed. It just might.

“There’s only one man I get on my knees for,” he says, eyes boring into Sabini’s. “And it’s definitely not you.”

At least he’ll die having seen Sabini look utterly baffled for just a fraction of a second. Small comforts.

Sabini quickly gets it together again, and gives a short nod to two of his accomplices, who walk up to Tommy and wring his arms up behind his back. With a hard kick to the back of his knees, he’s forced down on the ground. Sabini stands over him, puts the gun to his forehead. Tommy stares at him. He’s determined to look at this man until the second he pulls the trigger. And not think about anything else. About anyone else.

He doesn’t want to die.

“How’s it going to be? Do you want to die here?” Sabini mocks. “In a fucking alley, and be left in the gutter?” He puts pressure on the gun and it digs into his brow. “I could send a message to Solomons. Let him know where he can find his whore. Think he’ll mourn you?” Tommy clenches his jaw. Says nothing. Just stares. “I bet not. He’ll just find someone new to warm his bed. Maybe he’ll leave you here with the trash where you belong. Not even bother to bring your body home to that family of yours.” Tommy wants him to shut the fuck up. And not mention his family. Arthur will be upset if he has a hole in his head. Better in the chest. Less obvious. “Wouldn’t that be fucking tragic?” Sabini waits for a reaction. “Can I get an honest plea? Or is that how you’d like to end your life?”

Should he beg? To spare Finn from going to his funeral?

Tommy takes a breath through his nose. “Guess that’s how it has to be.” He hopes they’ll have the fucking sense not to show his body to Finn.

He doesn’t fucking want to die.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Sabini shrugs. Cocks the gun again, but lets the moment drag on. Pull the trigger. Tommy wants to close his eyes, because when it gets down to it, there are a many faces he’d rather imagine right now than Darby Sabini’s. The sound of the rain is drowned out by the beating of his own heart in his ears. Pull the fucking trigger. It takes too long, and his mind is racing.

He was out of cigarettes yesterday. Discovered it when they were already in bed and he wanted a smoke after sex. Alfie reached down on the floor for his trousers and dug through the pockets. Threw an unopened packet at him. The brand he likes.

“Figured you’d run out. The way you go through those.”

Tommy lit one and ignored Alfie’s mutters of ‘filthy habit, that’

He would’ve liked to tell Alfie that it was nice of him, the whole thing. Now he won’t have the chance to.

Would Sabini just fucking get on with it?

A gunshot echoes through the alley, cutting through the howling wind.

Tommy registers the sound, which means Sabini can’t have put the bullet in his head. This thought hits him before the pain in his thigh does. Someone screams, and it takes a moment for him to realise it’s him. He’s been shot before, somehow he forgets in between how much it hurts. Sabini isn’t going to kill him? Why? Tommy’s mind is reeling: the pain makes it impossible to think clearly.

“I want you to remember something from this night,” Sabini says, but he can barely hear it over the blood rushing behind his ears. And the ringing. “You may be all that back in that sorry excuse for a city you call home. But you’re out of your league here, the moment you set your foot outside of Solomons’ bedroom. You may be a good fuck to him, but you’re also a liability. Fucking remember that.” He leans down, lowers his voice to a whisperer. “See how easy it was for me to get to you? Think of that the next time you have Solomon’s cock up your arse. That this-“ the cold metal of the gun digs into the wound in his leg and Tommy grits his teeth, but ends up letting out a stifled yelp of pain. “This is how you’re paying for it. Think of that.”

Tommy breathes, tries to focus on anything but the white-hot pain exploding from his leg. There is no way he will let Sabini have the last word in this. Maybe he’s gone insane, but he fucking refuses to have Alfie of all things be used against him.

“Oh, believe me, the only thing I’ll think about-“ he sneers. It must look utterly deranged, laced with pain. “Is how good it feels to be fucked by the man who runs all of London.”

Sabini’s eyes go all wide and manic. Why doesn’t he just shoot him? Tommy’s head isn’t working right, he doesn’t understand… What are his motives? Sabini spits in his face, causing him to wince in spite of himself. And then he turns to leave.

“Watch his face, Changretta likes it. For some fucking reason. The rest is fair game.”

The hands holding him loosens their grip and Tommy ends up face first on the wet cobblestones. He tries to push himself to his knees, wipe the spit from his face because it’s fucking humiliating- Then, the first kick hits him in the ribs. And there is a brief moment of clarity, when he thinks that his mouth may not get him killed tonight, but it’s going to end up being a rather close call.

Alfie fucking hates the fucking weather. And not just a certain weather, just weather in general. It’s always some shit or another. Today’s gift from the deepest pits of hell is a storm that’s succeeded in keeping him holed up in his office far longer than he planned on. Tommy hasn’t showed up yet, which means he’s most likely hiding at home. Probably doesn’t want to get his hair wet. Tommy being in his house waiting for him should be reason enough for Alfie to get his ass out of the chair, but fuck, it’s absolutely pouring outside. The door opens, and he instinctually thinks it must be Tommy. Only person in the entire world who would walk into his office without knocking first. So he’s highly displeased to see that it’s one of Sabini’s men. He recognizes him, because he’s got that face ugly as sin. Very much a downgrade from seeing Tommy come through that door. Ollie is becoming sloppy, clearly.

The man wastes no time on pleasantries. “Sabini’s got a message for you.”

“Does he now?” Alfie reclines in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. Where the fuck is Ollie?

“That you might want to swing by Warden road on your way home.”

“Oh, has Sabini gone through the trouble of setting up some sort of surprise birthday party? Considerate of him. He’s a bit off though. With about six months. But I guess it’s the thought that counts with these things, innit? Also, not much of a surprise now that I know.”

“He’s had a little chat with Thomas.”

Alfie’s heart does this weird, painful sort of cramp. Is that how it feels to be overwhelmed by complete and utter panic for just a second? Possibly. If that is the case, he doesn’t enjoy it. Though to the man, he just offers a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Nothing makes me happier than when all the important people in my life come together. But then he really should know my birthday is in fucking April, right? Pretty sure Tommy knows that. Attentive, that boy.”

Sabini’s henchman just stands there. Alfie props his elbows on his desk and studies him. Waits.

“I would get to it if I were you. He may need some patching up.” The man finally says, and Alfie throws his hands up.

“Oh, quite, yeah, I guessed you were the sort. Fucking dropped a few too many times as a child, I guess? Because you’re honestly standing here, implying I’m not getting the message. Just coming into my office and insulting my intelligence like this. Dragging mud all over my nice floors.” Alfie pauses, scratches his beard. “Warden road, you say?”

“Yeah,” the man answers stiffly. At least he’s fucking uncomfortable. Alfie would’ve liked to keep this up for a bit, let him sweat a while longer. But he doesn’t exactly have the time for that now, does he?

“I’m guessing Sabini knows that expression… how does it go again- don’t shoot the messenger? On account of him sending you here to me, like some fucking carrier-pigeon. Making thinly veiled threats and shit.” Alfie bores his eyes into the other man, who in turn can’t seem to keep his gaze fixed on anything. “Good expression that. In this business. Suppose it’s to give us some sense of honour. Here but no further, you know.” His grin widens. “But then Sabini didn’t take into account that I’m completely off the rails, yeah?”

He reaches into his desk drawer, and before the man has time to process what he just said, he is spilling his brains all over Alfie’s office floor. Ollie comes running at the sound of the gunshot, and meets him as he walks out the door, pulling on his coat and pocketing the gun both at once somehow.

“Clean that shit up. See if you can get that stain out of the rug. Fucking shame, I liked that thing.”

Alfie Solomons doesn’t run. It doesn’t do to rush about on the streets: it ruins this air of nonchalance he usually aims for. But there’s a fucking storm, and not a sane soul is out in this weather, so if there is a definite sense of urgency to his movements, no-one is there to see it. His brain is in a loop of different curse words and plans of quite gruesome ways for Sabini to pay for this clear fucking infraction. Weren’t it for the fact that he’s got a concise plan to follow, he may have just snapped completely. But now he does, so he clings to it and his sanity. Get to Warden road, find Tommy alive –banged up, but alive, definitely- get him home and into a bed, safe and sound. Then annihilate Darby Sabini and his entire fucking organisation. Good plan. Sound plan.

However, finding that the alley is completely empty throws a bit of a wrench in it. And the rainfall is so heavy, it’s impossible to see any traces of a fight. Blood, it’s impossible to see any blood.

“Thomas?” He calls out anyway, listening through the wind for any and all sounds. The alley is littered with the usual junk: an old armchair, a pile of rags, unidentifiable mountains of scrap. Even if finding that Tommy has been left among the trash like some common lowlife would be fucking awful, the opposite is almost worse. Not finding him. Fuck. New plan. Alfie pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment, feeling very overcome all of a sudden. Unfamiliar feeling, that. Would Sabin lie? No, no point in that. Could the goon he sent just be so fucking stupid he gave the wrong street? ‘course not. He’s not thinking clearly.

Home, becomes the new plan. Make some calls, get some people out to search. Probably should’ve done that last part to begin with, but there’s this ringing in his head that won’t stop and it makes thinking straight very hard. His eyes scan the gutter the entire walk home, almost hoping to find Tommy collapsed somewhere along the way.

No such luck.

He finds the front door unlocked when he reaches his house.

The first thing that crosses his mind as he enters is how bloody nice it is to be out of the wind. The next, is that the hallway reeks of blood. And third, as he discovers when he tries to flick the light switch, there has been a power-cut. Just one fucking thing after the other this night, innit?

His eyes adjust to the darkness and he can make out a soppy pile on the floor. Tommy’s coat, he states when he picks it up. Dropping the garment back onto the floor, he makes his way into the kitchen.

And isn’t it a sight for sore eyes, to find Tommy lying on the kitchen floor? Awful, of course, because he’s lying in a pool of blood, looking about as dead as any man Alfie’s ever seen. But he’s there, and the ringing in Alfie’s head stops. Tommy’s right leg is propped up on a chair, and his jacket is tied around his thigh to stop the bleeding from an injury, presumably. Crafty, his boy.

“Tommy?” he crouches down, shakes him gently. “You awake, love?” Tommy lets out a pained sound and quite surprisingly opens his eyes. Yeah, he’s nothing if not a stubborn little thing.

“Welcome home, darling,” he slurs. “Sorry ‘bout your floor. Had a run-in with Sabini.”

“Any idea how much blood you’ve lost?” Are you about to die on me, on my kitchen floor? For once, Alfie doesn’t leave room for any detours in this speech.

“’s fine. Bullet didn’t hit any major arteries. Would’ve bled out already then.” Tommy’s voice sounds all thick and wet, like the blood is just sloshing around in his throat. Nasty sound.

“Good, that’s good...” Alfie nods encouragingly. “Any other injuries we’ve got to handle right now?”

“Think I’ve got a concussion. Broken ribs. Maybe my right shoulder is dislocated. Rest is just bruises.” Even such a fragmented sentence seems to take a lot out of him, and Tommy turns his head to the side, coughs up a mouthful of blood. Alfie nods again.

“That's it, eh? No worries, then, bet you’ve had worse. I’ll have to do you the disservice of stitching you up, because the phone line is dead.”

Tommy moves his head in what could be considered a nod. “Was going to do it myself, but I got dizzy. Had to lie down.”

Of course he fucking did. After dragging himself home with a perforated leg just pumping out blood, Tommy’s first reaction is to ‘stitch himself up’. Yeah, they’ll have to talk about that later.

Alfie has no idea how Tommy has managed to get anywhere at all, he states once he’s gotten all his drenched clothing off. Because he looks like one of those porcelain dolls Alfie likes to compare him to: except someone has dropped the doll and glued the pieces back together haphazardly. There may not be any jagged pieces of him sticking out at all ends, but the feeling is the same. Utterly broken. Complete fucking disarray of bruises, swollen red marks and scrapes. Alfie has both seen and caused his fair share of gruesome injuries, technically much worse than this. And somehow, this is still the most awful thing he’s had to face. Because it’s Tommy, a small voice at the back of his mind tells him. Because you care about him.

Yeah, seems like it’s come to that.

He covers the mess with a blanket, leaving the injured leg exposed. He’s kept the makeshift bandage on –can’t afford to lose more blood at this point.

Then Alfie gets to play doctor in perhaps the most bizarre scenario in his life yet, with Tommy lying across the kitchen table and the only source of light being candles. He curses himself for not keeping any morphine in the house: what sort of rookie mistake is that?

“Sorry, love, afraid this is all I can get you for the pain.” He puts a bottle of whiskey to his mouth and allows him a generous gulp. “Never thought I’d encourage this drinking habit of yours. I’ll take off this fine bandage, yeah?” He unties the blood soaked garment to reveal an ugly looking wound.

“Pity. I liked that jacket,” Tommy mutters. Alfie thinks that he’ll gladly buy his vain boy every suit in London, as long as he gets through this.

Stitching shut a gunshot wound in candlelight is about the most difficult thing Alfie’s done, as it turns out. It’s not made easier by the fact that Tommy can’t hide that it hurts like hell. Once he’s halfway into the exit wound, his cheeks are wet with tears. Then again, it’s pretty dark, so there’s no way to know for sure. So Alfie pretends not to notice, for Tommy’s sake.

When he’s finished, Tommy is soaked with cold sweat and trembling. Only the shoulder left, then…

“I’ll count to three, ‘aight?” Tommy gives a short nod. Fuck, he’s pale. Looks almost translucent.

“One, two-“ and on two Alfie pulls. There’s this sickening, wet, crunching sound as the shoulder pops back into its socket, but it’s nothing compared to the bloodcurdling scream Tommy lets out. He pitches forward off the table and Alfie catches him, tries to find a way to hold him that won’t aggravate any of the injures. Impossible feat, that.

“Shh, I’ve got you. ‘s okay, sweetie. All better now. That’s the worst of it, yeah?” he mutters soothing nonsense as Tommy’s breathing slowly calms a bit. “Let’s get you to bed, eh?” He shifts his arms as he tries to figure out the best way to carry him without touching the broken ribs. Again, impossible feat. '

“I can walk on my own,” Tommy says quietly, without looking at him. “Don’t coddle me.”

Only Thomas fucking Shelby would call being carried after having been practically beaten half to death ‘coddling’. Alfie wishes that Tommy would just let himself be cared for, for once in his goddamn life. Because it’s not right, is it? Tommy having to drag himself home and pass out on the kitchen floor, all fucking alone in the world as usual. Always Tommy against the whole world, innit?

But something about Tommy’s voice tells him he needs this. Alfie’s got no idea what Sabini has been up to in that alley, what kind of nonsense he’s been putting in Tommy’s head. A chat about that is definitely in order once Tommy’s brain clears up a bit. But now is not that time.

“Fine. But I really thought we’d gotten over that fucking threshold by now.”

One bloody awful walk up the stairs later, he can finally deposit Tommy in the bed.

Tommy is shaking after the ordeal, and has gone from pale to almost white. Yeah, if that mouth of his doesn’t get him killed, his pride definitely will. Or his stubbornness. Alfie tells himself that was the last time he enabled stupid behaviour like this.

“How did you even manage to get home? Your leg seems rather useless.” He piles blankets on top of him.

'“I’ve got two. The other one worked alright”

Alfie shakes his head at this and covers him with the duvet too, before slumping down on the chair next to the bed. Tommy opens his eyes and gives him a look. But there’s no real sharpness to it. He just seems very tired.

“You’re not going to sit on that chair all night, are you?”

Alfie makes a face to show that he just might.

“No you ain’t,” Tommy states. “I’m cold, and you’re like a furnace. Get in.”

Let it be said that it’s not in Alfie’s nature to deny Thomas Shelby a thing like that. He leaves his wet clothes in a pile –trivial things- and lays down next to him. Tommy is cold, alright, and Alfie wishes he could wrap his arms around him, pull him close. But that would probably result in one of those broken ribs puncturing one of his fucking lungs too. And isn’t that the only thing missing from this shitshow of night?

Alfie settles for just stroking his hair softly.

“I went looking for you,” he says. “You realised that was Sabini’s plan, yeah?”

Tommy mutters something incoherent.

“You could’ve stayed put. Would’ve lost a lot less blood that way.” Alfie states. “That’s why you faint, to let the blood flow back to your head, keep it functioning. And instead you walk about, just leaking like a broken bottle all over the place, silly boy. Sin to waste good liquor you know.”

He gets no response.

“You knew I would come looking for you right away, didn’t you?” Alfie asks, because it suddenly feels very important that Tommy knows this. Acknowledges it.

“Saved you some trouble dragging me back home,” Tommy finally says. There is a pause. “I don’t want to be a liability.”

Liability. Not Tommy’s own word, that. And Alfie wants to strangle Sabini with the man's own entrails for putting words like that in his mouth.

“What kind of talk is that? For all the shit I give you about making stupid decisions, we both know you’re the clever one, yeah? This is an equal partnership, nothing less.”

“It isn’t, though,” Tommy says, too quietly.

“Your brain has been rattled around in your skull, clearly.”

There is another stretch of silence, until Alfie finally speaks up again. Softer, this time. “Thomas, whatever Sabini told you, forget about it, alright? Desperate move from a desperate man, this. And he should be, because now I’ll have to kill him, won’t I?”

“You shouldn’t escalate the situation… over this. You have to think rationally about it.” That sounds more like the Tommy he knows. “I’m not of any actual…” his voice dies out before he can finish the sentence. Yeah, Alfie has to stop talking. Because Tommy can’t let things be, and it’s clear that his head is a fucking mess and that just forming words hurts. And he’s not making any sense either. But Alfie is pissed.

“He’s the only one who’s escalated anything,” he snarls. “The fuck does he think he is, walking about, shooting people?”

“Alfie-“

“Fucking disrespectful, that. For all that talk of being ‘above’ brutish methods, that posh fucker sure has a lenience towards ‘em. I swear, since he shacked up with that ridiculous New York mobster, he’s lost the last shred of dignity- And don’t even get me started on that parody of a man. Bloody hell, I hope Changretta accidentally breathes in that fucking stick he’s constantly chewing on and chokes.”

“Alfie.” He snaps his mouth shut, because Tommy sounds utterly exhausted. “It feels like someone is having a go at my head with a fucking sledgehammer,” he mumbles. “So you can keep talking, but please do it quietly. And no scheming. Because I can’t fucking tell you no. Can’t think straight.”

“Fine. We’ll sort it out once your head is back to normal.”

This statement passes without a response too. Alfie isn’t sure if this silence is due to the injuries or something else, and it worries him. But there isn’t much to do about it. Not tonight. He tells himself things will be better once Tommy has gotten some sleep.

All that can be heard for a long time is the sound of rain against the windowpane. Alfie lies awake and listens to it. And to Tommy’s ragged breathing.

“You bought me cigarettes yesterday.” Tommy suddenly whispers. Alfie looks at him through the darkness of the bedroom. Can just barely make out the silhouette of his cheek against the white sheets.

“Yeah, believe I did.”

“Remembered what brand I smoke and everything.”

Alfie hums.

After a while, Tommy adds: “It was nice.”

He chuckles dryly at that. “Yeah, that’s me: enabler of your self-destructive tendencies. Would be nice if you’d let me take care of you every once-in-a-while instead.”

“You’re doing a better job at it than I ever managed to do myself. Counts for something don’t you think?”

Alfie smiles, for the first time in a whole lot of hours. He fumbles a bit under all the blankets, finds one of Tommy’s cold hands. Hopes none of the fingers are broken as he takes it. It seems to be unharmed, because he gets a light squeeze in return.

"Yeah. Maybe it does."

#alfie/tommy #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #requested by anon #tw: violence #tw: homophobia #darby sabini #angst #so much angst #and h/c of course #but first so much angst

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