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animeomegas · 4 years ago

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Omega!Itachi Getting Married

Anon: Helllooo!!! I was wonderin if u could write for omega itachi getting married. I'd really appreciate it :)

(Hello! Hello! This is the oldest request in my inbox, so I hope this ends up being worth the wait! Enjoy~ <3)

Warning: implied sexual activity

General headcanons - Non-massacre AU:

Itachi has always known that he would get married someday.

After all, it was his duty as clan heir.

But he never expected to actually love his mate. He was required to angle for a politically/socially advantageous match and he had made his peace with that.

If he had to marry someone to keep peace between clans, he would. If he had to marry someone his parents chose for him to keep conflict in the family down, he would.

Itachi’s fatal flaw is that he doesn’t see his comfort/happiness as important.

And while he looked forward to his future children, his future spouse was a neutral event. It would happen, whether he wanted it to or not, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Best case scenario, he might have a new friend, or at least someone he respects, to live with him.

Worst case scenario, he ends up in a horrible marriage. He tried not to think too much about this option.

He never expected there to be any love between him and his future spouse.

Until he met you.

He found a person who actually loved him. An alpha who was as dedicated to a future family as he was. A partner who respected him more than he had ever hoped.

And Itachi fell hard and fast.

So, when you proposed, he felt like everything he had never dared to hope for was coming true.

You went to get his parents’ permission first (and the permission of the clan by proxy) and did the proposal in front of them. It wasn’t ideal, you knew Itachi would be happier with a private proposal, but you also knew that Itachi wouldn’t believe that he had their approval unless he saw it first-hand.

Itachi and his family are very traditional, so you weren’t mated before you got married, instead, you mated on your wedding night.

Itachi is very happy to let his family dictate the wedding. He doesn’t care as long as he’s married to you at the end of the day.

(But he does have preferences that you can extract from him, but getting Itachi’s true opinion, can be like pulling teeth.)

Proposal:

You had known Itachi since you were both 18, two years now. You had been courting him officially for a year and a half before you proposed.

As I mentioned, you proposed in front of Itachi’s parents, to make sure that he knew that you had gained their approval.

Sasuke was also there, after years of bribery, finally accepting of you and Itachi’s relationship. You met Sasuke when he had just graduated from the academy, and he was not impressed by this new person stealing his brother from him when he wanted Itachi to train him ☹

For Itachi, it was a normal family dinner.

He definitely noticed that you were behaving nervously, but he knew his family could be stiff, overly traditional and a little intimidating, so he figured that was the cause of your discomfort.

Sasuke was also staring at you suspiciously the whole evening, but to be honest, sometimes Sasuke was just like that, so Itachi thought nothing of it.

You kept a hand on his knee for the entire meal, only letting go of him when you announced that you had brought dessert for everyone and would be happy to serve it.

Itachi smiled his gorgeous smile at you, so pleased to see you making an effort with his family (or perhaps he was smiling about the desert, Itachi’s sweet tooth is legendary after all. It was difficult to tell.)

Nervously clenching your hands, you walked over to the fridge, pulling out the plate of dango you had hidden in there earlier. It was Itachi’s favourite, and if there was anything to convince him to say yes to your proposal, it was a demonstration of how much dango you were willing to buy for him.

‘Don’t mess this up,’ you said to yourself, gingerly sliding the plate of dango out of the fridge. It was an elaborate platter that had cost far too much. There were seven different dango flavours with an assortment of dips and dressings, arranged artfully with fruit and dried flowers to decorate the plate.

You walked to back to the table and presented the plate with a dramatic flourish to hide your nerves.

Itachi’s face lit up. Despite your nerves, his obvious excitement put a smile on your face. He really was perfect.

And that’s why you can’t mess this up.

“There’s anko, green tea, sesame,” you pointed at each flavour as you listed them. “Hanami and…er… some other ones…?”

Sasuke scoffed at your embarrassing failure to recall the flavours, causing a red flush to creep up your neck. You didn’t even know that there was this many dango flavours before yesterday! Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, perhaps due to the sharp look Itachi had shot at him.

“I made sure to get enough for everyone, but there’s something I’d like to ask for in return.”

You could see Itachi trying to catch your eye, probably to ask what an earth you were doing, but you purposefully avoided looking in his direction.

“The only thing I ask,” you continued, nervously. “Is for a minute of your time before we eat dessert.”

Mikoto smiled at you and nodded for you to go ahead with a gentle wave of her hand. Sasuke simply raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t interrupt.

“Great,” you laughed nervously. “Um, so, er, Itachi.”

Itachi straightened under your sudden attention. He looked immensely uncomfortable and confused, he was probably panicking about you doing something in front of his family that you would regret. He always played liaison between you and his family to avoid conflict and was probably not comfortable with you doing this. Unfortunately, he would never believe that you had his parents’ approval if you didn’t propose in front of them.

“I’ve known you for two years now, Itachi,” you started, finally looking at Itachi in the eye. “And it sounds horribly cheesy, but I think that I fall in love with you more every day.”

A barely audible gasp left Itachi. He was a genius, after all, he had probably figured out where this was going. He looked torn between panicked and elated, seeming to settle somewhere around shell-shocked.

“I’ve come to realise recently that, a life without that love, without your love, isn’t a life that I want.”

You can just about see tears gathering in Itachi’s waterline. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing at all.

With one final rush of bravery, you pulled out the diamond ring that had been weighing down your pocket for months and knelt down onto the dining room floor.

“Will you marry me?”

Itachi’s head whips around to face his parents, most likely preparing some serious damage control. But when he sees his mother’s gentle smile and his father’s subtle nod, he slowly moves his gaze back to you. You’ve never seen him look so shocked before. It was almost amusing enough to distract you from your nerves. Almost.

“I-,” Itachi swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say what you want to say, Itachi,” his mother replies, trying to encourage him.

His mother’s words seemed to break him out of his stupor and Itachi breathes out a single word.

“Yes.”

You let out a delighted and relieved laugh, taking Itachi’s hand in yours and slipping the ring onto his finger, and even though his family were all watching you, you couldn’t help but pull him into an embrace.

“I love you so much,” you whispered to him. “I’ll read you my real proposal speech this evening.”

Itachi laughed into your shoulder. His laughter had a hysteric edge to it, his mind still clearly reeling at what you had just done.

“Real speech?”

“You didn’t think I was going read my real proposal out in front of your parents, did you? No way. They still think we’re virgins and I didn’t want to spoil that illusion for them.”

Itachi quickly and efficiently jabbed you in the stomach and hit you with his infamous glare.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you winced, gingerly rubbing the sore spot.

Finally, you pulled away and moved to dish out the dango. And if Itachi got the biggest portion, well, no one mentioned it.

Planning:

Itachi lets his clan take over the planning.

He doesn’t want to deal with the stress of having to combat his family at every turn and would much rather just let them do it. As long as you’re there with him, nothing else really matters.

But even when his clan leave the smaller decisions up to him, he’s hesitant to voice his opinions, wanting his alpha to make them as an apology for his family commandeering everything.

But if you pay attention to little signs and reactions that Itachi gives, you can figure out some of his wants and desires.

Overall, there isn’t much to say about the wedding planning, because Itachi doesn’t do much of it.

Things he wants (compromise available/no compromise allowed):

Sasuke as his groomsman and Shisui as his best man – Itachi doesn’t have many close friends or relatives. He has you, Sasuke, Shisui… er, he’d probably invite his old captain Kakashi and… well, you get the point. So, every person who is important to him needs to be by his side at his wedding, and who is more important than his best friend and little brother.

A traditional wedding – He isn’t actually that bothered by what type of wedding he has, but he knows his family and clan will insist on a traditional celebration and as I mentioned, he doesn’t want to fight. The elders will push the wedding to be held in the clan compound and Itachi would be told to wear a traditional Uchiha wedding garment.

A sweets cart – This is something that he won’t bring up, and therefore isn’t bolded, but it’s very easy to see his face light up when he sees this in a wedding catalogue. It’s a wooden cart with different jars of sweets with little scoops for people to help themselves to. Itachi loves sweet food, obviously, but he also thinks it would be something the children in the clan would adore. He kind of really wants one, but he won’t bring it up unless someone else does first.

An early wedding – He won’t fight you or his family about this, but ideally, he would like to get married in the morning, maybe around 8 or 9 AM. Itachi is definitely an early bird who prefers the ambience of the early morning which is part of the reason, but mainly he just wants the performative part of the wedding over and done with so he can start his honeymoon. He doesn’t find it appealing to spend all night pretending to tolerate the elders of his clan who will almost certainly spend their time berating him for his choice of partner and then telling him he needs to have as many children as possible because he’s a powerful ninja that will produce powerful children. He just doesn’t want to deal with it. Leaving at 6 PM with you to go on your honeymoon and finally, finally mate? That sounds much more fun.

To try and conceive on his honeymoon – Obviously, he’s not going to force anything if you aren’t ready, but he would really love to start trying to conceive straight away. He’s desperate to have his own children, firstly, but also, he knows this is his only ticket to retiring from being a ninja. He wants to retire so badly, and so if you’re both ready for children, he doesn’t want to wait.

The wedding:

You don’t see Itachi for a day before the wedding, as is tradition. You see him for the first time that weekend when he’s walking down the hall towards you.

And as Fugaku walks Itachi down the aisle, you are completely breathless.

He looks stunning.

His hair had been intricately platted with flowers, some lose strands of hair left to frame his face.

He’s wearing a deep red, formal kimono just as you expected, but it looked so much more beautiful than you had imagined.

He looked like royalty.

The whole ceremony flew by, and before you knew it, it was time for you and Itachi to say goodbye and leave for your honeymoon.

Your honeymoon was to be had at a cabin held deep in the woods on the Uchiha compound. The rule was that married couples could not be disturbed for anything other than a life-or-death emergency, so you would be completely alone.

It might have been nice to go abroad, but the Uchiha clan didn’t want Itachi to be distracted by his honeymoon outside of Konoha where he might be attacked and his eyes stolen.

You both had already been by to drop off everything you would need for the week, including clothes, food, games and toiletries.

So, now, all that was left was for you two to get there yourself.

You and Itachi had decided to amble your way to the cabin, taking your time to enjoy each other’s company after a day of socialising with everyone but each other. Not to mention that neither of your outfits were particularly well designed for gallivanting through the forest. It would be rather embarrassing to have to end your self-imposed isolation to go to the hospital on day one, so walking slowly was probably a good idea.

You had been walking for about thirty minutes so the cabin should be… There! You were there!

“Wait!” you shot out a hand to stop Itachi from entering, startling him slightly. “Don’t go in yet.”

Itachi furrowed his brows, absently blowing a stray hair from his face that must have fallen down during the walk.

“I… want to carry you inside,” you admitted bashfully.

Itachi chuckled but stepped closer to let you do it. You beamed at him, pressing a kiss against his lips as a thank you. He looked a lot more tired than this morning; his hair was falling out of its elaborate placement and the makeup you were sure he was coerced into using was a little smudged.

He really was the most beautiful person you had ever met.

With his permission now gained, you placed an arm around his shoulders and another arm behind his knees, before gently lifting him off the ground. You nuzzled Itachi’s neck, enjoying his content scent and the way he sighed happily at your attention.

With your husband firmly in your grasp, you nudged open the front door with your foot and stepped safely over the threshold. You carried Itachi all the way to the bedroom and placed him down gently on the bed.

Itachi leant up to steal a kiss.

“Bringing me straight to the bedroom, you are incorrigible,” he teased, kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable on the bed.

“I-I wasn’t, I didn’t mean that!” you sputtered, flushing under Itachi’s laughter. Silence fell over the room for a moment as the exhaustion from the day swept over you both.

“Would you mind helping me out of this kimono, please? I think it’s time for something a little more comfortable.”

It took a solid ten minutes to get Itachi out of his clothes and into some pyjamas. Ten minutes and a lot of swear words as every layer seemed to be hiding another one underneath.

“This wasn’t how I imagined undressing you on our wedding night, that felt a lot like pass the parcel but somehow more stressful.”

“Oh?” Itachi questioned, pulling you to sit down on the bed with him, finally free from the constraints of his wedding attire. “How did you imagine it?”

Rather than answer with words, you pressed wet kisses over Itachi’s neck, smirking against his skin as you felt his hand come up to grasp at your hair and a gentle moan escape from his lips.

This was definitely going to be the best part of the celebrations.

#itachi uchiha #omega!itachi #itachi x reader #alpha!reader #gn!reader #reader insert #omegaverse #abo #a/b/o #fluff #wedding #naruto #headcanons #scenario #alpha x omega #male!omega

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casuallyimagining · 4 years ago

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Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae, and @hoebii for editing this for me.

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When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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Taglist: @min-yus, @melindagrace31, @shrimpmsg, @ghostkat23, @demcreeps, @ggsmashgg, @findingourtreasure, @20emma0, @springbean, @black-rose-29, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @deeepvibes, @yzkyzkuniverse, @softbbyg0rl

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid au #thebtswritersclub #yoongi hybrid au #hybrid bts #hybridyoongi #yoongi hybrid #yoongihybrid #yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi angst

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matwith1t · 4 years ago

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A/N: Hiiii!! More writing! Yay! This was a fun one!! It’s 98% fluff with 2% angst, but I promise it has a happy ending 🙂 Thank you all so much for your encouraging words!! I cherish them all & hold them close to my heart 🥺 Any and all feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoy !

Summary: From your first date, first kiss, first hockey game of Mat’s, first I love you, to your first fight…You always learned something new about him.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: One swear word & brief allusion to smut // WC: 11.6K // Fluff & Slight Angst

It was your first date.

A blind date.

The nerves got the best of you, so you arrived at the coffee shop early. What if the subway line you had to take was late? What if you missed a stop? What if you took a wrong turn down a street? Twenty minutes might be a bit too early, but it was the only way to ease your anxiety.

You don’t even know the last time you were on a blind date. Your friend, Hayden, had set it up. After a drunken confession over a shared bottle of wine, you admitted you were scared that you were running out of time to find your person. And that’s when an idea clicked in her mind.

She said she had a friend––Mat––who was tired of flings and wanted to really date someone. You waved her off, the idea of being set up seemed too middle school for you. But after she showed you a picture of him…you gave her the go ahead to send him your number.

She contacted Mat, and he said that he was all in for a blind date with you.

You tapped your foot on the pavement as you stood outside of the coffee shop entrance you agreed to meet at. After scrolling through your social media a few times, you clicked on your messages. Were you at the right coffee shop? You clicked on his name, and triple checked that you had the correct place and time.

“Uh, Y/N?”

At the sound of your name, you peered up from your phone and saw a nervous looking boy––a boy you recognized from the picture your friend showed you on a drunken Friday night. With a nervous breath, you offered him a tight lipped smile, “Mat?”

He visibly relaxed at your confirmation that he didn’t walk up a stranger. He ran a hand through his messy styled hair and easily smiled, “Yeah, I––Hi.”

“Hi,” you let out a small laugh.

Oh my God, this is so awkward, you thought to yourself. This was why blind dates were only met for middle school. A blind date was not meant for anytime after that.

While you hadn’t even spent five minutes in his presence, your mind already jumped to the worst conclusion of this not working out as either of you planned. While dating might not work out, maybe you could get a friend out of this.

Mat took a step around you and opened the door, “Should we head in?”

With a nod, you thanked him for holding the door open. Walking in, you were instantly engulfed with the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of hardworking espresso machines. The shop was bustling with city goers, but there were enough empty tables that you didn’t feel the need to rush to save one. You let out another deep breath as you felt Mat’s shoulder slightly brush yours as he stood next to you in line.

“What are you getting?” He looked down at you.

You tilted your head as you read the menu board that hung behind the counter, “Maybe one of their house lattes?” You then moved your gaze to look up at him, “What about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, eyes not nearly looking at the menu for as long as you did to decide on a drink, before his eyes landed back on you with a smile, “An iced coffee.”

His smile was infectious. His smile was pretty. And you felt your stomach twist in knots the more you paid attention to the way his smile affected you.

“Also, you can––uh––get whatever you want,” his checks turned a bright shade of red as he stumbled over his words, “I’ll buy.”

You shook your head, but before you could say anything, the two of you were at the front of the line.

Mat was first with his order––an iced coffee––and then he turned his body to look at you, “And whatever she’s having.” You smiled in appreciation and gave the barista your order. You were about to move out of the way, and wait for Mat to be done paying, but he asked you another question, “Do you want anything to eat?”

You felt bad having him pay for coffee and something to eat. It was a coffee shop in New York after all, but the sound of your stomach making a high-pitched grumble sold you out. You felt yourself grow hot with embarrassment, and asked for a croissant. Mat tacked on two croissants to the order and swiped his credit card as if the steep price for two coffees and two pastries in a New York coffee shop wasn’t a concern.

From the two details Hayden had told you––which were his name and age––you knew he was young like you. If you wanted to splurge on a day like this, you needed to budget ahead of time correctly. While you were appreciative of Mat paying for you…it was a blind date. And you didn’t expect him to put so much effort into it

Maybe he budgeted his money better than you.

With your croissants on a plate, the two of you found a place to sit by a window. You tapped your fingers on the wooden table top. It was still awkward, you thought to yourself, as you counted down the seconds until your drinks came. Mat seemed to feel the awkwardness in the air too, but he braved his way through the weird atmosphere.

“So…” he nodded his head for ten seconds straight, eyes darting around the coffee shop, as he cut through the silence, “Where are you from?”

You answered his question, rambling a bit to fill the void, and then asked him the same question. It went back and forth like that for maybe thirteen minutes until your drinks were brought out to your table. Thankful that you had something to sip on if there was a lull in conversation, you circled your hands around the hot mug.

But the conversation never hit a lull; it was fun not knowing anything about Mat before you met him. And he seemed to enjoy it as much as you. You struggled to drink your coffee in a reasonable amount of time to save it from growing cold because of how much the two of you consecutively talked.

“So what do you do?” You took a sip of your lukewarm coffee.

He raised an eyebrow, “What do I do?”

You hummed a simple mhm at him as you swallowed down your drink, “Like, for work,” you set your mug down on the table and leaned forward, “What’s your job?”

“My job…” Mat muttered under his breath as he leaned back on the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes flickered down to see the slight flex of his muscles, and when you reconnected eyes with him, he smirked, “I play hockey.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, “Hockey?”

Mat nodded his head, the smirk on his face growing, as he kept silent. The two of you had been doing so well in avoiding silences, but you caught yourself in one. So, you took a sip of your drink, in hopes he would say something more about his job. But he continued to confidently sit back in his seat.

Not enjoying the sudden awkwardness, you added a futile point to your conversation, “I––I have some friends who play hockey. Only on the weekends though. Kind of like a rec league? Or just a pick up game––”

If you thought his smile was infectious, all you had to do was hear his laugh.

It was soft, a little more high-pitched than you imagined, as he slightly shook his head back and forth. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his eyes shut for a few seconds. As his soft laughter settled down, he scratched the bridge of his nose, eyes glimmering under the natural light that shined through the window next to him.

It was a glimpse into how he sounded when he felt happy. And you wanted nothing more than to hear a real––eyes screwed shut tight, nose wrinkling, head tilted back––laugh from him.

Mat mirrored you; he leaned slightly forward, forearms resting against the table as his smile slowly transformed back into a smirk, “I play professional hockey.”

Professional hockey…But he looked so young. The only rational explanation you could think of in your head was that he played hockey for a minor league team in New York.

With a nod of your head, you took another sip of your drink. The hour you had spent with Mat flowed easily, but for some reason, finding out that he was some sort of professional athlete produced a feeling of insecurity inside of you.

You took another long sip of your coffee.

“You’ll have to come to a game,” Mat’s confident voice dropped to a hesitant whisper, “If you want to.”

Setting the empty mug down on the table, you bit the inside of your cheek to conceal your growing smile. You let out a silent deep breath, collecting your thoughts, because if he wanted you to come watch him play, that meant he had to see some sort of future with you.

Whether the future be two and a half weeks, five months, or four years…He saw you in his life somehow.

“I’d like to see you play,” you assured him.

His eyebrows animatedly rose up, almost getting lost under the loose strands of hair that fell a little too perfectly against his forehead, and smiled wide, “Awesome, that’s––Okay, yeah, I’ll text you about it.”

Neither of you could hide the smiles on your face.

After sitting at the table with empty coffee mugs for quite some time, the only reason why the date ended was because Mat said he had to go dog sit for one of his teammates. Regretfully, both of you brought your empty coffee mugs to the counter, and walked out the door with smiles, laughter, and a promise from Mat to text you about attending one of his games.

As you made the journey back to your place, you didn’t know the last time you felt this giddy after a first date. While you learned surface level information about him; you also learned the sound of his laugh, and that he wasn’t too fond of dogs.

And you couldn’t wait to learn more about him.

–––

It was your first kiss with Mat.

A nervous first kiss.

It came close to a month after your first date, and admittedly, it was probably the longest you had waited for a first kiss, but Mat had a streak of away games that kept him from New York and the two of you had only hung out in public. While a first kiss walking through a park had been romanticized one too many times, it would have left you in a daydream––but whenever it felt right––someone always came up to Mat to talk about hockey. While he wasn’t approached in public often, it seemed like whenever he was, it ruined the moment.

Maybe it was a sign he would be better off as just a friend.

But that thought always disappeared whenever he gently slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers and giving your hand a squeeze. And just like the first time you held his hand, there was an explosion of ecstasy in your chest. A good tightness in your chest you felt whenever he held your hand.

You were at a bar with Mat and some friends, your fingers interlocked and resting on his thigh, pressed close up to his side. A smile lit up your face whenever you felt his chest lightly shake with laughter or his thumb softly graze the top of your hand. The only part of the night where your smile tugged downward was when everyone decided to call it an early night.

As if Mat felt the same disappointment, he whispered in your ear, “I’ll take you back to your place.”

You wished he would ask if you wanted to get ice-cream at the parlor a few blocks over, or ask if you wanted to stay at the bar, but you knew he had an early morning tomorrow. All you wanted was to spend more time with him, and if him making sure you got home alright was how you spent more time with him, you would take it.

After tabs were paid off and goodbyes were said, everyone was off in their separate directions. Except for you and Mat.

Surprisingly, the streets weren’t that crowded for it being the early evening in New York, but Mat tugged you close to his side; fingers still intertwined. The walk to the subway was full of quiet conversation of observations the two of you made down the street with a few small laughs. And when you were on the platform for your train, your laughs turned to whispers.

“If Beau was a little too much, let me know,” Mat leaned down to whisper softly in your ear, “and I’ll beat him up.”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you leaned your head against his bicep, shaking your head, you looked up at him, “You said that last time. He’s nice, I like him.”

Mat hummed, “Sometimes his teasing goes a little too far.”

His voice was light-hearted, just like how Tito sounded when he teased Mat whenever he whispered in your ear throughout the evening, but there was an underlying uncertainty in his voice. Almost like he was concerned that if Tito teased you too much you wouldn’t want to spend anymore time with Mat. But that was quite the opposite. Whenever a best friend poked fun at the other, it was almost always meant in good nature, and it also showed that Mat confided his feelings about you with Tito.

You mirrored his soft hum, and squeezed his hand, as you shrugged your shoulders, “I wouldn’t mind more of his teasing,” you smiled up at him, hoping that he caught the hidden meaning behind your sentence; you seeing a future together with more interactions with his best friend. “My friends are the same way.”

Mat raised his eyebrows, and you ducked your chin into your chest out of nervousness at his next words, “So is that our next date? I meet your friends?”

Next date.

The thought of going on countless more dates with Mat caused an electric jolt to shoot down your spine. And when you flicked your eyes up to stare into his, you felt as if you were caught in one of your dreams. His eyes were already gazing on you in awe, with the corners of his lips lightly tuned upward into a soft closed lipped smile.

He moved his head closer to yours, it was just a centimeter of movement, but you noticed it. And you held your breath as you looked down at his lips, hoping that you would finally have your first kiss with Mat.

But like all of the people who interrupted the two of you whenever you were on a walk in the park, the harsh breaking sounds of the subway coming to a halt caused Mat to move away and stand up straight.

Mat cleared his throat and you let out a sigh at the ruined moment.

The train stopped, you waited until people were off the train car, and Mat swiftly tugged on your hand to make sure that the train didn’t escape before you had the chance to get on. The train car was empty, also a very rare sight on a still relatively early evening in New York. You made your way to sit on one of the empty seats, but your stretched out arm snapped back into Mat’s chest as he held tight onto your hand.

“Do you not want to sit?” You looked up at him as he gripped onto the pole in the center of the subway car.

Mat shook his head as he dropped your hand. But you didn’t have time to be sad at the loss of contact for long because Mat curled his arm around your waist, “Too dirty,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled you close to his chest, “And we’ve been sitting all night, kinda wanna stand.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pressed your palms flat against his chest as the train jolted to a start.

Standing in silence with Mat on the empty subway was more relaxing than it should have been. Because while the unpleasant sound of the subway on the tracks echoed through the tunnel, with your head resting on Mat’s chest, all you heard was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You could feel yourself dozing off as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hip, but your senses heightened when he trailed his hand slowly up your back. The feeling of his fingertips making contact with your spine caused goosebumps along your skin. And you swore your breathing stopped when you felt his hand trail up your neck, his fingers cradling the back of your head with his thumb on your cheek.

Hesitantly––hoping that you knew what was to come in the next few moments––you looked up at Mat through your eyelashes.

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he stared down at you with a crease in between his eyebrows. With your hands still firmly placed on his chest, you could feel the deep breath he let out through his nose.

“I like you,” Mat blurted out.

You let out a breathy chuckle at his admission. You knew that he liked you by the way he always held your hand and how he liked to call you more than text, but to hear him verbalize his feelings felt nice.

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your smile as you saw his head move a centimeter closer to yours, “I like you, too.”

Mat glanced at your lips, and then at your eyes, and even with a slight nod of your head, Mat still hesitated as if he was waiting for you to pull away. But you weren’t going to pull away––you didn’t want to pull away––because you had been waiting for this moment where your heart hammered in your chest, and your breath got caught in your throat.

And as you felt him let out another shaky breath, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. His lips touched yours gently at first, a tender brush, as if he anticipated being electrocuted by a spark. But when nothing happened, Mat tucked his lower lip between yours in another gentle, but lingering kiss.

You had plenty of first kisses before in your life; there had been first kisses that had been harder, more rushed, more chaste…but never had you felt a first kiss that was so simple and right than you did with Mat. Your lips were merely pressed together, but you could still feel him everywhere.

There was something so innocent about the kiss, as if both of you were afraid to mess up.

The two of you separated just as softly as you’d come together, just enough room to where you could peer up at him and still feel his breath across your face. Then the two of you laughed. Shy, whispery giggles that had more to do with nerves rather than humor. And as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes, it was as if instinct kicked in and Mat’s lips were back on yours.

This time, your lips met with more certainty, eager to feel. A soft sigh escaped your lips when Mat parted his lips further and you felt the tip of his tongue. The hand that had previously cupped your cheek, was now on around your lower back as he pressed you close to him. And to keep yourself steady as the subway car went around a bend, one of your hands gripped his shirt as the other clutched onto his bicep.

As the two of you shared your first kiss on an empty New York subway, you learned a few more things about Mat. You finally learned what his lips felt like pressed against yours, and that he was absolutely terrible at navigating the subway after the two of you missed your stop.

With the way he made you feel during your first kiss, you couldn’t wait to feel that spark of joy again.

–––

It was your first hockey game.

Your first New York Islanders hockey game where you knew a player on the ice…and more importantly, where a player was your boyfriend.

“Oh he will love it,” Hayden smirked at the #13 jersey you wore as the two of you walked with the crowd toward the arena, “I still can’t believe you thought he was a minor league hockey player.”

You lightly knocked your shoulder against hers as you let out a small laugh, “How was I supposed to know he played for the National Hockey League?” You raised your eyebrows at her, “You literally only told me his name and that we were around the same age when you set us up.”

She tipped her head back in laughter, “I thought you paid attention to sports!”

“I do!” You mirrored her smile as the two of you took out your tickets to be scanned, “But you can’t see what they look like under their helmets clearly.”

After the two of you passed security, you found yourself amongst a sea of white, navy blue, and orange as you walked to your seats, “I still can’t believe he didn’t tell you he played for the Isles.” She snickered, “He has way too big of an ego to let that slide.”

You felt your stomach churn with embarrassment as your whole body heated up.

While Mat said that he played professional hockey on your first date, he conveniently left out that he played for the New York Islanders. It was a week and a half after your first date when you found out that detail. Mat was away for a few road games, and as the two of you were texting, he casually slipped in that you should watch the game on T.V.

You thought he was joking because you didn’t think that they broadcasted minor league hockey games on television. But he called you to give you his NHL TV login and informed you to tune in at 7 PM for the New York Islanders game. Again, you thought he was joking, but you tuned in anyway.

The shock you felt through your body was unlike anything else you felt when you heard the announcers talk about how amazing Mat Barzal has played for years as an Islander. And when the camera focused in on him for a few seconds, you scrambled to text Hayden for confirmation.

But now, nearly three months into your relationship, you had found a time where your schedule worked with Mat’s to go to one of his games. He asked if you wanted to sit with his teammate’s significant others, but you said you would be more comfortable with Hayden for your first hockey game of his.

As the two of you sat down a few rows behind the Islanders bench, you tugged the sleeves of your #13 Barzal jersey over your hands. He’s your boyfriend, you thought to yourself as you felt self-conscious wearing his jersey, no need to be nervous…other people are wearing his jersey too.

But those other people didn’t share intimate moments with him. Other people didn’t know how his calloused hands felt as they delicately touched your skin. Other people didn’t know he slightly snored when he napped.

Sure, other people idolized him as a hockey player, but you were always in awe of him when you learned a specific trait about him that he didn’t share with the rest of the world.

“Do you see him?” Hayden leaned over to speak in your ear as she pointed to Mat skating on the ice, “Right there.”

With a hockey stick in his hands, Mat skated in circles to practice his puck movement. The face you admired so much was hidden under his helmet, but you could clearly see his number and last name on his jersey.

You smiled wide and nodded your head, “This is exciting.”

Hayden laughed at your eagerness to have the game start as you practically bounced in your seat. Soon enough, the players finished their warm ups and skated toward the bench. One by one, they hopped off the ice.

“I’m gonna call out his name,” Hayden smirked as she cupped her hands around her mouth.

But with wide eyes and embarrassment already in the pit of your stomach, you pulled her hands away from her mouth, “Don’t you dare––”

“Looks like he’s already found you,” Hayden’s smirk widened as she waved her hand at who you presumed was Mat.

You whipped your head around to the bench and saw Mat, with his helmet off, awkwardly half-turned around on the bench as he sat next to a number #18 and #27. And like every time you saw him, a smile that you couldn’t contain instantly made its way onto your face. You picked up your hand and animatedly waved at him with a beaming smile.

Mat lowered his head for a moment, hair slightly falling onto his forehead, and when he picked his head up to wave at you, you saw his cheeks twinged with pink coloring.

Feeling too excited watching your boyfriend play live for the first time tonight, you couldn’t help but turn your shoulder toward him as you showed off the #13 on your sleeve. When you dropped the hand that stretched out the sleeve to show him his number, you expected to see a smile as wide as yours on his face. But instead, you saw his eyes wide open and mouth formed in a straight line, jaw slightly clenched, as his chest expanded; taking in a deep breath.

Confused, you tilted your head and looked at Hayden, “Is he not happy that I’m wearing––”

Letting out her loudest laugh of the night, Hayden bent forward and clutched her stomach, “Oh, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hayden had known Mat longer than you, so you knew that she knew things about him that you weren’t privy to yet. But her comment intrigued you.

“What do you mean?”

She just shook her head as her shoulders still slightly shook.

You turned back around in hopes to see Mat, but when your eyes landed on the bench, you saw Mat being jostled between the two players he sat next to. And upon further inspection, you read the last names on the jersey’s; Beauvillier and Lee.

Lee was still elbowing Mat when Tito turned around with a wicked smile. He cupped a hand around his mouth, “Nice jersey! He loves it!”

Tito’s voice fell a little flat among the crowd that started to fill their way to their seats, but you still heard him. And his comment only spurred on more laughter from Hayden.

At this point in your relationship with Mat, you were used to Tito’s teasing. And in the time you had been in the arena, you had grown accustomed to Hayden’s laughs. You didn’t think too much of their actions, your mind still wrapped around how all you wanted was for the game to begin.

And soon enough, the game started.

You were on the edge of your seat for the entire first period, clutching Hayden’s hand anytime Mat was shoved from behind or slammed into the boards. The second period was just as thrilling, and even though a penalty was called on Mat, he caught your eye briefly before he sat down in the penalty box. And the third period…While you stood up and cheered with the rest of the arena whenever the Islanders scored, no amount of excitement in the first two periods felt as exhilarating as when you watched Mat score.

With Hayden, you leaped up and hugged her tight as you cheered with a blinding smile.

“He scored!” You held her at arm's length away before turning your attention back on the ice.

His line-mates gathered him up in a hug, patting his helmet, and then he skated out with a wide smile. Mat was on his way to high-five his teammates on the bench, but before he held his glove out for them, he quickly pointed in the general direction of where you were sitting.

To anyone, it looked like he was pointing toward the Islanders bench, or even at the fans. And while there was an increase of cheers from your section at Mat’s little call out, you knew he was pointing out one specific fan in the crowd.

After the third period ended––with the Islanders winning by three––fans could either be heard still celebrating, or seen walking up the aisles to beat the traffic. But you and Hayden stayed in your seats, and especially paid attention to Mat who was out on the ice giving a post-game interview. His voice boomed through the arena, but all you could focus on was his heavy breathing and how his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

With most of your section cleared out, you and Hayden walked down to the row right behind the glass that was closest to the ice. Not one to shy away from being heard, Hayden pounded her fist against the glass and shouted your boyfriend’s name, “Mat!”

She continued to pound on the glass and call out his name until his post-game interview ended. And when the camera cut, Mat’s eyebrows automatically rose as he skated toward the two of you with a smile.

Through the glass, you waved at him, “You played so well! So amazing––And that goal?! You were so incredible.” His wide smile slowly transformed into a smirk as his eyes darkened just a bit, “That was so much fun.”

Mat chuckled and shook out his hair, “‘I’m glad you had a good time.”

“You two!” Hayden called out. You and Mat both broke eye contact with each other to see your mutual friend standing a few rows up with her phone pointed at the two of you, “Smile! It’s your first hockey game together.”

You let out a soft laugh as you turned around and leaned your back against the glass, standing up on your tiptoes so you didn’t look shorter next to Mat who wore skates. And as if he was physically next to you, and not separated by plexiglass, you leaned your head towards him and smiled wider than you had ever in your life.

After Hayden finished taking more than enough photos to commemorate your first hockey game of Mat’s, you spun around to face him again. From behind, you heard an usher say that it was time for fans to leave the arena, but you clearly heard Hayden say, I’m with her and that’s her boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes at Hayden and scratched the bridge of your nose as you stared at Mat through the glass.

“I need to change,” He chuckled, “But I’ll meet you outside? Hayden knows where the exit is.”

You nodded your head vigorously, “That sounds good, yeah,” the smile you had when you took your picture together never left your face, “I still can’t believe how well you played, it was––Oh my God. I can’t wait to come to more games.”

The smirk Mat had on his face as you praised his performance morphed into a faint smile as he poked the glass with his glove where your face was, “Keep the compliments coming when I’m off the ice.” You rolled your eyes at him as he waved at you, “I’ll see you soon.”

You raised your hand to touch the cold glass, “Bye,” you whispered as your fingertips slowly trailed down the glass as you watched Mat skate away backwards.

Feeling like you were on top of the world, you spun around with a lovesick smile on your face, ready to meet your boyfriend at the exit. Walking up the aisle and out of the arena, Hayden sent you the pictures she took of you and Mat. And as you waited by the exit Mat said Hayden knew, you set your lock screen and home screen to one of the pictures taken just twenty minutes ago.

When you heard the familiar laugh of your boyfriend, your ears perked up and you put your phone in your bag. And when you saw him walking out in his game day suit with Tito––who shoved Mat’s shoulder––for the hundredth time that day, you smiled.

Standing up from the stone ledge you sat on with Hayden, you rocked on your heels as you waited for Mat to come closer. And once he wasn’t too far away, you sped walked over to Mat as Hayden walked more slowly behind you as she snorted at your eagerness.

While you found it fun to watch Mat skate around the ice having the time of his life, there was nothing you enjoyed more than hugging him. You almost didn’t see his glowing smile––one that showcased all of his teeth––before you barreled into him.

Arms wrapped tightly around his waist, you hugged him impossibly close to you, “That was––Ah!––I’m still not over how fun that was,” you pressed a kiss to his neck before tilting your head up to look at him, “I know I already said how good your goal was so good––And I’ll stop after this––But really, that was so cool how you skated around those defenders and––”

Both Tito and Hayden’s laugh caused you to stop complimenting Mat on his goal. You caught a glimpse of Mat’s glare on his two friends, and then turned your head over your shoulder to see them hanging off each other as they laughed. You felt Mat’s hands tighten around your waist, the tips of his fingers felt like they burned a hole through your clothes and scorched your skin.

“Oh don’t––Don’t mind us,” Hayden wiped a few tears away from the corners of her eyes, “Please, carry on––”

You scrunched your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Barz, will––He’ll––” Tito’s face went red as he found it harder to breathe through his laughter. But once he calmed down, he chuckled, “Don’t stop praising him, he loves it.”

Mat flipped off his friends as he raised his hand to where the 13 patch was on your shoulder. With a small smile, he tugged on your sleeve a few times, “Hayden, send me the pictures you took,” he yelled over to his still laughing friends before he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

As the night continued on, the four of you celebrated the win and Mat’s goal with drinks at a bar. As you leaned your head on Mat’s shoulder, you learned how fun it was to attend one of his games. And you learned that the rush of joy you felt course through your veins when you saw Mat succeed was unparalleled to any feeling of happiness you had ever felt with a partner.

And late that night in Mat’s apartment, as your hands wandered through his hair, over his biceps, and across his chest…He trailed his lips across your cheek, down your neck, and down past the valley of your breasts…You also learned that Mat liked to be praised in more ways than one.

–––

It was your first I love you.

The first I love you that you said to a person where you felt the sensation of those words taking over every crevice of your body…but like your first date, those words made you anxious and light-headed at the thought of admitting it.

Love.

Love was a commitment; a feeling that shouldn’t be taken lightly when in relation to two people who mutually cared and respected each other. It was a word you cherished, a feeling you craved nothing more in the world; and it was exactly how you felt about Mat.

Eleven months into your relationship with Mat––that you didn’t even think would get this far––you knew you were in love with him. There were times the sentence almost slipped past your lips, and there were moments where you thought he would say it too…but like your first kiss, both of you were hesitant.

Since the day you met him, you learned something new about him each day, and you didn’t want to stop getting to know him.

“So, what are you doing with your break?” You spoke through your phone as you waited at a street corner for the light to change with a group of people.

Mat scoffed, “This is hardly a break,” he bitterly whispered into his phone, “Literally not even a five minute water break.”

You gripped the brown paper bag of small groceries in your hand as your heart ached at his exhausted voice. Mat explained to you that the Islanders were going through some sort of bootcamp to get them out of their losing slump. But the bootcamp was on top of their already packed schedule of games and practices.

“And they can do this?” The light changed and you moved with the crowd, “It doesn’t seem fair.”

Mat let out an exasperated breath, and you could picture him running a hand over his face, “I miss you.”

Him changing the subject wasn’t lost on you, but with the limited time Mat had and how drained he sounded, you knew better than to press the subject further.

“I miss you too,” you smiled softly as you dodged a few people walking down the opposite direction of you on the sidewalk, “I just bought stuff for dinner tonight though, so that’s––”

But your sentence was cut off as someone rudely knocked into your shoulder hard––Watch it, they sneered at you––and caused you to stumble into a few people walking next to you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized to the people you crashed into. They smiled in appreciation, knowing full well that if it wasn’t for the person who bumped your shoulder, the accident would’ve been averted.

“What was that?”

Mat’s worn out voice from before disappeared as he now sounded on high alert.

“Nothing,” you let out a sigh, because while you knew it wasn’t your fault you stumbled into people, it still felt embarrassing, “But as I was saying, for dinner––”

“No, that––I heard someone yell at you,” Mat’s voice was low, insistent on what he heard on your end, “What happened? Are you okay?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “Yeah, someone just bumped into my shoulder.” Because while it was New York, and you had been bumped into plenty of times before, it had been a bit of a rough day. But you didn’t want that one thing to tip you over the edge, especially when you knew Mat was having it worse than you, “It’s fine, I’m fine. The eggs didn’t crack so it’s a win.”

Mat didn’t laugh at your attempt at a joke.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He paused before his voice dropped to an earnest whisper, “If you need me I can leave to come get you.”

“But practice––”

“No,” Mat cut you off, “If you need me I can leave.”

You thought about it. You thought hard about just waiting off in a park for Mat to come pick you up. But the subway station you needed to enter came into your eyesight. Even though he couldn’t see you, you shook your head, “I’m fine, I’ll just need a hug when I see you later.”

At that, Mat let out a breathy chuckle, “You and me both.”

You smiled, the familiar feeling of love that started with the squeeze of your heart spread through the rest of your body.

“Dinner at your place?”

“Yeah, my place tonight,” you answered him, “How much longer of this practice?”

You could hear the eye roll Mat gave off with his irritated voice, “Three fucking hours.”

Even though you weren’t a professional athlete, you rolled your eyes with him at how ridiculous all of the intense practice sounded, “As much as I want to keep talking with you,” you dreamily smiled to yourself because there was nothing you loved more than hearing Mat’s voice, “I know you said if players were late they have to run laps after practice.” You grimaced, “And I’m about to go under for the subway.”

Mat let out a sigh, he didn’t want to stop talking with you either, “Yeah…Running laps is the penalty.”

“You should be used to those.”

Mat scoffed at your comment, ”I’ll see you later at your place.”

“Mhm, bye Mat,” you hummed as you began to make your descent below ground, “I love you.”

“Wait, what––”

You ended the call and slid your phone into your bag as you took out your subway card. Easily, you swiped your card past tourists, and walked through the turnstile to the platform back to your place. While the rest of the day wasn’t on your side, the subway was, because your train pulled up right as you got to the platform.

While there were still seats available for you to sit in, you had grown accustomed to standing in the middle of the subway cart. You hooked your elbow around the pole, so that your hand wasn’t directly touching it, as you thought about the day on your way home.

It started off normal; waking up, getting ready for work, arriving at the office. But then small things started to happen; you forgot your laptop charger back at your apartment, someone had accidentally taken your lunch from the communal fridge because they thought it was theirs, and then someone spilled coffee on your freshly printed reports. But then the day got worse; Mat texted you saying he wouldn’t be done practice until late, your co-worker best friend said they were leaving the company for a new job, and then that stranger hit your shoulder.

But hearing Mat’s voice made your day a little better.

Knowing that he took time out of his grueling schedule to check in on you made your heart flutter even more with love.

Love.

Your eyes widened as the grip you had on the handle of the paper bag dropped. Your grocery bag fell to the ground just as fast as your heart. Because the last sentence you said to Mat replayed in your mind like a broken record.

I love you.

You didn’t even realize that you had said those words. You clutched those words close to your chest; held them so tight as if it was a secret Mat didn’t already know. And now all of a sudden…Your secret was out in the open.

The bile churning in your stomach caused your body to overheat and you wanted nothing more than to be out of the subway. You picked a loose piece of skin by your thumb so hard that it started to bleed. You swore under your breath as it began to sting, and curled your hand into a tight fist––with your thumb on the inside––to put pressure on the cut.

Unable to stand still with your anxiety, you got off a stop early and walked the rest of the way back to your apartment.

You had nearly walked into several people, almost walked across the street on a red light, and more or less banged your forehead against your front door. You thought you had unlocked the door, so when you turned the door handle, stepped forward, and walked into the wooden door…you saw that your keys had fallen to the ground.

Once you properly unlocked the door, you quickly walked into your apartment and hastily set the grocery bag down on the island. With shaking hands, you buried your face into them and let out a muffled whine. Because how could you let those words out so casually? How could you have been so careless?

Mat had three more hours left of practice. And that left you with three hours in your apartment alone.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at your phone to see if he was still coming over. So you cleaned. You changed out of your work clothes––into a pair of athletic shorts and one of Mat’s Islander shirts––and deep cleaned as much of your apartment as you could.

And it was when you were bent sideways, windex and paper towel in hand, as you scrubbed the inside of your microwave that you heard a key in your door. You felt your heart freeze and you scrubbed the microwave even harder.

The creek of the door echoed through your modestly sized one bedroom apartment just as loud as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The door shut the same time you heard the thump of his practice bag hit the hardwood floor.

And if you listened closely, you could hear him let out the same anxious deep breath as you.

Mat ever so slowly made his way out of the little hallway, and when you saw him appear in front of you––still bent at your awkward angle––it was as if you saw him in a different way.

Mat inhaled deeply, and then in one breath, his shoulders relaxed as he smiled at you, “I love you.”

You stared into his eyes enough times to know they were hazel, but where he stood in your kitchen, his eyes were dark brown. They weren’t illuminated with flecks of gold or green like you had seen in the past, but they were warm and inviting as his eyes captivated you in a different way than ever before. You loved his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair enough times to memorize the feeling how soft it felt, but his hair was a little longer in the front than usual. And with him looking like he ran right off the ice to be with you, his loose strands of scraggly hair fell messily against his forehead. You loved the way his hair framed his face.

Everything about him…from the slight stubble on his face that came close to breaking the Islanders facial hair policy, to the way he never got mad at you when you stuck your cold feet under his warm legs when you sat on the couch together. From his annoying traits, to the quirks only you knew about him, you loved everything about him

You released a breath you didn’t know you held because this…this was what it felt like to feel in love. It was fresh and exciting with hearts pounding. It was desire pouring through veins. It was a give and take; intertwined lives.

As the two of you stood in your kitchen, you learned what it felt like to feel entirely at ease with your place in the universe. For better or for worse, love is learning everything there is to know about a person.

And you couldn’t wait to learn how he loved.

–––

It was your first real fight with Mat.

And it terrified you.

The day had felt odd from the start; your routine not flowing like usual. And as the day continued on, you didn’t know what caused the negative feeling in the pit of your stomach to grow with every hour that passed. And even at the end of the work day, when you were in your own apartment, the feeling still lingered.

Already in a bad mood, you should’ve known better than to turn on a hockey game. But you knew that seeing Mat, even if it was through a T.V. screen, would make you feel better. He always made you feel better.

But he played a careless game.

It wasn’t even that he was playing bad, because honestly, he was playing really well. By the end of the first period he had two assists and handled the puck well. When the second period came around, he had scored his own goal. But Mat being Mat…he let the goal get to his head. The newfound confidence he had led him to be more aggressive with the opposing team’s players and more mouthy with the referees.

And with only six minutes left in the third period––the Islanders trailing by a few points––Mat dropped his gloves and instigated a fairly bad altercation with another player. You turned the television off before you could see Mat skate away to the penalty box.

Around an hour later when Mat walked through your apartment door the two of you stared at each other. You were curled up on the couch with a book, and he stood at the opposite end of the couch in his game day suit. He squinted his discolored left eye, his swollen bottom lip was bruised red, and you saw a few dried spots of blood on his face.

Neither of you were in the best mood, but that still wasn’t an excuse. Maybe you each expected the other to comfort you on your bad days…but that wasn’t the case for either of you now.

“I wish you were more careful,” you whispered up at him. You were still on the couch and he stood stiffly at the opposite end from you, “I don’t get why you have to fight.”

Mat let out an irritated breath out through his nostrils, “Did you even watch the game?”

Stunned by his attitude, you shut your book and rolled your eyes, “Of course I did. But that doesn’t mean––”

“Then you should know why I got in a fight.”

With a scoff, you flung the blanket off you and stood up. You mirrored his stiff position––jaw clenched, arms glued to your sides, and eyes narrowed in at him. The couch being the only barrier between the harsh words you threw at each other.

“That has nothing to do with what I said,” you huffed out, “I said you should be more careful––”

“I heard what you said,” Mat interrupted you with a snap in his tone as he shrugged off his suit jacket, “But I can’t control a fight if it happens.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I watched the game, Mat. I saw that you started it.”

“So it’s my fault?” He didn’t look at you as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, “Look, I don’t expect you to understand everything that goes on on the ice––”

“Excuse me?”

Mat rolled his eyes and his already irritable tone of voice sharpened, “Maybe if you cared a little less you wouldn’t be mad.”

His words felt like a punch to your gut. If you cared a little less. The squeeze of your heart was different than what it felt like when he told you he loved you a few months ago. Because instead of a warm tingly feeling that lifted you up, you felt a harsh burn throughout your body that made you want to shrivel up and hide.

Mat was one of the people you cared most about in the world.

But with both of your bad attitudes, like water and oil, your words caused more separation.

Your response was harsh––If I cared a little less, then who would care about you––and it sparked Mat’s short temper. He told you there were other people, people who wouldn’t make a big deal if he got in a fight because it was hockey. The yelling continued, intentional words of hurt shouted between the two of you. And soon enough, with both of you too blinded by rage, neither of you remembered why the argument even started in the first place.

“There are other people,” Mat spat out as he breathed heavily, “People who know me better. If we weren’t together, there would be other people who––”

His cruel words caused complete and utter devastation to flood your body. And you let the anger and agony of Mat’s ill fated words overtake every logical thought in your mind.

“If you don’t need me, then what are you waiting for?!” You threw your hands up as your shrill voice cracked as bad as you felt your soul shatter. Chin wobbling and chest heaving with erratic breaths, you repeated the question. Although this time, your voice was a whisper as the destruction of your words caught up to you, “What are you waiting for?”

Mat ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. And in a hurry, he scooped up his suit jacket from the couch and turned around. His heavy footsteps echoed through your silent apartment as you followed him to the door.

You choked on your words, “Where are you going?”

With his hand gripping the doorknob, you saw his shoulders tighten as he took a deep breath, “I can’t be with you.”

It felt as if the world froze, but at the same time, everything felt like it went too fast. A whirling sensation of grief caused you to lift your hand to cover your mouth. I can’t be with you.

You felt dizzy, unsure of if you wanted an answer to your question, “Are you…Does that mean just for now?” You bit your bottom lip as you tried your hardest to sniffle back your tears,”Or as in, you don’t want to be with me…anymore?”

Mat’s shoulders expanded in another deep breath as he mustered up the courage to turn around. Part of you wished he didn’t turn around because the heartbreak on his face looked just as bad as you felt. His chin wobbled like yours, lips pressed together in a firm line to keep his emotions to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, wide and scared like a child afraid of thunderstorms. And like yours, his chest heaved with small breaths, failing to keep his breathing under control.

“I don’t…” he shut his eyes tight and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Just for now.” Although his answer relieved only a sliver of anxiety you felt in the middle of your chest, it looked like he was still going to leave, “I need to leave before either of us say anything else we regret.”

Blinking rapidly, you still felt a few tears roll down your cheek as you nodded your head just as fast. You hugged your arms around your stomach and anxiously tapped your foot, “Will you…Are you coming back?”

A flash of pain crossed his face as he sucked in another deep breath, “Don't wait up for me.”

Before you could process his vague answer, his hand pressed down on the door handle and he was gone before he put his jacket back on. The door closed gently, but you would have rather it slammed shut so you would have that sound echoing in your mind instead of your insecurities.

Still hugging your stomach, you bit the inside of your cheek and slowly made your way back to the couch. As if it took all of your energy, you picked the blanket back up, wrapped it around your shoulders, and tucked yourself into the far corner. You sat alone, cold feet tucked in between the cushions, as you leaned your head back on the couch and let out a sob.

You purposefully said words to hurt him, and he had done the same with you. While the two of you had arguments before, they were never this blown out of proportion. There was never any screaming, there were never any tears, and neither of you had ever left the other’s place without reconciling. But with this fight…There was shouting, tears fell from both of you, and Mat left your place without a promise to come back.

You don’t know how many hours had passed as you stared at the wall ahead of you. But it was enough time for your cries to settle down and for the sound of a key to echo your silent home. And just like earlier in the night, Mat stood at the opposite end of the couch as you sat curled up in a blanket.

As the two of you stared at each other in silence, you learned what it felt like to sit in purgatory; not knowing if Mat was to come back that night or if you were to go days without seeing him. You learned what raw heartache truly felt like without his presence when all you wanted was a hug. And when he moved to sit next to you on the couch––finally receiving a hug from him––you also learned that he was just as sorry as you and didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You never wished to learn what a life without Mat truly felt like.

–––

The nerves you felt were worse than your first date with Mat. They had been with you for months, but they were now at an all time high that caused your hands to shake. And just like the nerves you felt before the blind date, they caused you to be twenty minutes early to the venue.

What if there was traffic? What if the piano player you and Mat hired brought the wrong sheet music? What if there weren’t enough seats? While you were twenty minutes earlier than your scheduled time that was designed to make sure you already arrived early to avoid any mishaps, it was the only way to ease your anxiety.

As you fiddled with the dress you always dreamed of wearing on this day, you inhaled a shaky breath as you stood in the private room alone. You needed space to concentrate on the fact that in less than a few hours you would have a different last name.

“Y/N?”

A light knock on the door and the call of your name caused you to whip your head. Hurriedly, you made your way to the door and leaned your shoulder against it as you made sure it was locked.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“It’s just me,” you saw the locked door handle jiggle as you heard a soft laugh on the other side, “Mat’s not with me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

You heard another laugh, this one more gentle, as Tito reassured you, “He knows about your superstitions, he wouldn’t try and sneak a glance.”

You thought about turning the best man at your wedding away, but the more you thought about it, the more you trusted him when he said Mat wasn’t with him. Mat knew you had certain superstitions you didn’t mess with; like lifting your feet up when you drove over railroad tracks or how you threw salt over your left shoulder if you spilled it.

He had learned all of those things about you.

The click of the lock coming undone caused you to hold your breath. Slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out the tiny slit with one eye. Tito had his face pressed close to the crack and you saw him close up. He didn’t pry the door like you thought, so hesitantly, you opened the door as you looked both ways to make sure your fiancé was nowhere in sight.

With the door fully open, Tito’s smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it before. He let out a low whistle, “Are you sure you I can’t marry you?”

Tito’s teasing had been a constant in the years of your relationship with Mat, and for better or for worse, it was about to extend into a lifetime.

You shoved his shoulder with your left hand, the engagement ring Mat picked out for you sparkling slightly in the light, “Shut up.”

“But really,” Tito slid both of his hands into the front pockets of his pants as he shook his head in disbelief, “You look beautiful. Mat won’t know what to do.”

“Hopefully he’ll say I do.”

Tito chuckled at your comment and then the two of you stood in silence. But when he slightly bowed his head and awkwardly rocked on his feet, you knew there was a purpose for his visit when he looked up at you.

“There is…Mat…” He took a deep breath, preparing himself for your answer, “He wants to talk with you.” Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately stepped back into the private room and went to slam the door shut. But Tito stuck his foot out in time to stop the door from slamming shut, “He’s not here––he’s still out there talking with people, but he heard you got here early early started sweating, and he just wants to hear your voice––”

You shook your head behind the door, “No.”

“C’mon,” Tito pleaded with you, “I’m sure it’ll calm you down to hear him––”

“What if he sees me?” You exasperatedly said, “Even if it was an accident. That would––”

“He won’t,” Tito’s voice held just as much firmness to it as he had confidence in his best friend, “He knows you too well to break your superstition.”

He knows you.

Hearing Mat’s voice would calm you down, but the anxiety of him accidentally seeing you before you walked down the aisle was too much. It was almost too much nervousness for you to handle on your own, so with a deep breath and a silent prayer that this wouldn’t blow up in your face, you whispered to Tito that Mat could talk to you.

Tito had spun around to retrieve Mat before you could finish your sentence. He rushed away from you, afraid you would back out on your word. But just as fast as Tito ran away, you slammed the door shut and relocked it.

You turned around and leaned your back against the door. Pinching the bridge of your nose to relieve some of the stress, you let out a deep breath. With only a few moments to yourself, you did a few breathing exercises before a shallow knock sounded from the other side of the door.

“Uh, Y/N?”

You could pick out his voice from anywhere, and you let out an audible sigh of relief, “Mat?”

He also let out a deep breath, and you could picture his shoulders relaxing at confirmation he didn’t walk up to an empty room. You turned around and placed your hand softly on top of the door handle; resting your forehead on the door you whispered, “I’m so nervous.”

“So am I,” Mat let out an airy laugh, “We’re the ones who decided to marry each other, yet we’re both a mess.”

You replicated his laugh and it went back to silence. You had spent years together with Mat, but no silence had ever been more poignant than this. You could hear his love, almost feel it, but you couldn’t see him. Not yet.

It was his trembling voice that broke through the silence, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Mat––”

“I’ll turn around,” he rushed out, knowing how strongly you felt about this superstition, “You can stay behind the door––just with your arm sticking out––We can both turn around so we make sure we don’t chance anything, because I––” he cut himself off, calming himself down with a single breath, “I really need a hug, but we can’t do that.” He let out another deep breath, “Please?”

You loved him more than anyone else in the world, and in turn, you would do anything for him; including holding his hand.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, and you were positive he could hear it, “Turn around.”

And with a click of the door unlocking, you opened it just a sliver of a bit open and turned around yourself. You stuck your left hand out for him, and in an instant, his hand found yours. You felt tears well up in your eyes out of happiness, because even though you could feel him now you still couldn’t believe you were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

You filled the silent void with your voice and added a futile point to the non-existent conversation. But you wanted him to know this about you, “I showed up to our first date twenty minutes early.”

Mat chuckled as he repeatedly stroked his thumb on top of your engagement ring, “I know.”

You squeezed his hand, “You know?”

Again, Mat let out another soft laugh, “I was thirty minutes early to our first date.” You felt your wide open mouth transform into a smile, “I was across the street and saw you waiting.” He lowered his voice, “I was so scared.”

You were convinced that was maybe the only thing he didn’t know about you, but he proved you wrong. Time and time again he proved himself to know you better than you knew yourself.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you whispered.

“You know me better than anyone else.”

The way he continued to trace around your engagement ring caused your heart to squeeze; it only made you more excited for when there would be a second ring on your finger, “There has to be something.”

You felt your heart pound against your ribcage as a few beats of silence passed over. From his drawn out silence, you knew he had something, you knew he was debating on whether to tell you or not.

“The picture we took together at the first hockey game you came to,” you could hear the shy smile on his face, “I’ve kept it in my locker since then.”

You felt your heart melt and chin wobble; this was something new you were learning about him.

“And I…” He let out a nervous laugh, and ever since the first time heard the sound of it, it was infectious, “I have it with me now in the inner-pocket of my jacket.”

A lone tear trailed down your cheek as you tried to sniffle the rest of the tears you felt behind your eyes away. It was your wedding day, of course you were going to cry, but you didn’t think it would be this soon.

Mat’s hand briefly dropped yours as you heard a crinkle of photo paper being taken out of Mat’s jacket pocket. You felt the corner of a piece of paper hit the palm of your hand a few times. Gently, and without looking down, you took the picture from Mat’s hand. And when you brought the picture up to your face, you squeezed Mat’s hand hard as an audible gasp left your lips.

The two of you looked so young. Which made sense considering the picture was taken a few years ago. You smiled at the memory as if it happened yesterday; you in your #13 Barzal jersey, tilting your head toward Mat as if you were leaning your head on his shoulder if the plexiglass wasn’t there. Hayden had taken a hundred pictures of the two of you, but this was different than the one you kept framed at your office.

You looked the same, but Mat looked different.

He still had his hockey stick in hand, but instead of looking at the camera like you, his head was faced down toward you. His eyes were locked in on your smile, wide in admiration. His closed-lipped smile was bashful, but you could clearly see the happiness radiating off him. That day, while you looked into the camera, still high off excitement from watching him on the ice; he looked down at you with all the love he held for you in his soft eyes.

“I even take it with me on road games.”

Tracing your fingers down the worn down, slightly torn up, and bent edges of the picture, you felt another tear roll down your cheek.

While you wanted nothing more to look at the well loved photograph of the two of you in love before either of you knew it, you didn’t want to cry too much before walking down the aisle. You handed the picture back to him so he had it for safekeeping, and squeezed his hand again.

“I love you so much,” you breathed out.

“I love you, too.”

As the two of you continued to hold hands until Mat was called away in order for you to start the last of your wedding preparations, you learned that Mat cherished the small moments. Whether he wanted to memorize the first time he fell in love with you by carrying around a photograph from early on in your relationship, or how he wanted to hold your hand before the two of you committed to a lifetime together…You learned more about him in those moments than ever before.

And when Mat would eventually slide a ring onto your finger––and you to his––it felt as if the rings held a promise heavier than til death do us part. From the moment you met Mat until now, the most important thing you learned about him was how good of a friend he was to you.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life as his friend.

560 notes · View notes

nari-nim · 4 years ago

Text

hongjoong as your boyfriend

nari note: ah yes, my bias wrecker :’) got requests for mingi and jongho, so they’re coming soon...but who else after them for this series? gif creds go to @hongjooong

Listen, his time is so precious so when he’s spending it with you? You’re precious. He doesn’t bother wasting his time with people who do not add value to his life, so when he’s paying extra attention to you and offering to buy you coffee on the way to work? Someone likes youuuu ;)

Likes to be friends first before dating

You definitely catch him staring at you a lot

He just thinks you’re so beautiful doing the most mundane tasks :((

Will make sure the relationship will work out before asking you out

Or ask him out and he’ll move mountains to make it work

Oh god he takes intimacy and closeness so seriously, so he will be careful about skinship when y’all first date

But he loves the feeling of you in his arms

Or when you back hug him at work

Speaking of work, absolutely the type to produce and sing love songs for you

Like a whole fucking album

But he won’t publish all of the songs for the public, some are simply just for your ears

Not in the way where all the lyrics are all R-rated, although he will make some of those songs for sure

But like very much likes to pour his heart out into the lyrics and beats, so those songs especially are just for you

He’s so loyal. Will work anything and everything out.

Love language is quality time (receiving) and acts of service (giving). This combination leads to a lot of romantic and sensual nights in! Think: making dinner together, eating candle lit dinner, warm baths, stuff that leads to more (expanded on later ;)), all those good cliches.

If it’s in the daytime, scenic drives while blasting music, taking photos on film cameras, chilling by the ocean, all of this fits so well with Hongjoong.

Date where he teaches you how to reform clothes and you end up creating a matching set together. Couple outfit. Couple goals.

Also nap dates!!

Cuddle him while he gets this well deserved and much needed rest!

Remembers literally everything you tell him

Very attentive listener, most likely won’t accidentally fall asleep

This means he gives really thoughtful and sentimental gifts, remembers all the important dates, and absolutely will remember that random person in college that hit on you from one singular conversation about them

all or nothing. Just super devoted and loyal.

Will want to help you learn, grow, and pursue your goals. Not exactly a hype man, but will help you slowly and steadily in the background

For example, uses his connections to help point you to the right direction for this risky career choice but won’t take credit for it unless you press him about it

Hmm.. the type to mentally fixate on a problem or try to solve it on his own because he just wants to see you happy, so make sure you try to coax whatever might bother him out so y’all can face the issues together!

But, he’s extremely good at communicating and conflict resolution

After the first few months, arguments are super rare because y’all worked out the biggest issues by then

And if anything comes up, he is so good at actively listening to you, finding compromises, and voicing his needs in a super understanding way

Ugh someone cuff this mans

Speaking of communication, he’s the type to only talk about his deepest worries or insecurities with the closest loved ones in his life so get ready to see a whole new side of him when dating

Will be so vulnerable and open with you so treat him gently and with kindness!

Deep conversations until the late am

A great ear when it comes to listening to you

Always has great, heartfelt advice

He’s someone you can always lean on! He has your back, always

But also make sure to be there for him because we all know he goes through so much and the strongest people need the strongest support

He’s okay with PDA, but not too much in front of people in KQ

Sticks to hand holding and little else

But he is such a cuddle bug in private! He actually lay on top of you or trap you on his lap, not letting you leave unless it’s an emergency

His hugs feel so safe

When y’all cuddle, you always feel so secure, warm, and loved

Dating him is the equivalent of understanding what a deep sense of belonging feels like

Haha y’all should dare each other to try spicy foods

Because if you like spice/take it well, watch him look at you in amazement and slight horror

And then proceed to sneak the spicy foods in his dish onto your plate whenever y’all eat out together

Even better, you eat the spicy looking food first as his personal taste tester and after a solemn nod, you just quietly take it off his plate for him/move the dish closer to you. You are his superhero.

Or if you can’t take it well like him, at least you both have fun chugging milk together

A true bonding experience either way

NSFW after this

Switch but with an extremely heavy dom lean

Eager to please. More than anything, likes to make sure you’re both pleasuring each other.

Loves to hear details of your sexual experience and what you like in bed. Simply as a way of getting to know you more. So y’all could literally be talking about choking on his dick casually over lunch. Seonghwa almost spat his drink out while passing by

He is consent king wbk

When y’all first started dating, there were times he forced you to stop kissing him just so he could pressed his forehead against yours and take some ragged breaths, hands gripping at your shoulders tightly, as he pulled himself together and tried to calm down

Because intense makeout sessions really turn him on

But once you experimentally rock your hips against his, watch his eyes shoot open and look at you with bated anticipation

The first time y’all get down and dirty he’s literally checking in with you before he does anything

Which is so cute, but you’re literally like “just fuck me” at one point

Once he knows your limits though, likes testing them little by little, but always checking in to see how you are doing

Definitely has hard dom potential, especially after both of you get super comfortable

But he still checks in, whether it be gruffly demand your color or pausing to look at you with a questioning look. Just depends on how fucked out you are.

Always coming up with ways to maximize your pleasure, will give everything you suggest a shot

He appreciates visuals. Likes seeing you in his clothes or in lingerie he bought you

Really into orgasm control

He loves loves loves hearing you whine for him

But also

He’s into breath he’s into breath play he’s into breath play he’s into breath play

Hm shamelessly bringing in astrology: so his scorpio ass can actually be quite freaky. But more than anything, he’s very intense during sex.

But would fuck you as stress relief after a long day

That… that gets really intense

You’ve used your safe word against him a few times before on those particular days

Also y’all have needy, desperate sex a lot

Because he’s so busy and you have your own life so when you get to have your time together, it can be a little animalistic the first few rounds

Then it transitions to like love making…very sweet, slow, and sensual :)

OH he is so romantic on anniversaries! He absolutely loves making it special and will spend the night making you shake from pleasure

But on other days where he’s tired as fuck, this is your chance to take care of him! Not necessarily doming him, but being a service top and cuddling him so well afterwards? He honestly loves it so much more than he lets on

Honestly though, I do see him as someone who will let you dom him if you are both feeling it

Not always, but again, he wants to maximize your pleasure

One time he let you top and you started licking his nipples #hongtiddies and it felt so good for him, you can tell from the way he starts squirming, rutting his hips up at you, and whimpering for you

Got shy before he hit subspace and you used it to mock him a little

Peg him. He'll take it. Like a mess.

Cums so hard

Was so red after

Pillow talk hits so different

Y’all are both bathing in that post-sex glow, faces inches apart, him kissing your knuckles tenderly, looking deep into your eyes while you both talk about your future, dreams, and aspirations

Whispers his “I love you”s at this time with such sincerity

You can just see the love in his eyes and gentle smile

</3

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pingutats · 3 years ago

Text

my dearest darling

in which you and harry spend a sunday morning having coffee & cake, and spontaneously decide to go engagement ring shopping together.

warnings: a little suggestive at the end. mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 3.4k

. . . . .

The little alleyway off the main street filled with café tables is a perfect place for you and Harry to sit unseen. In fact, in this little alcove, it’s easy to watch the world pass by the two of you. It’s a nice reprieve from the usual of the world watching Harry.

He’s wearing sunglasses anyway, just in case—despite the overcast weather.

You frown at him, resting your elbows on the table and lacing your fingers together to rest your chin on. “I really think that makes you more conspicuous.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Nah. Or at least, if people notice, they’re going to notice an odd bloke in sunnies, not me.”

“They’ll notice it’s you.”

He glances at the busy footpath. “‘S working so far, love.”

A young waitress rounds the corner from the cafe’s front entrance and sets your coffees down on the table. You move your elbows off the table politely to give her space.

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching for his black coffee.

You smile at the waitress as you wrap your hands around the latte you ordered, warming up your freezing fingers. You notice the way she hesitates before she leaves, how she looks at Harry like she wants to say something before before quickly spinning on her heels and walking away. When she’s out of earshot, you look at Harry. “She knows.”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

The waitress reappears a minute later with the little cakes you ordered. This time, she’s braver. “I’m so sorry—are you Harry Styles?” she asks, saying his name in a voice that’s akin to a reverent whisper.

His eyes dart to you for a split second and he raises his eyebrow enough that only you’ll notice, conceding to you, then smiles at her. “Yeah, I am. Sorry, what’s your name?”

You watch him navigate the encounter easily, like you’ve watched so many times. The girl asks for a photo and he politely declines, explaining that he doesn’t want to draw attention, but offers to sign a napkin for her instead. He a short message (nice to meet you, all my love) to her and draws a couple hearts after he signs his name, then passes it to her with a sweetly genuine thanks her for her support.

“Oh my gosh, no, thank you,” she says earnestly. “It was so, so nice to meet you.” She glances at you, then, and her cheeks go even pinker. “Thanks,” she says again, and then she’s gone.

You let a giggle free at the awkward way his fans treat you, like they don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk to you as well, and how they struggle to find something to say to you anyway. Once it might have bothered you. It’s just amusing to you now. You raise your brows at Harry. “All your love?” you tease, quoting the message he wrote on the napkin. “Where’s my share?”

He pouts from behind his sunglasses. “Don’t be like that.”

You kick his shin gently underneath the table. “I’m kidding around. She was sweet. I like watching you do that, you’re so good at it.”

His foot swings around to trap your ankle between his. “Trying to play footsie at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning? You little minx.”

You roll your eyes and wrench your foot free, rattling the table as you do so. He laughs—a sharp barking ha! that makes you smile through your embarrassment at causing a small commotion.

“Who’s conspicuous, sorry?” he asks.

You shake your head at him and stab your fork into your apple and cinnamon muffin. He keeps giggling as he slides his own plate with the carrot cake to his side of the table and picks up a fork himself.

“Mm, that’s good,” he says after he swallows his first bite. “Better than the one I make.”

“Well, baking isn’t known to be one of your talents.”

He claps a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.” He leans over the table and skewers a piece of your muffin on his fork, dodging your attempts to swat his hand away with great agility. He pops it in his mouth triumphantly, cocking his head like he’s challenging you.

In return, you steal a piece of his cake.

“That was a much larger piece than what I took,” he accuses.

You shrug.

His phone, face down on the table, dings. He glances up at you.

“Check it,” you tell him. You know he only has alerts on for his closest friends—otherwise his phone would be ringing all day long. “I don’t mind.”

He bites his lip apologetically and flips the phone over, reading it. “Oh, it’s Tom. Hang on a sec.” He starts typing back.

You crane your neck around to read the message—something about Tom being free at the end of July, and Harry is giving a thumbs-up to that.

“Where are you off to?” you ask.

“France, maybe,” he replies. You’re aware that discovering this kind of information so suddenly would be jarring for most couples, enough to even incite a fight—but you and Harry aren’t exactly a normal couple, and international trips are just part and parcel of your relationship. Hell, he goes on world tours for months at a time. You’re lucky, you suppose, that you function just as well long-distance as you do when you’re living together.

“Lads’ trip?”

He sends the message and clicks his phone off, leaning back in his chair. “Nah. Taking you to Paris and getting down on m’knee in front of the Eiffel Tower,” he says, nodding sagely.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, Tom’s there to get the photos.” He shovels a forkful of the cake into his mouth and then points his fork in the general direction of a street busker playing a violin across the road. He swallows. “And I’m getting that guy to play a little tune, for the atmosphere,” he adds.

You raise your brows. “Oh, you’ve got budget for this, then.”

He smiles. “Nothing but the best for my dearest darling.”

You snort.

He carefully cuts a piece of cake with the edge of his fork. “Nah, we’re thinking of doing a trip down to his friend’s studio in—somewhere in France, I can’t remember really. Friends and family welcome too, if you want to come. Apparently it’s a real nice place.” He eats his mouthful and then lifts his sunnies to look at you with clear eyes. “We are getting married, though. I mean that.”

Your cheeks threaten to burst from how badly you want to smile, but you force yourself to assume a serious face, just to humour him. “Of course we are.”

Despite the butterflies it inspires, this conversation isn’t new. You’ve been with Harry a couple of years now and you both know you’re on the same page when it comes to your shared future. There are no hard plans, but the direction is set. You’re getting there someday.

He puffs his cheeks out. “I feel like you aren’t taking this as seriously as I am.”

You sigh melodramatically. “Well, sweetheart, I haven’t seen a ring yet.”

“A ring? You should have asked,” he drawls, then suddenly sits up straight and points a finger at you. “Don’t take that as a challenge. I want to be the one to ask.”

You shrug. “Can’t make any promises.”

His arm shoots forward to grab at your hand and you almost laugh out loud at the puppy-eyes he’s making at you. “No, please, baby, I swear you can do everything else, but let me do the proposing bit.”

In your heart, you’re happy he’s so insistent, because this is exactly how you want it to be too. In your mind, though, you really enjoy tormenting him.

“I’ll think about it,” you concede, and he groans.

“I’m buying a ring soon as I can, just to lock it in,” he tells you as he destroys what’s left of his carrot cake.

Once you’ve finished and Harry’s gone up to pay for the coffee and cake (he also took a moment to lean over the counter to snap a group selfie with the waitress who served you earlier and a couple others too) you walk back up the street in the general direction of your car that’s parked a few blocks down. The weather is pleasant today and the sun is even peeking out from behind the clouds now, justifying his sunglasses.

Your mind starts to drift (his arm wrapped loosely around your waist anchors you to the real world) as you think about how nice it is to be with Harry, how you’ve learned to appreciate each physical moment you have with him because they are so precious. After the tours, the promotional trips, the film sets, and all the little things in between, you understand how to be with Harry. You know not everyone can handle a life like this, and you’re sure that if it wasn’t Harry whose return you awaited, you wouldn’t be able to either. But he always returns.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a shop window, gazing in. You’re nearly yanked off your feet as you keep trying to walk with your arm around him—he’s so steady that he doesn’t budge. You stand next to him and look into what you realise is a jewellery store.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Huh?”

He looks down, his arm squeezing around your shoulder. “Said I’d get you a ring, didn’t I?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What, today?”

“‘M not asking. Just preparing.”

You raise your eyebrows up at him. “That is… that is really a technicality.”

“Humour me,” he says. “C’mon.” He shepherds you into the store, steering you by your shoulders.

It’s small and pretty in here, the air from the fans cool against your sun-warmed skin. There are hardly any other customers at the moment, so you have some kind of valuable privacy. There are a couple of glass counters that run along either side of the store with meticulously placed themed displays inside them. You gravitate immediately to the closest thing, a cluster of rough amethysts hanging from necklaces.

“Aren’t these so cute?” you comment to Harry.

His arms wrap around you from behind and you reach up to grasp onto his crossed forearms resting against your chest. “Oh, yeah, they are.”

You stay there looking at the necklaces for a little too long—it’s not like you’re really that fascinated by the jewels, but more that you’re just enjoying Harry’s head leaning over your shoulder and his chest pressed to your back as you stand there. When your gaze meanders along the counter and you see something new, though, you shake free of his grip and follow your whims.

This store isn’t labelled out front with a massive brand. You’re pretty sure it’s an independent jeweller, judging by the neat description cards that accompany each small collection, explaining the theme in a lively and personal manner. This is what makes you really fall in love with the place and feel sure that this is where you’ll find the perfect ring. You know Harry could afford any ring from any famous brand, the heaviest jewels imaginable, easily worthy of a feature article in Vogue magazine. He could probably organise to have a diamond dug up fresh specifically to go on your finger.

It’s the fact that Harry could give you anything in the world that makes you not want it at all. Special, to the two of you, isn’t something that you’ll find in wealth or the crowds that adore him.

It’s found in a day like this.

“Oh, my god, H, look at this one,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over.

He bends over the counter, his gaze following the line of your pointing finger. “Oh, that is pretty,” he says.

It’s a simple gold band with a small, neatly carved diamond fixed to it. It isn’t flashy at all, which is what drew you to it. You knew he’d like it too. Despite the decadence of his performances, he can be a different man behind closed doors and you love that part of him. The secret part, the one that only you know so well.

“I’m in love with it,” you tell him.

Harry nods. “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

You never doubted that he would agree, but his assent sends a bolt of excitement up your spine. It’s all so real, suddenly, and you can’t wait to see him on his knee for you, to see that ring on your finger. You know your ring size off by heart (how could you not, being in a relationship with the jewellery connoisseur that Harry is), so there’ll be no need for you to try it on today. You’re left with only the raw anticipation of the day he’ll slide it onto your finger.

His hands come down to rest on your hips as you both stare at the ring. You imagine you can hear his heart, knowing that it’ll be beating erratically because his excitement must match yours—you know how he feels about the idea of marriage.

He spins you around to face him, leaving his hands on your hips. He looks at you very seriously. His sunglasses are resting on top of his head now, pushing back his curls and revealing his green eyes and furrowed brow to you.

“You know, if we’re seen buying an engagement ring…” he begins, trailing off. He shrugs. “Just want to think about that.”

You screw up your nose. “According to some magazines we got married last week, and also six months ago. Just being in here is probably going to spark something.” You glance behind you, as if you’ll see journalists scribbling away on their theories, then flatten your palms against his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “I’m happy to ignore it. I want to just do our thing, H.”

He nods, pursing his lips, and gradually the crease in his forehead disappears. “Okay. Good.” Twin smiles spread over your faces and you have the feeling of being two giddy kids, high-schoolers about to have their first kiss. Something new, unknown, exciting, that the two of you are going into together. His eyes are practically sparkling at you. If this was a cartoon, you think his pupils would be shaped like hearts right now. Something is starting to bud and you can feel it growing up inside you and between you, preparing to bloom.

“Alright,” you say, breaking the insulating silence to draw you both back to the real world.

He blinks a couple of times as if he’s just waking up. “Alright,” he echoes. “Let’s get it.”

He waves over a man drifting through the store in a neat suit and points at the ring. “Excuse me, can we please have a look at this one?”

The two of you watch the man unlock the cabinet and slide the plate of rings out, placing it on the counter. He picks up the one Harry pointed out. “It’s a lovely one, sir.”

“It is,” Harry says. His hand finds yours and squeezes your fingers. “What size is it?”

The man checks the price and tells you, and your mouth drops open. Surely there is something supernaturally perfect going on, because it’s exactly your size. You and Harry look at each other incredulously.

The man seems to notice your unspoken conversation, because he helpfully adds, “We can resize it if you need.”

Harry chuckles. “No, it’s perfect. I think…” he trails off, looking at you. “What do you think?”

You nod at him, grinning. You rub your thumb over the back of his palm as he tells the man, “Thank you. We’d like this one, please.”

You stand slightly behind him as he pays for it, flexing your hands and wringing them in front of you. You know it’s all in your head, but your left ring finger is tingling as if it senses that it’s missing a piece. You really just want to wear the ring at this minute, but when the man selling it to you offers, Harry shakes his head quickly.

“I’ll hold onto it for now,” he says. He accepts the little box from the man and slips it into his pocket. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. Enjoy it, and congratulations to the two of you.”

Harry snakes his arm around your waist as you walk back out to the street. His hips knock against you as he squeezes you into his side, and you can feel the little box in his pocket. You can’t help the grin that takes over your whole face. You worry you look like an idiot, smiling so widely at nothing, but when you glance up at Harry, he looks exactly the same.

Your car is parked down a quieter road and you get to relax a little once you’re away from the crowds of the main shopping strip. You can walk a little more slowly and Harry loosens up a bit. His hyper-vigilance starts to strip away. You can see the tension in his shoulders dissolving and here’s your Harry, emerging from his defensive layers. Most people wouldn’t notice this change, but you do. You feel how he adjusts the grip of his hand on your hip, how he leans into you a little more as you walk. In your closeness, you can smell his cologne and you think of how you watched him spray it on this morning—and how you’re going to be watching him do that for the rest of your lives.

He glances over his shoulder and you copy him. The narrow street behind you is empty, but you don’t get a moment to really register this before you feel his arms tighten around your waist and you’re swept off your feet for a second as he crashes his lips into yours.

You close your eyes, letting the kiss envelop all your senses. The sweetness of the cake’s icing lingering on his lips; his arms locked around your waist, holding you up; the rapid beating of your heart. He pulls away slowly and your eyes flutter open. His face is just inches from yours and he’s looking at you with such intensity you feel naked. Not for the first time, you’re in awe of how impossibly green his eyes are; you could make a palette from every forest in the world, and it wouldn’t hold a candle to what you see in front of you right now.

“Y/N,” he says. He cracks a grin. “I’m so fucking happy.”

Your reply is simply to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss. Your hand tangles in his hair and you feel his tongue running along your bottom lip before he pulls away again quickly.

“Fuck,” he says, sounding lost for breath. “Need to stop before I make a fool of m’self in public.” He even physically takes a step back from you, his eyes comically wide.

You giggle. Your gaze travels down his body and you notice the indent of the box in his pocket. “Is that a ring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He shakes his head at you. “You’ve gone all giddy. ‘M getting you home right now and then we’re celebrating properly.” He turns around and starts walking towards the car, his long legs carrying him faster than you can keep up.

Your stomach flutters imagining what his idea of celebrating might be. Suddenly, the only thing on your mind is getting back to your house as soon as humanly possible. You run after Harry, skipping around in front of him and jogging backwards as you waggle your fingers in his face. “So, when are you going to pop the question?” you ask.

“Oh, honey,” he says, patting his pocket with the ring. He grins. “It’s going to be when you least expect it, I’ll promise you that.”

. . . . .

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed—if you did, a reblog or a message is really encouraging and lovely for me to see!! the title is taken from the song by etta james.

this fic is the first part of a series called “here we are in heaven,” and i’m really really excited about it. you can read my earlier fic, at last!, if you want to see where this will end up, but there will be more parts to fill the in-between. plus blurbs and stuff! let’s chat about it!

my masterlist can be found here. have a beautiful day!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fiance harry #fic #here we are in heaven

368 notes · View notes

imagineyourworld · 3 years ago

Text

Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him. That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes. But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you. He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself. Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you. “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked. You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you. “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.” Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant. “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation. “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary. You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes. “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.” Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend. “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name. Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand. “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into. Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike. “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo. He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear. “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.” Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together. Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you. Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him. “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately. Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?”

-------

Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice. So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war. His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside. For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything. “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment. He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of... “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked. A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head. “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.” Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse. “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.” You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise. “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.” It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in. “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream. “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh. Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression. “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.” Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again. “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.” After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence. “But the two of you live together”, he finally said. For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted. “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.” There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss. “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss. The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy. But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love.

-------

This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him

#echo x reader #echo imagine #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo imagine #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo imagine

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tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Children can be assholes

Summary:

Children can be fucking assholes. Actually, they were fucking assholes, too much of a bunch of assholes that Levi wondered what future generation his fellow soldiers had dedicated all their fucking hearts to.

And why did it take him having his own child to realize just that?

Levi and Hange's child gets bullied and the two contemplate their parenting styles.

Written for Levihan Week 2021, Day 4: Childhood.

Link: AO3

Notes:

@levihanweek Day 4: Childhood

I don't know if this is still accepted because it's so late huhu. But I was on a slight hiatus for a while I was in the US since I don't see my family there often.

I'm in the Philippines again so I think I'll have an easier time going back into writing regularly.

Children were unreasonabe little shits and his own son was no exception. In fact, his experience with his own son might have been the sole reason Levi held on so tightly to that belief in the first place.

“Daddy, can we buy the cereal?”

“No.” The response was automatic and it had been automatic since the kid started asking for that damn cereal two weeks ago. During my time we didn’t even have cereal. Levi opened his mouth to say it.

“Why don’t you give it?” Hange spoke up first. Her own contribution had seemed to come out of nowhere especially since she had been neck deep in some research papers until a while ago.

Most days, she would have left by the time they had that conversation and Levi was in no mood to fill her in on it. He turned to his son. “Would you even finish it?”

Luke’s were trained expectantly at Levi, his eyes wide. He looked innocent, confused.

If Levi stared for any longer, he might just buy it. He averted his gaze, and snuck a glance at Hange “He doesn’t even eat it.” He kept it to a soft whisper, too soft that he could never be too sure of whether or not she got the message.

Hange put the papers down on the table then she flashed her son a smile usually saved for insufferable diplomats. “Luke, if we bought you the cereal would you eat it?”

Luke nodded quickly.

Lies. It was a fucking lie. Levi had bought him the cereal the first few times the young boy asked. Every single damn time though, Levi had ended up finishing the box. And he was sick of cereal. So sick that when he closed his eyes and willed himself to think of it, he recalled everything from the grainy texture and overly sweet twinge so vividly, he practically tasted it in his own saliva.

“I’ll buy some on the way home,” Hange said. “The name is ‘Pops’ right?”

It was difficult to protest when it was Hange suggesting. Levi nodded.

“What about now?” Luke said. “I wanna bring it to school.”

Levi and Hange exchanged glances. “Why?” he asked.

Luke was side-eyeing something. A closer look only confirmed, Luke may have been too deep in thought to have fixated on anything in particular. Finding the right words, maybe? “Lunch.”

“Is there anything wrong with the lunch I packed you?” Levi asked. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with the packed lunch. Levi always made sure of it.

Or maybe Levi was just deluding himself into thinking he was a good cook. Luke kept mum and stared down at his food, only ringing alarm bells inside Levi.

Levi was suddenly self conscious of the neatly packed lunch box he made every morning. Like all weekday mornings, it was lined up on the counter right next to Hange’s own lunchbox. He glanced quickly at it, and he was tempted to go the extra mile and reorganize it. “Luke is there anything wrong?”

Luke shook his head. He was starting to look a little flustered.

Everyone seemed to be bearing the weight of the tension and awkwardness since that question was raised. They were all very sluggish. For Levi, there was more than enough time to take a peek at the lunch box.

The sandwich was packed, the crackers were nearly lined up just next to them and there was a box of orange juice snug on the corner of the lunch box. Nothing was supposedly wrong with it. Still, it was worth a try. “You want anything packed differently?” Levi asked.

Luke nodded but he didn’t say anything after. As if he had expected Levi to read his mind.

Levi wasn’t a mind reader. One quick look at Hange and Levi concluded, Hange wasn’t a mind reader either. “What do you want packed differently?”

Luke shook his head then looked down at his food. There was a slight tremble in his lips.

Was he about to cry? Before Levi even noticed it, he had raised his voice, spoke more quickly. “If you don’t tell me, we won’t be able to fix it.”

Hange was also strangely still. She held her spoon a few inches above her plate and she could have been calculating something. That was the face Hange would make in the lab, when running through an experiment for the third team. That face was a prelude to long speeches on hypotheses and conclusions.

Do we have the time for a long speech? Levi noted the time on the mantel and Hange’s slow movements that morning. “Hange, you might be late for work.”

“Right…” Hange dropped her spoon and stood up slowly and hesitantly. Then when she got to her feet, she put on her usual confident and busybody demeanor. “I’ll make sure to buy that cereal on the way back. If you really want that for lunch, I see no reason to say no.” ”

It turned out though, it had been nothing more than a facade. Levi had followed her out to lock the door and exchange goodbyes like every other day. Then, Hange’s true thoughts came out as a whisper. “Can you stay after school for just a bit? Just see what happens after they drop him off?”

“Why?”

Hange hummed, chin raised and nose turned up. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

He didn’t need Hange to point it out for him. For a while as they packed up, Levi had already been pondering how long he could stay in the schoolyard before one of the teachers saw him home. “You didn’t have to tell me twice.”

Hange’s expression relaxed. She said a soft goodbye. Then her mind and her murmurs to herself were suddenly elsewhere.

She was thinking about work again. Like every other day before, During those times, Levi was reminded, keeping their son safe was his responsibility until Hange got home from work.

***

By some rule that didn’t seem to make any sense, the parents weren’t allowed to stay during school hours. Most days, he didn’t really mind but the last thing he had prepared himself for was a scolding, not from the teacher, but his own son.

“Daddy go home!” Luke had his back to his classroom and it didn’t look like he’d be turning his back on Levi until the latter was long gone.

“Luke, I need to talk to the teachers. Then I’ll go home.”

“Don’t talk to the teachers!” Luke said. He was starting to seem more and more agitated.

What the hell? What type of parent told their kid not to talk to their teachers? Levi was more determined to stay behind. “I just want to see--”

“Don’t talk to my friends!”

Something inside Levi broke at that moment. He had raised that kid and ninety-nine percent of the time, he was a peace loving kid. The way Luke had raised his voice at him, had him almost shaken. The young boy’s face had crumpled into a pout and it only made the cracking inside Levi all the more painful.

Then some defensive instinct inside Levi took over. He narrowed his eyes and observed more closely, he could have sworn he saw fear in those young boys' eyes.

“Go home daddy.” Luke said, more softly that time. Whatever gentleness though quickly assuaged when he ran towards Levi only to push him away.

“Okay. I’ll go home,” Levi backed away slowly at first. “I’ll pick you up at two okay?”

Luke didn’t reply. He didn’t even spare a wave before Levi turned his back on him. Hange was most likely right, his gut instinct might just be right too.

Something about Luke’s sudden change in demeanor just wasn’t natural. Despite Luke’s protests, Levi didn’t go home that morning.

***

Children can be fucking assholes.

They were fucking assholes, too much of a bunch of assholes that Levi wondered what future generation his fellow soldiers had dedicated all their fucking hearts to many years ago.

Levi had concealed himself under the shade of one of the trees just outside the school yard. His fighting instinct was still strong and he didn’t find it even a little stifling to completely freeze right under the tree. At the same time, he was completely confident that as long as he didn’t move, nobody would see him.

They were too far away anyway and the group of children seemed to be more occupied in what was looking to be utter assholery.

“Your lunch looks like poop!” Who the hell compares meals to human waste?

That was the least of his worries though. The boy that had fallen to the ground was Luke. The lunch that lay scattered on the grass was the one Levi had so carefully put together that morning.

Wasted food, wasted food he had worked on himself and the scene of his own son sprawled on the ground seeming defenseless just pushed Levi to the point of just almost feral. He wasn’t a soldier anymore and he hadn’t been in years. At that point in time, he even identified more as a father than a soldier. An attempt remain hidden forgotten, Levi rushed to the schoolyard.

“What’s going on here? Why are you wasting food?” Levi kept his tone almost polite. His own actions may have betrayed it though. Levi pushed himself to the front, pushing a little less gently when he recognized the kid who had thrown Luke’s food to the ground.

That had been enough to leave a look of horror in all of the kids' faces. Levi bent over, cleaned up the lunchbox and helped his son up. He flashed the boys a stare, and he hoped that would have been enough to poke daggers into them. “Don’t do that again,” he said firmly.

Paternal instinct had Levi’s mind racing. When he was thinking quickly, his body tended to act much faster. Even when he wasn’t even aware of it, Levi had pulled his son up by the arm.

And everything else happened quickly after that.

It was only when he had closed the door behind him, when his son had succeeded in wriggling out of his grasp, did Levi make sense of circumstances. The day wasn’t even over and he had dragged his son home.

“Daddy what were you doing there?” The look of horror was still there, his cheeks were tinged a little red.

“They weren’t treating you right,” Levi said matter-of-factly. He was starting to doubt himself though. Had that been the right thing to do?

Luke didn’t seem too happy at whatever Levi had done anyway. The young boy padded into his bedroom, slammed the door and like many other days, Levi was left alone in the kitchen, a ruined lunchbox on hand. He opened it and started to salvage.

The food was still edible and they didn't look too bad. The young starving boy who grew up in the underground city would have been happy to have received that. In contrast, Luke grew up in a comfortable home, with an easy three meals never wanting for anything. And that was Luke’s lunch and it would never be the young Levi’s.

He started to contemplate the small things. He inspected the sandwich, caked with a little soil. He then held the apple slices between his two fingers. All stained with dirt.

When he ran the container over running water, the dirt eventually disappeared and Levi deemed that edible for lunch, for his lunch at least. He wouldn’t serve that to his son. He pulled ingredients out of the cupboards, ingredients for a quick sandwich, eggs, mayonnaise and cheese.

It was a little past one and there was no time for anything fancier. Luke didn’t have lunch and was probably starving and Levi was having a harder time as well shaking that ache in his stomach. He went through the motions a little faster, turned on the toaster in advance.

In those in betweens, Levi let his mind wander. The father inside him then started to ask more questions.

How was he going to talk to Luke about it?

***

Levi had made two sandwiches for a party of three. Unexpectedly, Hange arrived from work early because of some ‘strange phone call’ from the school about ‘their son going missing.’

“And it looks like, you're the strange short man who abducted our son,” Hange said playfully in between bites of an egg salad sandwich.

Levi let his own sandwich sit, or at least his sorry excuse of a sandwich. The egg salad he hurriedly made had only been enough for two people. Thus, his own share had been barely even enough to cover even one side of the sandwich.

That was the least of his worries. He turned to Luke. “Would you’ve rather stayed in school?” he asked.

Luke didn’t answer. He was biting at his egg sandwich much faster. The loud chewing could have been a hint at the least that Luke refused to speak.

“I can get off of work early. Later, we could go to the supermarket and get your cereal later” Hange suggested, an attempt at some light conversation maybe. “You wanted to bring it for lunch tomorrow right?”

Luke shook his head quickly and continued to chew the sandwich.

Levi thought back to the scattered lunch box, the muddied contents. He couldn’t blame the kid. But how to tell Hange? “Luke couldn’t have lunch,” Levi said.

Hange’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Did school get busy?”

“It’s not that… “ Levi was feeling for the words slowly and carefully. He turned to Luke who was digging through the sandwich much much faster. “It’s---”

Luke’s hands slammed on the table. “Nothing!” he screamed, in a tone that was definitely not nothing.

“Luke, are you okay?” Hange asked. “Did something happen?”

“Daddy came to school today!”

“But you like daddy right?�� Hange raised one eyebrow.

Luke shook his head. “No! No parents allowed in school.”

Levi stared down at his plate. The sandwich was starting to look less and less appetizing. What was that heavy feeling? Guilt? What else was he supposed to do? Stay still while they pushed his son to the ground and spilled his lunch onto the grass? “Luke, no one was supposed to be pushing you to the ground either. Of course I’d jump to your rescue.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You didn’t look like you were fighting back,” Levi argued. "You could have gotten hurt."

Luke stared up at Levi, a flash of indignance on his face. And for a few moments, the kitchen was silent, the air was heavy.

Hange cleared her throat. “Luke… Why don’t you fight back?” Something about her voice was too rehearsed.

“He knows how to fight," Luke answered hesitantly. For assurance maybe? He didn’t believe it as confidently though.

Hange hummed. “What makes you say that?”

"He learned to fight."

"Who taught him?" Hange asked.

“His daddy and mommy.”

“Really? How?”

“They’re soldiers.”

***

It took more effort after that to coax the rest of the information from Luke.

It came in between banters, in between fights, hurling of unintended insults and it ended with some half baked conclusion from Levi that the military police never really shook off the irrational pride that came with working so close to the king but doing close to no actual combat.

And how the hell did a next generation kid pick up that same abrasive attitude and the bare minimum of fighting skills.

Hange received her own personalized message from the whole ordeal. A message which Levi would rather Hange never entertained. “Did we do something wrong?” She broke the dim silence with the awkward question.

It was late in the evening, Luke had retired to bed and Hange and Levi had deliberately selected a corner of the room, farthest from Luke’s room. Even if it meant having to make themselves comfortable on the floor with some Indian sit.

Levi shrugged. “According to Luke… We did… By not being part of the military police.” He laced his tone with sarcasm, enough to lighten up the mood. The sliver of a smile on Hange’s face was enough indication that it worked just a bit.

Luke’s intention hadn’t been to hurt definitely. Levi conceded, maybe it had been his fault for forcing it out of the young boy.

“But we do know how to fight right? I mean, we’ve always had more experience than the military police officers,” Hange said.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You fight better than all military police officers, Commander Hange Zoe,” Levi said.

“If I fight better than all military police officers then humanity’s strongest, Captain Levi fights better than all the soldiers right?”

Captain and Commander. Very nostalgic epithets.

It had been years since they even used those epithet. Most people in the office called Hange by her first name while Levi was convinced most people called him Levi anyway. Organizing paperwork, expediting processes, executing trades, setting up meetings for the Queen and just knowing the ins and outs of executive level bureaucracy, Hange’s job was indispensable but painfully thankless. Levi's own job as a homemaker which had been raising a child, while his partner worked had also been painfully thankless.

It wasn't like their jobs as captain and commander of the survey corps had been any more thankful during times of war. Just the thought of fighting was strangely intimate but the stress and the adrenaline rush that came with war, the pain of an injury and the very close brushes with death were not anything to be proud of.

After being dissed by their own child though, Levi was uncharacteristically self conscious. A quick onceover at Hange and he was sure she was thinking the same thing. "Maybe that's what we did wrong?"

"What?" The look of confusion on Hange's face was enough of a reminder.

Levi's own reflection had been silent. "Do you think I coddle Luke too much?"

Hange didn't respond immediately but Levi hadn't been in a hurry either to goad whatever answer out of her. "To be honest...I thought about it…" she huffed. "Okay, I wouldn't use the word coddle but don't you think it's just a little bit strange that our child is growing up in a completely different world from what we did."

Was it wrong? Levi's mind was finding ways to justify it.

Hange continued. "Of course we did things wrong we weren't perfect parents but it just feels weird… We raised a child who can't fight? A child who probably doesn't even know the realities of war.” She flailed her hands up in emphasis. “If we drop him off in some forest, he might just die...And now he's being bullied by some kid of retired soldiers. Should we have raised him a little stricter? Taught him to fight?" A tremor shook in her tone but when she looked up, she was smiling. More specifically, forcing a grin.

Hange always found a way to blame herself, an annoying habit since even back when they were soldiers.

A very annoying habit. Levi sighed. "I was the one who raised that kid. If anyone should be taking shit for not teaching that kid anything about standing up for themselves. It should be me."

Hange sighed then shrugged. "Well, it happened. So what now Papa Ackerman?"

Hange must have acknowledged it, the countless hours that Levi had put into raising the child. Between both of them, Levi should have known more about how to approach the young boy and just the thought of putting Luke through an inkling of that same training he went through had his stomach turning.

Admittedly, if Levi had encountered those bullies at Luke's age, or maybe even younger, he would have been more than capable of beating the shit out of those bullies. But, would he even be proud if he found Luke beating the shit out of those kids?

"We talk to the teachers," Levi answered.

"You don't think we should teach him how to defend himself?"

Levi shook his head. "Times have changed. Even if he doesn’t need to, I wouldn’t.” He met Hange's eyes. “I don't want to teach people how to solve things with violence."

Hange cocked her head to one side. “Why not?” Her mouth twisted into an expression of genuine curiosity.

Levi was terribly curious too. Fighting wasn’t one thing he would have wanted to think back to anyway. He didn’t see himself in Luke, or at first glance he didn’t. In the darkness, he gave himself some leeway, some space to think deeply about it and he started to realize, he couldn’t really avoid seeing himself in his son.

The glaring difference between himself and his own son had been circumstances. Luke didn’t have to learn how to fight. The age of war was over. No one was constantly in any immediate danger.

"Maybe you're better off teaching him what you know.” Levi sighed. If I could get away with not teaching my son how to fight, then I’d rather not.”

***

Diplomacy and maybe talking could have worked. That is, if they were talking to anyone else.

"We could launch an investigation on this…" The teacher side-eyed nothing in particular.

"Just now?" Hange raised one eyebrow. A quick estimation and a detailed recall of Luke’s change in demeanor put the estimate at two weeks ago. How did no one notice it?

The teacher nodded. "But it might take some time.” She leaned slightly forward. “I hope you understand… it's not easy to approach cases like this.”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Levi said.

The teacher didn't prod. She didn't put much weight in Levi's assertion either. She raised her hands up in defense. "Give us time."

Levi gripped the edge of his seat in some attempt to alleviate tension. It had taken a little more time to get his bearings so he opted not to say anything just yet.

Hange straightened up on her seat. "How much time?"

At least it was Hange who was asking, Levi was sure he couldn’t have said it any more amiably.

The teacher’s responses weren’t making it any easier. “A few weeks?”

A few weeks. That was at least ten lunch meals. Or even more than that. When Levi fathomed the scale of it, he was also considering the wasted meals in retrospect. How often was Luke coming home with an empty stomach? “Really? A few weeks? You can’t implement something, monitor our son….”

“You have to understand, it’s not that easy to investigate a bullying problem. The line between rough play and actual bullying is not very clear. We don’t want to be accusing any kids either.”

Hange bit her lip and looked away. Levi couldn’t even make a good conjecture of what she would have wanted to say. One thing was for sure, his fists were shaking, or maybe it was the leg underneath.

“So that means you aren't doing anything?" Levi confirmed.

The teacher flashed him an incredulous look and Levi was starting to confirm, it came out more as a challenge. Well, he didn't care too much, if challenging the teacher made everything happen faster.

"We're doing what we can," the teacher said.

"I've heard that spiel already," Levi said. He needed a breath of fresh air. If Hange wanted to talk anymore, if the teacher wanted to talk. It was their prerogative. "Thank you for your time," he added coldly, not bothering to look back.

Hange didn't leave immediately. She probably had a lot more to say, and maybe those were the same things running through Levi's head. Like always, she had a more open minded and more pragmatic way of navigating such a conversation.

Something Levi would probably never learn how to do. Hange would probably take her time, and even if he did lose her in the school, he knew his way home like the back of his hand anyway.

He allowed himself some free rein, wandering through the hallways while taking careful deep breaths. He took the long way to Luke’s classroom, subtly taking a peek then allowing himself enough of a view to search for his son among the students behind the desks.

It was easy to pick out the dark hair that peeked out from among the other attentive faces. Luke’s head was down. He was focused on a book maybe, or maybe he was just particularly self conscious of everything at once.

Levi didn’t have the view to tell, nor the time. The teacher eventually looked to her side, then a few young faces followed. Levi pressed himself against the wall. For sure he was out of site.

Just to make sure, Levi walked on ahead, he then turned the corner of the school, a familiar voice echoed form the other side of one of the hollow walls.

Kids these days are too spoiled if you ask me..

We grew up during a war… And these kids are crying over a few fights?

And the parents can be pretty entitled

Luke Zoe’s parents… I think those are former soldiers… You’d think they’d know better about spoiling their son.

Maybe the glory of war got into their heads or something. Suddenly they want their kids to have an easy life.

Yes, Levi agreed, he wanted his kid to have an easy life. He conceded to that.

Actually, not conceded. He wholeheartedly agreed with it. The essentials though of that conversation, the fundamental beliefs that carried it were just infuriatingly wrong.

Levi didn’t allow himself to contemplate and maybe he just didn’t have the energy for it. He opted not to wait for Hange, he slipped quickly out of the hallway and out onto the streets.

He took the long way home and part of him was hoping he got lost. He was in no mood after all to discuss ‘a spoiled generation’ with a teacher who grew up during a time of war.

He might just end up fighting back.

***

He didn’t have to teach his son how to use a knife. Still, Levi considered it enough times to sneak a few glances at the knife holder a foot away from the sink.

The first weapon Kenny had ever taught him to use was a knife. But knives hurt, knives kill.

The only reason Levi was teaching his son how to fight back was to prevent any more wasted lunches, to prevent bruises for piling up on his ass to prevent any more scrapes from appearing on the palms of his hand.

"When they push you like this… what do you do?" Levi stretched out his arms in front of him, positioning himself to push.

Luke was a quick learner He gripped Levi's hands and the grip was surprisingly hard. Levi's wrists ached and he was suddenly hyperaware of the nails digging into him.

Levi bit his lip, he forced an outward flinch just to show his son it was working. Then the leg movements followed. Luke was still much smaller than Levi. The latter though had done it too many times during bar fights to tell, Luke had picked it up to a T.

Lock your knee to the back of their leg.

"Then push!"

Levi teetered and he was sure he still had the reflexes to jump away. Still, he wanted to give his son that confidence.

He fell to the floor, catching his light weight with the palms of his hands. "There. Okay? When they try to punch or push, you pull them towards you." Levi mimed the movement with his hands. "Then trip them from behind."

Luke nodded obediently.

"Okay…" Levi stood up. "Now let's try it again. Much faster this time."

***

Levi didn't have to try too hard to teach his son.

Luke had the natural agility and quick wittedness. With the right guidance, he was a force to be reckoned with, especially when facing a group of bullies.

Be it two bullies, three. Regardless of whether or not he was outnumbered, Luke might just make it work.

Maybe fighting skills ran in the family. No, it definitely ran in the family. Luke had natural skill that could have made him indispensable in the survey corps many years ago. WIth the right training and the right guidance, he managed to pick up the same fighting instinct Levi was all too familiar with.

Was it the same Ackerman gene? Or was it just natural talent. Levi entertained that as nothing more than a passing thought. After all, no one needed the Ackerman’s anymore since the war was over, the titan curse completely obsolete.

Soon, the Ackerman abilities would be too.

It was a slow process, and maybe it did start with his sons own stint against the bullies.

Levi found himself sneaking through the bushes near the school grounds around lunch time. The branches pricked, the leaves tickled and the smell of green lingered in his nose and he was already planning the warm bath as soon as he got home.

The situation he had put himself in, reminded him too easily of the war. Laughably, the situation he was roped into was much much milder.

He wasn't there to stand by while his team took down titans. He was just there to stand by and jump in just in case things got too heated for Luke.

Luke had proven self-sufficient in practice. But could he easily apply it?

Levi was watching the developments like a hawk, his heart beating in time to some rustle in the leaves, his hand digging into the branches right next to him. He didn't even notice he was holding his breath until the first body slammed onto the dirt with a loud thump.

Levi let it out with a loud huff then he closed his eyes, recounting the events of just a few seconds ago.

Grip hard, kick hard enough behind him to buckle his knees.

One down.

Push against him, use your weight against him. If you push hard enough, twist in this direction. He'll flip.

Two down.

With a swift strike to his---

"Stop!"

Levi’s eyes widened then they darted back and forth between the boys on the floor then the naturally, the only one left standing.

Luke dropped his hands to the side. Then everyone was silent, the two boys still recovering, one of them giving his own tailbone a consoling rub.

"Boys! What are you doing here?"

With the sound of that voice, Levi’s blood ran cold. By some stroke of bad luck, a teacher had seen them fighting.

"Luke? What were you doing here?" And by a more annoying stroke of bad luck, circumstances made Luke out to be the bully.

***

"It's very admirable that you're sticking with your son through thick and thin," the principal said, a wide smile plastered on her face.

Having dealt with military police bullshit for a good chunk of his life, Levi was fairly adept at sniffing out bullshit. Consequently, he wasn't so good at accepting such a fake compliment.

"What can we say? He's our son," Hange said, glaringly uncomfortable with the turn of events. She had some excuse to seem tense. After all, she rushed there from her office just a few minute ago.

"They sustained a few bruises, on the tailbone, a few scrapes on the knee which required some tending and one of the boys has a sprained ankle." She listed them out like a sprained ankle was a mortal wound. "I'm sure any settlements can be discussed internally… but if you need any help?"

Hange shook her head. "No thank you. I'll make a few calls, see what I can offer."

But they're not gonna do anything about Luke's mental state and his fucked up lunch meals huh? Levi looked to Hange, attempted to send a semblance of that message with his glare.

The principal cleared her throat. "Have you considered sending your child to a specialist?"

"A specialist?" Hänge asked, her voice was a little higher pitched. She furrowed her brow.

The principal nodded. "Yes, a specialist in a correctional facility, someone who could work with your son. The teachers… they saw your son fight. In this day and age, it’s quite alarming to see...

Levi looked down. His eyes landed on his shaking hands. In some attempt to pacify them, he balled them into fists.

"If he proves to be a danger to students…."

"He won't." Levi answered, voice clipped. If he spoke for any longer, he just might end up shouting.

"It's best to nip this in the bud while it's early."

"I said, he isn't going to do that. He's a nice kid."

"We get that from parents a lot but I firmly believe in some prophylactic work… especially when the first few signs…"

First few signs? What first few signs? The other kids were the assholes here. They started it.

They started it?

That was the argument of a six year old. Something, he constantly scolded Luke over for years.

On the one hand, Hange wasn’t letting any of her emotions out as if she was still trying to process it herself. "May I ask… what are these signs of Luke's aggression?"

The principal raised her eyebrow. "The way he was caught fighting the other students. He moved like a trained fighter. Isn’t it alarming that your son has been trained to fight like that, to be aggressive like that? We don't want this type of aggression here." She said those last words, matter-of-factly, firmly, with some finality.

Levi sensed self righteousness. Self righteousness was fairly bearable in small amounts. He was dealing with someone though with a little too much of that and seemingly little inclination of reflecting and getting to the bottom of it. Something inside of him snapped. "If you really don't want any aggression then watch the other fucking kids. My son is not going through some correctional facility because you as a principal can't do your fucking job keeping the students safe."

"Excuse me?"

"Those kids deserved to be body slammed into the floor. My son has been dealing with their bullshit for weeks."

"How certain---"

"Sure enough. My son doesn't fucking lie."

"That's a bold statement right there."

"You don't know my son better than I do so stop pretending." Levi wouldn't be giving her a chance to speak. Hange could have been glaring daggers at him but he was on some strange high, talking back at the old lady who had been rubbing him off since a while ago.

She paused for a moment and averted her gaze, a refreshing sign for Levi. "Okay then, but if you'd allow me to suggest---"

"Don't tell us how to raise our son."

Before he even noticed it, one hand was pushing him back on the chair.

"Please. Go on," Hange said, not to Levi but to the shaken teacher in front of him.

It had taken her a few more seconds to gather herself. Hange had taken a more comfortable grip of Levi by the wrist, under the table, out of view. She held him with enough firmness to control him but enough gentleness to calm him.

Whatever she says, grin and bear it. Work with it. If Hange had been meaning to say anything, that might have been it.

He wasn't going to spare her a kind smile though.

The principal cleared her throat. "Have you considered that you're spoiling your kid just a little too much?"

When the heat had dissipated, when the tension loosened, Levi found he conceded

To some extent. To some very small extent.

"If you compare what I grew up with to what Luke's growing up with. Maybe he is spoiled," Levi admitted. He kept his voice soft enough not to echo in the hallways, his footsteps slow enough that he didn’t need to think too much about walking.

"No one should ever have to grow up like you did," Hange answered with a more serious tone. A few seconds later, she turned to him with a more relaxed smile. "Do you really think he's spoiled?"

"If you consider the fact that if we dropped him in some military training, he probably wouldn't survive..."

"In this day and age, not everyone will be mandated to join the military anyway," Hange said. "So is it really necessary for Luke to have had to learn how to fight?"

"As much as possible, I wouldn't have taught it to him. If children weren't such assholes."

"And I think we raised him fine. In fact, I'm proud of that kid."

Proud of Luke? For what? Levi asked that question silently but he wasn't looking for answers, he was looking for specifics. He was proud of that kid for a lot of reasons.

Some of the reasons, he didn't really pick them out until they were bumbling towards him.

In between classes, Luke met them on the hallway, a large box wedged awkwardly on his side and Luke lost his balance a few times as he carried it.

As soon as Luke was only inches away, Levi took stock of it. A first aid kit?

"I have bandaids here. Do you know where we can buy medicine?" Luke asked.

"For what?"

"For their booboos."

Levi gave Luke a onceover. "You don't have any."

Luke shook his head. He turned towards the empty schoolyard then to the direction of the clinic. "Their booboos." It quickly became clear who they were talking about.

"Luke, why would you want to give them some?"

"Is that not allowed?" Luke blinked at him in confusion. It was as if that question was the most natural answer in the world. The most correct answer.

Levi started to realize, maybe he didn't know the correct answer either. He bent down and put one hand on Luke's head.. "I'll help you prepare one at home and we'll talk to their parents okay?"

Luke nodded. His lips curled into a wild smile. "I'll see what else I have in the cubby hole."

"He's too kind," Hange commented as soon as they were out of earshot.

"That's the kid we raised," Levi said. "You're proud of that?"

"To be honest, yes. We all aspire to be that kind." She gave Levi a knowing but very playful look. "Maybe he got it from you?"

"Me?" Levi crossed his arms and pulled away. Whatever look he had on his face was enough to have Hange chuckling.

"Maybe kindness runs in your family."

Levi's thoughts flew to Kenny. Kenny? Then he thought back to his own mother. She was enough of a looming thought that Levi was entertaining the kindness gene theory of Hange as some potentially acceptable truth.

"It runs on yours too then," Levi said.

There was a pregnant silence between them. Hange's face had softened into some half smile as she stared down at floor, seeming to be deep in reflection.

It was familiar and the more Levi stared, the more clearly he understood. That was the same exact way they stared at every lost comrade.

"If that's true, then maybe Luke got it from us? Maybe if we grew up in a better world, the same world Luke was growing up in, we would have been much kinder," Hänge said.

"If we had the childhood?" Levi added.

Hange looked at him pointedly. "If you didn't have to fight in the streets, I'm confident you would have grown up just like Luke."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're a good guy Levi. Despite your kill count, the way you talked to the towns people, the way you lectured the soldiers back then... I mean, you weren't the nicest guy but the kindness... the goodness, it just felt naturally there?"

It was a hilarious prospect to consider and Levi had to look away to conceal whatever playful expression took over then. "Well the same goes for you then. Not too many leaders would have risked everything to stop a genocide."

A subtle pink stained the apple of Hange's cheeks, subtle enough that Levi could have sworn a second later that it was never there to begin with.

Levi dropped his shoulders and leaned on the wall. "I've always known Luke was a good kid. It could have been from us, or it could just really be how that kid is. All I know is I wanna nurture it and it feels like the best way is to just give him the childhood I never had.”

#lhweek2021 #levihan #levihan fanfiction #levihanweek

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galactic-magick · 4 years ago

Text

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I��m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

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nightshade-minho · 4 years ago

Text

MOONSTORM [ iii ]

You know that feeling when you know you’ve made a terrible mistake?

Yes. That feeling.

It’s a feeling that never really goes away. You had to learn that the hard way.

Irrevocable actions, stupid mistakes. You were heart-wrenchingly familiar with all of it.

To err was human apparently. You...weren’t human, though.

It seems like being superhuman was insignificant, after all. At the end of the day, nothing mattered. None of your powers did.

Despite it all, you still lost him.

warnings: depressing shit (it gets better though dw) mentions of death, violence, sexual content, future smut

wc: 2.8k

moonstorm masterlist

It felt like the world had lost all color.

It had happened so many months ago, and yet it still felt like it happened just yesterday. The memories of stumbling out of his lair, covered in his blood and your tears, still fresh in your mind.

The image of his face, betrayed and yet so calm as he uttered those last words to you...it haunted you constantly.

You found yourself looking at the moon every night, dreaming about what could have been. The nightmares endlessly plagued your sleep as well, causing you to fear even your own bed.

No...even after Hyunjin's effects on you wore off, your own brain took on the responsibility of torturing you by conjuring up more heartbreaking dreams. Dreams which made you long for something you knew you’d lost forever- never to be yours again.

You never truly realized how much you’d gotten used to having him around. Life was so glaringly empty and meaningless without him. It was a complicated relationship…and yet it still left a giant hole in you. An all-encompassing despair that threatened to swallow you up.

With him gone, it just didn’t feel right to be a superhero anymore. How could you be the strong role model for everyone in the city to rely on when you knew just how weak you’d become? Even when the newspapers were covered with your heroics, even as the mayor addressed the city and expressed his desire to give you a medal for stopping yet another supervillain from roaming the streets- you stubbornly refused to don that costume ever again.

You stayed hidden through it all. You just couldn’t bring yourself to go out in public anymore. Your vigilante costume lay forgotten in the back of your closet- crumpled and sad.

It just...felt wrong. At the moment you felt nothing but pathetic. You didn’t have time to waste saving a snotty kitten stuck on a tree or stop a petty criminal from robbing a bank- all you were fit to do was eat ice cream straight from the can, and watch a soulless movie. The same routine, day in and day out. You hadn’t left your apartment in nearly a month, not even to buy groceries. Every second was spent wrapped up in blankets, pondering what you’d done.

Was that selfish of you? Probably. You were discovering new flaws by the second.

Sighing, you sat up a little, your ass almost numb from how long you’d spent lying down. Glancing up, you saw your father’s portrait looking down at you. You swallowed and slowly stood up from your bed, groaning to yourself. Why did he suddenly seem so disappointed?

Maybe a little bit of fresh air is what you needed, considering you were starting to believe the paintings were changing expressions. After all, you had work to do anyway- might as well take advantage of the nearby café’s free WiFi.

***

Here at last.

You sat down in the corner of the café, so tired you could barely move a muscle. But you had to get a move on with your life- the recovery should have happened by now.

And yet here you were, months later. Nothing seemed to be able to fill the hole he left behind, and even now you wished you could go back home as soon as possible.

Had it...had it been a mistake?

Of course it had. Your misery was evidence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could convince yourself that you’d done it for the good of the city.

The truth was... Hwang Hyunjin scared you.

He made you feel things, made you want to be someone else entirely. Every ounce of rigidity and austerity you’d imposed in yourself disappeared every time you were with him. He made you want to give everything up- give up all the responsibilities and burdens you carried on your shoulders to be with him. To be like him- free.

It wasn’t Hyunjin who was a threat to the city. No, not directly.

It was you- or rather the lack of you.

This city needed you to survive, and if Hyunjin managed to change you...it surely wouldn’t have lasted long without your help. Hyunjin had never really been the city’s biggest threat- there were far worse villains and it was them who you really fought against.

He was more of just an inconvenience, someone you had to deal with from time to time. And then he’d struck that deal- after which the nature of your relationship had turned into something entirely different.

Every time he acted up, it was usually just a ploy to get your attention. And attention was exactly what he got. You’d reinforced his behavior like an idiot.

You told yourself it was a chore, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d loved spending those nights in his bed, loved the way he was an expert at making you come undone with his body and his words.

It really had seemed like a good idea at the time. The right thing to do. However, it was quickly starting to seem like anything but.

You sighed as your mind tried its best not to travel back all those months. Dipping a teabag into the liquid, you mindlessly observed the customers in the cafe. Many of them were young, teenagers who were heading out before class.

You sighed as you recalled your own high school days, the times Hyunjin and you had hung out in a cafe much like this one.

“You don’t have to help me with this project, you know.”

“Ah, shush. It’s our final year. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He smiled as he flipped through his books, taking a sip of his coffee occasionally.

“You act like you’re not sticking to me like white on rice the rest of the year.” You roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself.

“Don’t get snippy with me, missy.” He smirked, still thumbing the pages nonchalantly. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

“You- I- what?” You wouldn’t admit it, but the thought caused a fluttering sensation in more than one place. It was a little bit of a shock, considering the two of you had done nothing more than make out and flirt, until now.

“Chill. I’m kidding.” He shook his head, looking up at you. “Unless…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it! I’m supposed to be working right now.” You whined, swatting him with a rolled up paper.

“I don’t care.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Hm...do you know what I’m thinking of right now, Y/n?”

“W-what?”

“Thinking about how easy it would be to slip my fingers under your skirt and play with that pretty pussy of yours. I’m pretty sure it’s soaked your underwear through by now.”

Fuck.

Your cheeks flushed as you stared at your plate. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly- his mere words had already turned you to a mess.

“S-shut up.” You mumbled, reading out formulas aloud as you tried to divert your attention from it. Hyunjin let out a teasing chuckle at your lame attempt to change the topic, shaking his head as he stared at his book again, unaware you were looking over your own at him, pressing your thighs together subtly.

God, he was so...so annoying.

You snapped out of it, sighing as you looked around at the much less crowded cafe. Had it always looked so dull? So lifeless?

The thought of him was hurtful- it felt like a dull knife, screwing itself into you. Reminding you what you’d done.

You’d killed the love of your life.

And now? There was no way to bring him back.

***

“Murder is never something a superhero should resort to. A good hero always stays true to themselves- they only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

A cough.

“But of course...villains are exempt from that rule. Killing one villain’s life could save countless others.”

Hm. You weren’t exactly sure if your father was right. Although you were just a child, you still had some knowledge of morality.

Was he? Killing just...seemed wrong. You didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it, no matter how evil the person was.

“Surely there are other ways to neutralize someone evil, Father?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, before shaking his head coldly. “Untrue.”

“The truth is, some lives are expendable, my dear Y/n…” Another cough, before he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze back on you.

“You must always look for the greater good.”

***

You still remembered the day you first met Hyunjin.

He was 13, and you were just a little younger. Your families were good comrades and allies, so your eventual meeting had already been planned.

The two of you were in the living room with everyone else as they talked to each other, mingling and chattering like adults usually did. Hyunjin and you made an unanimous decision to sneak out to the rooftop, and get to know each other better.

“So...our parents are allies now, hm? This means we’re going to see each other a lot more.”

“Of course we are! We’re both prodigies, like my dad and your mom...we inherited their powers, so they’re obviously going to want to cultivate those.”

“You speak pretty fancy for a 12 year old.”

“Hey, so do you! Besides, we’re gifted, aren’t we?”

“Hm.” He sighed, swinging his legs and inhaling. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again.

“Do you actually like having these powers?”

“Oh? Well, yeah...I do...my father tells me stories of his days as a superhero. I want to help people, just like him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d much rather live a normal life. Get a normal job, find someone to love, and have a normal marriage in a normal town.”

You pressed your lips together. “To each their own, I guess. Personally, I just want to get rid of all the evil in the world and make my father proud.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Evil…” He tapped his chin. “How does one even know the difference between good and evil?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure it would be obvious in every situation.”

“I disagree. The distinction is blurry. No one knows for sure, and definitely not at first glance.” He sighed. “I would know.”

You brought your knees to your chest as you observed the city below. “Well, I guess you’re right…” you paused, your heart feeling a little heavy for some reason.

“Do you know?”

“The line between good and evil is thin, Y/n. I can’t say I know for sure. But do you know what will always help you remember?”

“What?”

“Your heart.” He said softly, glancing at you and offering you a small smile.

“Just do whatever feels right...trust yourself.”

***

You sighed and shut your laptop.

Home. You needed to go home, cause your heart ached too much. You definitely weren’t ready to go back to work yet. You hadn’t done anything productive today really, just drink coffee and reflect on your actions. Regretting....regretting it all.

It’d been wrong. The wrong choice, the wrong decision.

You knew that, now. There could have been another way. You shouldn’t have rushed into it like that...how could you?

You felt a surge of hatred towards yourself engulf you. It was all your fault, this pain you were feeling. You didn’t have anyone to direct this immense anger towards except yourself. You realized this little fact in horror, your heart clenching as you wished things could have been different.

Finishing off your coffee, you placed a few bills on the table as you left the café, heading home. Ready to burrow under the blankets again, wallow in your self pity and pain. There wasn’t much else to do except succumb to acceptance.

You made your way down the street, humming the saddest song you knew under your breath.

All of a sudden, you felt eyes burning into your back. Your own eyes widening slightly, you turned around quickly-

But there was no one there.

Weird. Sighing, you decided to go back to going over your plans for tonight in your mind.

Maybe watch a movie in hopes of triggering some sort of emotion in you...or maybe take a bath, light some candles and listen to depressing music- shit.

It happened again. Someone was following you- you could feel it. Uncomfortable, your breathing slowly started getting heavier as you tried to formulate some kind of plan in your head-

The next thing that happened was so sudden you barely registered it for a second.

Your hand was gripped, so tightly you felt it would bruise. Aggressive, shocking and swift as lightning- it took several seconds before you realized someone was trying to kidnap you.

“Stop! Leave me alone!”

Struggling against the person holding you, you caught a glimpse of the masked man and decided to scream, hoping to gain some attention from somebody, anybody. There was no way this was happening, not right now. Your day had already been bad enough, why was the universe so intent on rubbing salt in your wounds?!

The urge to fight had never been stronger. Yet there was no strength left in your body. You couldn’t fight back against this man- he was taller than you and somehow even matched you in strength. Unless you exposed your powers, there was no way you would get yourself out of this predicament. Somehow you managed to smack him with your arm weakly, making him hiss.

“Let me go, please!”

The coffee cup fell out of your hand, brown liquid spilling all over the ground as you were pulled into the dark alley so quickly, no one would notice. Your eyes darted about in panic, trying to work out a possible escape route when the masked man caged you in, his arms on either side of you.

A horrible sense of déjà vu enveloped you. It’s all you can do to not scream, trying to keep yourself calm so that you could escape.

It’s ok, breathe in...and concentrate.

The heat within you started to crackle, your palms beginning to burn up gradually.

Your eyes blinked as you decided to try and take a good look at the person holding you. Their head was covered with a black mask, their finger held over their mouth as they ran their eyes over your distressed expression.

Inhale. Exhale.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed, staying still and pretending to give up the struggle. “Unhand me now, or you’ll regret it, trust me-“

“Shh! Y/n, please…” He shushed you, his voice shaky.

You stopped in your tracks.

Huh?

That voice…

“I’ll explain... but first we need to get out of here, fuck-” He looked from side to side quickly, scanning his surroundings.

Shit. Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Who- who are you?!” You managed to get out, the heat fading away as deep, panicked confusion took over you instead.

There was a small sigh as your assailant stood up a little straighter, groaning. And then, his fingers deftly pulled the mask off, clutching it in his hands tightly.

Golden locks spilled out, a handsome visage coming into view. Plump lips and beautiful eyes, looking oh so familiar.

No.

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck was going on?

It’s him.

But it can’t be.

How? It’s not possible-

You’re definitely losing your mind.

The man’s breathing got quicker as he watched your expression morph from fear into one of pure, electric shock.

“I know you’re shocked, Y/n, but please listen to-“

Your chest started heaving, quickly rising and falling as your heart pounded against your rib cage.

This...could not be happening. What was this? Was this a nightmare? Yet another sick, twisted dream? He couldn’t be standing right in front of you...it was impossible. No. No no no no no no no.

It was all too overwhelming, and your brain and body seemed to agree on that. Your mind swam, your thoughts all over the place as you felt yourself sway on your feet.

“This- I-“ You stumbled over your words, tears slipping past quickly as you tried to form words to express what you felt.

Pain. Searing pain, taking over, spreading from head to toe.

Your breathing slowed as the world suddenly went black, Hyunjin’s shouts in the background fading away...until there was nothing but silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin angst #skz smut #skz angst #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines

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rafael-silva · 4 years ago

Text

always be mine (and I will always be yours): a tarlos fic

“Do you smell that?” Carlos freezes, sniffs a couple of times before his face, too, falls. “Smoke.” TK nods and begins looking around, Carlos following his lead. The store isn’t that crowded, but there are a few people around, some who haven’t noticed the smell, yet. “We need to get people out,” TK says, jumping into first responder mode. “Yeah.”

Carlos and TK’s first shared day off in what seemed like forever is turned upside down when a fire erupts in a store while they're shopping, threatening to tear them apart and prematurely end their future together.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bleeding through the bandages

major character injury, hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, established relationship, angst, whump, blood, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddles, kisses, angst with a happy ending

8.2k | on ao3

*****

“Hey, ‘Los. What do you think of these?”

Carlos turns to look in TK’s direction, his eyes studying the light grey plate the younger man is holding up to show him.

“I think it would look nice with the dark grey set we use,” TK continues. “It would be a good contrast using the same color.”

Carlos nods after a moment of consideration. “Yeah, I think so, too. I like it.”

It’s Carlos and TK’s first shared day off in the past few weeks. They had planned the entire day upon finding that out, starting with sleeping in later than usual, a late breakfast, some shopping for the condo and then having a meal with Carlos’s parents.

They are currently shopping for a few things at an open mall. Ever since TK had moved in with Carlos, they had put effort into making the condo theirs and for it to also reflect TK and his personality. The best way to go about doing that was to go out and see what caught TK’s attention and making a home for those items.

“There’s still a lot to see, though,” TK says, looking in further down the aisle he was standing at the beginning of. “I like these, but let’s keep looking. We might find something better.”

Carlos walks over and extends his arm towards TK, and TK wastes no time in linking their fingers together. They walk hand in hand through the aisle, then the next and the next. They didn't really have a to-buy list with them, they were scouting more than anything and seeing what they stumbled upon and caught their attention. They both agree that that is the best way to find exactly what they’re searching for.

Carlos was enjoying this, his favorite time is any time spent with TK, but in this setting, he adores how excited TK would get over something his eyes catches or if he finds something interesting. But Carlos himself was also very interested in and excited about a particular section of the store: the cooking and baking equipment.

He couldn’t wait to reach it, already eager to find out if there are any new models or new appliances he could use in the kitchen. And his mother’s birthday is coming up soon, too, and he’s been cataloging the appliances at his parents’ house to figure out if he could get her a new one, too, knowing she’ll love it.

Carlos is brought back from his thoughts by yet another excited squeal from TK as the paramedic rushes in the direction of the towels and linens section. Carlos chuckles and follows him, knowing how much TK loves and appreciates a good soft towel or silky smooth sheets.

“They’re so soft!” TK tells Carlos, running his hand over a displayed towel. “And these sheets!” He moves to the other side, admiring the bedsheets.

Carlos has to admit, they do feel pretty amazing. And the colors would fit right in with their bathroom and bedroom.

TK looks at Carlos. “I’ve made up my mind, new towels and sheets.”

“Okay, then,” Carlos nods.

If new towels and bedsheets will make the condo feel more like home for TK, then they will get all the towels and sheets TK’s heart desires.

Their conversation is cut short when TK frowns, turning around and narrowing his eyes.

“What is it?” Carlos asks, immediately noticing the change in TK’s posture.

“Do you smell that?”

Carlos freezes, sniffs a couple of times before his face, too, falls. “Smoke.”

TK nods and begins looking around, Carlos following his lead.

The store isn’t that crowded, but there are a few people around, some who haven’t noticed the smell, yet.

“We need to get people out,” TK says, jumping into first responder mode.

“Yeah.”

The alarm goes off just as they start grabbing people’s attentions. Together, they usher them out with the help of the green lit signs.

TK and Carlos share a concerned look when they both realize that the smoke is getting heavier and more evident as they make their way towards the exit.

And then TK spots it, the dancing red and orange flames coming from the corner of the store, getting bigger and bigger by each passing second, feeding on the oxygen in the closed space. He could also see a few silhouettes near the fire, who may need help.

“There’s still people near the fire,” TK yells over to Carlos, pointing in the direction of the flames. “Get everyone out, I’ll go for them and meet you outside.”

But Carlos is shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

Carlos’s tone leaves no room for argument, and TK knows they don’t even have time for any arguments. TK turns to a young man in the crowd.

“Make sure everyone is out, don’t stop for anything,” he instructs him.

The man nods and continues helping people out.

“Here,” Carlos pushes something into TK’s hands.

He looks down to see one of the towels he was admiring earlier and finds Carlos covering his own mouth and nose with one himself.

The irony doesn’t escape him.

TK nods. “Thanks.” He lifts the towel to his face, the promise of softness and comfort that came hand in hand with this towel shifts and its purpose is now a shield for protection instead.

The heat gets worse the closer they get to the people in the fire vicinity, and Carlos can feel the sweat running down his neck and back. The thick smoke makes it almost impossible to see straight and the officer does his best to keep TK in his direct line of sight.

“Hey, we’re here to help!” TK yells when he’s in earshot.

“It’s so hard to see,” a woman’s voice speaks. “The smoke…”

“I know, just follow my voice,” TK guides her. He eventually gets to her and points her in the direction of the exit. “Is there anyone else here?”

She nods. “Two more.”

“TK, over here!”

Once he’s sure she’s moving in the right direction, TK turns his attention to where Carlos’s voice is coming from. He finds Carlos standing, supporting a man by carrying his weight with an arm draped over his shoulder.

“You alright?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” the man nods.

“There’s another person,” TK points out, looking around and trying to see through the smoke.

The fire is growing at an alarming rate, TK’s firefighter instincts scream that they need to get out of there right this moment.

“Can anyone hear me?” TK tries, hoping his voice carries over the fire.

A figure emerges near a door with a sign that reads Changing Rooms.

“Good, good!” TK says as the other man approaches them, covering his mouth and nose with a scarf. “We need to get out of here! This way!”

TK points the two men in the direction as they start moving, TK waits for Carlos so they’re close together, not risking losing him in all this smoke. With a final look around, TK gives him a nod and they start heading towards the exit.

An exploding sound originating near them sends Carlos and TK diving to the ground, covering their faces with their arms and curling their bodies where they landed. It’s over just as quickly as it started, it takes a moment for TK to shake it off, sitting up and wincing at the ringing in his ears. He takes a moment to refocus, eyes immediately searching for Carlos in the chaos.

He finds Carlos a few feet away from him, lying on his back. TK glances around and sees the floor around them littered with broken glass. Mindful of the sharp pieces, TK quickly crawls over to Carlos.

“Hey, Carlos. Are you okay?” TK asks, taking a quick survey of the other man but stops short when his eyes land on Carlos’s stomach.

He freezes, he even stops breathing for a few seconds. The sight makes TK’s own stomach twist and turn. Because no, no, no, this can’t be happening.

“TK,” Carlos groans through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, babe. You’re okay,” TK rushes to reassure Carlos, his voice shakier than he’d like.

“What…” Carlos begins but trails off, scrunching up his face in pain.

“A glass display exploded, and you have some glass embedded in your abdomen,” TK swallows. “I need you to stay calm and still. And stay awake, babe.”

TK looks up and not only is the fire much, much bigger but it’s getting closer to where Carlos is lying on the ground. He frantically looks around hoping to find help, but no one is in sight. And he doubts anyone can see them through the heavy grey cloud. They need to move, and Carlos is already losing a lot of blood. TK feels the panic start to bubble in his gut, but he pushes it down, willing his racing heart to calm down so he can help Carlos. So he can save him.

Taking a deep breath doesn’t really help, because it’s practically inhaling a handful of smoke but TK manages to regain some control anyway, his training kicking in. If anyone can get Carlos out, it’s him.

“I need to apply pressure, Carlos,” TK says over the raging fire, reaching for the towel Carlos was using before and pressing it hard against the officer’s stomach.

And once again, the towel is transformed from an item of indulgence to a lifeline for Carlos.

Carlos lets out a pained scream, rolling his head from side to side. TK watches in anguish as a tear rolls down the side of Carlos’s face.

“I know, I’m sorry, but we need to slow down this bleeding as much as we can until we get help.”

TK wraps his hand around Carlos’s wrist and guides the cop’s hand towards the wound, pushing it down there. “Keep holding it there.”

It’s hot, God, it’s so hot, TK feels the heat coursing through his body. His face feels so hot and his eyes are starting to burn. He zones out for a moment when his eyes land on the blood pooling beneath the love of his life. A crash behind them snaps him back to the moment.

“Can you stand up?” He asks Carlos.

“Don’t know.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna help you. We need to get out of here. Trust me,” TK says and starts helping Carlos into a sitting position.

“I trust you with my life,” Carlos croaks.

“I got you. On three,” he takes hold of Carlos’s free arm and throws it over his shoulder. On the count of three, he get to his feet, helping Carlos up with him and supporting more of his weight.

“That’s it,” TK whispers. “One foot in front of the other.” He secures his hold on Carlos by wrapping his arm around Carlos’s waist and guiding them towards the exit.

He feels Carlos getting weaker in his grip, and notices his hold on the towel faltering, allowing for more blood to rush freely down his skin once more.

“Hey, Carlos, I need you to stay with me, baby,” TK tries, his voice wobbly and unsteady.

He can’t tell if Carlos heard that and he feels the fear begin to seize him. He feels helpless, momentarily at loss as he pretty much carries Carlos out of the burning store.

“Carlos, please…stay with me.”

Carlos manages to breathe out an mhm and TK tightens his hold on him, moving with purpose and precision as the fire continues roaring behind them.

After what feels like an eternity, TK sees the light.

“I need a first aid kit!” TK yells at the crowd gathered outside of the store. “Get me a first aid kit!”

The much-needed fresh air doesn’t do much in helping TK relax or calm down. He stops once they’re far enough from the entrance and with the help of another man, TK lowers Carlos to the ground.

“Hey, babe. You still with me?”

Carlos gives him a short nod.

TK discards the ruined piece of fabric and cotton to inspect the wound. He can see at least three shards of glass inside the wound, he can’t tell if they’ve hit any organs or nicked any veins, but the amount of blood Carlos has already lost is alarming. The officer’s entire left side is drenched in crimson, also staining the top of his jeans.

“You’re gonna be okay, ‘Los,” TK continues speaking, trying to keep Carlos awake. “Just stay with me. Focus on my voice.”

“Ty…” Carlos mumbles, his voice weak.

“I’m right here, baby.”

The first aid kit is opened when it lands next to TK and he doesn’t look in the direction of where it came. He grabs for a bandage, unwrapping it and hastily layering it in his palm before pressing it hard against Carlos’s abdomen.

Carlos gasps, his brown eyes opening wide and the rush of adrenaline seems to pump some energy through his body.

“Stay with me,” TK repeats.

“Guess…we won’t make dinner…with my parents,” Carlos pushes out.

TK lets out a wet chuckle. “Don’t worry about that, babe. We’ll have another dinner with them once you’re all fixed up and better.”

TK gulps, the bandage is filling up with blood way too quickly. There’s so much blood…Carlos’s blood. TK reaches for another bandage, holding it against Carlos’s stomach with his now-smeared fingers. His heart is hammering roughly against his ribcage and he attempts to draw in a few breaths but they come out in coughs.

“Ty, your chest,” Carlos stammers.

TK shakes his head. “I’m okay, it’s nothing serious.” And then the air around them is graced with the sound of incoming sirens.

“Do you hear that, babe? Help is almost here,” TK says, throwing the bloodied bandage aside and pressing yet another one to the wound.

He looks up from Carlos for the first time when he hears rapid footsteps approaching and a slight weight is lifted off his chest when he spots Marjan jogging towards them.

His team is here. It’s gonna be okay.

TK can pinpoint the moment Marjan’s eyes land on him and the split second it takes her to realize who she’s looking at. Her eyes go big very quickly and she breaks into a run towards them, already screaming for Tommy and Nancy.

“Captain Vega! Nancy! Over here!” She frantically waves the paramedics over.

“Hey, Marj,” TK breaths out, feeling a little deflated but his hands still applying pressure to Carlos’s stomach.

“Strand!” Tommy’s voice comes from behind as she and Nancy crouch next to them. “What happened?”

“A fire started, and then a glass display shattered and hit Carlos. There’s some glass shards lodged in his abdomen. He’s lost a lot of blood,” TK’s voice trembles as he explains.

Tommy nods, getting the equipment ready and Nancy works to take Carlos’s vitals.

“Hey, Carlos,” Tommy speaks in her calm and sweet tone. “How are you doing?”

“Okay…” Carlos whispers.

TK can feel the rest of the crew gather around them and he senses his dad standing right behind him. It’s confirmed when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he knows it’s his father’s touch.

He looks up and sees Judd standing near. “I think everyone is out.”

TK hears Owen give orders while turning his attention back to Carlos. And under all the soot and black ash smudged on Carlos’s face, the officer is looking a lot paler than he did a minute ago.

TK’s heart shatters a little more and some pieces drop into his knees when he feels Carlos’s blood seep through the bandage and stick to his skin.

“He’s bleeding through all of the bandages,” TK’s voice breaks.

“TK, I know it’s hard but I’m going to need you to let go for a moment,” Tommy says.

TK vigorously shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t…he’ll bleed more. I can’t.”

“I need to see the damage. Here,” she hands TK a bigger and thicker piece of gauze. “To use the moment I’m done.”

Reluctantly, TK pulls back. He closes his eyes for a moment while Tommy inspects the wound and then he’s opening his eyes and pressing the gauze once she’s done.

“I don’t think the glass hit anything vital,” she reports.

“His sats are low, Cap,” Nancy speaks.

“TK, I need you to keep the pressure. We’re gonna move him now. Captain Strand, a hand.”

Together, Tommy, Nancy and Owen lift Carlos onto the stretcher while TK keeps his hold.

Owen gives TK’s shoulder a squeeze. “Keep us updated, son,” his voice is filled to the brim with worry and concern. “We’ll be by the hospital as soon as we can.”

TK nods and hops into the rig after they push Carlos inside. Tommy instantly gets to work, placing the oxygen mask over Carlos’s face and starts inserting an IV in Carlos’s arm. Nancy slams the doors and rushes to the driver’s seat, the siren blaring as the ambulance starts to move.

TK keeps the pressure with one hand and uses the other to hold one of Carlos’s, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Carlos peels his eyelids open and finds TK’s face through the haze. TK’s very worried face.

“We…didn’t see the…kitchen appliances,” Carlos says, his voice partly muffled by the oxygen mask.

Another wet chuckle from TK. “I promise we’ll get all the new appliances you want.”

“My parents,” Carlos wheezes.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll handle it, save your energy,” TK replies.

“I love you, Ty,” Carlos whispers as his eyes begin to droop.

“I love you, too. You gotta stay awake for me, ‘Los.”

A gut-wrenching feeling takes over and TK refuses to believe that Carlos has just said goodbye, even as a lone tear slips out of his eye and rolls down his cheek.

The rest of the ride is stressful, with Carlos going in and out of consciousness.

The ambulance doors are yanked open when the rig comes to halt in front of the hospital. Tommy gives the doctors and nurses a rundown of Carlos’s injury and vitals as they quickly move. TK jogs by the gurney, only letting his hand drop when he knows one of the nurses took over keeping the pressure.

The other nurse stands in front of TK, but he’s looking over her shoulder to where Carlos is being wheeled into the elevator.

The nurse gently takes hold of TK’s hand and drops something into it.

He looks down and sees a ring sitting in his palm. The silver ring he slipped onto Carlos’s finger just a couple of months ago.

“Hold onto it for him,” the nurse says.

But her voice is so far away now, muffled and distant. And it feels like TK’s suddenly under water as he begins to heave, the rest of the world fading away. He’s visibly shaking now, clutching the ring tightly in his fist. He can’t stop the sob that tears through his throat and out of his dried lips.

He feels Tommy’s hand come to rest on the small of his back as she leads him towards the chairs.

“Come on, TK.”

He lets her guide him and he drops harshly onto the plastic, his knuckles going white from the force of his hold on Carlos’s ring.

“Easy, easy,” Tommy soothes, slowly coaxing his fingers from digging into his palm.

TK opens his palm and looks at the ring again, the one thing on repeat going through his head that’s Carlos’s blood, that’s Carlos’s blood and TK feels sick to his stomach. He slips the ring into his pocket without a word.

“I…should call his parents,” TK speaks after a few minutes of silence. “I should…” he drops his head to look at his still-bloody hands.

Tommy nods, watching as TK gets up on unsteady legs and makes his way towards the bathroom first.

After scrubbing his hands clean, he steps outside of the ER. It’s hot and the atmosphere is stiff around him.

TK had lost track of time, but the sun still hanging high in the sky tells him it can’t be more than thirty minutes since the fire started, though it feels like that was a lifetime or two ago.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes a deep breath, touching a contact and dragging the phone up to his ear.

“Tyler,” Andrea picks up after the third ring, her voice cheery and joyful. “I’m just about to start making the food. Are you and Carlitos almost done with your errands?”

“Andrea,” TK manages to push past the lump in his throat, his voice uneven.

She immediately picks up on TK’s broken tone. “What is it?”

“Something happened.”

TK finds the waiting room where Tommy and Nancy are sitting a few minutes after ending the phone call with Andrea. He doesn’t know how he got through telling her the hellish events of the past hour without completely breaking down.

Shock, his mind supplies.

“His parents are on their way,” TK announces.

He’s not sure his legs can carry him any longer, the adrenaline beginning to wear off, so he unceremoniously falls backwards into a chair facing the door.

“We’ll wait until they get here,” Tommy decides. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

TK musters his best grateful smile to give to Tommy, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The silence is heavy around them, TK’s nervous energy visible through the rapid bouncing of his leg. He’s leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs with his face buried in his hands. He gently tugs on his hair strands, needing to keep his hands busy.

He only looks up from the carpeted floor when he hears fast footsteps nearing the door, spotting Andrea and Gabriel rushing towards the room through the glass window.

TK gets to his feet just as they enter the room, and his head immediately drops. In this moment, TK wants to curl up in the corner and be invisible. It’s been eating at him since they arrived at the hospital, how he feels like this is all his fault. He should have pressed harder for Carlos to get out of that burning store while he still could have, because it he had gone, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. And now, facing Carlos’s parents, with the guilt racking and building in his bones with each passing second, he can’t bring himself to meet their worried gazes.

Andrea can tell TK’s breath hitches because she’s moving across the room and closing the distance between them in two strides.

“Breathe, Tyler, breathe,” she speaks, her voice low but still soothing as she wraps her arms around TK’s quivering body.

TK falls against Andrea, returning the embrace and he can’t help the sob that escapes his lips.

Andrea gently shushes him, a hand traveling up his back and settles against the back of his head where she cards her fingers through TK’s short hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” TK hiccups, the tears now running freely down his face and wetting Andrea’s shirt. “I tried, I tried…”

Not only is his guilt weighing him down, but Carlos’s ring in his pocket suddenly feels very heavy.

“Está bien, amor,” she reassures him. It’s okay, love.

TK stays in her arms for a few more moments, in her warmth, gathering his own strength and maybe even borrowing some of Andrea’s so he can keep standing.

He eventually pulls back with a sniffle, straightening his back and wiping away the fallen tears.

“There’s no reason to be sorry,” Andrea gives TK a small smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know in my heart you did everything you could to help our Carlitos.”

More tears pool in TK’s eyes and one streaks down his cheek when Gabriel reaches out, placing a hand on TK’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze there.

“What she said, mijo.”

TK is taken aback by how different Gabriel sounds. The Texas Ranger’s usually strong and proud voice sounds like it’s been shrunk, small and low. Gabriel looks deflated, too.

TK draws in a deep breath, giving them a nod before clearing his throat.

He turns to face Tommy and Nancy, who were watching the encounter with their own teary eyes.

“Gabriel, Andrea, this is my team, Captain Vega and Nancy,” TK introduces. “Guys, these are Carlos’s parents.”

Tommy and Nancy get up to their feet, Tommy extended a hand, shaking Gabriel’s and then Andrea’s.

“I’m so sorry we had to officially meet under these circumstances,” the Paramedic Captain speaks. “Carlos is young, strong and healthy and he’s in the best of hands.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Gabriel replies with a grateful tone.

“And you were right,” Tommy faces Andrea. “TK did everything right. I would even say he’s the one who saved Carlos’s life.”

TK closes his eyes and lets the words sink in. He opens them when he feels a hand on his back.

It’s Nancy. “Call if you need anything, Strand. I mean it.”

TK nods, giving her a hug. “Thanks, Nance.”

“And keep us updated, we’re all thinking of you. Both of you,” Tommy adds.

“Thanks, Cap.”

With quick goodbyes, Tommy and Nancy leave.

Andrea takes TK’s hand and leads him back towards the chairs where she sits between him and her husband.

TK pulls out his phone, staring at his lock screen wallpaper for a second, a selfie of him and Carlos, both of them wearing big smiles. He keeps his gaze on Carlos for a few more moment before unlocking it.

TK: [4:09 PM] Andrea and Gabriel are here, Tommy and Nancy just left. We haven't heard anything yet.

Owen’s reply comes immediately.

Owen: [4:09 PM] Send them my love until I get there. Only a couple of hours left for shift, I’ll be by as soon as I can.

TK: [4:10 PM] Thanks, dad.

Owen: [4:11 PM] The crew send their love and support, too.

Doctors and nurses keep walking passed the waiting room but none of them enter or seek the worried trio out. TK’s heart beats a little faster every time a doctor or nurse approaches the waiting room, but disappointment quickly sets in when they disappear as quickly as they appeared.

“Have you eaten anything?” Andrea asks after ten minutes of silence.

TK shakes his head. “Not since breakfast. I’m not really hungry, though.”

And this topic brings back a memory from earlier in the day, and TK lets out a bitter chuckle.

Andrea and Gabriel give him puzzled looks, clearly confused.

“No, it’s just,” TK starts with a shake of his head. “When Carlos was hurt, you know what he was worried about the most? That we were gonna miss dinner with you guys,” he voice fractures. “I told him not worry, that we’ll have another one once he’s better. But…he was worried about dinner.”

Andrea closes her eyes, pushing a tear down her face. “Yeah, that’s our Carlitos. He never wants to let anyone down.”

TK nods. “Now just the idea of food or eating, it just…” he stops with another head shake and starts fumbling with his hands.

“I understand but still, you need to eat something,” Andrea interjects. “You need to keep your energy and strength up to take care of him. You’re no good to Carlos if you collapse.”

TK doesn’t fight it because he knows she’s right.

She gets up, picking up her purse and throwing it over her shoulder. “Let me go see what’s there to eat around here.” And then she’s gone, leaving TK and Gabriel alone with their thoughts.

A few minutes in and the silence is too much for TK to handle.

“This is all my fault,” his voice slices through the atmosphere.

Gabriel looks at TK, his eyebrows creased together in question.

“Carlos getting hurt,” TK clarifies. “I should have insisted he leave with everyone else, instead of going with me towards the fire.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen a little in surprise. “You…went towards the fire?”

TK nods, swallowing and looking away from Gabriel’s eyes. “Some people were having a hard time finding their way out. And I knew there wasn’t much time left, I knew I had to go and help them. I told Carlos to leave with everybody else but he said he won’t leave me. I let it go because there wasn’t enough time to argue. But now…I can’t help but wonder if I had just taken two seconds to insist that he get to safety. I’m trained for this, he isn’t. He came along, and he got hurt.”

Gabriel’s eyes soften and he moves one chair over, now sitting in Andrea’s place. “TK, you and I both know that with or without training, Carlos would have never left you alone in that store.”

TK shakes his head. “He should have. He should have gotten out of there.”

“Answer me this,” Gabriel says. “If it were a reversed situation, and let’s say instead of a fire it was a robbery, would you have left Carlos alone, even if he told you to leave to get to safety?”

TK meets Gabriel’s eyes once again. “No,” he sighs, rolling his own ring in circles where it sits on his finger. “I wouldn’t leave him.”

Gabriel nods. “Even without police training, you wouldn’t have left his side. This is the exact same thing.”

TK draws in a shaky breath and lets it out slowly.

“This wasn’t your fault, TK,” Gabriel expresses, a hand going to the back of TK’s neck and giving him a reassuring squeeze and pat there.

TK feels the slightest weight lifted off his chest. The rest will be removed once he knows with certainty that Carlos is okay.

*****

Andrea had returned with a take out paper bag from a nearby Tex Mex food truck she had spotted on her quest to find food. She knew that the last thing TK needs would be hospital food, and remembering Carlos mentioning that TK loved burritos, she ordered a filling one for him.

He had gratefully accepted the food and ate in silence, taking one small bite after the other until he was crunching up the foil wrap and throwing it away.

He had to admit, eating did help him feel a little better.

However, his anxiety and worry have been increasing because it’s been over two hours and they haven’t heard anything about Carlos yet.

“TK!”

TK hears Owen before he sees him, he gets up just in time to see his dad striding into the waiting room, Judd hot on his heels, both in their civvies.

“Hey, dad,” TK sags a little, accepting the embrace Owen wraps him in.

They hug for a few moments before pulling back, and then Judd is placing a comforting hand on TK’s shoulder.

“You doin’ alright, brother?”

TK nods. “Hanging in there.”

“Have you heard anything yet?”

TK shakes his head, his eyes flooding with tears again as they land on the opened doorway.

After quick exchanges between Andrea, Gabriel, Owen and Judd (they’ve all grown closer since Carlos and TK’s engagement) the four of them take their seats while TK opts to pace around the small room instead, going back to rolling his ring between his fingers, a gesture he does when he’s nervous.

Carlos would always notice, and he’d reach out and cover TK’s hand with his own, wordlessly reassuring TK that he’s here and that TK isn’t alone.

And TK misses that, he misses Carlos’s touch. Misses his voice, his smile, his eyes. He misses Carlos and he feels that ache echo from his head to his toe.

“Did you find out what started the fire?” TK asks, looking at Owen, part of him needing to know.

Owen nods. “Electrical fire. It started with a spark and then quickly spread.”

TK nods slowly. “Carlos is going to be fine,” he whispers, more to himself than anything else. “He has to be.”

*****

After what feels like a lifetime and then some, a very exhausted looking doctor makes his way into the waiting room. In one beat, everyone is on their feet and TK exchanges a fast look with his dad before turning his attention back to the doctor.

TK finds himself shifting his weight from one foot to the other, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Family of Carlos Reyes?”

“How’s our son?” Gabriel is the first to ask, clasping Andrea’s hand with his own.

“He made it through,” the doctor replies with a tired but genuine smile. “He’s going to be okay.”

A collective sigh rebounds off the walls and the tension in the room starts fading. But TK is still holding his breath, still cautious as he process the doctor’s words.

“The glass fragments didn’t hit anything vital and didn’t sever any veins or arteries. But the wound was deep and jagged, due to the irregular angle and high speed the pieces penetrated his abdomen, which made it a little complicated to repair. His blood pressure was lower than I liked for most of the surgery, because of how much blood he had already lost, but we got it under control and his numbers are now holding and stable,” the doctor explains.

“Gracias a Dios,” Andrea whispers, clutching her free hand over her heart. “When can we see him?”

“Shortly. He’s being settled into recovery right now. I have to limit visitors to two until he’s moved to a regular room.”

Gabriel extends his hand to shake the doctor’s. “Gracias, doctor.”

“You’re welcome,” the doctor smiles again. “He’s young and healthy, I expect him to make a full recovery. A nurse will come by to let you know once he’s ready for visitors.”

TK’s mind is still catching up with what the doctor had said, he sees him walk away but he doesn’t exactly register it.

“He’s okay?” TK turns to Owen, needing to hear it one more time to believe it.

Owen nods with a smile. “He’s okay, son.”

TK would have crashed to the ground if it weren’t for Owen’s fast reflexes in wrapping an arm around his son’s waist. Owen saw the second it happened, the second TK’s knees gave way and it was an instant later he was holding TK upright.

“Easy, TK, easy,” Owen guides him to sit. “Deep, even breaths.”

It takes a minute or two for TK to control his breathing and to steady his heart rate.

“That’s it, son, that’s it,” Owen runs a hand up and down TK’s back to help sooth him.

“Carlos is okay,” TK says out loud, finally believing it.

Carlos’s ring isn’t heavy in TK’s pocket anymore.

*****

Sitting by Carlos’s hospital bed is surreal.

There’s so much that doesn’t fit with the image TK has of Carlos in his mind, and his brain is working on processing the sight in front of him.

Yes, Carlos is calm, not nearly as fidgety as TK is, but still, the officer had little gestures here and there, little movements he would do that spoke volumes. It had taken TK a while to document them, but once he did, he would notice every time Carlos would scrunch up his nose or rub at his temple when he was focusing on something that was work related. How his eyes would move under closed lids when he was asleep. How he’d turn on his side, arm automatically reaching for TK and pulling him close. And there are more little things that spell Carlos so vividly and the absence of them in this moment breaks TK’s heart all that more.

He sighs, his red, swollen eyes moving to the heart monitor that tells him that Carlos’s heartbeat is strong and steady. TK is also glad to see that his fiancé had regained some color in his face, and that he was breathing on his own, all good and promising signs. But still, TK will only be fully satisfied when Carlos is awake and smiling at him.

It’s been nearly an hour since a nurse had informed them that Carlos was ready for visitors. TK had insisted that Andrea and Gabriel see Carlos first, and they stayed with their son for about thirty minutes before retreating back to the waiting room, eyes equally bloodshot.

Gabriel had patted TK’s back. Go be with your fiancé, he had told TK. And with a promise to visit the next day, he and Andrea left.

Owen and Judd had excused themselves, as well; Owen going to pack a bag for TK and Judd going home to Grace. Both men reminding TK to call or text if he needs anything or if a change happens.

“Hi, baby,” TK tightens his grasp on Carlos’s hand. “Your parents will be back tomorrow. Dad’s packing a bag for me for the night, and everyone sends their love and support. They all said they’ll visit in a couple of days, and I’m hoping you’ll be awake by then.”

The beeping monitor is all the response TK gets.

“I’m right here, ‘Los. Come back to me,” TK whispers as he runs his fingers through Carlos’s soft curls. The officer always did leave his curls a little loose on his days off, not applying much hair product to keep them in place. And TK adores Carlos’s curls.

He then gets up and plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead.

It’s a restless night for TK. Between his worry and the nurses frequently checking on Carlos, he barely gets any sleep. He gives up right around dawn breaking, painting the sky in streaks of red, orange and yellow. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up in the cot that was set for him. A quick survey tells him that nothing has changed, and that sadly means that Carlos still hasn’t woken up. He gets to his feet and stretches, expelling the exhaustion from his bones as much as he could. A trip to the bathroom would help, his mind supplies.

After freshening up, he returns to Carlos’s side, brushing a kiss to the officer’s cheek.

“Good morning, babe.”

He looks up as the door is pushed open and a young nurse walks in.

“Oh, good morning,” she smiles at TK.

“Morning,” he gives a small smile in return.

“He’s doing good,” she notes, jotting down Carlos’s vitals in the clipboard hanging on the end of his bed. “The doctor is hopeful he’ll wake up today.”

“That’s great to hear,” TK replies. “I…really need him to wake up.”

She nods. “There’s a coffee station down the hall, you look like you need it,” she adds with empathy in her voice.

“Thanks,” TK lightly chuckles. And boy does he really need it.

TK hasn’t really let the full gravity of the past day’s events sink in. He wasn’t exactly bottling it up or ignoring it or running from it, part of him was still trying to wrap his mind around it. It had all happened so fast, and then everything was so incredibly slow, it caused TK’s mind to lag. It all felt like a haze, like he was trying to see through a fog.

And even now, with a cup of coffee in hand, watching the steady rise and fall of Carlos’s chest, TK feels like it’s an out of body experience. It hasn’t sunk in yet, and TK is praying that Carlos will be awake when it eventually does. Because he doesn’t want to—a part of him even thinks he can’t—deal with this alone. Dealing with the aftermath with Carlos here, awake, will make it a little easier, TK supposes.

The minutes and hours tick by, with no change from Carlos’s side. TK had grown agitated a few times and opted to walk around the room for a bit, even taking a quick stroll up and down the hallway a couple of times, to burn off some energy.

He’s back in the chair situated next to the bed, scrolling through and replying to texts he’d received. He’s sending a message to the 126 crew group chat when a small movement catches his eye. TK looks up, locking his phone and placing it on the nightstand.

He holds his breath, momentarily thinking his brain was playing a cruel trick on him when the movement happens again.

His phone pings but TK doesn’t dare to look away from Carlos’s face.

“Carlos? Baby, can you hear me?” He speaks, his voice is a little husky from not being used.

And then TK can cry, because Carlos’s head is slowly moving to the side and his eyes are gradually met by Carlos’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Oh my god,” TK breathes. “Hi, babe. Hi.”

“Ty,” Carlos croaks out, his voice hoarse.

“I’m right here, right here,” TK smiles and for the first time since they smelled smoke, TK can finally breathe.

And he also does cry, a tear rolling down his cheek as brown and green gaze into each other. But Carlos’s eyes are also a little clouded.

With all the strength he could muster, Carlos lifts his arm and cups TK’s cheek, wiping away the fallen tear with his thumb.

TK chuckles wetly and leans into Carlos’s touch. Oh, how much he’s missed it.

“‘m okay,” Carlos mumbles.

“Yeah,” TK nods. “Yeah, you are, babe.”

Carlos’s tongue darts out to lick his dry lips.

“Do you want some water?”

Carlos responds with a small nod.

TK grabs the water pitcher and pours some into a cup, placing it in front of Carlos and guiding the straw between his lips.

“Easy, babe. Slow sips,” TK says, holding the cup.

Once Carlos is done, TK returns the cup. He can tell Carlos is already exhausted by the way the officer’s eyes are beginning to droop shut. He can also tell that Carlos is fighting it.

“It’s okay, ‘Los,” TK reassures him. “Go back to sleep, your body needs it to heal. I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”

“Love you,” Carlos whispers, already halfway asleep.

“And I love you,” TK replies, pressing a kiss to Carlos’s knuckles.

***** Carlos wakes up again a few hours later, more coherent and alert. Stronger, too.

TK’s watching him when he opens his eyes, blinks a few times and settles on the paramedic’s face, that quickly splits into a grin.

“Welcome back, again,” TK squeezes Carlos’s hand.

TK’s words take a moment to sink in for Carlos, and he’s frowning once they do. “Again?”

TK nods. “You woke up a few hours ago. You don’t remember?”

Carlos tries to focus, he remembers seeing TK, but…

“I remember seeing your face, but I thought I was dreaming,” Carlos eventually replies.

“No, baby, it wasn’t a dream. You woke up for a minute and then slept again,” he gives Carlos’s hand a squeeze. “The doctor said that was perfectly normal, that your body needed more time to heal, from the injury and the toll of the surgery.”

“How bad is it?” Carlos asks once he’s gathered enough strength again. He could still feel the ghost of the towel pressing into his side.

TK swallows, a hand going to cup Carlos’s cheek. “You lost a lot of blood, that was the biggest concern. But nothing vital was damaged, the wound itself was irregular because of the angle and speed of the glass shards, so it was a little complicated to fix but they did it. And you’re going to be just fine, with some time off work and a lot of love from me,” he ends with dropping a kiss to Carlos’s forehead.

“I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

“Yeah,” TK nods. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, I really didn’t mean to,” Carlos says, knowing exactly what’s on TK’s mind. “It all happened so fast and…”

“I know, babe,” TK reassures him. “I just wish that—”

“No,” Carlos interrupts. “Don’t go there, babe. This wasn’t your fault.”

TK blows out a sigh, dropping his eyes to Carlos’s stomach, where he knows there’s a large piece of gauze covering his side under the blankets and hospital gown.

“Hey, Ty, look at me,” Carlos pleads.

Slowly, TK lifts his eyes to meet Carlos’s. TK can see specks of exhaustion at the corners of Carlos’s kind eyes, but in the middle sits steel determination.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Carlos repeats.

“Now you sound like your father,” TK says with a small smile.

Carlos chuckles weakly. “Well, he’s right.” Then a pause. “What if I had left you and then you were the one who got hurt? Who would have helped you and gotten you out? That wasn’t a chance I was willing to take. I never would have gone and left you in there, TK.”

Carlos extends an arm and places his palm on the nape of TK’s neck, gently pulling him closer until their foreheads are touching and resting against each other.

They both close their eyes, staying like that for a few moments as they take it all in. Breathing each other in. And even with the scent of antiseptic hanging in the air around them, TK can distinctly smell Carlos. And the heavy weight sitting on his chest starts evaporating.

They pull back, but not before Carlos brushes a tentative kiss to TK’s cheek.

“How are you doing?” Carlos asks his fiancé.

“I’m okay,” TK replies.

Carlos can see through it, though and raises an eyebrow at TK. “Really? Because I know I just woke up from surgery and all, but I have a feeling you look worse than I do.”

“I can get you a mirror if you’d like,” TK attempts at a comeback but it comes out flat and deflated. He sighs. He watches Carlos for a few moments before continuing. “I was just…really scared. It all seemed really bad for a moment there and…” he trails off with a shrug.

Tears start to gather in TK’s eyes as he slips his hand into his pocket and closes his fist around the ring, pulling it out but not opening his palm yet.

“And then the nurse placed this in my hand when you were being wheeled away from me,” TK opens his palm then, revealing the silver jewelry. “And looking at it, it felt like I had just said goodbye to you,” his voice breaks.

“Querido,” Carlos whispers, his own eyes now filled with tears. Darling.

“This ring symbolizes me giving you a piece of myself, because I am yours. And when the ring was given back to me…it felt like you were gone,” TK sniffs, letting the tears fall.

“No, baby, no,” Carlos’s own voice wavers. He clutches tightly at TK’s hands, covering his open palm. “You will always be mine, just as I will always be yours. I’m here, I’m here and I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“Always,” TK whispers.

He’s still feeling the pain and hurt, the almost-grief, but Carlos’s words ease them all and a glimmer of hope starts brewing in his chest instead. Hope born out of their love, out of their touch. They are each other’s always.

TK sits up straight and clears his throat. “Now, I believe this belongs to you.”

The smile at takes over Carlos’s face is blinding as TK takes his hand and slips the ring back on his finger where it belongs.

“From me to you,” TK says, looking into Carlos’s soft eyes.

“Always,” Carlos whispers into the space between them.

TK plants a kiss on the ring and then closes the distance between them with a chaste kiss to Carlos’s lips. The kiss is gentle, tender, but carries a river of emotions with it. It is comfort, it is reassurance, it is safety. It’s everything and more.

TK’s phone pings just as they separate and quick glance tells him who’s on the other side of the text.

“Your mom,” TK tells Carlos. “She’s already planning the make-up dinner.”

An amused look takes over Carlos’s face. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“She and your dad will be happy to know you’re fully awake now,” TK says as he types back. “Everyone will be.”

Carlos smiles, already looking forward to seeing his family.

“And don’t you think I forgot about the new cooking and baking equipment you want,” TK lifts an eyebrow with a smirk. “We can check them online and buy all the ones you want.”

“They’ll come in handy when I’m recovering, that’s for sure,” Carlos replies, a hint of excitement coating his voice.

“And I am looking forward to your cooking and baking spree. As long as you don’t overwork or strain yourself.” After a moment of consideration, TK adds, “and we can hold off on the towels and sheets for now.”

“Are you sure?” Carlos asks, eyebrow lightly knitting together.

TK nods. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve come to realize that it’s you who makes that condo…home. You’re my home, ‘Los.”

“And you’re my all, Ty,” Carlos returns, pulling TK in for a passionate kiss.

TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s face when they come up for air. He can draw Carlos’s features with his eyes closed, but he finds himself documenting every single detail, every ridge, every speck of the man mere inches away from him.

TK’s heart soars when Carlos gives him the smile that’s reserved for only him.

And TK thinks, yeah, we’re gonna be just fine.

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welldonebeca · 1 year ago

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Android Hero (2)

Summary: Worried about your well-being, your sister convinces you to accept the robot your company has been given. Steven cooks, cleans and takes care of everything you might need in your house. When you jokingly suggest that he start making the decisions on your life, your relationship changes to something very different. His program really is irrelevant. aka.: Obsessed robot boyfriend Steve. WC: 900+ words Warnings: Future AU. Tension. some seduction.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

You were surprised by how quick Steve was to change things in your life. It wasn't drastic, but significant. First, he made you schedule time off - at the most convenient time for your company - and then offered to reassemble your wardrobe to have you 'looking your prime best'.

In a single day, he moved from being a glorified Alexa/live-in maid to your personal assistant and stylist in the course of half a day, while still caring for your house.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping your towel around yourself, and stopping when you saw Steve laying your clothes on your bed, and frowned as you moved to dry your body, never one to feel bashful being nude around him - he was part of a high luxury class of robots, a naked body meant nothing for them.

"I ordered some stuff online," he told you. "It's based on your personal colour season, favourite colours and favourite silhouettes."

You walked over to look at it, and blinked in surprise when you realised he had also gotten you new underwear. More than underwear, it was practically lingerie.

Oh.

You picked the bra up, and your face burned as you realised how sheer and thin it was.

"Steve," you looked at him. "I can't wear this to work."

You looked over at your clothes and then the panties. That was a dress. And a sheer thong.

Nope.

"I don’t understand?" Steve frowned, looking at you.

You felt your face burning.

"Steve, this isn't work-appropriate!"

He didn't look affected.

"It doesn't matter," Steve picked up the bra, moving to place it on you. "It's not like anyone is going to see."

Steve slipped the bra on you, and you gasped when he suddenly tugged on your back to make your back straight.

"Posture," he whispered. "Remember?"

You shivered as his lips barely brushed your skin, too close to it.

You were too stunned to stop him as he clasped it, and watched as he moved to pick up the barely-panties.

"Wearing this will help boost your confidence," he affirmed. "You always hide your figure out of fear of people looking at you and rejecting it."

You almost chuckled. Your company was ruled almost solemnly by men except for you and Wanda, and your sister was more confident in her femininity than you would ever be. Showing your figure had implications there.

"Steve, I am the only woman on my floor," you reminded him. "I need to impose respect."

"They need to see that you don't care about what they think," he slipped the panties up to your hips, and there was a little slap sound when he released one side against your skin. "You shouldn't dress based on their perception, but in what you feel good in."

Damn, he was convincing.

"Fine," you sighed.

He stepped away and smiled at you.

"Put on your dress," he spoke softly. "I'll finish setting breakfast."

You complied, dressing up, and watched yourself in the mirror. Oh. That dress was so skimpy.

You weren't confident enough to show so much skin.

So, you picked up your blazer to wear over. It was safer that way. When you came out, he was already setting your plate by the table. Omelette with sausage and fruits on the side.

He eyed your blazer, clearly disapproving, but didn't say anything about it.

Your heart sunk regardless, though you weren't sure why. You didn't like the idea of disappointing Steve. He had your best interests in mind, but you had to make your own choices.

By the end of your day, however, you had discarded your blazer.

Through work, many people had complimented you on the new dress and said you looked radiant, something that had never happened before. Even Wanda and Pietro looked impressed with you.

There was even a moment when you were leaving the break room and one of the guys from sales flirted with you.

That had never happened before!

You were still feeling a little flustered when you walked back into your house. It didn't help that the lingerie Steve had had you put on was rubbing your skin in a very particular way.

All you wanted to do was head home and maybe think a little more about that guy.

He was handsome in the conventional way, tall and had a flashy smile.

"Welcome home, miss," Steve greeted. "Dinner is almost done."

You looked back at him, surprised - you had almost forgotten about him.

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll be down in a bit."

You rushed out of your room before be could say anything else.

You didn't even notice before this how he looked just like Steve.

The blue eyes and bright blonde hair, the clean-shaved face and penetrating gaze... and so stupidly wide, fucking hell.

You tore off your clothes, tossing yourself to bed and reaching for your drawer, ready to find your eager little friend, always waiting to help you.

You tore the panties out of the way, teasing yourself over your folds and holding back a long moan, not wanting to get any attention from Steve.

Your toy was too good, and you knew how to get yourself off quickly, so you were already quick to get closer to the edge.

You were about to cum, however, when it just stopped.

You pressed the buttons, trying to make it work again, but it did absolutely nothing. So, you picked a second toy. And a third. And a fourth. None of them even came to life.

What the actual fuck.

Did you forget to charge them?

You groaned in frustration, and picked up the chargers, attaching them to the plugs on your wall. At least you could use them later.

"Miss?" Steve knocked on your door. "Dinner is going to get cold."

. . . .

"Android Hero" was posted on my Patreon in January. To read it now, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I post everything there earlier!

. . .

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years ago

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Face the Darkness

Prompt 2 for @greenfiredragonfly's Angstember prompts-- "Go. But I'm not Leaving." This time I've gone for some War in Heaven angst! Technically a slight AU as you'll see in the end, but I'm assuming most of the rest works out as in canon.

The Fortress trembled as the ground shifted once more, cracks splitting the desiccated plain in an ever more complex spider web. Solid stone walls vibrated, pouring streams of crushed stone from every corner of the ceiling. The air was thick with dust. Already the loyal forces of Heaven had withdrawn to the distant hills to watch, silent and impassive.

The War had ended. The Fortress of Lucifer had begun its Fall.

The first of the four watchtowers collapsed, shattering across blasted plain. From the wreckage crawled the rebellious angels, bodies already twisting into more animalistic shapes: talons and fangs, scales and gills, rotten flesh and oozing sores.

Outside the walls patrolled guards in solid plate armor wielding swords and spears and whips; in an instant, they descended on the few who had escaped, driving them back towards the gates, towards their fate. More beings inside fought and screamed, clawing at the guards only to be pushed back again and again. Voices raised, accusations shouted at soldiers, at leaders, at God Herself.

The guards were not of the heavenly legions. When Lucifer’s last army was routed, he had declared that all of his rebels would share in his punishment. Those who kept the frightened masses in check had been promised prominent positions as the Lords of their new domain, while the would-be deserters risked punishments more gruesome than anything the enemy had done.

Still, they tried.

Some few managed to pass the final ring of guards, to strike out across the plain that moved and reformed under their feet, cracks and crevices opening wide, whole sections of land suddenly dissolving, raining down into the realm of darkness.

They fled, running across uncertain ground, leaping treacherous drops, praying for forgiveness with every breath, holding out their arms to the loyal armies, beseeching their friends to intercede, to stay the Hand of Judgment.

Those who reached the hills and were welcomed into the protection of Heaven found themselves restored, their flesh returned to normal, bodies untwisted, souls pardoned.

The rest… well, they reached their final destination a little sooner than the rest.

One angel stood alone on a watchtower, eyes scanning the chaos below through a shifting curtain of bright red hair.

The scuff of a footstep, barely audible above the screams. The angel turned slightly—a single glance back—just enough for a glimpse of familiar white feathers.

“Shouldn’t be here,” the angel said, turning back to the destruction.

“Neither should you.”

“This again?” A twist of lips, too bitter to be called a smile. “You’ve already told me what you think. Eons and eons ago.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind.”

The angel clutched at the stone parapet, or tried to; it fell apart, sending another rain of dust towards the frightened crowd below. “And, what, you’re here to offer me salvation? Take my confession and determine if I’m worthy? Enact vengeance for all those I’ve destroyed?”

“My dear friend. I’m here to save you.”

Briefly, there were tears in the angel’s eyes; but already those eyes were changing, restructuring into a new shape. “Don’t deserve it.”

“I say you do.” A soft hand landed on the angel’s shoulder, offering a squeeze of comfort. “There is no wickedness in you. No cruelty. Even at the height of the War’s atrocities, you never lost your kindness. You are only here because you were manipulated by Lucifer, caught in his lies. That is no judgment on you. He could just as easily have swayed me, or Gabriel, or anyone else.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?” With a rumble louder than any thunder, the ground below fractured once more. The fortress rose and fell, another tower crumbling to a chorus of screams. “Come, we don’t have time.”

“What must I do?” The first angel didn’t move, but the second breathed a sigh of relief at the question.

“Cross the plain, no more than that. If you reach the other side, if someone is willing to intercede on your behalf, you will be forgiven.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, my dear, oh, it’s so simple. I will be beside you every step of the way, to guide you, to keep you safe. You can’t possibly fail.”

The angel nodded, still looking down into the broken courtyard. “Tell me this: why me? You could save anyone. Why me?”

A brief, shocked silence. “That’s—why would I…? Because I love you.”

“And what about them?” Down below the future Lords of Darkness moved through the crowds, grabbing weeping angels by the jaw or the neck, inspecting them, claiming their favorites. Torments would begin soon, pains that would become familiar to them all. “They were tricked by Lucifer, the same as me.” One pale, scruffy creature grabbed a trembling, crying being by the hair, dragging them towards a dark door. “Do they deserve this fate because they don’t have the love of a Guardian?”

Flinching, the pale figure pulled back towards the shadows. “That isn’t fair.” Little more than a whisper. “You know they don’t. But I can’t save them. Only you.”

With a deep, shaking breath, the angel finally turned, eyes now glinting gold, pupils stretching into lines. “No. You can’t save me. Not if I don’t want to be saved.”

“What are you talking about?” Hazel eyes shining like earthlight as the darkness closed in. “How can you not—”

“How can I go back? Tell me that! How can I ignore the things I learned? Not everything Lucifer said was a lie, that’s why he was so successful. How can I be happy when I’ve seen things for what they truly are?” In a softer voice: “How can I follow a God who would throw so many away just because they’re unloved?” A sob shook those narrow shoulders, but no tears fell. Never again. “If there’s a way, please, tell me. Because I can’t—”

The entire plain rippled like a wave. Another tower fell, and the one they stood on tilted perilously.

“Dearest, we can talk about this later. We need to go now.”

“Go.” The angel turned back to the courtyard. “But I’m not leaving.”

“No!” The Guardian hauled the angel back, as if ready to fly them both to safety or be destroyed trying. “Don’t—you can’t! Don’t you understand what’s happening? What it all means?”

“Better than you!” The angel turned with a furious growl. “I’ve spent countless ages among them already. I know what they’re like, I know what they’ll do to us, and I don’t want that. But I can’t go back.” Narrow hands reached out, clutching the other’s elbows. “Aziraphale, please understand. I can’t go back. Not with… everything I know…”

They embraced, the Guardian blinking back tears. “You could… you could ask God to take your memories. It would be as if you’d never…”

“I can’t.”

“Not… not even for me?”

“I would forget you, too.”

“But I’ll remember.” Aziraphale leaned back, eyes pleading. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

“But I will change.” The angel scowled again, though this time not from anger but from the desperate search for words. “It’s… not the memories themselves. I might lose them anyway. I’ve already lost my name; I’m losing my form. I’m Falling. And whatever Falling does to me, whatever I become, I will still be me. But. But to willinglygive up the knowledge I’ve earned. To turn my back on it… I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

The next tremor started, and didn’t end.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale wailed. “But I don’t have to. If… if this will make you happy…”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.” One last desperate embrace as the surrounding plain began to crumble. “It’s time. Go.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Aziraphale!” But the Guardian only held the angel tighter. “You—you can’t Fall!”

“I do not believe I will. God knows Her own.”

The outer walls vanished, tumbling into the nothing below, bringing wave after wave of bodies with them. “No, She’ll just rip you out of my arms at the cruelest possible moment.”

“Where you see cruelty, I see kindness. Every second with you is a blessing.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Quiet, love. I’m praying.”

The ground shook, lurched, dropped away—

The Fortress and all within it Fell—

All except two angels, wrapped in each other’s arms. Held aloft by Aziraphale’s wings, they did not Fall but meandered gently downwards.

“What?” The nameless angel looked around in confusion. “How…?”

“I told you. Kindness.” Aziraphale’s eyes were closed. “I asked Her for a few more minutes with you. And a chance to spare you from some of the darkness you must face. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but I think you do. And in the end, that is what mattered.”

“Aziraphale…” Quite without meaning to, the angel smiled in wonder. “I love you.”

When the Guardian’s eyes opened, the tears rolled upwards, leaving a trail of droplets back to Heaven. “I love you, too. And it was worth any price to see you smile again.”

“Price? Wait, what price?”

“All my memories of you.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. I was quite happy to exchange them to buy you these few minutes of peace and a guarantee that we will meet again. Though I’m afraid after that, things will be up to you.” Aziraphale’s incongruous smile began to fade. “What is it?”

“I… I just… I told you I wouldn’t… and then you…” Golden eyes drifted, staring into the suffocating darkness on every side. “What must you think of me?”

“I think you are the most wonderful being in all Creation. I wish for you to be you, in whatever way feels most genuine, as an angel or… otherwise.” Far below, the Fortress ruins came into view, lit by a strange blue glow. “I think you will have a hard enough time ahead of you without such complicated regrets. And I think,” another tear floating upward, glowing like a distant star, “I truly think, this way things will work out for the best.”

“You’ll forget me! Forget us! Everything we ever talked about, or… or…”

“But you’ll remember.” A gentle kiss on the forehead. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

The Fortress had landed in a boiling pool of sulfur. Aziraphale carefully set the former angel down on solid ground, a safe distance from the edge, then immediately began to float upwards again.

“Wait!” Desperately clinging to those soft hands, the last bit of comfort in the entire realm. “Don’t go!”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t belong down here anymore than you belong Upstairs. We will meet again in the world to come.”

“But what if… without your memories… you’re different? More like the others?”

“Oh.” For the first time since the Fall, Aziraphale looked troubled. “I suppose you… may see some changes you don’t like…”

“No, not that. I’m not going to love you any less. But… you’ll think I’m just another Enemy.”

“Nonsense. I love you, dear boy. And I have the opportunity to fall in love all over again.” The upward pull began to draw their fingers apart. “Only, I don’t know how long that will take, so… be patient?”

“Aziraphale…”

“Take care of yourself, love.” Their grip on each other failed and Aziraphale drifted away, rising faster and faster. “I will see you again! I promise!”

“Aziraphale!”

Silence, broken only by the stirring of creatures rising from the sulfur and slinking into the shadows.

Hands still warm from the loving touch of an angel, the demon turned to face the darkness.

#good omens prime #good omens angst #angel crowley #angst #angstember2021 #prompt challenge #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #war in heaven #amnesia #my writing #is it too sad #it might be

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

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