#i need to check out this flight rising thing now

[journey-to-the-attic]

After becoming overly fixated on Dragon!AU, I ended up creating brothers in Flight Rising's (free dragon browser game) generator.

What do you think? :Dc

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Lucifer

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Mammon

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Leviathan

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Satan

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Asmodeus

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Beelzebub

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Belphegor

OH YEAH THESE RULE!!! i love how you managed to get belphie's hair even on his dragon form - his cow patterns and the peacock patterns on lucifer are nice touches too!

you nailed them all, this is brilliant!!

(mammon would get ik to pick bangles and such from his treasure hoard to decorate those spines on his neck with)

[rinneroraito]

L x Reader: You ask if you could give him a hug. Almost 800 words, mundane fluff

~~~°~~~

It's the middle of the night in the headquarters. The rest of the Task Force had already retired to their rooms meanwhile you've taken it upon yourself to not leave your desk until your job was done. You weren't alone, though. L was also there doing pretty much the same thing as you. The last time you checked on him he was hunched over his screens. When you got up to take a short break, you find him on the glass windows overlooking the cityscape.

There was something lonely and haunting about his figure and where he stood, the darkness of the starless night sky and the empty office seemingly enveloping him in it's abyss. The title of "Greatest Detective in the World" isn't an ordinary feat and looking at him like this puts things into incredible perspective. He's just a person, too. Behind the screen and the garbled voice was just another man doing what he could.

You walk closer, standing alongside him staring at the cityscape below, the lights looking like stars that fell from the heavens.

"Have you ever been hugged, Detective?"

He turns to look at you and you meet his gaze. He's still wearing that usual stoic expression. Unreadable. Unsure of how to read him you're now wondering if maybe that wasn't a question that needed to be asked. Even if the reason was for a good cause, maybe it was too personal, especially for him.

"The last time I tried to 'hug' someone, I got kicked down a flight of stairs. Offering that gesture hasn't crossed my mind ever since so to answer your question, no. I have never been hugged. I also think my lifestyle has a lot to do about my lack of experience in that part, I'm sure you've thought about that."

Your eyebrows raise at his answer. Kicked down a flight of stairs? But more importantly, you were stuck thinking about the latter part of what he said. He was right, that possibility was also a thought that you've been speculating on. You turn to face him, pressing a hand to your cheek before you reach out, beckoning him to you.

"Would you like to experience it?"

You could see his eyes widen ever so slightly as he turns to face you, too. Maybe he was confused that it was something you'd offer to him, but it's just a hug, isn't it? And if he refuses then...

"I would, actually."

L shuffled closer to you and your hands slip through his limbs as you bring your arms around his waist, pulling him in.

He's cold.

L's entire frame is cold when you embrace him. He spends most of his time in front of his screens during the investigation, the frigid atmosphere provided by the air conditioning being his natural habitat. His clothes are cool, his jeans colder as you feel them brush against your thighs.

And then you feel his warmth. It's gradual, but the longer you hold him, the warmer he gets.

You can feel his lean muscles through his shirt as your arms circle his waist. He's skinny, making it easy to wrap your arms completely around his body, holding him firm and close.

You can hear his heartbeat as you press your ear to his chest. It's a gentle thrumming, as steady and as level as his demeanor. You can feel the rhythmic rise and fall that he makes as he breathes, and you wonder if he feels your rhythm, too.

L is hesitant, but he wraps his arms around you. Loosely at first, like he's testing the waters. And then you press him closer to you, reassuring him that he can do the same. He reciprocates. His hands press your back firmly, then he moves them to your shoulders, squeezing you to him. You can feel his breath as he rests his face on the crook of your neck.

You hold each other silently for a few moments that feel like an eternity. An eternity you wanted to prolong. Because in this little pocket of time, there was no Kira, there were no mysteries to be solved, no deaths to be brought justice to. In truth, time is not as forgiving as you wished it was. Yet you're here, L is here, and you both exist. Persisting through it all. You're holding him as he holds you. He's holding you as you hold him. And you're hoping to whatever higher being there is that at least, in this little pocket of time that you're hugging him, he feels some sort of solace in it.

"How does this feel, Detective?"

His monotonous voice comes out quiet, almost whispering, breathy against your ear.

"Comfortable. Thank you."

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey. 

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead. 

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person. 

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you. 

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much. 

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that. 

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one. 

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first. 

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

--------------------------

Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards. 

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave. 

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway. 

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back. 

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you. 

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long. 

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes. 

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times. 

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could. 

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

---------------------------

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him. 

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day. 

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing. 

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night. 

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again. 

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped. 

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far. 

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend. 

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier." 

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter. 

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top. 

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you? 

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider. 

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing. 

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him. 

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco. 

"Of course I do," she whispered. 

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't. 

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do. 

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried. 

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him. 

-----------------------

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was. 

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately. 

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave." 

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed. 

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey. 

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month. 

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave. 

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic. 

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug. 

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real. 

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect. 

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you. 

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table. 

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb. 

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea." 

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight. 

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house. 

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

------------------------------

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[hey-kae]

A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack

Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃

A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:

He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.

He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.

Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.

The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.

The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.

He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.

Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.

“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.

It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.

Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.

Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.

His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.

You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.

An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.

Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.

He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.

Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.

With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”

Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.

“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.

However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.

“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.

Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.

“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.

“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.

“Baguettes?” He frowned.

“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”

Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.

The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”

Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.

You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.

“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.

“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.

Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.

“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.

However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.

“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”

You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.

By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.

Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”

However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.

His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.

“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.

With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”

“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”

His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”

The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”

“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.

“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”

“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”

That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.

“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.

Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.

“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.

✩★✩

A cake and a weird smell:

The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.

And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.

In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.

Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.

Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.

Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.

“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.

Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.

Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.

Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.

Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.

Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.

“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.

With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.

It was bad.

His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.

Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.

The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.

What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.

He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.

His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.

Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.

“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.

The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.

Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.

“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.

Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.

He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.

He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.

“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.

Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.

Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.

Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.

You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.

He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.

Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.

His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.

He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.

Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.

There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.

He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.

His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.

He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.

He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.

That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.

His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.

He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.

Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.

“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.

“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.

Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.

“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”

You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.

He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.

“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.

You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.

“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”

You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.

He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.

However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.

“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.

It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.

✩★✩

A flight and a bit of a fight:

Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.

For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.

Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.

It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.

Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.

He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.

“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”

No response.

He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”

No response as well.

“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.

He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.

He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.

“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.

He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?

Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.

“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.

“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.

“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.

Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!

“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.

“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.

“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.

“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.

“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”

The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.

All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.

“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.

Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.

You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.

“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.

“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”

With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.

“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.

You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.

“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.

On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.

“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.

✰★✰

A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:

Charles was so sure he had it covered.

As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.

He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.

Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.

He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.

Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.

Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.

He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.

Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.

His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.

He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.

Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.

Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.

“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.

“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.

“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.

“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.

“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.

Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.

“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.

“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.

“I’m sure, don’t worry.”

You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.

“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.

“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.

“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”

You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.

His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.

Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.

The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.

He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?

What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.

He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.

Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?

The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.

With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.

He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.

Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.

“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.

The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.

“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.

Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?

He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.

Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.

He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.

It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.

He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.

Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.

Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn’t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.

Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.

In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.

His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.

He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.

Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.

In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.

Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.

“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.

Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.

You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.

“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.

“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.

His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.

“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.

With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.

Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.

He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.

“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”

“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”

Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.

“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”

“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.

“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.

You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.

“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.

You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.

Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.

“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.

“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.

He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.

“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.

Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.

You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”

Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.

“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.

Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.

a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him

[katelynnwrites]

Oh I’ll Turn My Grey Skies (Blue) | Laura Freigang

warnings: laura's injury :(

word count: 1108

summary: due to her injury, your girlfriend comes home from national camp early

a/n: had to write something fluffy about it 😔

You’ve just finished putting away the groceries when Laura calls.

Which strikes you as odd because she never calls, always choosing to FaceTime due to her fervent claims of needing to see you smile at least once a day.

The other part that is strange is that your girlfriend is calling you in the middle of the day. She rarely does that during international breaks, really only having the time to talk to you properly when she’s getting ready for bed.

‘Schatz?’ You question anxiously as soon as you pick up the phone.

‘Hi.’

‘What’s wrong?’

Biting down on your lip, you cross your fingers and hope the sinking feeling in your stomach is unwarranted. The forward had video called you just last night and she had been alright then so she had to be okay now right?

Her voice is soft when she asks, ‘How open are you to having a little stay in movie date night today?’

‘Today?’ You double check.

‘Mhm.’

‘Laura what’s going on?’

‘I kinda sorta got hurt a tiny bit so I’m leaving camp early.’ She sheepishly admits.

‘Oh schatz.’ You breathe.

Practically sensing your worry, the blonde quickly explains, ‘I’m okay really! I just landed stupidly on my shoulder so the medical staff here thought it best that I come back to Frankfurt early, to get it properly checked out.’

‘I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the international break.’

‘It fucking sucks.’ Laura sighs.

Though there is cheerfulness in her tone when she adds, ‘But I get to come home to you sooner! And have our date night?’

‘Yeah we can have our date night.’

Your girlfriend makes a pleased noise and a smile plays on your lips when you hear it.

‘When does your flight land schatz? Do you want me to come pick you up?’

‘Yes please. That would be sweet of you.’ Laura happily says.

There’s some muffled sounds on her end of the call and then her voice comes through again, ‘I’ll text you the details. Syd’s here to help me pack the last of my things now so I need to go but I will see you real soon okay?’

‘See you in a bit. I love you Lau.’

‘Love you more.’ She answers, hanging up before you get a chance to protest.

******

Laura has a sheepish smile on her face when you see her waiting for you at the airport arrivals.

‘Hi.’ You breathe.

‘I missed you.’ She softly greets.

‘I missed you too schatz.’

The blonde’s arm is in a sling and you can’t help but uneasily glance her over, wondering if you are missing anything else.

‘Hey I’m alright. It looks worse than it is, I promise.’

‘You sure?’ You ask, touching her bandaged arm lightly.

Your girlfriend nods, ‘Completely. In a few weeks, I’ll be back to scoring goals again.’

A giggle escapes you, ‘I see you’re confident.’

The blonde winks at you, ‘Isn’t that why you love me?’

‘More than just because of that but yes I love you Laura.’

Your words are nothing but honest and the German woman can’t help the slight pink tint that rises in her cheeks.

‘Let’s go home schatz.’ You whisper, as you grab the handle of her suitcase.

The striker begins to argue that you don’t need to get her suitcase but you give her a stubborn look and she relents.

Slipping her uninjured hand into yours, she murmurs, ‘Okay let’s go home.’

******

Your girlfriend has made herself very comfortable, practically fitting perfectly into your side as she dips into the bowl of snacks you both are sharing.

Her eyes are on the movie that is playing but yours are on her.

Absent-mindedly, you comb your fingers through her hair and she leans even further into you.

‘Schatz?’

Laura hums, turning to look at you questioningly.

Gently, you say, ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. It’s okay if you aren’t okay. You are allowed to be upset.’

The blonde sighs loudly.

‘I know and I’m not upset. Not really. Just frustrated at the timing of it all.’

Carefully, you press a kiss onto the side of her head, abundantly aware of how your girlfriend struggles with her lack of playing time on the national team. With Poppi out injured, you know she had been hoping for a chance to prove herself against both Austria and Iceland.

‘I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, you played incredibly well. I’m proud of you schatz. Is there anything I can do to help??

A small smile plays on the forward’s lips as she whispers, ‘You can kiss me.’

You giggle, doing as she requests immediately.

One kiss, two kisses, three kisses. A lifetime of kisses is what you will happily give Laura if she wants it.

Being careful of her injured shoulder, you angle yourself so that you are in a better position to kiss her safely, slipping your hand to cup the back of her neck while your other hand rests lightly on her cheek.

Your girlfriend begins to smile into your shared kisses, the two of you stealing quick breaths in between them.

‘Love your kisses. Love you.’ She eventually mumbles, her blue gray eyes shining.

‘I love you too.’

Laura leans in close to give you a kiss of her own.

When she pulls away, she has a sort of vulnerable look on her face.

‘Would it be too much or too silly if I were to ask you to kiss my shoulder better?’ She barely audibly requests.

‘Not at all.’ You reassure.

Very gently, you get her sling off and replace its support with your hand,

Laura’s gaze never leaves you as you tenderly touch your lips onto where her bandage is thickest, knowing that it is where she feels the most pain.

She’s been placing her free hand over it every now and then, during the movie, with a frown of discomfort etched on her face.

The striker did not think you had noticed but now she chokes up a little as she realises you have.

‘Did it work?’ You check.

Completely taken by you, Laura nods.

She can’t explain it but it does, the ache and soreness having receded a fractional amount.

‘Good.’

Easing your girlfriend’s arm back into her sling, you give her one more affectionate kiss.

‘Anything more you need and you let me know okay? I’m here for you Lau.’

‘I know. I know.’

Laura shifts so that she’s in your arms, content to simply be in your embrace for the moment.

Forever really because it is home to her.

You are home to her.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[queenhunter102]

Buying a house/flat with you for the first time

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

I can see Simon feeling excited and ready to move in knowing that you would be in a safe place, somewhere he knows is safe and secure.

He would be very much a hard person to shop for a permanent home with, he would be incredibly critical of every place, he would complain about things you believe are small and inconsequential, he would complain about a door not being screwed in properly, he would complain about the thickness of the window pane.

It would take you weeks to find the ‘right’ home, it would be a flat in a secure building that required a fob to get inside, it was at the top of the building forcing you to take two lifts to the top, as well as a flight of stairs, you had passed comment on the two lifts and the flight of stairs were a bit excessive, but he disagreed, thinking he could leave you here for long periods and not worry that someone could break in and hurt, his baby, his Everything.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish

I could see Johnny being not quite the polar opposite of Simon, he would still be just as protective and be just as picky with his housing choices, but I could see it being more relaxed I could see him becoming almost manipulative with it, him passing comments such as “Do you think that’s safe, with me gone for so long?” or “Imagine if the light went out in the close, how would you see any threat coming?”

you would nod and agree, not really thinking much of it, just believing he was being a good and dutiful boyfriend, but when you found the home you truly adored and believed you could spend the rest of your life there, you saw it, the manipulation, but just rolled your eyes and fought with him on it. So much so He gave it, hating that it had a wrap-around porch, big bay windows and three entrances, the front door, the back door and the side door.

Captain John Price

Now I think John is a little different, he has already bought and sold a couple of houses so he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t and over the months before asking you to buy a place with him, he would show you pictures, ones he had pre-approved obviously like he was going to show you something he didn’t like or think wasn’t safe enough for you.

When you finally did start viewing properties, he would steer clear of the big houses or the high-rise flats, as Johnny and Simon had bought, he managed to find a pretty house, with a second bedroom for if the boys needed it or for any future kids he had with you.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Now, Kyle, I could see being the total opposite, he wouldn’t care truly he wouldn’t, he felt as long as the door was secure and he could put a few more locks on it, he didn’t mind, all he cared about was his first home that he would share with you. This man would walk around the properties and shrug his shoulders at things, he would pass comments on the wall texture or how he didn’t like how the kitchen layout didn’t feel right, but he would test the front door, practically ramming into it, testing to see how it would hold against someone ramming their shoulder into it.

So much so, that when he first did it you yelped hearing the loud bang, I could also see him finding the townhouses in the city to be very appealing that man would adore the doors since he could put big strong storm doors on them that could damn near survive a nuclear explosion and then he could buy the same for the internal door, I could see him fighting you on this house heavily.

Alejandro Vargas

Now this man is calm collected and stress-free, he has seen Simon’s flat, Johnny’s house, Kyle’s townhouse and John’s house, he had eyed each place taking subtle notes, on how protected he wants you to be, how secure he wants your shared space to be, he takes note on how to behave and how to check if the potential property is up to his standards.

He had gone to properties by himself, checking out prospects, he would never approach you with shitty properties, that didn’t meet his standards, I could see him finding a second-story flat that had a secure entrance, when he approached you with these properties, you had wanted to check out the area check for your first home, he would nod his head and agree, but he knew what you liked and what you didn’t and when you had narrowed to his favoured second story flat, he smiled and agreed.

“Of course, I think it’s a good place to” or “I agree, it seems like the best option.”

[eitaababe]

SOMEBODY ELSE !

— chapter 17. you.

a/n — all i have to say is fucking finally

series masterlist. | previous / next

written portion below. —

you sat there anxiously, awaiting a response from neteyam. it had been a little over ten minutes since you sent the text, and while you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, you know he didn't have any scheduled practice or class today, and was probably on his phone the whole day.

you refused to check your phone anymore, and instead sat on your couch in silence, not bothering to turn on the tv as you knew you wouldn't be able to concentrate.

a sudden knock on the door pulled you out of your nerves, with you silently thanking eywa for the distraction from neteyam once you opened the door.

it proved to not be that much of a distraction, after all.

"neteyam? what are you doing here?"

he was leaning against your doorframe, hair ruffled and clearly was in a hurry. he was wearing his casual sweatpants, and a fitted shirt that hugged his figure just right everywhere—

his voice quickly snapped you out of your trance, with you silently scolding yourself for checking him out at a time like this. "i came over as soon as i saw your text," he panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. you subtly tilted your head, did he seriously run on his way here? "something was wrong with the elevators so i took the stairs up."

you winced, the thought of running up three flight of stairs would've had you sweating buckets compared to the few droplets coating his forehead.

"i'm so sorry." you blurted suddenly, without thinking, leaving a confused neteyam standing in front of you.

"for the elevator? i mean it's not really like you had control of that—"

"no, i'm sorry it took me so long to reach out. i didn't know you came here to talk that night. ao'nung lied to me and i didn't even find out about it until earlier today."

"oh," he sighed, and what looked like relief washed over his features. "no need to apologize. all that matters is you're ready to talk to me now."

you sent a shy smile his way, opening the door further as an invitation for him to come in. he accepted, walking in and awkwardly standing by one of the barstools in the kitchen.

not wanting to waste any more time, neteyam spoke up. "i should've never accused ao'nung of doing those things. especially doing them to you. i should never have believed violet, i never even really liked her in the first place, if i'm being honest," he chuckled, running a hand through his braids. "she was full of shit, i just— i wouldn't be able to stand it if he was actually like that, and if i knew you were in some sort of trouble with him."

"i get it," you softly spoke, leaning forward onto the counter across from neteyam. "he's not though. and yeah, what he did just now was kind of fucked up, and i practically blew up in his face just now," you paused, laughing at the shocked look on neteyam's face. "but you have to start trusting my judgement. if something bad happens then it happens, and i learn a lesson from that. but you can't control my love life, neteyam."

"you're right," he agreed, not missing a beat. the boy cleared his throat, fingers nervously tapping along the edge of the counter. "i just want what's best for you, you know? and i'm sorry if i come off like a dick sometimes because of it, and i don't even realize, but i swear i'll start trying harder to just leave your problems to you."

you smiled gratefully at him, then furrowing your brows in confusion. "wait, if you didn't even like violet, then why'd you date her?"

neteyam froze in front of you, not knowing how to response. you paused, scared that you overstepped just before he sighed, meeting your eye.

"it's dumb, really. it was a part of lo'ak's stupid plan to get me to move on."

your heart skipped a beat, chest rising up and down with your breaths. "move on from who?" you carefully asked. from what you knew, you were the last person before violet who neteyam had been romantically involved with.

he stilled for a moment, letting your heart soar for just a split second at the mere thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

"from you."

FUN FACTS !

— kiri, lo'ak, and tsireya have a bet on who y/n will end up with and kiri was the only one who placed her bet on ao'nung

— neteyam legit sprinted up those stairs, off-season is hitting him like a truck rn cause he was WINDED

— ao'nung saw neteyam's car come in on his way out

—

taglist #1 / closed ! @n7ytiri @ilovejakesullysdick @possysblog @love-chx @stars4deku @evphology @afro-hispwriter @ydsm-29 @tsireyasgf @goldeneywa @doulcha @krazy-kattzz @fucksnow @squid4 @blairrrrrr @neteyamforlife @dreamtogether2000 @444lyra @ambria @cawi00 @calums-betch @powowowy @fadingpalacebonkpsychic @elegantkidfansoul @kolsmikaelson @mirikusashes @yukichan67 @goodiesinthecloset21 @netemoon @teyums @littlethingsinlife @coconut-dreamz @anm3mi @jjkclub @il0veheartz @liyahsocorro @drugs-for-memes @zendayaswrld101 @grierpilots @misscaller06 @lightskinloak @mommyneytiri @inluvwithneteyam @halibanana @iheartamajiki @ipoopedmypants47 @neigesprincess @lookiiheh @ghostjoohoney @ronalsgirl

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Five: Threatened to Reset

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: With the family's help everything is planned for the big move. A trip to Bludhaven to organize, pack, and move all your belongings leaves the past to be drug up. How will they react to your home? Will any secrets be found? Will emotions rise? Will your past be disclosed? It's all up to you... and maybe a crime boss and his goons.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: The usual Banter and Bickering, Cursing, Knives, Threatening, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Arguing, Fighting, Shame, Guilt, Fight or Flight.

Mentions of: Sex Trafficking, Criminal Activities, Police, Drug Busts, Prostitution, Assassins.

A/N: There's a lot of information to digest in the chapter, and really what was meant to be one chapters I actually am going to have to split up in order to make them manageable. It's been awhile, and while I'm still trying to figure out how to manage my life in the sense of hobbies, work, my health, a possible second job, and extracurriculars, I request you all be patient with me. I definitely do have more in store, yet for now this chapter isn't proofread (at least the beginning and end) I just need to get this one out.

Having discussed tomorrow’s events as a group at dinner, your Father let you lead the charge in what would happen with your apartment’s belongings. Decided on packing everything up and either donating the things you don’t need, storing the important things, and transporting the things you do need, it was simple enough. Nothing a little packing tape and rounds of boxes won’t fix.

Starting the day with a hearty breakfast from Alfred, you all packed into a minivan you didn't know or think the Bruce Wayne would ever own, let alone have anything to do with. Nevertheless, the ride was fairly timely to get to your old apartment building. Saying hello to the few neighbors coming in and out who you recognized and knew, you led the gang up the seven flights and begrudgingly let them inside. You knew sooner or later they'd find out where and how you lived. It certainly isn't as nice as Wayne Manor, but of course, what else would you expect?

Assigning everyone to different spots and or groups of items in the apartment, you really feel like they went for overkill. A welcoming and slightly overwhelming sense of love blossoms in your chest as they really didn't all need to help, but everyone insisted on coming anyway. Even Tim's girlfriend, Stephanie. How nice, you think, for someone to actually care that much to go out of their way. Family almost congesting the apartment, you focus on your room and belongings. The fact that Damian hasn't even made any rude remarks (that you know of) is surprising in itself.

After almost everything is packed away, it's a few hours past noon, and Alfred is tired. Damian insists he's spent enough time in this 'hellhole' and almost demands that Alfred take him home. With the time having gotten away from you and some of the others, it seems to no one's surprise that Tim and Stephanie also apologetically explain their need to leave. They have homework they need to get done; and with that, Alfred agrees that it might be best to head back to the Manor with everyone who needs to leave. Dick lives in Bludhaven, so there's no surprise he'd stay. And while Jason has his motorcycle, coming from his own apartment, he says he doesn't mind staying until it's all finished. Bruce also having come separately after checking in at work, explains that the two of you can drive back together once everything's done. It'd been lucky enough that he'd brought his car, and not one of the nicer ones, either.

Searching all the nearby boxes, you don’t find it. It’s nowhere to be seen, and if it’s not here then that can only mean one thing: They took it. Opening up the box near the kitchen you retrieve a butcher’s knife. Hand gripping the handle tightly you storm to the front door and lock it.

“Woah, woah- what’s going on?” Jason asks, hands raising in concern as he stops boxing the books that’d been on the nearby shelf.

With a tense look in his eyes, you adjust the knife in your palm, getting a better and more sturdy grip on it. Other hand rising to your mouth you place your pointer finger before your lips. A tacit command of ‘silence’. Jason’s fear had drawn the attention of the other two, though you ignore them as you quickly storm through the living room and down the hall.

Eyes flitting back and forth out the window, up and down the fire escape you quickly return with the same fervor you’d previously held. “Why do you have a knife?” Dick questions.

Back at the front door, you press your ear to it and listen to the hallway, hoping that if anyone were to come, you’d hear them and be ready. In the attempt of a raid via bursting through the door, at least you’ll be the first one in the line of fire, able to protect everyone. No sound so far; backing from the door slowly, you turn toward the men. While the worst case scenario always pops into your mind first, you’re not oblivious to the measly chance this could simply chalk up to coincidence. Holding out the knife, you point to each man in the room as your gaze shifts between them.

“Look. There was a gun in there last time we were here. It’s always there. If none of you have seen it, let alone packed it away… then we have a big problem,” you reveal. Knife pointed in the direction of the safe that's now open within a drawer of the tv stand, it's clear that everything else has been packed away.

Between the couch and television diagonally to your left stands Dick. Hands raised, he holds a stoic expression as he stands closest to the safe. His blue eyes flit to Jason. Knife shifting toward him, he too stands with his hands by his waist, palms facing you. Eyes filled with confusion and concern, he shifts his weight as he stands across the room in the corner between the kitchen's counter and the opening to the hallway. His green eyes shift to Bruce.

Before you can even turn the knife on the man closest to you, diagonally standing in the kitchen opening to your right, someone speaks up. “I took it,” Jason announces. All eyes dart to him and you watch as he slowly starts to reach around his back towards his waistband. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Bruce move.

“Don’t!” You warn, stepping back and pointing the knife at him. He’s not going to disarm you. Eyes back on Jason, you motion with the knife for him to place the produced gun onto the table between you two. Gun dangling from his fingers, he doesn’t move, so you gesture again with more of a ferocity this time. “Put it on the table.” It’s a command, not a request.

He slides it across the table. Three steps close the distance between you and the item. Though Bruce could easily do something behind your back, just out of your peripheral vision now, you focus on the task at hand. One look at the gun has you skeptical; face tense, you use the knife to turn the gun around. The examination is short. One flip of the gun onto its other side and a quick lift into your hands to make sure the safety is on, you release the bullet cartridge to find that one bullet is missing. With a click of the cartridge locking back into place, you toss it back onto the table.

Storming back to the door where you're at a far enough distance from all of them, your forearms rest against the splintering wood, face buried within them for a moment to gather yourself. Slowly turning back toward the men, but more specifically Jason, you glare daggers at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had the gun when I first mentioned it missing,” not waiting for an answer, your head tilts a bit as you don’t play his game. “Nevertheless, did you really think I’d be stupid enough to not recognize that that’s an entirely different gun? So what’s your game?”

Silence lingers. Jason knows he’s fucked, and they all know it too. Why did he think she’d fall for that? Better yet, why wouldn’t she?!It was worth a shot, sure, but the real gun is still back at the Batcave. However, she can’t know that. “There’s no game,” Bruce says your name, a sincere look in his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” you bark, knife turning on him as he tries again to take a step closer. His hands are still raised in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

The silence is expected, however, the smile that creepily inches across your lips is not. A shift of the knife in your palm has you gripping the handle in an underhanded approach, ready to stab, rather than slice. “Ha,” you scoff, “I knew it… too good to be true. I can respect the lengths he’ll go to play his little games, but this is just beyond fucked. A ploy to what? Fuck with me, pretend to be my family, and now what? Kill me? I knew it. After yesterday, I just knew it was coming.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason asks incredulously, a hint of anger and fear within his tone.

“Who?” Dick asks coldly, taking a step closer.

“Antonio Marin?” Bruce asks. Eyes darting to meet his, you shift the knife in your palm again to get a better grip on it.

“Oh, you wanna play it this way? Act all fucking coy and innocent now?” Gears shifting, you eye the other two men. “Unless he’s just another victim to his plan, I don’t buy it. Richest man in the world and he’s a good guy? Yeah? No.”

“Should’ve known,” you sigh, shaking your head. “BPD? Too obvious.” With a sad smile and tears beginning to threaten your eyes, you chuckle. “Well if he wants me, then go ahead. I’ve got nothing left. If I’m the last piece to the puzzle then do it. Kill me. It’s three to one, I know you’ve got a gun and more than enough bullets to take me.” You thump your chest with your free hand, open, ready to accept your fate. “Do it! Shoot me, Jason. Right now! Kill me.”

As if the reality of the situation suddenly dawns on you, fear readily replaces the confidence you’d just boasted. Backing up against the door you shift the knife in your hand to a stabbing position again, as you continue to shift it, unsure which approach will be best in your defense. Suddenly you're terrified of what’s to come. “No… no. Three big men on one teenage girl?” The way Jason had hesitated, it’s apparent. “I knew he was expanding the business, but like this? NO.” Chest heaving with rapid breaths, you’re suddenly running on pure adrenaline. Panic sets in as you know what the man's got planned for you. “If you want me then I’m not going down alone. I’ll kill myself before I let that happen to me- and if that doesn’t work then I’ll mangle myself SO badly that nobody will buy me,” you threaten, voice deepening in a terrifyingly chilling way.

Placing the knife against your neck, you’re more than ready to take yourself off the table. You won’t let that happen to yourself. You won’t let anyone take advantage of you that way. A punishment worse than death is something you're not willing to participate in, nor offer.

Dick calls your name in a calm tone, one far too calm for this situation. “This isn’t any ploy, or game. We don’t work for anyone. If you think someone’s after you, you need to tell us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh,” you relinquish too easily, knife falling back to your side. Turning to face the door your eyes settle against it for a moment before spinning back to face the man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that Officer Grayson from the BPD was here! I’ll just tell you everything so you can either arrest me or take me out on his behalf!” With a step toward him, you raise the knife by your side again. “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Grayson? That I wouldn’t realize you’d try to get a confession out of me, record this- have them take a voice memo? This isn’t my first rodeo.”

"It's not like that. We're just trying to help! You can't seriously believe this is all some conspiracy against you," Dick argues. His voice is still calm, and while the raised brow elicits a begrudging irk and prick of paranoia in your mind, his words do nothing but continue to cause the gears to mentally turn. "If someone wanted to take you out there would've been easier methods. You would've been dead weeks ago."

A wry chuckle leaves your lips, a knowing smile still set on your features as you two stand off with one another. "Sure... if it was anyone else. Yet that's not how he plays his game and you know it."

"You still think I'm corrupt?" Dick asks, shifting his weight to lean into his hip on one side.

"How could you not be?! Look at me and tell me that you're not! That you don't know about Perdy Chapman, or any of the sabotage the BPD plays," you demand.

"I know about the sabotage. I don't know about Perdy Chapman, but if you know something," he recites your name, "you have to tell us. I can't do anything or help anyone if everyone's keeping secrets."

"What? So this is all a loyalty test? An attempt to get me to come back? There's no way he's that desperate."

"Come back? You worked for Antonio Marin?" Bruce pipes up, concerned blue eyes turning on you as he shifts his gaze between you and Dick. Hands still up in surrender, he takes a step towards you.

"Quit fucking with me! If this is because he thinks I'll rat, I won't! I'm not a fucking rat. We got out, we left! We don't owe him anything!"

"If you know where he is you need to tell us," Jason voices his concern, also taking a step closer. "No one is taking you back, no one is gonna hurt you. I'll be damned before that happens." Jason whispers your name, garnering your attention as he gives you a serious look, "If you think he's after you, we need to know. We can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

With a stomp and a slash of the knife by your side as you realize they're right, you won't do this without a stipulation. "Fine! But... I can't go to the cops. I can't... file a report. I can't do anything. Promise me-" you respond, voice starting off confident until his falls short of a whisper. Jason nods, starting to close the space as he pulls out the last chair remaining at the dinner table.

"No cops, you got it. Just... tell us what happened, what's going on," Jason concedes, hand settled on the back of the chair.

As you shake your head in decline toward the chair, Jason easily swivels it around and sits on it backwards, attention on you. As you place the knife on the side table by the front door, you start to pace. "I... don't know where to start," you voice your thoughts.

"From the beginning," Dick encourages, voice gentle as he realizes Jason has made progress by building a rapport. Something he hadn't realized he could be making more of an effort towards, he supposes. Even if he already feels like he's done more than he can for the girl.

As the Detective sits on the back of the couch and Bruce leans against the wall, your eyes can't help but find his... your Father's. "I... I can't-" you realize. Steps coming to a halt, you find yourself face to face with the last person in your life who you feel like you can't lose. The only person you need to impress, to suck up to.

"This is important," Bruce says your name, head tilting further downward as he offers a more straight-on look with your height differences, not to mention the sympathetic look that crosses his features.

Eyes falling to the floor, you shake your head. "I can't. I don't want you to look at me differently, and I know you will. There's no way you can't." It's a warning, a vague divulgence on the subject matter. There's no way this conversation can happen without someone's impression being changed or shifted. It's just not possible.

"That won't happen," Bruce reassures.

"There's no way it can't happen. You don't know!" You argue, hands gesticulating the emphasis of your seriousness.

"This is your safety we're talking about," Jason reminds.

"We all have pasts," Dick reiterates your name, "we've all done things. It won't change anything."

"I promise," Bruce adds on, following up with Dick's words. Bending to be on your level, he holds out his pinky, and while part of you hesitates, the seriousness in his eyes begs for a piece of trust. An inkling of hope, sincerity, vulnerability, trust. Wrapping your much smaller pinky around his, you shake on it.

As he lets go and returns to leaning against the wall, they all sit in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "From the beginning?" You question.

"From the beginning," Dick echoes again, trying his hardest to be patient. With a tacit gesture of his hand, he guides you to sit on the couch cushions. Despite his offer, you choose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, back leant up against it as Dick chooses to sit in the armchair to the left of it. Jason comes closer, perching himself on the edge of the tv stand, while Bruce lingers by the back of the couch to your right, still in your periphery.

"It... all started about, I don't know, two years ago?" Jason nods in encouragement, a sign for you to keep going. "I don't- I don't know exactly when, I can't really place a time or say because I didn't know- I didn't- I never thought- I mean," the words tumble from your lips as your thoughts begin to race with the memories. Heart beating faster, there was never a definitive point in time you could place. "He just... started coming over. After-" swallowing the thick lump that forms in your throat, the faint burning sensation of tears threatening to start welling up becomes real. "-Mom got laid off."

"Mhm," Dick hums, hands clasping in his lap as he expresses the fact that he's listening.

"Everyone knew who he was. We all do, but of course, you're nice to people you don't necessarily know. You don't wanna start any problems. I guess Mama met him one night when she was out with my Tia. He said he could get her job back, that he could help her make money again, that we wouldn't have to move, to get evicted. He'd get her job back. So he did. She didn't ask, she didn't even want her job back after everything they said and did to her, firing her just because of her skin- but... he did it anyways. He got her job back at the hospital and even got her a promotion. How? I never asked, but if you know Marin, then I guess you can imagine."

"Then he told her she owed him," Bruce speaks up as you take a breath. His tone is definitive, certain, as if he knows. A shake of your head lets him know he's wrong.

"Of course, she went back to see him at the same bar. She thanked him, we all did... but that wasn't the end of it. He said if she ever wanted anything more, a side job, extra money, anything else, that he could give her that. That all she need do is ask." A sigh escapes your lips and you subtly shake your head again. you know you'll have to tell them. It'll get there eventually, yet there's no way of knowing how they'll react. "They became friends. I always thought he liked her, that's why he was so nice."

"But he showed his true colors, didn't he?" Jason comments, a dangerous and almost vengeful tone in his voice as he leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees. His hands curl in and out of fists as he listens.

"No... he was... just nice." Finally looking up to meet their eyes, you gauge the room. Each man has a different expression on his face, looks of curiosity, intrigue, suspicion, and anger all around. "He'd be at the parties, come over, take us out, have a drink. He became a part of the family, at least... for a while. I think it all changed when Mama said no to him. He asked her out, and she finally understood why he'd been so nice to her. Yet, that didn't change anything. Being friends, he was still coming around. Maybe he was doing more, becoming more distant, but not much changed. He kept offering, and offering, and eventually I think she figured if she had control, and it was something he'd offer, then how could it hurt? It was only after that year and once the gifts died down that, well..."

"What?" Jason raises his eyes again to meet yours as he'd been mulling over his own thoughts for a moment, head in hands. A chuckle shakes his chest subtly as his hands shoot out in gesticulation. "You can't just say 'after that, well...' and not finish the story!"

"Come on, Jase-" Bruce gently reprimands with a look.

"It's clear there's more," Dick interrupts his Father to address you, still in the position he'd been in. Eyes intent on you as he waits for an answer, a scowl on his lips.

"I finally asked him if there was any way I could do something. Something small to make money; like mow someone's lawn, pet-sitting, house-sitting... things like that." Eyes falling to the pilled carpet by your sock-clad feet, you pick at the fluffy brown fabric. "I had school. My mom would hate me if she knew I asked him, but everyone else was getting money, and I figured if he was like my Uncle or Dad it's normal to ask for those things... I think." Hair falling over your shoulders, it masks your face as you rush to get the rest of the story out.

"He... had me do jobs for him. It was easy. Deliver presents, bouquets, envelopes, packages, things like that. No problem, lots of people do that, right? But I was making at least a hundred every week, if not more, and, and I didn't think about it. It was easy money! I could buy whatever I wanted, I could save, I could spoil my friends, my mom... I never thought about it until I... got curious." Words trailing off, you risk a glance up at Dick. Tucking your bangs behind your ear, his expression is immovable. He's stoic; a pickup of heartrate leaves you anxious as you haven't been able to easily read him like many of the others.

The movement of Jason's lips slowly opening garners your attention, and as his eyes widen you quickly duck your head back down again. "You were..." he tests the waters.

"So one day I decided to stay. They never opened their packages in my vicinity. Never opened the presents, envelopes, packages, or undid the bouquet. It didn't feel right. I haven't gotten many presents in my life, but I'd think if I got a big one like those, I'd open it right away... see what it is." Continuing with your story, you didn't give Jason even half a fraction of time to finish his thoughts. "So I delivered the package like normal, watched them count out the money and hand it over before I was on my way. Around the corner, I was halfway down the block when I realized I could probably wait it out, hide somewhere across the street and watch them from one of the store windows. They wouldn't notice. I could just put on my hood, if anything, and... well, then it-" eyes shifting back up to Dick, you don't look away this time, "-it happened."

"I hadn't realized it but parked on the opposite side of the road and right by me out of sight from where I'd come there were cop cars parked. Cops lined up with their guns pulled, batons and riot shields ready. I froze..." At this moment it seems like the gears in Dick's mind are finally starting to turn and place things together. "I thought I was caught, for something I only suspected, but... within seconds the cops were ushering me out of the area while the second team were busting the gang of boys I'd come from for having drugs."

"They were using you," Bruce states, an air of sympathy encased in his word choice.

"You were a mule f-" Jason affirms.

"-But that wasn't the end of it," Dick says confidently, his dark blue eyes still set on you, unmoving, a quirked brow joining his visage. "You said you're out. So if that's true then how'd that happen?" He asks, finally shifting in his seat as his head slightly tilts. It's almost as if he's testing you. "Exactly," he clarifies.

"Once I realized what was happening I ran home. I-" jaw clenching, your eyebrows furrow as you don't want to have to admit this. Especially not when Dick looks so confident and arrogant. You know he'd seen you that day, just like you knew you'd seen him. A silent staring match follows,a few seconds, before your resolve crumbles upon the memories. "I told my mom. I was crying, and she was shocked and surprised and angry and mad and I didn't know what to do! I didn't know where to go or who to tell, and I knew she'd be mad but she said she wasn't mad at me, but at him and that it was okay because she was gonna get us out of it. We met up with Anto- with- with Marin," you correct yourself. "We demanded out, and... he let us go. He said we were free to go as long as we didn't say or do anything that went against him. My mom didn't want us involved with him anymore."

"He just 'let you go'?" Dick reiterates.

"Yes. That's it," you reveal, a shrug following as you don't bother to make eye contact. "Now you know!" The revelation leaves you upset and unaware of anyone else's responses. You just know that this changes everything, now that they know... they know that you're a bad person. You dealt drugs. You worked for a mobster. A gangster, a criminal; you stocked up drug money, saving it, keeping it. Blood money, one could even claim in earnest... and you couldn't argue with them.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee , @azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse

[woozisguitar]

GLITCH - a good plan

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masterlist

Recommended Song: Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift

Warnings: some hate tweets, mentions of anxiety, overthinking and panic attacks.

A/N: this part has both smau + written (2.6k words, no beta)

Your flight landed 20 minutes before schedule. After a few long hours of constant turbulence and the crying of babies, you were more than happy to disembark. But a sudden realisation of where you were and wanted was going to happen once you got off this flight made your anxiety rise again. Since the article about the dating rumor came out, it was almost like your usual anxiety had increased tenfold, making you want to run back and hide every time you left your house. Ella tapped you on the shoulder to signal that the gates were opening. You decided to swallow your nerves for the sake of the group. 

“Let’s go before it starts to rush,"  Iseul called out from her seat in the next row with Ash, who was packing her things. 

The security checks and baggage claim took ages, but finally, you were able to leave the airport and take in a much-needed breath of fresh air. There, at Arrivals, you saw a man who looked like he would be in his late 30s, holding a placard with your name on it. You nudged Iseul and nodded towards the man to signal that he might be the guide? SEVENTEEN’s management mentioned. 

“Hi, I’m y/n,"  you said, bowing slightly. “Oh hello! Nice to meet you. I am Ahn Ha-Joon, but feel free to call me Mr.  Ahn," he said with a kind smile. “I hope you all had a great flight. I have a car waiting for us right outside. Please follow me.”

You all followed Mr. Ahn out of the airport, where the cool evening air greeted us. Ash and Ella looked around in excitement, but Iseul had a mix of nostalgia and fear on her face. Knowing her past, you gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder, and she glanced over in appreciation. 

“Mr. Ahn, can we stop somewhere to eat?” Ella asked once we were all seated in the car. 

“Well, it's pretty late right now, so most restaurants would be closed, but we can stop at a 24-hour convenience store. My apologies, but there isn't any food at your accommodations right now.” 

You heard Ash whisper-yell a small yay under her breath before she decided to go back to watching videos on her phone. After that, you decided to zone out on your drive there, imagining and overthinking every possible scenario. 

Sleep didn't come easily to you the whole night, while others slept soundly after the long flight. Ever since you became a fan, Woozi has held a special place in your heart. Be it through his words, his songs, or his smile. You would wait days, often checking your phone like a depraved girlfriend and scrambling to open every notification in case Woozi posted something new. As sad and pathetic as it sounds, this is your normal. You worked on codes, you spent time with your friends, and you fangirled. Everyone knew this. And frankly, your life felt full to some extent. You never had time for anything or anyone else. Every single person you met was compared to Woozi in every aspect, and you knew how fucked up it was. He is an idol, for heaven's sake! No normal person would be this obsessed with someone they don't even know in person, but this was you. You've always found it easy to love from a distance, never knowing that love can be so self-consuming and overwhelming that you might lose a part of yourself in the process. But it was almost like you were addicted. You cried when they cried, and you laughed when they laughed. You felt proud when they achieved something and disappointed when they lost. Iseul once mentioned how this feels like a curse. To love someone so ardently and vehemently even after knowing that you never ever, not even in a million lifetimes, had a chance with this person. And perhaps she was right, because look at the mess you are in right now. You never wanted this. For you, Jihoon was a silly fantasy. Like a prince who would come sweep you off your feet, riding a white horse into the sunset. But this, this was real life. There are no princes and princesses, and there are no white horses. Just the same old you, who is a student, and your idol, Woozi. These agonizing thoughts consumed your mind until you somehow drifted off to sleep. 

The next day, you woke up to Iseul and Mr. Ahn talking by the door. She nodded in agreement at something he said. 

“Get up, girls; we leave in an hour.”

“TIME TO MEET JUNNIE LET’S GO!!!!,” Ash yelled and leaped from her bed to go take a shower. 

“Well, at least someone’s happy about this,"  Ella chuckled slightly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

Well, I guess here goes nothing…

The ride to the headquarters was silent. Everyone knew that this could potentially end badly. While the management assured me that they wouldn’t, they were still very powerful and strong and could change their minds in an instant. You could be sued and blacklisted, and honestly, none of you had that kind of money. 

“We’re here. We will be taking the backdoor because it's safer than the general entrance.”

The elevator ride to SEVENTEEN’s headquarters took forever. If this were under any other conditions, you would probably be elated to meet the people you have looked up to for so long. But right now, all you could do was try and calm your nerves so that you wouldn't go into a panic attack in front of your idols. Well, at least Ella and Ash seemed excited as they were talking in hushed whispers, whereas Iseul seemed deep in thought. The elevator dinged, signaling that we had reached it, and Mr. Ahn led us through the various doors till we reached the one beyond which stood our fate, waiting to meet us. 

The first thing you noticed was how familiar this room felt. Having seen various videos of the group doing challenges in this same space, it felt surreal to stand in the same space. 

Then you heard Ash quietly squeal and cover it up with a cough, and Iseul took charge and introduced herself. 

Last, you saw him. 

Standing here casually as ever, with his black hair slightly longer than before, was Jihoon. He was wearing an all-black outfit, but it seemed like he made an effort to clean up a bit, as you noticed a slight contrast from his usual behind-the-scenes outfit. He had a bored expression on his face, but his eyes had a glint of curiosity as he kept scanning the group till they landed on you. And you, flustered as ever, averted your gaze and slightly bowed your head in greeting. 

“It's very lovely to meet you. Thank you all for all the support you have given us.” You heard a deep voice on your side to see Scoups greet your group. 

“Well, we'll get to introductions later! Ms. Lee is waiting for us in the meeting room.” Mr. Ahn interrupted and led us all towards another door at the back of the room. 

You tried to keep a low profile, almost shrinking into yourself. A very small, tiny part of you was excited to finally meet them, but a huge part was scared as to what would happen next. 

As you all settled in the meeting room, a lady in her late 20s entered and introduced herself as Ms. Lee. She claimed to be their publicist, handling all major events for all members, from scandals to photoshoots to everything. 

“I know this isn't the most ideal situation for either party, and frankly, none of us thought it would blow so out of proportion. I mean, almost every other fan pretends to date their idol. It's one of the foundation concepts in this industry, as much as we hate to accept that.”

The members nodded in agreement and understanding and wanted the ground to swallow you whole. All those stupif things you said on Twitter at 4 a.m. when you were overworked and tired are being referenced, and oh my god, I think I'm going to die. 

“Anyways, the main reason we called you here today, Ms. Y/N, was to discuss how we should handle this. As this ‘plan’ could possibly affect the whole group as well as your friends, it makes it more feasible to discuss it with all of you. So, my team has been working out numbers, and a rumor tweet hasn't generated this much interaction for SEVENTEEN in a while. And we think it might be a good idea to play into it.” 

Everyone around us leaned forward in curiosity as to how we would ‘play into it.’

“Ms. Y/N, we want you to date Mr. Woozi.”

Pin-fucking-drop silence. You were pretty sure everyone even stopped breathing for a second. 

“Umm, and how exactly was this a good idea?” asked Mingyu from his end, the first one among us to react in any way. 

“Well, they don't have to actually date but rather fake date. We spin a story about how they met and fell in love. And while we don't confirm or deny anything officially, we can hint at certain things. And for the next comeback, Mr. Woozi can write a love song as the title track, referring to Ms. Y/N. They keep up this ruse for a few days, and then they'll ‘break up’. And the only way to confirm this? The theme of the comeback after that would be heartbreak. That or Mr. Woozi can drop a solo whatever he wants. With this, everyone would be immersed in this love story between a fan and an idol, especially those who belong in an industry where parasocial relationships are one of the main pillars. Given the rise in Mr. Woozi's popularity lately, it makes more sense to fabricate a scandal involving him. Plus, it's human nature to want something you can't have.”

“And what does Y/N get out of this? I’m pretty sure you’ve seen all the hate comments and speculations on Y/N life treding all over Twitter. And if she agrees to this, she will be thrown deeper into this hate circle, so she should at least get something in return. The group gets their comeback theme, Woozi gets the popularity, and so what will Y/N get? And I hope you know that Woozi would get just as much hate as Y/N, so what are your plans on handling that?” Iseul spoke up from beside you with the same fire in her eyes she had when she knew she had finally cornered her opposition in the courtroom. 

The table fell into a murmured discussion, contemplating the pros and cons of this. Ms. Lee looked as if she had expected this. “Well, we plan on signing a six-month contract with Ms. Y/N at first, after which, depending on the reaction to the initial part of the plan, we might add another six months. And as for what Y/N gets? We compensate her for all the defamation, libel, and slander she faces. The amount can be discussed when we finalize the contract and get a lawyer for Ms. Y/N. As for the hate Mr. Woozi might receive, well, there's not much we can do unless we know what kind of hate we will receive.”

“I am Y/N’s lawyer; you can tell me the specifics.” Iseul spoke up again, surprising a few in the room. 

“And I’m sorry to interrupt, but you should really work on protecting your artists more. That being said, you also need to protect Y/N. By all means. Get her security, a car, and everything,” Ash spoke up, surprising you, as this was the most serious she had ever been since we commenced this trip. 

“Fine, fine, we will provide Ms. Y/N with all the security she needs. Any other questions?” Ms. Lee said, exasperated.

You saw Hoshi giving Ash a small thumbs up, and she nodded in return. 

"Yes, actually,” you said for the first time ever since this proportion was revealed, “I’m guessing I would have to move here temporarily in case I was to agree.” You continued as Ms. Lee nodded, “Well, that could be an issue because I can’t leave lab work or my graduation will be delayed. And all my equipment, my supervisor, and everything else are back home. Moving midway is a very bad idea.”

Ms. Lee seemed to think over this for a moment. “Well, that does sound like a problem. We can set up a lab for you to work in here at one of the universities we have good relations with and get you a local supervisor. We can also talk to your supervisor back home and get them on board with the idea. We will have to work out the specifics of this. Anything else? I am assuming your friends will stay with you, so we can work out something for their jobs as well.”

“I can tell my firm to put all cases on hold and make Y/N my primary client.”

“Well, I’m part of a dance crew, but it’s about time I took a break. And I suppose you can hook me up with some groups around here as well.”

The three of you looked at Ms. Lee expectantly. She sighed and nodded. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. And you, Ms. Ash?”

“Hmm, I don't know if I can take a break for that long from the clinic. I guess I could say I’m taking a sabbatical or something. But you are going to refer me if anyone asks for a vet,” Ash said, crossing her fingers and placing her chin on it, looking innocently at Ms. Lee. She groaned and said, “Fine, fine, fine. Are Ms. Y/N you in or not?”

You looked over at Woozi, who was quiet this whole time. He seemed to be contemplating what he wanted, and you had an epiphany that Ms. Lee never once asked him if he agreed to this. He simply had to do whatever the company asked him to do. Your choice would affect not just you but him as well. And when your eyes met his, you saw doubt and fear swirling in them, similar to yours this morning. You decided you had to talk to him about this first before you made any choice. “Can I get some time to think about this? Maybe a day,” you said, slightly nodding at Woozi, hoping he’d understand what you meant. 

“Very well then,” Ms. Lee clapped. “You can let Mr. Ahn know whatever your decision is, and we can get started on the paperwork right away. Thank you all for today.” 

“Not going to lie, but that was the most frustrated we have ever seen Ms. Lee,” Vernon said once she left the room. 

“And compromising. She doesn't even listen or negotiate with me,” Jeonghan pointed out, surprised. 

The members and your friends decided it was best to spend some time together before they had to go for their practice. Amidst the chaos of introductions and questions, you decided it was the best time to corner Woozi and ask him if he was okay with this. You saw him standing at the back of the room, texting someone, as you approached him. 

“We need to talk.”

taglist: @toplinehyunjin @neo-moa @khhminimalist @theidontknowmehn @moose-1555 @kittyhui @ra1n7b33 @hamji-hae @miriamxsworld @khaos-sodivine @intoanothermind @ins4nebish

A/N: hope y'all liked this! this one took forever to finish and tbh I never planned on writing almost 2k words but oh well 😭 excited to hear your thoughts on this and reblogs are always appreciated! oh also! during y/n's inner monologue she keeps going back on forth between woozi and jihoon. that is so symbolise how she sometimes sees him as an idol and other times as this guy she likes. its super conflicting for her.

[hyperfixiation-station]

The Filler Fics Pt.1

Beach Day Pt.1- Travel

Part 2

TW: Canon divergence, military inaccuracies, mentions of injuries/hospitals Inspired by @shyravenns art Summary: This is the first of many sitcom-style filler fics. Yk, the ones where they go to the beach, or go to the store, etc, etc. I am open to suggestions, as I don't really watch sitcoms, so please comment or request or DM me ideas!! This one is, of course, a beach-day fic that I have spilt into 2 parts. this is the getting there portions, pt.2 will be the beach :) WC:1080

It had been a long few months. The threat of global annihilation, the hunt for Makarov, Soap getting shot, it was just a lot, and they all needed a break.

Price had watched Gaz and Ghost spend night after sleepless night at Soap’s bedside, refusing to do anything until the Scotsman woke up. And he had been right there with them, although Ghost wouldn’t talk to him, the Lt. still pissed that Price’s actions, or rather inactions, may have gotten Soap killed. Price couldn't blame him. It’s not like he hadn’t been fixated on that one moment, mentally berating himself for stopping Soap from killing Makarov in the first place. He would have gotten in a shit-load of trouble for it, but anything would have been better than…well, he didn’t even want to think it.

The team couldn’t take another loss so soon after Roach’s death. Price knew that. Knew that if Soap didn’t make it his team would fall apart. And it would be his fault. 

Thankfully, Soap was alright. He’d woken up a little disoriented, with no recollection of the week leading up to his…head wound. Other than some faint ringing in his ear and occasionally bouts of dizziness, he was alright, much to the relief of his squad members. However tensions were still running high. Just because the Scotsman was awake and talking didn’t mean the very real fear that his friends had felt over the past few weeks had vanished.  

There were nights Price found himself studying Soap, watching the rise and fall of his chest proving he was alive. He’d seen Ghost reach up from his bunk and grab the Scot’s wrist, checking for a pulse after waking from what Price assumed was a nightmare. Things got a little better once Soap didn’t have to wear gauze over the wound anymore, but the scar was still an ugly reminder of what had almost happened.  

Soap was constantly mother-henned now, not allowed to do training, having meals brought to him, never going anywhere by himself. It was starting to piss him off, and Price could see it. Tensions were running high, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped. 

“Give the boys some time off, time away from the battlefield. Time to recuperate and settle back in. They’ll be okay.” Laswell told him at their bi-weekly meeting they hadn’t had in 3 months. Price booked 4 flights and a week-long stay at a beach-house off the Coast of California that same night.

However, the flight left in 5 hours and he still hadn’t told his men. He moves through the base, heading towards the rec room that he knew they hang out at, hoping they are all in one spot. 

Aaaaand bingo!

 Ghost is sprawled out on the couch, Soap sitting on the floor, leaning against his thigh, with Gaz in the armchair opposite, watching some stupid show on the little TV they have. Price can’t help but stare at the long, inch wide streak where Soap’s hair hadn’t quite grown back, a grim reminder of how close he came to losing one of his men. His eyes are drawn from Soap's skull by Gaz’s laughter, the man's head tilted back, shoulders shaking at something that was said on the T.V. 

The show cuts to commercial, and Price figures it’s as good a time as any to cut in. 

“Alright boys, pack your bags. We’re going stateside.” All three of them look up at Price in varying degrees of confusion, “Laswell decided after Soap's near-death experience we all needed a little R&R, so we’re heading to the beach.” 

“Ah’ll finally get tae see that ‘impeccable bronze’, eh Lt?” Soap nudges Ghost, a grin splitting his face.

“We’ll see Johnny.” 

“The beach, captain?” 

“Yes Gaz, the beach. You got complaints, go talk to Laswell.” 

“Hey, no complaints here sir! Just makin’ sure.”

“Good. Because we leave in an hour so you don’t have time to complain anyway.” 

“An hour??”

“No time f’r y’r beauty regime, Gaz.” 

“Ah shaddup, just cause you’re jel-”

“Boys! Get to going!” 

“Aye sir!” Price shakes his head as he watches them file out, Gaz and Ghost subconsciously sandwiching Soap in between them. The Scot shoves Gaz, his shoulders shaking as the shorter man lets out an angry squawk.  Things have been tense, sure, but he can’t help his smile as his boys walk off, alive and well. 

Ghost hates flying. Well, sort of. Military transport ain’t bad in his opinion, but when he has to fly commercial? With civilians? And screaming babies? He hates it. Hates it hates it hates it. 

He's dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a black surgical mask adorning his face. HE may have gotten comfortable with his team seeing his face, but the rest of the pubic had not lived through numerous near death experiences alongside him, and thus did not get that honor. Covid had at least helped with the stares, nowadays no one really batted an eyes at him, which did, surprisingly, ease his discomfort.

He shifts in line, sandwiched between Gaz and Soap as they wait to board. Soap is turned slightly, placing the scar on the side of his head directly in Ghost's line of sight. Gods he wishes he could look anywhere else. But its to no avail. No matter how many time Johnny had reassured him he was 'okay', Ghost couldn't get the image of his teammate, his brother-in-arms, his friend unconscious in his own blood, out of his head. He just couldn't.

Yeah, sure, he should have told the court-mandated therapist about that, but the she wouldn't have signed off on him going back to service and then where would he be? That right, no-

"Ghost!" He's snapped out of his reverie by Price, who is giving him the look. Whatever. Price should know by now that he wasn't gonna spill his guts to anyone, much less someone with the power to kick him off the team.

He hands his ticket to the attendant, mumbling a 'thank yo' before following along after Johnny, hands shoved in his pockets. Johnny takes the window seat, so he takes the aisle, condemning Gaz to the middle. Besides, he was the only one that would fit there anyways.

The plane takes off and, as if on cue, a baby starts screaming in the front. Ghost sighs and slouches in his seat. This was going to be a looooong flight.

Let me know what you think:))

[pancakesanddiatribes]

in a manner of speaking

heyyyy there, i finally managed to finish this little piece that has been in my mind for a while. in my head, this is what happened to japril after they leave for interviews in 8x20. i really am enjoying writing this snippets so much; of course, life happens so I can't be as quick as i'd want to, but still i hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

thank youuuuuuu

here a little preview for you 💗

"You know what? If they never send your suitcase back, I’ll contact the Foundation’s best lawyer and we’ll sue them for two million dollars. Maybe this is your chance to become a rich, handsome surgeon like me," he joked, and the sneering ha-ha she served him in return confirmed the mood had lightened at last.

in a manner of speaking

"This is already going badly. This is a sign from above; I'm telling you, Jackson" — he looked at her, half amused, half concerned — "I am telling you! I don't have my folders, thanks to Cristina, and now I don't even have my good suit, thanks to the stupid airline, or the flight attendant, or whatever incompetent baggage handler was supposed to look after my—"

"April! April, calm down! You're going to give yourself a heart attack. Actually, you're going to give ME a heart attack! Please, let's take a break for a moment."

He was a bit frustrated but not truly angry. Jackson knew well that she was the anxious type, so it only made sense that she would freak out when her suitcase was slightly delayed. We know it’s an inconvenience, ma’am, but we’ll send it to your hotel later tonight. You and your belongings will be reunited by 7 a.m. tomorrow at the latest, we promise.

Of course, that promise meant absolutely nothing to April, who had already contemplated the possibility of being interviewed in her underwear. What thought process had led her to consider that scenario even remotely plausible? Jackson had no idea.

"April, listen to me," he said, slowly stroking her shoulders. "There’s nothing more we can get from them. Let’s check in at the hotel and grab something to eat. We can order takeout or stop at a place nearby—either works for me. Your call."

"Takeout," she said, defeat in her voice, her big eyes slightly downturned. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, really. You've got your big interview tomorrow, too. It’s just... why do these things always happen to me? What if my suitcase never arrives?"

"You know what? If they never send your suitcase back, I’ll contact the Foundation’s best lawyer and we’ll sue them for two million dollars. Maybe this is your chance to become a rich, handsome surgeon like me," he joked, and the sneering ha-ha she served him in return confirmed the mood had lightened at last.

When they entered the hotel lobby, April was definitely calmer; still worried about her perfect interview suit being missing, of course, but now more focused on the food they were about to order in a few minutes.

"Good evening, Mr.—"

"Dr. Avery, and this is Dr. Kepner. We have two rooms booked for tonight."

"Yes, I see the bookings here," the receptionist said. "As requested, the rooms are on the same floor. In fact, they’re right next to each other." She added, after checking their IDs and handing them two keycards.

April chuckled as they walked toward the elevator.

"I bet you regret asking for the rooms to be on the same floor now. What if I go nuts in the middle of the night and come banging at your door, screaming for my suitcase?"

"In that case, I’ll double-lock myself in so I’m not assaulted by a crazy woman with no clean clothes."

"Oh my God, I don’t have any clean clothes! I don’t even have my night socks!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave—again.

"I don’t know about night socks, but I’ve got an extra pair of regular socks you can borrow. And also a pair of jogging shorts and a t-shirt, if you want. They’re not your size, for sure, but you just need them to sleep in, not to do a fashion show so..."

"Thank you, Jackson. I’m not really in a position to refuse any clean clothes. They’ll do their job fan-ta-sti-cal-ly."

Once they reached their floor, she entered Jackson’s room and waited for him to search through his suitcase. It didn’t take long though; he packed his stuff so neatly that April had to roll her eyes.

"Nice, there are plenty of takeout flyers here - she indicated the bedsite table - How do you feel about pizza?"

"Pizza will certainly do", he replied as he handed her the clothes.

She took them a bit too fiercefully and he laughed a little, "Perfect, you're calling then - I now have a date with the shower. The usual is fine for me, Jackson!", he heard her say while closing his bedroom's door.

"We can never be bored here", he muttered under his breath, and looked for the pizza flyer.

When he knocked on her door half an hour later, she was showered and dressed. Well, covered at least. His shorts looked a bit ridiculous on her, but she wasn’t really paying attention to her appearance. "Finally. Were you making the pizza from scratch?", her impatience evident. "Hey, you’re only dressed because of me and you’re only going to eat because I called for the pizza. I deserve some respect here."

He entered her room with the pizza in one hand and a bottle of red in the other. "Pizza and wine? Where did you get that?" "At the hotel bar. And shush, I don't want to hear any complaints: if you know how to select the right one, wine can go with everything. Come on, let’s eat, and grab the two glasses they put in the bathroom."

"Don’t put the pizza on the bed, Jackson!" she shouted from the bathroom. "Give me some credit, April, I’m not a caveman." "Aren’t you? All this time living with Alex should have taught you a thing or two." That remark made him laugh; she really couldn’t stand Alex’s lifestyle.

"How much do I owe you for all of this?" she asked, gesturing at the food. "Don’t worry about it; this delightful treat is on me. You’ve already had a stressful evening." "But—" "Hey, be quiet and eat your pizza."

He then changed the subject and asked if she was prepping for tomorrow’s interview, noticing the computer and notebook open on the bed behind them— they were both sitting next to each other on the carpet. "Yeah. Luckily, I had my computer bag with me. I would’ve gone full-on crazy if they’d delayed that as well." She did go full-on crazy earlier, but Jackson felt it was safer not to mention it. He poured the wine, and she made a toast.

"To my interview in your jogging shorts." "At least now you’re not doing it in your underwear." "They’d probably think this—" she gestured to her outfit, "is the worst walk of shame outfit ever." "I’m taking away the pizza now." He jokingly moved the pizza box away from her, so her pretend apology arrived while taking a big bite of a slice. "Oh no, no, I’m sorry. This Tuxedomoon t-shirt with these weirdly shaped geometric doodles is so fitting for a job interview. They’ll love it, for sure." "You’d be showing off your great knowledge with this t-shirt." "About? Some secret code only rich kids get? What is this Tuxedomoon, anyway? The name of your fancy frat house in college?" "Oh my God, you’re such a loser. Tuxedomoon is a very cool post-punk band from San Francisco. They’re amazing." "Post-punk?" The shockwas evident on her face; the mockery too. "Are you really telling me you’re a post-punk kind of guy, or were you just posing as the mysterious freakish gloomy kid to hit on the edgy, maverick chick?" "I don’t need disguises to hit on anyone, maverick or not," he remarked cockily, throwing a small cushion at her. "And Tuxedomoon is really cool. Here, let me show you. This one’s famous—I bet you know it." The excitement in Jackson’s voice made her roll her eyes again. Before the pizza arrived, April had still been stuck in her head, thinking about her lost suit and the interview and what they would think of her unwashed, flight-worn clothes. But now, she was feeling better; definitely more at ease. This wine works magic, she thought, while her friend jumped on the bed to find that obviously very famous song. He was dorky in his own way; super handsome and often unsurprisingly charming - she could not deny it - but he had his little funny quirks. At least I’m not the only weird one in this room.

When the music started, the rhythm seemed distantly familiar to her. She bobbed her head to the tune; it wasn’t bad, actually, until the singer opened his mouth. April couldn’t hide her grin. The man’s voice was too odd for her taste, and it ruined the otherwise beautiful song. "Jackson, how can you like his voice?" "Why? What’s wrong with it?" He sounded slightly offended. "It’s... I don’t know. It’s weird, like he’s singing with his throat inflamed or something. It makes me laugh a little. Sorry, you can't have your way with me! Your great post-punk band does not impress me, but —" "Whatever, your loss." He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but for half a second, the words I could have my way with you crossed his mind. Gross, Jackson. Unbelievably gross. She’s your friend—and a virgin. "BUT, if you please allow me to finish, I actually know the song. Well, I know a better version of it. One that would definitely impress the ladies more." She winked at him while grabbing the computer to play it, and he snorted because the gesture was silly, and because he sincerely doubted that her version could top his in any way. The music began again, this time with a gentler melody, soft guitar, and a low hum. April's shoulders started moving to the rhythm, and she felt the urge to sing a little, dance a little, do something a little. They both drifted into the singer's silky voice when April suddenly stood up, grinning, and belted out the chorus. They lived together, so Jackson had heard her sing before—sometimes in the shower, other times when she had her headphones on. She wasn’t professionally trained, but she had a pleasant voice. Still, this April was different. When she stood up, she forgot about the interview, about the delayed suitcase and, for an instant, she even forgot Jackson was there. It all faded into the background. It took only this instant of forgetfulness - convincing herself she was somehow alone - to make her body move freely. She was singing the chorus, gently touching her hair and neck with one hand, and gripping his oversized, ridicolous shorts she was wearing with the other. It was all very spontaneous; she wasn't paying attention to him, nor was she thinking about her movements - she was only doing. But Jackson was paying attention and, even more, he was thinking; he was thinking the unthinkable and the absurd. The word sultry came to his mind. The song had a sensuality to it, and April —well, okay, she's hot. She is. It's not like I want her to be hot, she just is. I'm a guy, I cannot not see it. I'm allowed to think that of a friend, it's called being honest.

Was he, really, allowed though? He felt it in his guts, for a second, but shoved it aside as soon as it arose. She's just having fun, Jackson told himself. There's nothing more to it. She's not flirting with you, she's not trying to seduce you. She's having fun. Let her have fun. And don't be weird. Then, she locked eyes with him, and that instant split in two: two separate moments, inestricably connected, occurring one after the other in an overly rapid succession. It was impossibly brief, but in that fleeting moment, Mark Sloan’s words echoed in her mind: I think I could take this one for the team; I think I can; I think I want to. She had never done anything like it before, but she knew she could seduce him. She would seduce him. She was seducing him already. His parted lips and half-closed eyes confirmed it. In that very moment, something happened in the pit of her stomach: a sudden emptiness and a curious warmth; and then, the warm sensation filled the emptiness. This - this isn't right, right? This doesn't happen, April. Don't make a fool of yourself. We're having a good time here, you don't get to ruin it with crazy thoughts. Have a good time. She blinked - the two moments made the one instant. While her eyes locked with Jackson's, that first moment made room for the second, and the whole instant passed, as quickly as it came. "See?" she smiled, snapping back to herself without almost not realizing it. "This version is so much better. Way more soothing. It’s a vibe." "Yeah, well, I didn’t know bossa nova made its way to Moline. I thought farm girls only went for country music and folk ballads." She snatched a slice of pizza from his hand and sat back down beside him. The amount of space between them had never felt really significant—until now. Now, somehow, they could not ignore its presence — or the lack of. "You know, you’re pretty narrow-minded for a big-city boy." "Let’s hope your interviewers tomorrow aren’t narrow-minded when they see you wearing my jogging shorts." She playfully slapped his arm, and they both laughed, sharing more pizza and red, pushing all their thoughts - including those about the next day’s interviews - away from their minds.

________________________________

if you are interested, these are the songs Jackson and April are listening to :

Jackson's preferred version

April's preferred version

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven

Also available to be read on AO3, here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 6109

Notes;

this chapter includes particularly dark themes, it is of the utmost importance for me to remind you to please check trigger warnings again if needed. sorry for the delay in updating! this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, i will say that good things are on the way but this story will continue on track with its darker themes.

with that, all the love in the world xx

(Not Beta Read)

The sliver of heaven you shared with Charlie was all you had to hold on to. The autumn air was growing bitter and cold at a head splitting pace.

Friday morning came with a sharp dose of reality, pulling you from your thoughts that had, for the better part, been consumed by Charlie.

It was the early hours of the morning; the sun had only begun to rise. You were in bed all alone, awoken by the deafening buzz of your phone’s ringer.

You scrambled straight upwards, searching for your phone in the mess of your sheets, subconsciously searching for Charlie’s body besides you as well. This had been the first night this week that he had not spent beside you.

You mumbled, finding your phone, answering it without looking at the caller ID. Your eyes were heavy and still half clouded with sleep.

The half-hearted sedation was quickly shaken out of you as your aunt’s frantic voice came through in the other line.

“Oh my God, Oh my God! You’re okay!” Irina sobbed in relief.

Your entire body stiffened in an instant, as though a bolt of lightning held you straight up in bed. You pulled your phone away from your face placing the call on speakerphone, now seeing the previous missed calls and voicemails your aunt had left you prior flash on your home screen.

You could barely make out your own voice over the now deafening drum of your heartbeat. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry I missed your calls. What happened?”

Your stomach had already begun twisting itself up in knots, you subconsciously knew what must’ve transpired.

The line was silent for a moment; you understood that you were both just trying to find the right words to say.

“Do you know who it was?” You whispered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know. There was only one reason she must have called you so frantically and so early; another murder had taken place in Woodsboro.

Your aunt’s voice was muffled as she answered.

“What?” You croaked out.

She spoke the name again. Still, it was entirely too surreal. You couldn’t have caught it without asking her to speak again.

“No…” you stated, “who was it?” the tears were now steadily pricking up against your lash line.

“Scott Anderson. Did you know him? He was in your grade. Oh, dochka. I’m moving my flight. I’ll be home as soon as possible. I promise. I’m so sorry…”

You were swept through a wind tunnel, head blaring at her words. Her voice just seemed to ramble on and on into a catatonic hum.

Anderson? Dead? Murdered?

You couldn’t recall what you said afterwards. Couldn’t recall the end of the phone call. Couldn’t recall how you pulled yourself out of bed and made your way into the parking lot of Woodsboro High School.

You had hardly known the first two girls who were murdered, but knew from others that they were good, that they were decent people. You tried your hardest to convince yourself that they must’ve been targeted, specifically, for some unknown reason. But their murders must have been isolated. Right?

“The Woodsboro Senior, captain of the football team, Scott Anderson, was found butchered, gutted, in the early hours of this morning. This brutal murder can now be reasonably placed in correlation to the murders of two Woodsboro girls who had been killed just days prior.”

A female newscaster’s voice spoke from somewhere behind you as you pushed your way through the growing crowd that had formed outside of the school.

“It is now more apparent than ever that Ghostface has returned to Woodsboro. Their clear motive is still unavailable at this time.” The newscaster continued as you moved just out of earshot.

It was undeniable now; you had tired your very hardest until this point to deny it.

You dropped your things onto the floor beside your first period desk.

You couldn’t pay any attention to the surrounding students, to Kirby, or Jill.

You didn’t know what you needed, didn’t know what to do. You sat paralyzed until the first bell rang out around you.

You couldn’t get the image out of your head. The newscaster’s words buzzed in your mind. ‘Gutted.’ ‘Butchered.’

You gripped the corners of your desk with white knuckles, watching the clock tick onwards as the pit grew in your stomach.

You did your best to hold it all together until the feeling of nausea sent you up from your desk before the class was even dismissed.

You ran to the bathroom towards the end of the hall, falling to your knees in the stall, letting the contents of your stomach fall from you like loose change in your pockets.

After you spent minutes dry heaving above the toilet, you sat back against the cool tiled walls, pulling your knees into your chest.

You were sick.

So sick.

But it wasn’t the thought of Scotty begging for his life, or the thought of his insides turned outwards that caused this feeling alone.

It was the fact that the thought of all of this brought you so much relief, alongside a feeling of twisted vindication. You were quick up onto your knees again, retching.

You sat there on the bathroom floor until well into second period.

You forced the thoughts away, trying your best to clear your mind. Anderson was gone. There was a serial killer somewhere close whose motives and next course of action were completely unknown. There was nothing you could do about any of it besides pull yourself up and be strong.

You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, rinsing your mouth out thoroughly when you heard your phone buzz in your back pocket.

You used your elbow to wipe your face in lieu of a paper towel and reached for your phone.

A message from Irina appeared. “The earliest I could change my flight was for Sunday morning. Less than two days, love, I’ll be home soon.”

You cleared your throat, typing your response. “Okay, I’ll be okay.”

You were sure you must be okay. Your aunt would be home within the next few days. And maybe you wouldn’t have to spend the nights alone. You could always invite Charlie to stay again. Charlie-

How could you have not spoken to him yet today?

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to stay again last night. You knew he had things to attend to in the home he was responsible for. He hadn’t pushed to stay either, you had assumed he also did not want to overstay his welcome. There was no welcome he could possibly overstay with you, but you knew he was trying to be respectful.

But, with another murder, you were certain you’d both finally be on the same page that it wasn’t smart or safe for either of you to be alone.

You went to call Charlie but immediately ended it after the first ringer tone played through.

‘Idiot.’ You murmured to yourself. He was surely still in class, just like the rest of the student body, unlike you were.

You looked yourself over in the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot, skin sallow and pale from the episode you had just pushed through. This wasn’t a good look for anybody.

If there were any day to just go home and lock the doors behind you, it was this one.

You fixed yourself as best as you could, adjusting the hemline of your shirt, splashing cool water over your warm face once more.

You pulled out your phone again to send Charlie a message before exiting the bathroom.

“I’m going home for the day. Not feeling well, please let me know if you’re okay. Call me after school.”

You sent the message, shoving your phone back into your pocket and pushing open the bathroom door.

The hallways were a cruel and cold sort of empty. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, kept your body close to the lockers that lined the walls.

All you could hear was the dull hum of the fluorescent lighting above as you rounded the corner that led to the exit of the building, until-

Familiar voices reached your ears before you could make out the words they were saying. You spotted the familiar frame of Jill’s back towards you. She was speaking to someone in a small nook in the hallway. It wasn’t until you were nearly right beside Jill that you made out who she was speaking to-

“No, no. I’m done Jill.” Such a familiar voice. Even though hushed and barely audible, you could’ve recognized it anywhere. “Please.” It was Charlie.

Your heart skipped into your throat as you caught his line of sight.

His eyes were deep red, black circles laced tearfully under his waterline.

You couldn’t have spoken up if you had found the words.

He immediately stiffened as he realized you were passing by in front of him, as though you were the last possible person he could’ve expected to see.

You must’ve only held his gaze for a second. A minute.

You couldn’t have been sure.

Jill’s head snapped back to face you as your hands met the school entrance’s steel handles. Her expression overflowed with sickly venom.

Click.

You were out of the school within a second.

‘Done?’ Done with what?

Your head felt as though it had been crushed and spun by a mallet.

What could that have possibly meant?

You had no idea they even spoke to each other anymore. Charlie had made it seem as though they hadn’t kept in contact in years. And what could he have meant by ‘done?’

Your feet carried you forward mechanically, left-right-left-right.

You weren’t sure why your eyes were welling with tears.

You could hear your name being called out from somewhere behind you.

Click.

You slammed your car door behind you, peeling out of the parking lot as quickly as you could possibly have had.

What could he possibly have been speaking about with her?

The thought of it nearly sent you spiraling again. It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t almost had to pull over a number of times to empty your stomach all over again.

Was he seeing her? Was he telling her that he was done, done with whatever relationship they had formed?

You knew they weren’t friends. You would’ve seen them talking more, he would’ve mentioned it if that were true.

You slammed your front door behind you, stumbling up the steps to your bedroom.

It was just too much. You needed a second, a single second, to just pretend that this day had never happened.

Your phone began to ring, over and over and over again.

You knew who it must’ve been without checking the Caller ID.

You’d call him back later, you just needed a minute to try to sort this all out.

You turned off your phone, curling up in your bed below you, rocking yourself to dispel the thoughts of the day.

You weren’t sure when you had eventually drifted off into a sickly and disturbing daytime slumber.

In your dreams, you stood above Anderson’s body. You watched intently as he cowered in fear below you.

There was something sick there. Something that built and consumed you.

You had all of the control.

It was power.

There was a sudden sense of starvation for it as you thought back to the horrible things Scotty had said and done to you.

The twist of the blade in his stomach, the smile you felt on your face as you cut him again, and again.

A familiar coo could be heard behind you, somewhere in the distance. The voice praised you, instructed you on how to twist the hilt of your knife.

The familiar figure grew warm, traced its hands along your waist as you slashed the man who had previously made you feel so weak and powerless.

“Just like that doll, so perfect.” Charlie whispered behind you, urging you to turn and face him as your knife caught in Anderson’s chest.

You let the handle go, face contorting in pleasure as you watched Anderson’s breathing grow shallow.

You turned to face Charlie then, turned to return the kisses he placed gently alongside your neck. It was bliss.

You had never felt so strong as he carefully guided you and urged you on. You had never felt so safe and protected as you had in that moment. It was real to you. It was so incredibly real.

Click.

You shot up in bed. Chest heaving, hands grasping at your throat to try to catch your breath as the dream you had just had replayed itself over quickly in your mind. You were drenched in sweat; the room spun and shrunk around you.

The sun had set, you couldn’t have possibly made an accurate guess at the time.

You brought your hands down in front of you, your fingers trembled as you searched for blood you knew realistically could not be there under the dim lighting of the lamp on your desk.

You sat there for a moment, eyes glued to the ceiling, adjusting in the dark. A burn in your throat sent you carefully out of bed.

It seemed as though every sound was amplified as you crept to your bathroom down the hall.

You tore out of your damp clothing that clung and suffocated you, dropping it all in a disregarded pile on the tile flooring. You turned on the shower faucet, allowing the water to cool as much as possible.

You stood under the steady stream. The icy water was a needed comfort. You held your mouth open, swallowing the water until it made your stomach heavy.

You nearly fell back against the shower floor, pulling your knees into your chest again, letting the frigid water shock away any horrible thoughts that could cling to your mind.

After an indescribable amount of time had passed, you worked slowly, lathering soap across your body and through your hair. Your nails scraped and scratched across your skin in the process.

After getting yourself together as best as you could manage, you made your way back into bed.

You grabbed your phone, knowing it was time to face Charlie. You weren’t sure what you would say to him, he had left you more missed calls and text messages than you could easily count.

The phone rang, rang, and continued to ring until you were sent to his voicemail box.

You pulled the phone away from your face, ending the call. ‘Strange.’ You hummed to yourself.

You called him back again. You were met by his voice mail, again.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you thought up what to say.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I am ready to talk. Please call me back ASAP.”

You sighed, setting your phone back down on your chest.

The house was so quiet, you could make out the distinct sound of the crickets outside. The noise of your stomach groaning in hunger was quick to fill the air. You pushed yourself up and out of bed, sliding your phone into the waistband of the shorts you had put on after your shower.

There was no point in waiting around, starving, for Charlie to get back to you. You prayed that this was all just a simple misunderstanding, something he could easily explain. You refused to let yourself dwell on any other explanation.

You just hoped he’d get back to you quickly, the thought of going to bed tonight entirely alone after yet another murder sent a chill up your spine, made the dread build up inside you.

You rounded the top landing of the staircase, the far-off dim lighting of the kitchen illuminated your way down the steps.

You had just nearly come into view of the entryway when your heart skipped up into your throat.

The front door was opened just a sliver of the way, just enough so that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn't been paying careful attention.

You froze immediately, all of your senses heightened at once as you tried to steady and conceal your breathing.

You could’ve sworn you had closed it on your way in.

A terrible thought hit you then. Had you forgotten to lock it in your hurried daze to find some semblance of solace in your bedroom?

You listened as hard as you could for any sound that seemed out of place, searched for anything else that seemed out of the ordinary.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there in silence. You debated running back up into your bedroom, debated making a run for the front door.

But if someone would have come in… you would have heard them, surely, right?

Right?

You took an unsteady step forward, wincing as you heard the step creak below you.

“Hell- hello.” You called out, cleaning your throat.

You waited for another moment for a response.

“If there’s someone here, show yourself.” You took another step forward until you reached the entryway, your eyes quickly darted around as you reached for a candleholder that sat on the entryway table.

Nothing.

Complete and total silence.

After another moment, you sighed in relief, placing the candle holder back on the table and hurriedly shutting the door the rest of the way. You made sure to slide the lock shut this time.

You must not have closed the door like you believed you had. You scolded yourself for being so reckless. You had to be more careful than this.

Your stomach was still in knots as you made your way towards the kitchen. You were just on edge, that was all.

Click.

You processed the feeling of your phone slipping from your waistband and the sound it made falling to the floor and just out of reach before you processed the sudden overbearing feeling of a figure pressed up behind you.

You processed the feeling of a heavy and strong arm draped around and in front of your chest, holding you in place tightly and without room to writhe away before you noticed the sharp, nearly piercing, cold blade against your neck.

Silence.

This couldn’t be happening.

A thousand thoughts seemed to pass through your mind in an instant.

This was it.

It was all over.

You imagined Irina coming home to find your lifeless body in the hallway beside the living room, the room where you had shared so many of your most precious memories with her.

You imagined Kirby’s reaction when she learned the news of your passing.

Imagined how this would make Charlie feel-

Charlie…

Oh God, you would never see his face again; be in his arms again. You said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t hold himself responsible for any of this. You wished you wouldn’t have ignored his calls earlier in the day, you wished more than anything that his last memories of you alive would have been of something good. It all seemed so meaningless now.

You wished you could have just told him you loved him one last time.

You were truly just so grateful in that moment that he was not there, that he would not have to face the same fate you were about to.

Your eyes welled over with tears, the surrounding air had long been sucked away. You were standing in an empty vacuum of time and space.

The fear you held was quickly consumed by resignation and peace. There would be no fighting your way out of this.

You sucked in what you assumed would be your final breath. The first tear slipped down your face, you waited, waited for the searing pain that was bound to come.

Only it never came at all. The grip around you tightened incrementally, if only for a second longer, before disappearing all together.

You heard a heavy thud behind you as the assailant fell to their knees.

You coughed and sputtered as you realized what had just happened. You scrambled for the knife that laid in front of you, your adrenaline now kicking into high gear.

You held up the knife and spun to face the masked figure that knelt in front of you.

You watched with shaking hands and blurred vision as a dark gloved hand came up to rip off the Ghostface mask to be thrown across the hall.

The sight that unfolded in front of you was more horrible than anything you could have prepared yourself for.

“No…” Your voice cracked on your words.

Charlie sat before you. The tears streaked down his face in a constant stream, his hands grabbed through his hair before falling back at his sides in resignation.

“I can’t do it, fuck I can’t do this.” He spoke more to himself than you. It nearly seemed as though he was begging you to do something, anything.

You couldn’t even begin to process the emotions that took hold of you at that moment.

Charlie went to move closer to you, you instinctively held the blade tighter pointed towards him in response.

He looked so incredibly pained by your movements.

“Get the fuck away from me.” You spat between broken breaths.

Charlie Walker was the murderer who terrorized Woodsboro. And what was worse, you had trusted him. You loved him. Loved a killer.

And now he was here, to hurt you. To kill you. In a single instant, he had destroyed every shred of faith you had in him.

The entire rug of reality was swept from underneath your feet in one swift motion.

He shifted backwards, putting more space between you in some sort of offer of comfort.

He raised his hands above his head, grimacing as he watched you flinch.

“Please, you have to kill me. Please, I can’t hurt you. I can’t do this anymore. I’m begging you.” Charlie’s voice was just above a whisper. You could tell he was trying to hold it together as best as possible. He was failing miserably.

The entire room seemed to tilt and turn upside down and back again at his words.

What did he mean by this? Kill him? He had come here to kill you.

The sincerity in his tone and expression as he softly pleaded with you over and over broke you completely apart again.

Could you do it? Could you really kill him?

Your grip on the knife faltered for a moment as you looked him over.

“What are you talking about, Charlie?” You begged, you wished he could give you some sort of explanation for all of this.

He shook his head violently, you could tell each second that passed brought him even more pain.

“I couldn’t let her do it. I couldn’t…” He continued, catching on his own words.

“Her?” Your eyes were wild now, your mind worked at breakneck speed, trying to puzzle this all together.

“She didn’t give me a choice, she decided you had to be next. I couldn’t let her… If she would have been the one to get her hands on you,” Charlie continued, seemingly ignoring your question. “I thought I could at least make it painless, take away any of your suffering. But I can’t, it has to be me. If you kill me, there will be too many eyes on you. There won’t be any way she could touch you then. You’d be safe.” He spoke in rapid succession.

It hit you then, Jill’s expression earlier that day in the hallway, the conversation you had overheard, the both of their absences that night of the party when the first murders had taken place.

Clang.

The knife slipped from your hands as you went nearly completely slack at the realization.

Jill and Charlie, working together, murdering together. She had decided you were to be their next kill.

“With Jill?” Your lip quivered at the question. He nodded, you already knew the answer.

You dropped to your knees in front of Charlie.

Your vision went in and out, dark and light splotches clouded your line of sight. You could barely make out Charlie’s figure or voice just in front of you.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I didn’t have time to plan, I would’ve gotten you to safety. I would’ve turned myself in. I had no choice but to come tonight, come when I did. She thinks I’ve told you something, that you know something about all of this. She decided today, she would’ve come if I hadn’t begged her to be the one to do it instead. All I could think about was keeping you out of as much pain as I could.”

You could hardly understand what he was saying. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing.

He wiped away at his tears, composing himself before speaking again. “But now I see. You have to be the one to kill me, she’ll let you go then. She’ll have to.”

“No…” You murmured. How could you bring yourself to do something so horrible?

How could he have been involved in these crimes? The man in front of you now seemed entirely transformed from the sweet boy you once imagined.

You thought back though, carefully, on the story about his father, that night he had stepped in between you and Anderson. You had so many questions; it was right in front of you all this time.

“Please, doll. You have to do it.” He was growing increasingly desperate.

You shook your head again. If he were truly just a monster, truly just began all of this because it was something he wanted to do; then maybe you could choose your life over his own. There had to be more than this, though. There had to be a reason behind this all.

“How did this all begin, Charlie? I mean, was any part of you that you’ve shown me even real? If you tell me the truth…” you paused for a moment, swallowing hard, eyes flicking between the discarded blade and Charlie’s gaze. “I’ll do what you want.”

He took a deep breath, nodding, easing back a bit more.

You tried to keep yourself as composed as you could possibly manage in that moment. You made sure to settle on your knees with easy access to the blade if you needed it at any time. Something in his expression calmed your nerves, even if only slightly.

If he had complete intentions of harming you, he would have done so when he had total control, right? You could allow him to explain all of this.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “I just want you to know that this, us, is real. I do love you. I’ve always meant that.”

You bit your lip hard, nodding, urging him to continue.

“The story about my father was true. I did murder him to save my mother and I. Jill was the only one who knew, and she…” He paused for a moment, eyes dropping to the ground. “We lost contact after everything had transpired years ago. It wasn’t until this summer that she approached me, told me her plan.”

“What plan, Charlie?” You were trying your hardest to process and retain all the information he was sharing with you.

He inhaled deeply. “I’m sure you know by now who her aunt is.”

You nodded yes, Sidney Prescott. But wouldn’t her relation to Sidney make her a likely victim of all of this? How could she resort to perpetuating a nightmare her aunt had survived years ago?

As though Charlie understood your confusion without having to voice it, he continued. “She is tired of living in her aunt’s shadow. She wanted the fame. She wanted to be the perfect victim.”

You felt your face twist in disgust and horror.

“And you… you’re doing this to help her… become famous? Are you doing this because you want the fame too?” Your voice raised as you questioned him. You subconsciously shifted closer to the knife.

Charlie looked devastated at your words, as though he felt entirely ashamed that you could assume so low of him.

He shook his head vehemently. “No, no. Not at all. When she first told me her plan, I laughed in her face. I didn’t think she was serious. But she- she grew angry, told me I didn’t have any other option but to help her in all of this.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t have a choice?” You questioned him, not fully believing what he was telling you. He had to have had some other option than to resort to planned murder.

“What I didn’t know before all of this, she had recorded the phone call I had made to her after my father’s death. She had proof that I had planned to do it. She said if helped her, she would delete the evidence. When I told her no again, told her I’d rather turn myself in…” the tears began to run down his face again. “She threatened my mother, and I knew she meant it.”

You sat in stunned silence. How could she be so cruel? So calculating? She would’ve turned him in if he refused, then with him behind bars she would’ve murdered his own mother. You wouldn’t have ever imagined her capable of this.

You weren’t sure why you trusted Charlie at this moment, but you believed him, wholeheartedly.

“That was months ago now, when the school year started, I still had hope that she would let this all go. But she only grew more obsessive. I should’ve known better. I should’ve stayed away from you. I almost didn’t go through with those first murders that night of the party, but…”

He held your gaze intently, you hadn’t realized just how long you’d been holding your breath.

“But what, Charlie?” You knew the answer already.

“She threatened you.” His voice cracked on his last word.

“She promised me that you’d be safe through all of this. She promised me that you would be off limits.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grabbing you in his arms then, pulling you closer to his chest. You shivered at his touch, only you couldn’t pull away, couldn’t bring yourself to love an inch away from him.

“I’m so sorry, I know you’ll never be able to forgive me, never be able to remember me the same way. I’m so, so sorry. I love you more than life itself, and I’m the reason you were ever in any danger at all.”

You were in shock, complete and utter shock. You knew something had been going on with him. You had no idea how much he was hurting, how much he was carrying. He’d done this all to protect his mother, he’d done this all for you.

And now…? It couldn’t all be for nothing. It couldn’t end like this. That evil, manipulating bitch has used and abused Charlie into nothingness with complete disregard.

You knew he meant what he said, could read him like a book. He would never hurt you, would choose your own life and well-being over even his peace of mind. She destroyed your sweet boy, used his most traumatic experiences against him to bend him to her will, knowing he’d comply for the people he loved.

Your hurt and terror and confusion was slowly but surely bubbling up into something dark, something you had never felt before. It was rage, murderous rage.

Your face contorted, the tears that streaked your face grew hot against your skin and dried completely.

You pulled away from Charlie, holding both of his shoulders in your hands. Your face was just inches in front of his own.

“We have to end this.” You spoke with more determination than you had ever spoken with before.

Your expression was drawn in shrewd control as your growing plan developed in your thoughts. Your solution and way out was decided at that moment.

Charlie seemed equally surprised and confused by both your sudden actions and words.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to steady his voice to meet your focus. You could tell your idea had not yet been thought up by him.

Your lips twitched upwards cruelly, as if you were about to recite some sick joke. “We have to kill her, Charlie.”

He shook his head, eyes widening in disbelief. “No, no. If we both live tonight, she will know for certain that you know. You will be in even more danger, I’m the one who has to die.”

Your smile widened. You could both come out of this. You knew you found your only other option.

“No, see,” you grabbed the blade in one hand while forcing the hilt into Charlie’s grasps with the other. He seemed in pain to even be holding it. “If you just make it look like you tried, like you tried to kill me, she won’t suspect anything. It’ll at least buy us time, Charlie, to figure out a real plan.”

He looked at you in disbelief, the disbelief was quickly overshadowed by realization as you gently guided his hand upwards until the tip of the knife pressed against the small space below your shoulder.

“No, baby, I can’t hurt you.” He was so sincere, so gentle.

You would need time to process this, need time to heal. But at this very moment, neither of you had the gift of another option that didn’t result in certain death and time was ticking by.

He had done so much for you, because he loved you.

It was your turn to return the favor. You would do this because you loved him, you would truly die for him, die to bring some safety and peace back into his life.

“Please, if you help, just here,” you shoved the knife forwards a bit until it just pierced your skin through your t-shirt. You both winced at the contact. “It will be done and over quickly. I’ll phone the police as soon as you leave.”

You tried your best to be convincing that this plan would work.

He knew this was the only way, completely hated himself for it all. You could read it all in his expression. If he took your place here, it would be too obvious that he was involved.

You wrapped both hands around his own and held the blade even tighter. He needed the reassurance more than you did.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. No vital organs here.” You tried to laugh, giving him a sorrowful half smile.

His lip quivered, eyes darting between you and the blade quickly before landing steadily and softly on your face.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his own. The kiss was so incredibly gentle, it was the kind you knew you’d never experience again.

He kissed you back, running his free hand gently over the back of your head.

“I love you Charlie.” You whispered, inching forward even closer.

“I love you, more than life itself.” He replied earnestly.

With that, you pushed his hands forward with all your might.

White, scalding, blinding pain.

You couldn’t hold back the throat tearing scream that escaped from between your lips.

Charlie removed the blade quickly as your hands fell to your sides.

He recited a string of obscenities and ‘I love you’s’ as he took such gentle care to lower you to the ground.

He stood, you could barely focus on his frame in front of you.

He knelt down one more time, kissing across your lips and face. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He wouldn’t let go, you knew this was killing him. It was killing you.

“Go, I’ll be okay.” You stated as firmly as possible, time was of the essence.

His lip quivered as he stepped back, quickly grabbing his discarded mask and blade.

You reached for your phone that laid right beside your fingertips and dialed the numbers 911. You could hardly bring yourself to answer the operator’s questions. You pressed your hands tightly to the wound as your vision came in and out in darkening waves.

You willed your eyes open to watch Charlie walk out of the home through the front door until he disappeared, closing it behind him.

The last thing you could recall before slipping into unconsciousness was the familiar blare of sirens and flashing lights coming through the bay window.

You could only pray that this plan would be enough, even just for now, even just to buy some time, to ensure safety.

It just had to be enough.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 4

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: Here's the first of the completely new chapters. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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I wake up to the deliberately annoying sound of my alarm blaring from my bedside. I look out at the still-dark skyline outside and slide off the alarm before checking my notifications. A smile instantly replaces my sleepy scowl as I read the messages that filtered in overnight.

I know it’s late, but I’m wired from sleeping on the flight… even though it was only three hours. I know I should be better at this flying thing with how much I travel for work but I guess I never learn Also…I could get used to you colliding with me 😉 God that was too cheesy, I’m sorry, forget I said anything, I blame the jetlag! I need to stop before I permanently scare you away if it’s not already too late. Good night

I smile at his dorkiness before dragging myself out of bed. As much as I’d love nothing more than to message him back now and text all day, my shift starts in an hour and I need to get ready first. I force myself through the motions of showering, donning my uniform, eating a light breakfast, and brushing my hair and teeth before slipping out the door. The sun is just beginning to rise overhead as I stroll through the quiet streets. As much as I’m not a morning person, I do enjoy this little slice of quiet before the rush of the day.

Once I get to the cafe, I greet the baker who is finalising the baked goods for the day. I help him stock the fridges, leaving the tray of burnt muffins on the bench in the kitchen as per his instructions and then open the store.

With the Christmas rush still in full swing, the morning passes quickly but leaves me exhausted. Once I finally get a break I take one of the slightly burned and therefore, unsaleable candy cane muffins and a bottle of water and sit at a small table out the back of the cafe. I pull out my cracked phone and finally allow myself to reply.

I sell festive drinks & snacks to people who haven’t yet had their morning coffee - It’s gonna take more than a jet lag-induced comment to scare me away Watching you behead someone on TV though, that was rough You sure I can trust you? I promise I’d never hurt you, that is unless I catch you draining someone of their blood Wait! Are you working? I didn’t mean to disturb you Not at the moment I can chat for a bit So, you promise you won’t drink anyone? I get queasy when someone cuts their finger, so no chance My show’s probably not for you then The eye candy’s worth it But I also live alone, so horror is generally a no-go That’s ok. As I said, it’s more interesting to me that you’re not a fan There are no expectations to live up to But eye candy, eh? I don’t know about Dean but there was the vamp was pretty sexy Till he lost his head anyway Oh…🥺 Nah, Dean’s alright too… Though I do think he’s the most scary. I don’t think he would take kindly to wearing a cup of hot chocolate Probably not But he’d find you charming He’d probably use it as an excuse to try and get your number He’d have more confidence than shyly writing his number on a coaster and hoping the pretty girl makes the next move You think I’m pretty? You don’t need to try and flatter me You’ve only seen me when I’m exhausted and covered in rotting milk If you’d seen me on a day when I’d actually put in some effort then maybe I’d believe you Then maybe one day I’ll have to give you a reason to dress up for me Take you on a real date You plan on coming back to New York? It’s not in my schedule yet But maybe in the new year Unless I can tempt you to come to Texas? I live in a single-bedroom apartment in downtown New York And I work in a cafe I can’t afford airfares and hotel accommodations in Texas at Christmas! How about if it was all-expenses-paid? Jensen…

Just as I’m typing a reply my colleague bursts through the backdoor. I check the time and realise it’s been over ten minutes since I came outside. I quickly type out a halfhearted excuse and shut off my phone before scurrying back inside.

Sorry, my break’s over. I gotta get back to work. Talk later

Despite going through the motions; making coffees, heating muffins, and delivering orders, my mind continues to wander back to Jensen’s offer and my lack of response. We barely know each other, how could I let him pay for a holiday in Texas? While a holiday sounds like heaven after working my ass off all year, I refuse to let it be at someone else’s expense, even if that person is a successful and wealthy actor. I refuse to be seen as a gold digger, even in my own eyes. Also, I can’t stand the thought of him finding out my true passion and then accusing me of using him to get a leg up in the industry. By the end of my shift, I decide to come clean about everything.

Back in my apartment, I shower again and change into comfy clothes before collapsing on the couch. I switch on the TV, not caring what’s on, just looking for a little comforting background noise. The random Doctor Phill reruns don’t take long to lull me to sleep.

The continual vibrating of my phone on the coffee table drags me back to the land of the living. I rub my eyes to wake myself up and check who’s blowing up my phone.

I’m sorry if I came on too strong I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable You’re right, we barely know each other I promise I’m gonna stop making stupid comments and just give you space I’m sorry again

I mull over the messages for a few minutes and type and delete multiple replies before mustering up all the courage I can and giving in and pressing the call button instead. I listen to the dial tone for a few rings before he finally picks up. Wanting to smooth things over before he jumps in all apologetically I rush to speak first as soon as the call connects.

“Look, I know we’re texting people, not calling people. But this conversation needed to be had like this.”

“Are you telling me to lose your number? Because I will if that’s what you want.”

“No. I just think we’ve been living in some fantasy, and maybe you’re used to that since you’re an actor. But here in New York, no matter how badly I want to be a performer, I have to live in the real world. Any handouts I take, and any relationships I make will be used against me.”

“A holiday is not a handout. But wait, you want to be a performer?”

“During the year, I took acting and singing classes. I also auditioned for roles on Broadway. But obviously, I didn’t get any of the roles. But I swear, I didn’t recognise you when we met the other day. And I don’t intend to use you to get a role. I’m not a gold digger. I want to do this myself,” I ramble, hoping he believes me.

“Hey, I’m not accusing you of anything. I believe you. I’ve met people who are just trying to use me, I know the signs. So unless you’re a much better actress than I’m giving you credit for..?”

“None of this has been acting. I promise.”

“I believe you.” I hear knocking and someone calling out from the other end of the line. “I’m so sorry. They’re ready for me. I've got to go do soundcheck. Can I call you back later?”

“Soundcheck? Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Bye, Jensen.”

“I’ll call you and explain later…or maybe tomorrow…I promise I’ll call you!”

The line falls silent and I sigh. I drag myself off the couch to make a sandwich. Just as I sit down to eat it my phone starts buzzing again. I glance at the caller ID and answer it with a smile.

“Hey, Stella!” I greet my best friend happily.

“Hey, Bestie! We still on for tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“You promised you’d help me with my wedding! I’m getting married in three weeks and there’s still so much to do!”

“Oh yeah! Of course! I can be there in say 30?”

“You’re the best, Bestie!”

“I know! See you soon!”

I hang up and finish eating my sandwich, clean up, throw on some warmer clothes and head out to catch the subway.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27

[mercurygray]

Hii Merc, could I please request #11. "the lover in the sky" for Fred and Brady? Thank you <3 — @shoshiwrites

Thanks for letting me take my time on this one, @shoshiwrites! I hope you don't mind Fred's having...a bit of a crisis.

There was a shiver in the air.

Fred hefted the empty coffee thermos into the back of the jeep, grateful that it had been a busy day and the thing was mostly empty. She was glad she'd thought to bring her tanker jacket, earlier - the warm one with the good zipper that fit nicely over her uniform coat. Summer was still cool, and night out on the tarmac cooler still. She'd left Ken and his crews with fresh coffee, the last of the day, and now it was time for home, and bath, and bed.

"Fred!" Lieutenant Brady's voice came up out of the rising dark. "What brings you out here?"

"Passing out the rest of the coffee. Ken said it was going to be a long night." She paused, and followed his eyes in the direction of the plane, Brady's Crash Wagon in large friendly letters on the side. (Everyone had heard that story, about how he'd brought the thing in from Greenland on no wheels, and they'd renamed it shortly after.) "I could ask you the same thing."

"Checking in on her," he said with a smile. "Looks pretty good, doesn't she?"

"I wouldn't know," Fred admitted with a good-natured shrug. "I've never been inside one." Not even for a little barnstorm, she wanted to add, before someone starting laughing about the absurdity of working at at airbase and never having actually been inside a plane. City girls don't take plane rides at county fairs - and Clubmobile women take boats to Europe.

Brady, however, wasn't laughing. "Do you want to?" he asked, sincere as anything. She snorted, and then realized he was serious, and shrugged in assent. "Are your fellows all done inside, Herb?" Brady asked, shouting under the belly towards the mechanic and his box of tools.

"It's your ship, Lieutenant," Herb said. "I'll leave the stairs out, for when you both need to come back down. You got a flashlight? It's getting mighty dark out here."

Brady waved his and Herb nodded and let them be, Brady steering her towards the tail of the plane and the hatch with its folded down stairs. "Here, you'd better take this," he said, handing over the flashlight, warm from his pocket. "Once you get up top, go along the gangway and watch your feet."

"Don't you want to go first?"

He shook his head. "Ladies first," he said, and waved her on forward.

It was dark, here in the tail of the fort, the only light the two large panels in the sides with their machine guns standing at the ready. She fumbled for a moment with the flashlight until it finally turned on, the small beam casting here and there over the inside of the plane. It felt like being inside the attic of an old house, seeing the ribs of the aircraft jutting out of the walls at regular intervals, the panel of the floor creaking as she made her way around the guns and the bubble of the turret and its enormous oxygen tank, carefully passing by a chair and radio to an even smaller gangway, and passing between an enormous empty space. "Bomb bay," she heard Brady say behind her. "Careful there, there's a step up past the turret. Go left once you're up there."

The step up was over a large opening that must have led to the nose - the light was slightly better down there. Fred hoisted herself up and tried not to move anything, flipping the flashlight off to appreciate the scene in the last bit of light from the sunset. All of this to put a piece of metal in the sky.

Brady climbed up into the right-hand seat, pleased as anything. "How on earth do you manage all of this all at once?" Fred said, trying to make sense of the buttons and switches, each with a name and label more arcane than the last.

"It's just practice," he offered, "A lot of flight hours. And there's a checklist we go through when we start - fuel levels, pumps, ignition switches. Then we pump and prime the engines and start them one by one. Put your hand here," he said, gesturing to the handle between the two seats. "When we're ready on the runway for takeoff, you'd push this forward -" his hand closed around hers on the double-handled throttle - "and away she goes."

She felt strangely powerful, her hand gripping the bar of the throttle, empowered by the feeling of his hand on top of hers. "So," he said. "What do you think?"

Fred looked out the windows once more. Around them the airfield was deep orange and purple, the sun nearly finished setting over the distant tops of the trees. They weren't all that high up, here in the cockpit, but it was still somehow both wonderful and strange to see the field from this height, and pick out the lights just starting to come on in the distance, the pairs of headlights winking and swerving out of the gates.

"Amazing," she said, her voice full of emotions she didn't know she had. All of this could go up into the sky, and fly and fight and come back down again. Day after day, week after week. Hundreds of men, in hundreds of planes, all of it part of one vast, uncountable effort, beautiful and yet terrible in its beauty.

She looked over at Brady, sitting sideways in the copilot's seat, one foot dangling over the door below, and didn't even have time to think about what was happening before he'd leaned over and kissed her right in the middle of her laughing lips.

Time stopped for a moment, and for a bare second it was only the two of them in the dark, breathing together, lips warm.

"You look so pretty now," he offered, almost breathless. And then his smile fell, and the light went out of his eyes. "Fred, please, say something."

There was pressure behind her temples, a high whine between her ears, a magneto that wasn't powering on. Words failed to connect. "…I think I need to leave."

She didn't quite know where she was going - she'd left the flashlight up front with him. She stumbled down out of the cockpit, taking the easiest route out and launching herself out of the pilot's door onto the dark ground below, the asphalt jarring her knees and eating into her hands.

Somewhere behind her she heard him call her name in the dark, but she was starting the jeep and fumbling it into first, hands shaking against the wheel and feeling like her whole heart was about to burst in her chest the same way she had in the cockpit, filled to the brim with the thought of all that love and all those lovers in the sky.

Her heart was still pounding when she parked and made her way back to the Clubmobile, leaning her forehead against its smooth, safe metal side. It's against the rules. This is against the rules. He kissed me. John Brady kissed me.

And the loudest, strongest thought of all - no one told us at training what to do when you don't know if you don't mind.

[deepseaorcapt]

Snowbird

Pairing: Revali x GN Hylian Reader Summary: Visiting Revali today ended up in archery training, wholesome banter, and a lot of fears with the rise of Calamity Ganon. Themes: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst Word Count: 2,737 A/N: Another x reader because I noticed not many people really make fics talking about how they felt or how it was before the calamity, that or I haven't read much. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, it's crossposted to my ao3!

It was a freezing day in the Tabantha Region. Today marks a few months since you've started living in Rito Village. Having a daily routine of checking in with villagers and helping them out when they needed, it's a normal occurrence that you bump into the Rito Champion more than once, sometimes, it happens on a daily basis. That Rito has the ego and pride of a lion but still is sweet at heart when the situation permits. Eventually, you both established a bond and became friendly with each other.

Your tasks from villagers range from killing a few bokoblins to delivering something to certain people. Well, the latter is how you end up in the flight range as you jokingly asked Revali to teach you the bow. You went to the training grounds, bringing food for the Rito Champion as requested by the village elder. When you curiously wondered how training under Revali would be, and so you asked and that's how you ended up in the situation you are in now.

"I'm giving you a private lesson here, only because I think your bond with me is worthy enough for it." He hands you the swallow bow and walks a few feet away from you, not meeting your eyes.

"There are many rules in learning the art of archery, if you are wanting to learn… You better not be slacking." He said sternly as he took a glance. His back turned to you as you nervously held the swallow bow he entrusted to you. "Now the art of archery may have a lot of rules." He spoke with pride before turning to you with a smile, "But the first thing you need to remember is holding that bow with confidence. Go, show me how you hold your bow."

You gave him a weak smile as you tried to mimic how he aims as you aim at one of the targets. "You know, you haven't even taught me how to hold it yet." You said as you fumbled and strained yourself, he sighs as he watches you struggle to keep your posture. Approaching you, he gives you a comforting smile then teases, "I don't know what you'll do without me." Causing you to roll your eyes and reply, "Well, I asked only because I wanted to see what devastating training you put your warriors in." A chuckle erupts from you as you watch him hum, ignoring your comment, and moving to your side. He raised his wing, gently caressing your hand and the upper side of your back to help with your posture. His face was focused but being in close contact with your friend, you can't seem to hide the blush on your face.

"What did I say about confidence? Stand tall and don't be too nervous. You have to stay focused and trust yourself with the bow. Your arms will just get more unstable if you keep letting the bow take control of you." He pats the lower part of your back as he gives the lesson, making you jolt and yelp in surprise. The arrow that you were holding makes a beeline for the target, hitting the outermost ring. He chuckles at your reaction, earning a pout from you. He gave you a smirk before teasing you, "You lack focus. I was just guiding you and you jolted like a horse when I softly patted you." 

After a while of playful banter, you both relaxed and looked at where your arrow ended up. You gave a nervous chuckle and said, “Well, at least it’s at the target. I say a hit is still a hit.” He rolls his eyes then laughs. "If it were a real monster, there is no outer ring and they'll most likely be moving, then most likely, you'll die before you get a hit." He states as he flies up and shoots a few rings to demonstrate and to show off to you. He then looks at you and says, “You’ll figure it out! You’re smart enough for that, right?” He ignores your groans in irritation as he continues to show off. "You could be such a jerk at times." You said as you sighed, watching him continue his exhibition.

Well, that's Revali, he has good intentions but he couldn't control his desire to show off. It happens from time to time, earning praises and cheers from the crowd. Little would you know he was showing off more towards you, trying to get your attention and praises as if he was a bird trying to flaunt their qualities for their chosen mate.

You held your bow and went back to training, you tried your best to aim at the target again. Steadying your bow, breathing in as you took your time before shooting the target. But when you noticed a flock of birds pass by you decided to give it a try and aim at them. 

“Might as well give it a shot, maybe I could have something to prove to Revali.” You thought as you breathed in to take your shot.

You release but the arrow misses them by a feather, shooting upwards piercing the cold air. Not even a second since you released it, Revali returns to you. "I've got a better idea on how I could possibly teach you the ropes." He says proudly as he lands in front of you, "You may have no experience at all, but if you take the lessons that-"

His voice was silenced from your mind as you noticed something shine in the sun above both of you. The arrow from before comes rushing down on you both. Your eyes widened and as time slowed down, you pushed yourself onto Revali, hard. 

"H-hey!" He stutters as you both were sent off the railing of the platform and onto the snow bed below. "What was that for?!" He exclaims as he tries to look for you in the snow. The impact sent you flying a bit further but not by much. Revali stands up quickly dusting himself off before going to you.

"You better have a good explanation for putting us both in danger-" 

"The arrow I shot to the sky fell down." You cut him off and said quietly as you focused your attention to the sky.

Revali was going to continue on his ramblings about archery and safety but he noticed how little you seemed interested. "Did you hit your head or something? Why are you staring at the sky?" He asked, worry was in his voice but he was more intrigued than anything. He looked up and he saw Vah Medoh flying up in the sky. He still looked confused as he returned his gaze to you, "What's with the Divine Beast Vah Medoh?"

Your eyes were closed for a minute, "Nothing, nothing… Just humour me for a bit, Revali." You say softly as you lay in the bed of snow peacefully, patting the snow next to you. He shrugs but decides to lie down next to you in the snow.

"Have you ever had time to stop and think about it?" You say as your eyes flutter open and watch the beast fly.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at." He said as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Well, all of you champions are surely talented and skilled enough to protect your villages… But have you ever wondered who the pilots of the divine beasts were before? What trials and what reasons did they have for being chosen?" You say with a small smile and close your eyes for a bit, "I wonder if your ancestor was just as cocky as you are." Teasing him, you looked to your side where he lies, he didn't notice what you said and thought back to your question. It wasn't rare that Revali doesn't notice the things you say, you knew he had lots of things in his mind, that they cause him fear and anxiety under that persona he shows. You turn your head back to Vah Medoh as it flies high above them, gliding in the wind like a giant majestic eagle.

It was a while in silence before Revali opened his beak and said, "I never thought of that, if I was honest. Truly, I have no time for such small things but I'd like to humour you this once."

"I think those previous champions are just ashamed they couldn't put an eternal end to Calamity Ganon. I would be if we couldn't."

There it was, the nightmare of many, the Calamity. You usually run away from it, the prophecy and its probable effects in your mind, but it's eventuality haunts you. You loved your life in Rito Village, you loved how things were now, you loved spending time with your friend, Revali, no matter how much of a jerk he could be at times. It was hard to think that a big calamity could change everyone's lives for the rest of their time living in Hyrule. Silence fills the void between you both as you both lie in the snow.

Revali, honestly, thought the same in the silence. The people here, the rich culture, the bonds and the life. They're all things he wishes aren't affected by the calamity when it comes. He'll miss the chicks singing in the morning, training others as well in the flight range. Above all, he'll miss you in all of it. The way he'll see you smile as you approach him, the little stories he hears from your adventures and tasks there. It's all the things in his daily life, he wasn't sure he wanted to change but he knew much that he needed to protect.

"Do you think we have a better chance?" You say, the anxiety crawling up your neck and grasping your throat as if it's stopping you from talking. Revali chuckles nervously and says, "We should be, there's no other choice. I'm up there as a support! Surely, just surely, when that little hero falls back and begs for me to save him, I'll swoop in and kill that calamity in a shot." He smugly boasts, hiding the anxiety in his own voice as you giggle, "I don't doubt you could do it, but just be more careful, even when the calamity is dead and gone, there's no saying that the village will ever not be in danger. We could still use your skills and protection, Revali."  There was a smile and truth to your words as you try to erase the possibility of his death from your mind.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, I'm never not ready and in control of the situation. Despite that, I can't make any promises when the time comes." Softly he says as he closes his eyes and sighs, "Rito Village depends well on me and the protection of Vah Medoh, I'd gladly risk it all for them."

Snow piles up on both of your bodies as the light of the sun very slowly melts it away.

"I know" you said but it sounded like you were talking to no one. Like it was a confirmation to yourself, to remind yourself of the reality that is Calamity Ganon. 

When silence hits you both, It wasn't an awkward silence, just a knowing one. It spoke loudly as it echoed the chaos that may happen when the calamity finally arrived. What could happen to Revali honestly terrified you both. Revali was all for risking his life and his future for the sake of his people, but that was when he didn't have much to lose. But now, he couldn't stand and afford to see your face so dejected and defeated. 

It was deafening with how loud the silence was but you were determined to break it, letting go of the overwhelming feeling of fear as you said, "Have you ever thought of settling down after the calamity?" 

Revali's feathers puff up all of a sudden as he sits up and faces you, flustered by your question, "W-wait, what? What does that have to do with anything?! With the calamity?!" 

His mind goes wild as his heart races, 'Don't people who only have interest ask that? You don't just casually ask that after some deep thoughts about life, death and survival! Why does she have to fluster me like that when I'm off my guard!'

You give him a smile, finding comfort in his flusteredness and say, "Well, I was just thinking of what it could be like in the future where the calamity is defeated. I wonder if you'll have little chicks… But then again, I wonder if those chicks are just as snarky and impatient as you are." You teased him and chuckled. He loved your smile, that much was true, but he couldn't let you get away with teasing. He rolled his eyes then replied to you, "Well, I'm sure your little Hylian children would just be as chatty as you, maybe even just as nosy too." You both laughed and when the laughter died down, you both had smiles on your faces. Revali lies down once again beside you, letting the snow comfort his form.

"Seriously though, have you ever thought about settling down and having anything other than training? What if you don't really need to train anymore?" You say as you glance at your side, Revali's face was comfortable and relaxed, you could even say he seemed at home. It warms your heart to see your friend's guard down like this. It warms you that he trusts you enough to be like this around you, and you made a promise to yourself you'll keep him safe in these moments.

"Well, I think I'm better off a few more years alone, maybe go on an adventure or train future warriors on how to be better. I'm not sure if I really found one to settle down with yet, I don't mind if I never do…" He hums as he looks a bit embarrassed. His beak feels dry as he lies when he says he hasn't found someone he'd like to settle down with. 

You've always been by his side and took care of him, so that for once he didn't have to feel like he had to carry the burden all by himself. At first, he despised it; Leaning onto someone for the weakness he couldn't overcome but despite that, with every look on your face, the absolute care and loyalty you had to him. It took his heart and warmly blew on it, that the wind carried his sorrows away.

He coughs and continues, "But it would be a nice thing to imagine… Waking up to someone next to you and looking forward to going home… Don't you agree?"

He looks at you expectantly, somehow, it's like he was searching for some hint of affection you had for him but you kept your gaze focused on the sky. 

"Hmm, for me? I agree too but just… I hope whoever it may be, they'll be my best friend. I want to have a laugh with them while staying safe in their arms, you know?" You chuckle as you sit up, your eyes meeting with his. It was a moment of connection, but you both denied it was something more, afraid of what could be and the feelings that'll hurt when the calamity eventually comes. You blinked away as you stilled your beating heart and said, "Well, that's enough thoughts for today, don't you think?"

You stood then helped Revali up who had a curious look on his face. He tries to hide his flusteredness when you mentioned 'best friend'. He thought to himself but chuckled and whispered, 

"It couldn't be, right?" to which you replied to him with a confused hum as you walked back towards the village.

He shakes his head, reassuring you, "It's nothing, don't mind it" He says softly as he denies any possibility that you may actually like him back but a smile crept on his face as he looked at you fondly. He gives in and thinks to himself as you stopped and stood, waiting for him. He watched your figure as he caught up to you; His mind's thoughts were calm today, except for the lone thought. 

'Maybe after the calamity, when all is done and safe, I could be your best friend.'