#i read it a while ago but never got past the first few chapters of ILB

[aria-ashryver]

ha, i was making a quick edit for my ILB MC so I could update my MC Masterlist (which I'll do... eventually lol), and I accidentally made matching fits for Isaac and Imogen

(totally have a hc now that they dress to match each other on purpose 🤭 also they are t4t)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

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[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.3. your last day with quinn

➴ chapter warnings: mention of a restrictive diet, constipation.

➴ word count: 1.7k

💌 from me to you: this was supposed to be a cute, hurt/comfort chapter but. i listened to madison beer while writing this so things took a turn and now it’s just depressing. at least there’s still some hurt/comfort here :,)

౨ৎ

2017, SEPTEMBER.

YOU were having the worst day ever.

It was a Friday, and one of those days where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. First, you woke up at half-past five with a fever that made your entire body shiver. Your pajama was glued to your body, sticky with sweat. You sat on the bed, immediately regretting it because your head started spinning and suddenly you needed to throw up everything you’d eaten for dinner last night.

You felt like shit even when you managed to shower, sitting on your bathtub and letting the tears fall from your face. You felt so tired. It had already been a very stressful week, with your Mom forcing you to attend castings and auditions, making calls here and there so you could get the jobs she wanted for you, controlling everything you ate and drank.

On top of all of that, Peter and Quinn were leaving for college and you were sure you had never felt so alone before.

Quinn became your favorite person in the entire world when you both met four years ago. He was so important to you, and even though sometimes your heart didn’t understand what exact feelings you had for him, you needed him in your life.

The friendship you’d built over the past four years meant the world to you. How he took care of you, and how he tried to balance his career with still trying to be present in your life. How he would always ask about how you were doing in school, or about your dreams and wants. How he had introduced you to his family and how Jim and Ellen were nice to you, letting you come over to do your homework with Jack or Luke.

How sometimes you’d find Quinn practicing in their homemade ice rink, and you’d watch him for hours, impressed by his moves and skills. How sometimes you’d notice his hair falling out of the helmet, the sweat decorating his face and his blue, greenish eyes that would stare at nothing but the puck.

So when you found out he was leaving for Michigan? It hurt more than anything else, even if you were extremely happy for him.

You got out of the shower, feeling your body hurt everywhere. You were thankful that your classes didn’t start until next week and you didn’t have any auditions today so you could just jump right back in your bed.

Which was exactly what you did, sleeping like the dead after letting your tears fall for a bit more.

You woke up a few hours later, with a soft touch on your arm. Opening your eyes and immediately feeling them getting wet, you saw Quinn standing beside your bed.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling. “Maria let me in. You didn’t come say goodbye to me.”

Your sick, tired brain took a little while to process what he was saying. Until you looked at the digital clock that sat on your bedside table, reading 11:34 a.m., Friday, 6 September.

Fuck.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You were still shivering underneath the covers and your throat hurt.

“Maddie?” You could see he had stopped smiling.

You tried to smile, feeling the need to reassure him. “I’m sorry. I forgot to set an alarm,” you lied, trying to get up again and, thankfully, succeeding this time. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute. Sorry.”

Getting up didn’t exactly mean success, since your legs failed after five steps and now you were on the floor, with your knee hurting like a bitch.

“Maddie, what,” Quinn said, quickly coming to your rescue, like he often did. You had a headache? Quinn had the right medicine for it. You hurt your finger? Quinn wrapped your hand with a bandage. You were hungry? Quinn was already in the kitchen making your meal. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, just— I just woke up.” You didn’t know why you kept lying to him and you felt like shit, but it was his leaving day. The Hughes were moving back to the US, so that Jack and Luke could join the NTDP in Michigan and Quinn could go to UMich. And it couldn’t get worse, not really. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Madison,” he hissed, angrily. You frowned. Quinn had never gotten angry at you, not even when you managed to ruin his hockey uniform with glitter. “You’re sick. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, as he walked you to bed again. “I am fine, Quinn. It’s just constipation or whatever.”

“Stop acting like this is nothing, Madison.”

“Stop calling me that,” you frowned, annoyed for no real reason. You were going to miss them so much.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whispered, feeling your eyes tearing up again, the fever making you shiver.

He stopped scowling for a second, softening his eyes at you. He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh, which you promptly grabbed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just— I hate when you act like what happens to you isn’t important.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling less cold now.

“You’re like my little sister, so watching you sick is just as upsetting as it is with Lukey or Jack,” he chuckled, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered your feelings right there.

You didn’t know exactly what you felt for him, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t that silly admiration you had for him when you were little. You were fifteen now, and just when you were supposed to crush on the boys at your school, you were always comparing them to Quinn instead. And Quinn is always better than them.

Not to mention that he’d been getting cuter. He was losing his teenager features and it didn’t help it with your little infatuation for him.

Hearing him confirming that you were nothing but a family member to him stung. This was definitely the worst day of your life.

“Right,” you whispered, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go downstairs and say bye to you all. I’m sorry for that.”

“We’re only leaving at night so don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re feeling better until then.” He replied, getting up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, confusion taking over your face.

“I’m gonna ask Maria to make some soup for you while I go look for some cold medicine,” he put his hands inside his jeans pockets, something he did often, and smiled at you. “Do you think you’ll be fine here for ten minutes?”

You nodded, watching as he poked your cheek before leaving your room.

You laid down for a while, trying to organize your thoughts. You still didn’t understand what the Hughes leaving meant to you, only that you’d miss them like they were your own. Because for a while, that’s what they were.

You must have snoozed again because next thing you know, Quinn was shaking you lightly again. You opened your eyes, staring at him.

“Maria made you chicken noodle soup and I brought you juice and pills,” he pointed at the tray on your desk, smiling.

You got up, sitting up against the headboard, and thanking him as he placed the tray on your lap.

“Mom would probably kill me if she knew I’m eating noodles,” you joked, coughing loudly. Ugh.

“I won’t tell her a thing, promise,” he quickly said, sitting on the chair beside your desk, resting his hands on his knees, as he watched you eat. “Can’t believe we’re actually leaving.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You will come to visit us, right?”

You placed your spoon inside your bowl again, staring at Quinn’s face, trying to memorize all of his features at once. His upper lip, slightly thinner than his bottom one. His wavy, brown hair, messy and untamed, so beautifully shaped. His eyes, darker than Luke and Jack’s, but still bright and vibrant. His nose, big and cute and your favorite feature on his face.

Oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“‘Course I will,” you mumbled, shoving the last spoonful of soup into your mouth. Lying to Quinn always felt wrong. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you,” His eyes softened, and before he could speak, you continued. “You made my life so much easier. You and your family are so important to me so thank you.” You felt your eyes watering, and you looked up. No crying in front of anyone.

“Oh, Maddie,” he got up, removing the tray from your lap and putting it back on your desk, so he could sit beside you. “There’s no need for tears.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and tell him you’re okay but you only managed to let more tears fall from your eyes.

He placed your head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket until it reached your chin, covering you completely. Then, he gently grabbed your hand underneath and held it tightly.

“I’ll be only an one hour flight away, Maddie. Our house is your house too.”

You sniffled, feeling your body starting to hurt again.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want him to leave, that you needed him in your life and that you loved him. A young, unripe love that made your chest hurt every time you thought about it.

But you knew that you were just being selfish. Ever since you met him, you knew Hockey was his life. It is his favorite thing in the world, and it means a lot to them.

So you would never tell him anything. No. At least one of you deserved to be happy.

“I know,” you mumbled. “Can I take a nap?”

He chuckled beside you. “Yeah, ‘course. Not before you take your medicine though.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the rest of your face under the cover, hearing Quinn’s soft laugh.

Little did you know you’d keep that sound safe and secure in your heart, for the rest of your life.

[noetnoet]

Lifechanger - DEMO

Lifechanger is a 18+ real-life romantic drama where you'll play as a teacher who just started a job at a special school.

Content warnings: explicit language, (possible) mention of child abuse, mental health and (possible) unhealthy relationship.

The content warnings may change!

A few days ago you got a job offer at a pretty famous school, the Smith's Academy. You get a good salary, you live only 20 minutes away from the school, and you get a big starting bonus. Sounds perfect, right? Well, it is not as good as it seems at first.

This school is for troublemakers. The bad ones. Most of the kids are misunderstood, some are born evil and others just have the worst parents who put them in this school for no good reason. They all have one thing in common, they make the school feel like hell on earth. Not only the children will make your life harder, but also some of the adults are quite the challenges. This story focuses on relationships and mental health.

This job will change your life forever, whether it's for the better or the worse will depend on your choices. Welcome to Lifechanger.

Character Customisation. Choose your appearance and gender, and choose one of the 3 backstories. Will you deal with your past or let it consume you?

Play as a teacher. Choose between 3 students you can meet. Change their life for the better or the worse.

Romance. Romance your charming boss, an elegant co-worker, or a sweet mother of one of your students.

Complex Relationships: Everyone has secrets perhaps; someday they will come to light. Can you truly get to know your lover and friends?

See how your actions change the actions of those around you, good or bad. One thing is sure: Your choices matter a lot.

Danny Smith [M]: Your charming boss. At first he looks stoic and cold at first , not kind at least, but in reality he has a hard of gold. He enjoys working with kids and the school is everything to him. Maybe too much for him. He is very social but it looks like he never lets anyone get close. Can you truly capture his heart and get to know him?

Alice Smith [F]: Just like her uncle quiet charming, a bit too confident sometimes but it makes her quite attractive. She is the school psychologist and has helped a lot of children already. But not like Danny she seems to seperate work and life more. She cares for her students that is clear but there is something...sly about her. Can you figure out who she truly is?

Dolores Richards [F]: She is a secret fully. Yes she is kind and looks sweet but there is something about her. She married her husband while she was in college, it all seemed perfect but lately things have changed. Can you help her figure out what she wants?

Lisa: One of your students who is going through something that changes her life forever. Can you help her or will you only drive her further into her depression. [1/3 kid stories you can follow.]

Oliver: The son of Dolores and a student of yours . Although he is dressed well and he gets anything he wants from his parents, the things he needs most are neglected. Can you help Oliver find a way to feel fully loved again?

Jaden: A boy born in a poor family and although not on purpose neglected by his parents. He spends his days in school and at work trying to earn enough for his family. Can you find a way to help him and his family?

Other

Lifechanger is currently a WIP. The demo is at 14K. I am planning on updating every 2-4 weeks with a new chapter, the story will be between 30-40k words long. This is my first story so i’ll be keeping it fully free and i hope to learn a lot from it. Don’t be afraid to give me tips or help with my grammar.

Thank you for reading this!

Demo

Feedback

[skellseerwriting]

Pirates and Prejudice (and Dragons)

James Hook x GN! Dragon Rider!Reader Part 3

Pt.1 pt.2

Here’s the not-apology apology chapter!

Reader is disabled (prosthetic foot) and I am not disabled, so if anyone who’s reading this is please let me know if anything is written weirdly or wrongly

Word Count: 2,162

Warnings: Descriptions of phantom pains, some slight hurt/mostly comfort, romantic tension, mentions of injury, reader feels conflicted

Content: Hook starts avoiding reader, reader starts experiencing really bad phantom pains, someone arrives to help them, who could it be?

It was daunting, how little changed yet how big that change meant. Most of life went on the same, but the little differences meant everything.

Hook and his friends stopped bothering you. In fact, you hardly ever saw them. Maybe it was just because they would go out of their way to pick on you before, but it made it almost seem as if they were avoiding you. Which, yes, was nice, but that also included Hook.

Now, whenever you saw each other in hallways or on school grounds, he would practically move as far away from you as possible. Even in class he would try and take the seat farthest from yours. And every time, his face would look a stressful combination of fear, guilt, and some secret, third thing.

You hated it.

You hated seeing him avoid you when all you had wanted when you first met was to be friends; or acquaintances on good terms, at the very least. You despised that look that happened to share too much resemblance to pity, which was something you grew to hate since your injury. The way he almost tiptoed around you created an irritable, unscratch-able itch. His treatment of you was as if you were fragile; that if he got too close you would break. Well, if it continued, you weren’t sure how long you would last until you actually snapped.

An annoying side effect from all the stress were the phantom pains. Whenever they happened in the past you would go for a fly. School still being in session prevented that.

It’s not that the nurse didn’t understand your condition; She had in fact told you to go to her to sort out exceptions of attending class when needed, bless her heart. No, the reason you were determined to grit it out was because you were worried of rumors. If word got out of you skipping class, regardless of how valid the reason, you knew the social consequences of it.

You would not let people think you were weak.

You were not weak.

Grinding your teeth together out of pain, you told yourself that excusing yourself to the restroom near the end of class right before free period didn’t count. Nobody would be able to tell anything.

Still, it was hard.

You had went to your usual spot at the courtyard fountain, limping badly and starting to sweat over the feelings of pins at your ankle. It had never been this bad before. The only time it had been worse than this was during the recovery process a few years ago. As time had gone on, you forgot what that felt like. Pain surged through the area again, reminding you.

Massaging it was an option, but you did not want to do it out in the open. You felt vulnerable, open to the world. Your dorm was also so far away from here, just thinking about the walk made your foot feel worse.

Clenching your hands on your legs while trying to breath steadily, you continued to keep your eyes closed. Shut everything out.

 There is nothing around you but open air, you told yourself. That breeze you feel in front of you? That’s the wind hitting your face while flying on Beastie. The splashing of water behind you? A coursing waterfall you were flying close to. The person sitting to your left? They-

You opened your eyes.

No. Not him.

Anyone but him.

An extreme surge of pain occurred again. You couldn’t keep a still face and made a near-silent cry.

You knew he saw that and you hated it.

“Go away, please.” You whispered, doing everything in your power to not look at him. He only made it worse, being the source of your current stress and anxiety.

You sensed no movement.

“Hook, please.” you pleaded. “Please leave me alone.” You needed him to leave. One of your worst moments was on display and he was just watching. He could hear your tears even if he couldn’t see them, and he could definitely see you left shoe shaking uncontrollably. Why hasn’t he left?

A hand placed itself on your shoulder.

“Are you having phantom pains right now?” He asked softly. Surprised at the care and quietness in his voice, you looked at him. His face and his eyes held none of what they had before. There was no fear. There was no pitiful guilt. There was just endearing worry, along with that secret, third thing.

You nodded your head, fingers gripping the tough sides of the leather gear strapped onto your pants.

“Can I help you?” He whispered, head tilted closer to yours.

Part of you jumped at the question, desperate to say yes. The other part, unfortunately, was terrified. This man... This- pirate of a man, walked a tightrope in your mind between someone to avoid at all costs… and someone you were far too eager to get close to.

What would happen if you said yes? As sincere as he sounded, what if he was lying? Up until recently, all his cares towards you were to make your life miserable. What if he intended to get close to you just to hurt you at some farther point ahead? Your heart would surely break more than anything else.

But what if he meant it? What if he could help you in all the ways you needed, not only just now, but in the future? Would you finally find that solidarity you had been seeking? Ease of not feeling different here? Would he do that for you? Become that important to you?

Would you become that important to him?

You dwelled on that for a moment longer. Hook started to look nervous, perhaps wondering if you didn’t want him there after all. He wouldn’t have been surprised after everything he had done to you. Then, you said something to him.

“What?” He asked, thinking his ears had betrayed him. You gave him a tiny smile.

“Yes.” you breathed. “I said yes.”

His eyes crinkled into little crow’s feet, and that alone made it worth it to say.

Before even asking or telling him anything, he brought his right hand off your shoulder and turned away slightly, only to turn back a few seconds later with something shiny in his palm.

“This is my hook.” Ah, he was trying to distract you. Of course he knew that technique, since he would deal with phantom pains himself with his own hand. Although if you were being honest, him sitting inches away from you and sharing your air probably distracted you more than anything else. He was so close.

Smiling, you began to trace the little garnishes and engravings at the cylindrical part.

“It’s very pretty.” You told him plainly, focusing on the design instead of your foot. “Did someone make it for you?”

“Not exactly.” He said with an air of mischievousness. “I stole it from a famed prosthetics-maker during a long trip to the east.” Something about the way he said it made you think he was fibbing, but you let out a giggle nonetheless when he grinned at you- like he knew that you knew. “Want me to get a pretty foot for you?” He asked with a wink.

“Only if it matches your hook.” You joked lightly, not letting him have one over you with that last remark. Surprisingly, Hook started to stammer a little bit while turning pink.

Laughing, you shove his shoulder a little with your own. “Relax, I’m just kidding. My current one is fine the way it is; I can’t value appearance over durability and stability with my occupation.” He seemed to accept the answer, still flustered.

“Mine’s made of steel. So it has both strength and lightness.” He told you.

“Really?” You asked. “It looks rather heavy.”

“Here.” He said, setting it in your open hand. Wow, it was really light. “Can’t have my enemies be besting the greatest pirate captain of the seas.”

You snorted, running your finger over the metal curve. You swore you saw him shiver at that. “I find that hard to believe.”

Leaning closer, he said “You ride dragons. I thought you of all people know that we aren’t limited by our youth.”

Hearing the word “dragons” sent a jolt through your leg and you grimaced. Like hearing the cause of its loss was enough to make your foot feel it again. You’d almost forgotten about the pains now, and now they felt like they were starting to come back.

“Don’t say that.” You told him quietly, looking at his too-close-face so he could look in your eyes and understand that you were being serious.

“Say what?” He asked. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and his eyes filled with worry. You take a breath.

“The creature you just mentioned.” You told him with honesty, then looked dow again. “It’s making it worse right now.”

Realization must’ve clicked immediately in his brain because he moved his left arm into you field of view, showing his wrist without the hook that he took off earlier.

“I got mine eaten clean off by a crocodile.” He said, then gave a silly smirk. “It was my fault, really. I was being an idiot boy when I was fourteen- no, thirteen. A couple weeks after was my birthday and my mum gave me the hook for when I fully healed.”

You grinned; he had fibbed when he said how he obtained the hook. Glancing at your still shoe, you told him “I lost mine when I was thirteen too. My class was learning by watching our instructors handle a vicious one. Things got out of hand -quite literally- and next thing you know, due to some wicked sharp claws, I was out of foot.” You laugh a little at your joke. In the rare occasion you told someone what happened, you loved making the pun. Some laughed with you, some didn’t, and most looked at you like you were crazy. You didn’t let that bother you though, it was your trauma so you got to joke about it however you liked.

“I shouldn’t say I’m surprised.” Hook said. “I thought it might have something to do with dr- with those creatures. At least you get to tell people you lost it to one of them; how cool is that?” He ended excitedly.

You shrugged. “Most amputees from my home lost them the same way as me, so it’s pretty common to me.” Side-eying him and nudging his side you told him “I’ve never heard of stories of people losing limbs to crocodiles though, so I think yours is much cooler!”

He beamed a little. “Really?”

“Yes.” You told him. “Why would I lie to you, Hook?” He bristled a little.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh,” he waved you off with his hand. “Nothing really, I guess I didn’t expect you to call me that.”

“What? Hook?”

“Mhmm.”

“But… that’s your name?”

He looked into your eyes; his own moving back and forth between yours due to being so close. At some point you two had shifted closer and your legs were now touching.

“Hook,” He began slowly, moving his tongue around in his mouth to get the words right. “Is the name associated with the pirate. The Villain Kid. The bad person. All of which I’m completely fine with! Despite what others say or think, I’m happy with who I am. But-“ he softened his voice and leaned closer again. Much, much closer. “Hearing you call me by that name makes me feel like you only see those things. I know that’s not completely true,” he added, whispering “I just feel this ache in my heart when you say it. I don’t want you to call me that.”

Despite feeling your heart lodged in your throat, you managed to get out a “What would you like me to call you?”

A “hnn” came out of his lips and you couldn’t help by look at them. “Call me James.”

“James.” You said, testing his name on your tongue. His eyes went wild when you did so.

“Yes, darling?” He whispered. You leaned closer.

“I- “

The tower bell rung. Students started streaming out of doors and into the courtyard. You both jumped back. Then, H- James gets up.

“Meet me at the entrance after school.” He told you.

“Why?” You quiz, now blushing, holding up his hook for him.

He put it on then grabbed your hand before you could lower it.

“Because,” his eyes twinkled, now bowing at the waist. “I’m going to take you on an adventure!” And with that, he pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckle and walked away before you could even process what this charming boy had just done to you.

Extra:

Hook: Um, guys? Remember how Scarface said they wanted a peg leg?

Hook: Well… turns out they have a prosthetic foot…

Everyone:…

Maleficent: You’re such an idiot

Part 4

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 14

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.9K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader, hoseok x reader

note | *cue that tiktok sound* okay, guys. we're back. did you miss us? hi! I'm back with my monthly update 💀 I already outlined everything. there are six chapters left in this series (not including the drabbles). thank you so much for patiently staying around. i appreciate y'all a lot. let me know your thoughts, enjoy reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

When did texting someone become so hard?

It has been exactly three days since Taehyung got to talk to you again. He offered to drive you home after your date failed to show up. You said yes. You two had a friendly conversation in his car. Like you were old friends, which you were. But were you? It’s complicated. For the first time in years, he heard your laugh and saw you smile just like in the photos he saw when cleaning up at your shared house. He remembered you waving at him with a soft smile on your lips before getting into your apartment building.

You also said you never changed your number and you would reach out. But he wants to update you about the small celebration the bakery will have later next week. He tried typing something but later erased it before he could even finish the first word. He doesn’t know what to type or how to begin a conversation. So he just typed a single character and hit the send button.

It was past six in the evening. You were already in your PJs after a long day at work. Treating yourself with dumplings and beef fried rice from the nearest Chinese restaurant in your area, you let yourself indulge while your favorite sitcom plays on your TV screen.

“You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay because I like…maintaining you.”

You found yourself pursing your lips when your favorite character said that line. It was one of the quotes that stays in the back of your head almost every time. You were about to reach for the remote control to play it back again. But your phone, which you set into silent mode an hour ago, vibrated. Your eyebrows shoot up as you read who sent you a message.

From Jung Hoseok

Hi, YN. I really regret missing our date last time. Would you be willing to give me another chance with a cup of coffee this Friday? I know a great cafe around the city 🙂

The day after he failed to show up at the restaurant, you woke up to a text message from Hoseok apologizing again. You reassured him that you understood and he promised to make it up to you. You didn’t really expect anything from that and thought that he would just pass by like your past dates that Martha set up. So seeing him reaching out again was unexpected.

You smiled as you typed a reply.

To Jung Hoseok

Will there be tea? I don’t drink coffee.

You see those three dots immediately popping in, indicating that he’s typing. So you quickly typed in a follow-up message.

To Jung Hoseok

Just kidding! I’m okay with Friday. Around 5 PM?

He was quick to reply,

From Jung Hoseok

Okay. Should I pick you up?

You thought you would just feel pressured if he picked you up at your home. So you just offered an alternative.

To Jung Hoseok

We can just meet there :) Just send me the cafe’s location.

From Jung Hoseok

[location pin] 

To Jung Hoseok

Thank you! See you this Friday then.

From Jung Hoseok

See you, YN!

That’s a date for Friday, which is a few days from now. Even though he reached out again, you thought of keeping your expectations low. Because it helps avoid disappointment. You probably learned after your last dates with those guys you met before.

You continued playing the episode you were watching. Not even five minutes later, your phone vibrated again. You thought Hoseok forgot something. But immediately after reading the contact name, you froze staring at your screen.

From Aaa Love

👋

Of course, you quickly recognized who it was. Suddenly, you felt a sense of nostalgia in your head after seeing that name for a long time. Years after keeping this contact hidden on your list, you totally forgot that you never changed his contact name even after the accident. You cannot even remember when you hid his name in your list. Maybe it was one of those nights you were drunk with friends and made some decisions.

Before replying, you renamed the contact.

To Kim Taehyung

Hi, Tae 🙂

While waiting for his reply, you recalled that night. You remembered feeling good entering your apartment even though your date didn’t show up. When Jisoo asked you how it went through a video chat, you said that the date didn’t happen.

“Then, why do you look happy?” she asked that time.

That’s when you snapped out of your daze, “D-Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been smiling ever since we got on this call.”

“Oh…” your lips formed a thin line before speaking again. “I… I saw an old friend in the same restaurant.”

The last time you and Jisoo really talked about Taehyung was still the time she showed up unexpectedly after her wedding. You cried, she cried.

“Really? Who?”

“Taehyung.”

You wait for her reaction and you gradually see her eyes widen.

“What? What is he doing there? Did you talk?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

“Apparently, he’s doing some business here. And yes, we talked. He offered to drive me home.” you shared.

“And?”

“It was nice.”

Your simple and short answer had Jisoo simply staring at you through the screen. It was like she was studying you. You knew she had a lot to say in her head based on her quiet reaction. But then, she just said,

“Okay.”

From Kim Taehyung

Hello, YN. Just making sure I have the right number here haha

Taehyung finally replied. You let the episode play in the background as you tap on your screen,

To Kim Taehyung

I told you I didn’t change it!

From Kim Taehyung

I know, I’m sorry hehe

Just by the text, you can imagine him awkwardly laughing as he says that. Before you can reply, another text popped in.

From Kim Taehyung

Btw the celebration will be in the bakeshop. Next Saturday, 2 PM.

From Kim Taehyung

It’s a late lunch event with friends and family. We’re hoping you can come 😊

Reading that, a smile formed on your lips. With you working at school, you are usually free on weekends. 

To Kim Taehyung

Will do!

“Can you put dinosaurs in it?”

“Of course, bud. Anything you like.”

Taehyung softly ruffled Jihoon’s hair, who remained focused on coloring his activity book. The little kid’s birthday is coming up soon and the preparations for it had begun. Since Jimin would be the one making the multi-layered birthday Jurassic-themed cake, Taehyung offered to make the cupcakes. 

A couple of toys, specifically, dinosaurs, are all over the table that Jihoon and Taehyung occupy. And ever since he arrived at the shop this morning, the kid kept talking about his favorite animal. Being the best uncle that he is, Taehyung listens while being quietly amazed by how much Jihoon knows about dinosaurs. 

“Ashley just sent a copy of the contract in our e-mail earlier. She wants us to review it first before finalizing.” Jimin spoke while placing an apple juice box on the table.

Jihoon scoots a little to accommodate his father sitting next to him. He stayed busy with his crayons. 

“Have you read it?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung shakes his head, “I haven’t. I think I left my phone on silent while doing those lemon tarts.”

“Well, I think you should read it. They put something they probably forgot to mention before.” his friend noted.

His eyebrows draw together before reaching for his phone. Taehyung immediately clicked on the file sent to him from Ashley. He carefully read word by word written in the document. He thought everything was already mentioned in their online meeting days after he went to Incheon. Until he read one of the sections of the contract.

Staffing Arrangements

The bakery agrees to temporarily assign one of its capable bakers to work at the restaurant in Incheon for four weeks, beginning on the first day of offering the pastries on the menu of the restaurant. During this time, the assigned baker will head pastry production, equip training for restaurant staff, and guarantee regular quality control. The restaurant agrees to cover the entrusted baker's salary, expenses, and even housing if demanded.

After pausing for a few seconds, Taehyung scanned his eyes all over that part again. Just to make sure he understood it right. He looked back up to Jimin, who had his arms crossed over his chest while waiting for a reaction from him.

“So?”

“This means one of us had to stay here while the other had to manage around in Incheon.”

September is usually dry and warmer in Incheon.

After living in this part of the country for around two years now, you already got better at predicting the weather and climate. But today, your predictions were proven wrong when you had to stay under a waiting shed while the harsh raindrops poured continuously. You were too confident that you left your umbrella at home.

4:12 PM

You looked down at your phone. It has been almost thirty minutes since you stood in this shed, waiting for your usual bus to arrive. But you don’t know why there have only been two buses that passed by. You were unable to get on any of those since both were packed, considering the unexpected rainfall. You tried booking a cab but there’s nothing around your area at the moment. Your friend, Aileen already left earlier with her husband while Martha offered to drive you home but you live almost twenty minutes away from her. So, you kindly rejected her offer. Again, you were too confident that you would be able to ride the bus quickly.

Puffing your cheeks, you began dialing someone’s number. He answered after the second ring.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you greeted.

He was quick to reply, “Hi, are you on your way? I’m driving to the cafe.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m kinda running late for our date tonight.” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Everything alright?” 

“Haha, yeah. Just waiting for a bus to stop by here the school. It’s raining like crazy today.” you mentioned.

“Yeah, it is… you know, I can pick you up if you want to.” he offered.

Your eyebrows lifted, “Really?”

“Of course, YN.”

“Okay, thank you so much!” you smiled, finally.

“No worries. I’m on my way.”

“Okay, take care,” you said before ending the call.

With your plans of getting ready pre-date at your home canceled, you sat on one of the benches in the shed and touched up yourself quickly. You reapplied your lipstick with your front camera as your mirror. You ran your hand through the stubborn flyaways of your hair before tying it into the easiest half-up, half-down hairstyle you know. You’re still in your usual work clothes, a statement T-shirt (with a friendly and maybe corny quote written on it and jeans. Originally, you would wear something cuter. But this one will do. Even though the cool breeze makes you wish you wore something warmer too.

And less than five minutes later, a black Audi stops right in front of the stop. Your legs bounced restlessly. The windows were tinted dark so you cannot really see who’s inside. But the door on the other side of the car opened and there, you recognized the man from the pictures on Martha’s phone. Almost like sunshine, his smile as he made his way to you made you smile too. Your fidgeting legs had already calmed down as he stopped in front of you.

“YN?” He asked since this was the first time you two really saw each other.

You nodded, “Hi. You’re Hoseok, right?”

Although you were at ease with his arrival, there was still an awkward tension between you two. But it tones down when you two chuckled.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” he smiled again. He quickly noticed you hugging yourself. “It’s cold. How about let’s get you inside?”

“Sounds good.” you agreed.

Joining him under his transparent umbrella, your shoulders brushed against each other, and you could feel his warmth beside you. He opened the car door for you while ensuring no raindrop would touch your skin. You mumbled a small ‘thank you’ when you finally got to sit inside. You watched as he made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

“Are you okay? Everything’s fine?” he asked immediately.

“Yeah, thank you again for picking me up,” you replied. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied before reaching for something from the backseat. 

Your eyes widened when you saw what it was. It was like your eyes sparkled as he handed you the small bouquet of yellow tulips, tied with a matching gold ribbon. 

“I’m really sorry for missing our date last time.” he apologized, watching you appreciate the flowers.

It has been so long since you received flowers. You cannot even remember when was the last time. So you cannot help but feel this funny feeling in your stomach while you look at the flowers. Especially since yellow tulips are your favorite.

“You didn’t have to. I understand why,” you spoke, tilting your head in his direction. Your voice was small and soft.

“Still, you waited for me alone in that restaurant. I cancelled last minute… Do you love it?”

“Of course, I love yellow tulips!” you exclaimed before taking in its subtle scent.

“I’m glad. I may or may not have asked Martha for help with those.” he chuckled.

Hoseok began driving while you find it more comfortable being around him. He has this infectious smile that brings more warmth in this rainy weather. It probably helps when he’s with patients.

“How long have you been waiting there?” he asked, starting up a conversation.

“Oh, you know, like half an hour.” you sneered at yourself. You hear him gasp. You chuckled, “To be fair, it is a rainy day. I can usually find a ride easily. I just didn’t expect that it would rain today.”

“It’s usually sunny at this time of the year,” he noted.

“It is. I was already waiting for the bus when the rain poured,” you told him. 

“I thought you and Martha usually go home together?” he asked, looking from the road to you for a quick second.

“Sometimes. But I feel bad for making her drive past her house for like twenty minutes,” you revealed. 

You tried offering to pay for her gas but she declined. Although she constantly assured you that it’s fine, you feel like an inconvenience, especially after a busy day at work. You are very aware it’s a you problem. But it’s just the way it is.

You shifted in your seat, “How about you? Did you have work today?”

He nods, “Ah, yes. I got off my shift earlier this day. Then went home to see my dog before dropping her off at my sister’s.”

“Oh, you have a dog?”

“Yeah, a senior dog but Mickey’s still the family’s baby.” he chuckled. “We take turns with her. Some days, she’s with me. Or my sister’s or my parents’.”

“So, you’re originally from here in Incheon?” you asked, curious when he mentioned his family.

He shakes his head, “No, we moved here when I was in high school. I left during college. Then, came back when I began working. I like staying close to my family. And you?”

“No, I moved here from Seoul two years ago.” you shared.

“And what about your family? They stayed there?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m an only child. My parents died years ago– Please, don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine, it’s been so long.” you chuckled when you saw how his expression changed. “But I do have my Aunty Belle. She’s around the city too. She looked after me until I left to study in SNU.”

“You went to SNU too?” Hoseok exclaimed.

You beamed, “Yes– Wait, we’re here?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

Distracted, you didn’t notice the car arriving in front of the cafe Hoseok talked about. He told you to wait for him, leaving the car with the umbrella. He opened the car door for you and helped you with the umbrella. He does the same thing when opening the cafe’s front door for you. And when a bell clangs when the door opens, you get reminded of your favorite bakeshop back in Seoul.

“I’ll be having iced americano and a slice of carrot cake. How ‘bout you?” Hoseok turned to you as you two stood in front of the staff.

“I’ll have green tea and banana muffins,” you answered.

After ordering, you two sat on one of the empty pearly white tables and chairs near the glass window while waiting. It was a well-lit place. It has a minimalist and clean aesthetic. Hoseok sat across you, tapping his fingers along to the music playing in the background.

“So, what made you agree to do this blind date?” you asked him.

“Well, I’ve been single for the last three months and I never really tried blind dating before so I said yes when Martha told me about you,” he answered.

“Well, I hope she said nice things.” you two chuckled.

“Don't worry, she did.” He assured you. “How about you?”

“Martha had been setting me up for blind dates these past few months because I’ve been single ever since I came here in Incheon. The last dates I went to were unsuccessful so she promised that this one was gonna be great. So I agreed for the last time.” you told him.

“And so far, how is this one going?” he asked cheekily.

You pretended to think for a second, humming as you rubbed your chin. He laughed.

“It’s going great. You get plus points for my favorite flowers.” you smiled.

“Even though I didn't show up last time?”

He seemed really apologetic about that. He brought it up again for the nth time even though you already told him countless times that it’s okay.

You puffed, “Hoseok, it's fine. I really do understand. I used to work at a hospital, things can get a little spontaneous. No worries about it.”

A staff member came with your orders. She carefully placed your drinks and food on your table. You can feel your shoulders relaxing as you feel the warmth of the tea on your tongue when you take a sip from the cup.

“How was it?”

You smiled, “Nice. Perfect for a rainy day. How did you find this place? I don't think I ever reached this part of the city.”

“This is the only open cafe I see whenever I get off from my shift very late at night. I love their coffee here.” 

You nodded while taking a bite from the banana muffin you ordered. And you quickly recognized its difference from your usual banana muffin. You look at Hoseok who's enjoying his cake.

“How was it?” he asked, pointing his fork at your muffins.

“This feels a little dry and the texture’s a bit rough,” you whispered, not really wanting the nice lady at the cashier to hear you.

You don't want to be critical. But you just got used to having a soft and fluffy banana muffin or even bread with the right amount of sweetness in it.

He leaned a bit forward, mirroring you, “Really?” 

“Yeah, seems like it had a lot of flour,” you added before offering him one of the muffins.

You watched him take a bite and chew on it. After gulping it down, you wait for his opinion.

“It is dry.” he nods before putting the muffin down. “You seem to know a lot about bread. Do you bake?”

No, but I know someone who put his heart out and is a perfectionist in baking.

Instead of saying that, you shake your head.

“Oh, no. But I do love a lot of bread and pastries. I just know friends who bake back in Seoul.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We probably didn't get to discuss that in the meeting we had.” 

Taehyung, along with Jimin, sat at the same table since that morning. Jihoon’s mom already picked him up earlier and the shop was already sold out by 5 PM so they closed early. Now, they are just having a call with Ashley about the contract.

“So, it means that based here on the contract, you want one of us to stay there in Incheon to oversee the pastries.” Jimin clarified.

“Yes, we just want to make sure that the quality of the products will be the same as what you have there in Seoul. Also, we thought that it might be better for our crew members to personally learn about it from the baker himself.” Ashley explained through the call set in loudspeaker mode.

Jimin looked at Taehyung who nods with that. This time, Taehyung has a question.

“You said that there would be a salary?” 

“Yes. There would be a separate salary for the baker who will be staying here with us for four weeks. And since traveling from Seoul to Incheon can be a hassle, if you want to, we can also provide temporary accommodation with complete furniture. My husband runs a condominium business here so the accommodation would be on one of his buildings.”

Both of the men’s jaws dropped with that information. Their eyes were wide as they met each other's gaze. They definitely didn't expect that information from her. They were unaware of how rich she was. They just know that she runs a great restaurant in Incheon.

Jimin cleared his dry throat, “Okay, thank you for clarifying it. But we hope you can still wait before we sign the contract since me and my friend still have to talk about it.” 

“Sure, of course. Just reach out to us whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you. Have a great night.”

As soon as Jimin ended the call, the two exchanged looks.

“So?” Taehyung began.

Jimin shakes his head, “I can't. Jihoon just began going to school. You know what my co-parenting arrangements with his mom are.” 

Taehyung nods. After learning about Jihoon’s existence, Jimin wanted to make up for those years he missed. He was hands-on in everything that his son takes part in. He is also helping Jihoon’s mom in looking after him since she is currently working in a nine-to-five job.

“It's fine with me. I went on vacation there once. It's nice there. Plus, we can split the salary.” He commented. 

And he didn't really have any obligations here in Seoul. Unlike his best friend. It would be easier and better if he went. Jimin can manage the shop while taking care of Jihoon. Taehyung is flexible in working everywhere. 

“It would also be nice to stay in a new place.”

“No, but the living finances in Seoul are really more expensive than here.”

You don't sure how long has it been since you and Hoseok arrived here in the cafe. You already finished your tea while the ice on his drink has already melted. The only muffin left was half-eaten. The plate of his carrot cake was already on your after he let you finish it when he noticed that you liked it after giving you a taste.

“It is. That's also another reason why I came back here.” Hoseok exclaimed. “I can't stand living with another careless roommate again.”

You laughed when he referenced his bad roommate experience he told you earlier. Hoseok has been funny and nice ever since he picked you up today. He talked about Mickey, his life back in Seoul, and a little bit about his family.

“But you said you stayed in Seoul after graduating, right?” he recalled.

“Yes, I did.”

“How? Did you live alone?”

“At first, I became roommates with my best friend there, who’s also a nurse. That lasted for a couple of years... Then, I moved in with the guy I was dating at the time.” You told him.

“Like in his apartment?”

You shake your head, “We bought a house.”

His jaw dropped, “You bought a house? In Seoul?!”

“Yeah, we did some research and saved up for it starting from our first anniversary. Apparently, foreclosed properties are cheap there.” You shared it like a fact.

Taehyung was the first one to bring up the idea of living together a few weeks before your anniversary. After talking about it, you two did some research and went to a lot of open houses. Then, you found out about foreclosed properties. Taehyung and you looked in about four foreclosed houses before landing on the one you called home. 

“What happened to the house after you broke up?” He asked.

You purse your lips, “He's living in it. But we agreed to talk about it soon.”

How soon is soon though?

“So it was a good breakup?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

The last sentence was almost a whisper by the end. You cleared your throat as if something was stuck in it. It was your turn to ask.

“How about you? How was your last relationship?”

Hoseok leaned back on his chair, crossing his arm over his chest, “It was great for the most part. We’ve been together for only one year. I actually proposed to her.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, “Really? What happened?”

“We had a lot of misunderstandings in the last months of our relationship. It can be about everything. But mostly, she gets mad whenever I have an emergency in the hospital and I understand that. So one day, we harshly broke up during a fight before I left for work.”

“So it's a bad breakup?” 

“Yeah, a bit bitter.” He sneered. “But at least I don't share any property with her.”

It was a teasing remark to lighten up the mood. You grimaced and rolled your eyes. He laughed.

“The lady was too kind to ask us to go,” you said as Hoseok drove.

The moment you and Hoseok realized that the rain had stopped and the sky was already dark, you two got up and left. Hoseok insisted on paying, even playfully threatening to throw your wallet away if you ever pulled it out of your pocket.

“I’m sure she doesn't mind. She gave us free cupcakes.” He replied, pointing to the box resting on your lap.

“Are you sure you don't want to take this?” you asked because he handed you the box as soon as the lady gave it.

“Yeah, just update me with your review about it. I'm interested to hear more about your thoughts.”

You bit your lip from hearing that, “Okay.”

After a few minutes of listening (and singing along) to songs that played in his stereo, you arrived in front of your building. Of course, Hoseok opened your door for you. He helped you with the bag you brought to school so you could carry the flowers and cupcakes.

“Should I help you to your apartment?” He asked while you slid your bag into your arm, struggling. 

You gave up, letting him take your bag and the cupcakes, “Okay. Come in.”

You opened the door to your building and led the way to the stairs. He assured you that he was okay as you kept on looking back at him. And when you unlocked your apartment, you turned around.

"Do you want to go inside? Water, juice, or anything to drink?” You offered before putting the things on the counter near your door.

He smiled, “It's fine, I can't stay for too long. My next shift is at nine. I just want to make sure you'll make it to your door without dropping any of those.”

You looked down at your watch, “Oh my god. It’s already past eight. You should go! I should've taken a cab.”

“YN, it's okay! It's still early.” he chuckled. “Plus, I had a really great time talking with you.”

Your stomach flutters, looking at him. You noticed the same smile you saw earlier.

“I hope this isn't the last time we'll go out.”

You nodded, “Of course. Martha did it right this time.”

“How about next weekend? Sunday?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll be back from Seoul by then.” 

His eyebrows raised, “Really? I’m going to be in Seoul for a conference on Saturday. When are you coming there?”

“The same day! I’m going to visit some friends.”  

“Maybe we can go there in Seoul together? So you don't have to commute.” He offered.

“That sounds good!” You agreed before looking down at your watch again. “But I think you should go now. I know you still have to do stuff before going to work.”

“Okay. Let's just talk about it later.” 

“Okay. Thank you for the flowers and everything, Hoseok,” you state before leaning in to give a quick kiss on his cheek.

He smiles, “You're welcome, YN. Tonight was great.”

“Text me when you make it to the hospital. Drive safely! Good night.”  You said as he walked back.

“Good night, YN.” He waved before walking down the stairs.

You closed the door to your apartment before leaning your back on it, looking at the yellow tulips on the counter.

What a lovely night.

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[loulovingho]

Carry the Burden

read on ao3 or below. 7.6k, tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse, emotional/psychological abuse, depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of vomiting, love, care, no major character death

Summary:

With Buck, Tommy was an open book... mostly. There was one particular, very important chapter that he kept closed. He didn't bring up his childhood. Didn't mention his parents much. That was a part of his life no one but he and his therapist needed to know about. But a surprise visit from his father changes all that, and sends Tommy spiraling down a path he'd fought so hard to shun away.

They were on the couch, Buck laid out with his head on the arm rest and legs sprawled over Tommy's lap. Tommy had his own legs crossed and stretched out on the coffee table. Buck barely registered Tommy's phone buzzing as he reached and pulled it out of his pocket.

“Hm. Dad's in town.”

Tommy had been so nonchalant with his words that Buck was pretty sure he heard him wrong.

“What?” He asked as Tommy laid the phone beside him.

“My dad's here, apparently.” He didn't even look away from the TV as he spoke, keeping his focus on the basketball game.

They'd been sitting there for nearly half an hour now, Tommy watching the game while Buck did a deep dive on the history of mummification. It wasn't his first time researching the subject, but it was always good to get a refresher.

“Are you... are you going to see him?” Buck asked.

Tommy was an open book with Buck, mostly. It helped that Buck was always more than willing to share stories from his own past.

Tommy would talk about how he was a chubby kid growing up and got made fun of a lot for it. How he took up wrestling in high school. How he joined the military at seventeen, mostly to show his classmates just how strong he was. He'd go into detail about the missions he completed in the army, and the way it impacted his life to this day. He didn't shy away from who he was when he first became a firefighter. How he followed along with Gerrard because it was the easy thing to do. He made no excuses for himself.

Tommy talked about part of him wanting to stay at the 118 once Bobby came, but his past loomed over him like a dark cloud and, even though Hen and Chimney forgave him long ago, every time he walked into the station he was reminded of who he was and not who he wanted to be.

He talked about his first few weeks in therapy. How he went through three therapists before he found one he liked. How hard it was to come to terms with so many aspects of his life.

He still went to therapy, once a week, always on a Tuesday. That was one of his regular days off, and Buck knew there would always be a couple hours of radio silence from him then.

There was one aspect of his life that Tommy never really discussed in detail.

His parents.

It wasn't that he never mentioned them. Buck knew that his dad was not a good man, and that his mom died when he was young, but that's all Tommy had ever really said.

The scoff Tommy let out at Buck's question told him all he needed to know. “No, I- I will not be seeing him.”

Buck pushed himself up into a sitting position, bending his knees close to his chest. “How'd you find out he was in town?”

Tommy didn't have siblings. Didn't really have any extended family. None he was in regular contact with anyway.

“He texted me,” Tommy answered simply.

“I didn't even know he had your number.”

“Oh, he has it,” Tommy managed to look over at Buck and give him a grin that didn't quite reach the eyes, “he just rarely uses it.”

“But he is now?”

“Apparently.” Tommy turned back to the game, but Buck reached over and squeezed his forearm, regaining his attention.

“Hey, Tommy, use your words. I've never heard you mention your dad calling or texting you, but he suddenly is now? Is there a reason?”

Tommy sighed. He reached for his phone, unlocking it before handing it over to Buck. “That's all it says. He's not a man of many words,” he said, before mumbling out, “or many good words, at least.”

Buck read over the text:

In town. Let's talk. Stuff to figure out.

He handed Tommy his phone. “Are you gonna answer him, at least?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, I am not.”

“Aren't you a little curious...”

Buck's voice trailed off as Tommy reached for Buck's hand, gently tugging Buck towards him. Buck maneuvered himself until he was curled into Tommy's side, his head resting just below Tommy's shoulder. Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I appreciate the concern,” he spoke quietly, “but this,” he added, lifting his phone, “is not happening.”

Buck understood issues with parents. He'd told that to Tommy so many times before. He'd gone over his life story time and time again, and Tommy always listened with the utmost care and consideration. He always seemed so happy for Buck too. Happy that he was able to, for the most part, work things out with his parents. They may not be on the best terms, and they'd probably never be what others considered a “close” family, but they were better. And that was good enough.

Still, Buck could tell that Tommy was done with the conversation, so he let it go.

“How much longer until the game is over?” he asked, changing the topic for Tommy's sake.

Tommy let out a laugh, shaking Buck slightly. “About ten minutes.”

Buck closed his eyes, settling further into Tommy's side, “Wake me up when it's over.”

*****

They'd been together six months now, had exchanged keys a couple months in, but Buck still felt a thrill every time he walked into Tommy's place knowing Tommy wouldn't actually be there yet.

Something about it just felt so domestic. And Buck loved that feeling.

They'd already discussed moving in together. If they both had a night off, they were never apart, instead switching between each place depending on what errands they had planned for the next day.

Buck had another two months to go on his lease, so they decided to hold out on actually moving in together until then. There was no reason to deny him getting his security deposit back, or being forced to pay rent for an apartment he was no longer living in.

Still, Buck preferred Tommy's house. It was an older place, and not very big, but it had a nice garage for working out and a good kitchen that Buck enjoyed cooking in.

Which was why he came to Tommy's today. Tommy was working, but he'd be off by six, and Buck wanted to have a good dinner ready for him to come home to. Bobby had given him a recipe for something called Marry Me Chicken, and well, who was Buck kidding, that was the ultimate goal.

They would be the first to admit they were a bit unconventional. Besides swapping keys two months into their relationship, they had discussed whether or not children were in their future on date number four.

Tommy never really let go of the fact Buck invited him to his sister's wedding after one failed date.

They had sex on Buck's balcony before they had it in his bed.

They said I love you for the first time in month three, when Buck was deathly ill with a stomach bug and somehow got vomit in his hair. Tommy got him in the shower, letting Buck rest all of his body weight on him as he cleaned him up. Wrapped in Tommy's arms, head resting on his chest, eyes closed as water and soap flowed down his body, and the taste of throw up still on his tongue no matter how many times he brushed and used mouthwash, he uttered out an “I love you” to Tommy. He didn't even care if Tommy said it back, but Tommy did. He pressed a kiss to Buck's temple, dragging a wash cloth down his back, and said, “I love you too, Evan. So much.” That wasn't just the day Buck knew he loved Tommy, it was the day he knew he wanted to marry Tommy.

And, no, the chicken wasn't going to be a proposal. That wouldn't be happening until after they had officially lived together for a while- which had been a discussion during date number six.

But the name of the recipe, the words marry me, made Buck feel soft in a way that almost felt ridiculous, especially since it was literally just a recipe for chicken breast.

Buck had just placed the chicken in the oven when there was a knock on the door.

He rolled his eyes. Tommy often came home with his hands full, opting to carry most of his items separately instead of placing them in his duffel.

“One of these days I'm not gonna answer,” Buck called out as he neared the door, “just to teach you a le- Oh.”

The words died out on his tongue when he was met at the door by an older man that was very much not Tommy.

This man had thirty or so years on Buck, and was a few inches taller too. He was broad- really broad. Like Tommy, but on steroids.

“Uh, sorry, I- I thought you were someone else,” Buck began after he collected himself. “Can I help you?”

“Is this Thomas Kinard's place?” The man's voice was gruff. The kind of voice you get after smoking a pack a day for years on end.

“It is.”

“You're not him.”

“I'm not.”

“Where is he?”

Well, this conversation was going swimmingly!

“I- I'm sorry, who... are you?”

“Right,” the man held out his hand, although the scowl on his face remained. “Charles Kinard.”

Buck couldn't hide the surprise on his face after hearing the name. He shook Charles' hand, which held on a bit too tightly. “Oh! Oh, you're Tommy's dad.”

“'S'what it says on the birth certificate.”

Once Charles let go, Buck moved out of the way, allowing him to come inside. “Come in. Sorry, I was, um, not expecting anyone. I'm Evan Buckley, um, Buck, by the way. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Charles noted as he walked farther into the house, eyes drifting around the place.

“Yeah, I- I know. Sor- uh, Tommy should be home pretty soon. He's been working. Was he... Did he know you were coming?”

He cringed at the question, knowing it was an odd thing to ask. He was still trying to catch up with what was going on. Tommy hadn't mentioned his father since three days ago, when he got the text he never answered. Maybe he had ended up answering and just never said anything to Buck, but that wasn't like Tommy.

“Not really,” Charles answered, finally turning to face Buck. “Who are you?” he asked, eying Buck up and down. Buck wasn't really sure if Charles was looking at him, or his apron, which he now remembered said, 'I like my meat rubbed, jerked, and pulled!'

Buck untied the apron and unceremoniously pulled it off of him, crumpling it up in his hand. He realized in that moment that he had no idea what Tommy's dad actually knew, or didn't know, about him. “I'm his friend,” he settled on, “from work.”

“You work together?”

Buck nodded. “Sort of. Different stations, but, yeah, um, yes we're both firefighters.”

“Mm.”

“Uh, why don't you have a seat,” Buck suggested, motioning toward the living room as he stepped closer to Charles. “Tommy won't be too much longer now.”

Charles moseyed into the living room, glancing around at the décor before taking a seat on the couch. “You come over and cook for your friend while he works?” Charles asked as Buck returned to the kitchen.

He wanted to text Tommy, or call him, and let him know what was happening, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't exactly talk about his dad while he was right in front of him, and Tommy wouldn't check a text when he was driving.

“I, uh, I like to cook,” Buck started, trying to think of an explanation that didn't sound too ridiculous. “And he's got a good kitchen, so I come over, um, sometimes to cook. I- I pay with food.” God, he was an idiot.

Another grunt like sound came from Charles, and Buck was about ninety percent sure he didn't buy it.

Buck wasn't sure how to communicate with the man. He was usually pretty good about stuff like this. He could make up random things to talk about with anyone, whether they wanted to hear it or not. But this was his boyfriend's father who didn't know for sure that Buck was Tommy's boyfriend, and all the questions that were coming to Buck's mind were only questions a significant other would ask their partner's parents.

“So, Mr. Kinard,” Buck began, beginning to slice a cucumber. He wasn't even planning on using a cucumber for anything tonight, but he needed something to do.

“Charles.”

“Charles, um, what... are you visiting LA?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, good. That's... that's good. I'm sure Tommy will be happy to see you.”

Yet another grunt. This one almost sounded like a snort. Buck leaned over slightly to get a look at the man, who was staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the turned off TV in front of him.

“You should stay for dinner,” Buck suggested, hating himself as the words left his mouth. “There's gonna plenty.” That was true. He always made enough for leftovers.

“Okay.”

This truly was a man of few words.

Buck was just about to tell him he could turn on the TV and watch something when he heard the sound of keys jiggling in the doorknob.

The door opened before Buck could get to it.

“Oh my God, Evan, what smells so good? I could smell it from outside,” Tommy said, walking inside. Buck met him at the entryway.

“Just chicken. Um, Tommy-”

Tommy dropped his duffel at the door, “I even put my stuff in it this time,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabbed at Buck's shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Usually, Buck would've been thrilled. Told him it was about damn time and asked if he could take a picture to remember this moment forever.

Instead, he quickly pulled away from the kiss and unwrapped himself from Tommy's touch.

“We have a visitor, Tommy,” Buck said when he was met with a confused face. “You do, I mean.”

“I was wondering who's car was out front,” Tommy replied. “Figured the neighbors were having another party or something.”

“No, um, it's...” Buck's voice trailed off. He could tell Charles was somewhere behind him now. Could see that Tommy's eyes trailed from looking at him to looking at his father. Whatever was left of the smile on his face disappeared, his skin paling.

Part of Buck wished he could disappear. Just melt into the floor and turn into a puddle of goo.

The other part of him had the urge to stand between the two men forever, making sure Tommy was protected from whatever pain his father had obviously caused him.

Buck had never seen the look on Tommy's face before. It looked like fear and sadness, mixed with rage.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asked as Buck stepped to the side to get out of the way.

“Well, hello to you too, TJ.”

TJ? That was new.

“Don't call me that. What are you doing here? How'd you find my house?”

The problem with where Buck was standing, was that he couldn't move toward the kitchen without walking directly in front of the two men, and he wasn't sure this was a good moment to move.

“I'm not an idiot. You own the place, I looked it up. I texted you when I got to town.”

“I know you did.” Tommy shrugged off his jacket, dropping it on top of his duffel bag. “Thought you'd get the hint when I didn't answer.”

“You know how I am with subtleties.”

“Not answering a single one of your texts for three years is not exactly subtle, Dad.”

Buck could not do this any longer. He could feel Charles' eyes on him and, if he was going to be Tommy's friend, he couldn't exactly go into protective-boyfriend mode.

“I'm gonna,” he pointed toward the kitchen, “just go over there.”

Tommy waited for Buck to be out of the room before continuing. “You need to go,” he said, staring his father dead in the eyes.

“Hm. Thought you wanted to know what I was doing here?”

“Decided I don't care.”

Charles smiled. It didn't reach his eyes the way Tommy's did. There were no laughter lines, no scrunched up nose. Just a meaningless smile. “You're lookin' good, TJ. Lower BMI than the last time I saw you. That's good.”

Buck wasn't sure if he was hearing things correctly. Who says that to their kid after not seeing them for years?

“And you're looking me in the eyes. You always struggled with that before.”

“It's easier now that I'm too big for you to hit.”

Buck sucked in a breath. It was impossible to not overhear the conversation. With the open floor plan, Buck could still see Charles, although he didn't have a view of Tommy.

Charles laughed. A deep, guttural laugh that made Buck feel uneasy. “You're never too big for that, T-”

“You need to go. Now.”

“Hang on a minute,” Charles said, waving Tommy off. “I gotta talk to you about my will.”

“I don't give a damn about your will.”

“I've got fifty acres of land in Colorado, TJ. Been in the family for generations.”

“You've got a double wide trailer on that dump of land and couldn't get rid of it if you tried. I don't want it.”

Buck could hear shuffling, so he quickly picked up a knife to make it look like he'd been chopping away at that same cucumber from earlier.

Tommy entered the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink before turning to Buck. “Need help with anything, Ev?”

“N- No, um, no, I'm good.”

“I'm not getting any younger, TJ.”

Tommy placed a hand on Buck's lower back. It was as though it was an anchor for him. Something to keep him steady.

He glared over at his dad. “You're still here?”

“Don't be dumb, Thomas. I'm not leaving until we talk about this. Besides, your friend here invited me for dinner.”

The hand on Buck's back stiffened, before being removed completely. He turned his head toward Buck. “You did?”

“I- I thought you two might, um, might want to catch up.”

He hoped Tommy could read between the lines. Hoped he understood what Buck was really trying to say.

“I felt like I had no other choice. This was really awkward, even for me, and I panicked. Please, don't hate me.”

“That's kind of you, Evan,” Tommy replied, his attention returning to his father, “but we don't have anything to catch up on.”

“Hey! Don't stand there acting like I'm the problem,” Charles said, crossing the room in three steps. Buck could feel Tommy stiffen beside him. “You're the one who left, not me! I've been the one contacting you. You can act like I'm a terrible father all you want, but I'm the one that helped you be something!”

“You didn't help me! I ran from you! I was seventeen years old, Dad, joining the army to get away from you!”

Buck wanted to say something. Wanted to kick the man out of the house, or at least hold up his bowl of finely chopped cucumber and ask if anyone wanted a bite.

But, this wasn't his house. Not yet, anyway. And, somehow, he felt responsible for this whole debacle. He couldn't stop thinking about how he should have done things differently. He shouldn't have let Charles in the house. Shouldn't have attempted to make conversation. Shouldn't have invited him to stay for dinner. Should have figured out a way to call and warn Tommy. Should have texted him anyway; maybe he would have read it before getting out of his truck.

“You know, I really should have known better,” Charles said, shaking his head. “Should have known you wouldn't want to help your old man out.”

“Help you out?” Tommy asked, exasperated. “I have done nothing but help you out for years! I bailed you out of jail three times. I paid your gambling debts for you. I took a second mortgage out on my home so I could pay your back taxes! If I didn't stop answering your messages, I'd be living on the streets! And now you want to come talk about a will? On property that you've nearly foreclosed on twice? I'm surprised you even have that place any-” he stopped mid sentence. Buck glanced over at him, worried something had happened.

“You're about to lose the property, aren't you?” Tommy asked. That made much more sense.

“Now, just listen-”

“You're really here to have me buy the property, and give you the money, so you can go blow it on booze and steroids and hookers and whatever else you feel like.”

“This is what family does, TJ,” Charles said, pointing at Tommy as he eyed him down. “They help each other when they're in need.”

“When have you ever helped me, Dad?” Tommy asked. His voice was different now. Resigned, almost. “Never.”

“I don't need to stand here and listen to these lies in front of your friend!”

Tommy scoffed. “I think you know he's more than a friend.”

“Yeah, I do know. He's been bumbling like an idiot since I got here.”

Buck could feel his face turning red. He wasn't embarrassed by Charles' words, more surprised by the man's lack of filter.

“Get out.” Tommy demanded. “Now!”

Charles moved even closer, a tight fist placed on the countertop of the island. “You owe me!” he spit out through gritted teeth. “The embarrassment you have caused me. Being the way you are, having to answer questions from my friends! I have been trying to knock sense into you for years!”

“Maybe I was too busy lying to doctors in the hospital for the sense to really get knocked in there!”

“Pathetic,” Charles said, before mumbling out, “like your mother.”

“Get out.” It was Buck's voice this time. It no longer mattered to him that this wasn't his home. He didn't care if he was overstepping. Tommy could be mad if he wanted.

For as little as Buck knew about Tommy's family, he did see the way Tommy's eyes got red and glassy when he mentioned his mom. How he'd clear his throat and say she was a good woman, a great mom, gone too soon. From what he'd pieced together on his own, it was a suicide.

Tommy had never said as much, but he came to Buck's after a particularly bad shift. Buck hadn't even been expecting him. He showed up at the door, eyes blank, mind somewhere far away. He'd even forgotten he had a key of his own.

He'd curled into Buck the second the door opened, arms tight around Buck's waist and head turned into the crook of his neck.

Buck squeezed him back just as tight. Asked if he was okay, accepted the silence in return. They stayed there for a while, until Buck was finally able to convince Tommy to move to the couch.

Tommy snuggled up to Buck's side the second they sat down. He laid his head on Buck's chest, one arm curled between them and the other resting over Buck's stomach. They'd rested like this before, but this was the first time Buck ever thought that Tommy looked small. Not physically, obviously, but the way he acted was like a child in desperate need of comfort.

So that's what Buck did.

It was the longest thirty minutes of silence before Tommy spoke. “I worked the ground today,” he explained through a shaky voice, making no effort to move off of Buck. “We were short-staffed. There was a call. A kid found... he found his mom. She was in the bathtub. She was already,” he swallowed down a sob, “she was gone already. He was freaking out. I waited un- until his dad got there to be with him.”

“That's terrible, Tommy,” Buck said, running a soothing hand up and down Tommy's bicep.

“It just... it reminded me-” he cut himself off, took a deep breath, “I like being in the air.”

Buck wasn't dumb. He could put together a puzzle that was missing half its pieces. He knew better than to press the issue. Knew what Tommy needed right now was simply to be held.

So he held him.

He held him until Tommy's breaths evened out and the sun had long set.

And now, with Charles in front of him, it was all Buck could think about. That moment replaying in his mind as Tommy's father spewed venom from across the counter.

“If you're not out of here in ten seconds, I'll call the police for trespassing, and you seem like the type who has warrants waiting for them.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Buck grabbed for the phone in his pocket.

The older man held his hands up in surrender and, without another word, turned and left the house.

There were a few beats of silence before Buck spoke. “Tommy, I-”

“I need to go for a walk.” Tommy's voice was stoic.

Buck didn't like that. He followed behind Tommy as he headed for the door. “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

Tommy picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “No, I'm fine.”

“Tommy, I don't-”

Tommy stopped in the open doorway, hand still on the knob but halfway out the door already. “Evan, I'm fine,” he repeated. His voice wavered this time. Only slightly, but enough for Buck to catch it. “I just need a minute.”

Buck nodded, pursing his lips together. “Yeah, okay.”

He stood there long after the door had closed.

*****

A cool breeze filled the air as Tommy walked down his street. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as a chill came over him.

He was tense. He kept trying to make sense of the thoughts in his head, but everything felt all jumbled.

He'd been doing so well. Therapy had helped him work through so many of the issues he had with his dad. Had helped him cut off contact. He stopped enabling the man and set himself free of him.

The only reason he didn't block his dad's number was because he knew, one day, a police officer or one of his dad's deadbeat friends would be calling to say he was dead. Even if he cared nothing for the man, he'd still like to know when it was all over.

There were times Tommy would sit and think about the things he'd say if he ever came face to face with his dad again. He had a list. All the ways his dad had screwed him over throughout his entire life.

And then the one time he actually did come face to face with the man after all these years, he didn't say a single damn thing he'd written down.

He knew he'd never get the chance again.

Knew his dad wouldn't really care anyway. He never cared about the pain he caused, even when Tommy was a little kid.

His jaw tensed. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He didn't want to cry anyway. He wanted to be mad.

That's what his dad always got angry at him for. Tommy would get upset, and he'd cry. His dad would yell, and he'd cry. His dad would hit him, he'd cry. His dad would hit him harder because he was crying, he'd cry even more.

Kids at school would make fun of his weight.

His dad would make him run laps until he'd puke.

He'd avoid eye contact to try and not be noticed.

He'd cry.

He'd cry.

He'd cry.

Not now though. Now he could hold it in. He finally learned that as a teenager. Perfected it over time. His therapist helped him with that too; taught him not to hold in his emotions. For the most part, he didn't anymore, he'd let himself feel whatever he was feeling. Right now he needed to control something, and this was the something he could control.

So he didn't cry.

But he let himself be mad.

Because he was so damn mad.

Mad at himself.

Mad at his dad.

Mad at him showing up to his house, invading his safe space, a space that had been free and clear of the trauma of his youth.

Now, every time he'd step in that house he'd see his dad there.

He hated that.

As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him was mad at Buck too.

No, mad wasn't the right word.

Envious, maybe.

Every time Buck talked about his parents, a twinge of envy sparked inside of Tommy. He knew it was stupid. He didn't even particularly like Buck's parents. He definitely didn't like who they used to be, how they used to treat their son.

But, to their credit, they had been trying now.

And that's where the envy came in.

Because Buck's parents went to therapy with him. They started showing up, being there for their kids, through good and bad, even when they weren't comfortable.

And yeah, they were a little late, and not all wounds ever completely heal. There were still problems, and they were always a bit on edge when Tommy was around, but they were there.

They still put on a smile for Buck, however forced, and corrected themselves when they called him Evan.

They'd never hit their kids. Sure, they were a little too busy ignoring them, but Maddie and Buck never had to be afraid of their parents.

“We were invisible,” Buck had told him once.

Tommy didn't say it, he'd never speak the words out loud, because he knew how much being invisible hurt Buck. But, the first thing Tommy thought when he heard that was I wish I could've been invisible too.

Even thinking something like that made Tommy feel like a bad person. Actually, he often felt like a bad person. A terrible, terrible person who was so undeserving of any forgiveness, happiness, and love. He'd think about who he became in the military. Closed off, angry, ruthless at times. He'd killed people. He didn't think about it. Just dropped the bomb on whatever target he'd been told to hit. They were just targets. Living, breathing targets. He'd hear reports of kids getting hit with missiles, innocent casualties who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that was war, and you didn't get emotional with war. Until you got home and you had to reason with who you'd become.

Then he'd think of who he became when he got hired as a firefighter. More closed off, angrier, trying to make up for what he'd done by saving lives instead of taking them. But, no matter how many saves he got, it didn't make up for the kills. And you could get close to people, but you'd probably lose them just like you did in the military, so why have a friend if they're just gonna die anyway?

Plus, there was Gerrard. Gerrard, who was so much like his dad in so many ways. A crass bastard who didn't care who he offended or how he mistreated people. Tears were a weakness, emotions were a weakness, and Tommy was tired of people thinking he was weak. So, he made sure he wasn't.

The difference between his dad and Gerrard was that, if you fit in with Gerrard, he wouldn't bother you as much.

His dad bothered him regardless.

Tommy was not a good person when he had Gerrard as a boss. At first, he blamed Gerrard. Healing came when he took responsibility for himself.

Even with the healing; with leaving the 118 and starting over. With getting therapy and changing his mindset and forgiving himself, there were times when he felt like the biggest fraud in the world. Because he may have forgiven himself, but he didn't deserve the forgiveness of the people around him.

He didn't deserve the friendship of Howie or Hen. He didn't deserve Eddie, who was always excited to hang out. He didn't deserve weekly dinners with Bobby and Athena, who would ask him about his week and listen to his stories. He didn't deserve Maddie, who was ready and waiting to watch The Bachelor each week with wine and a cheeseboard.

He definitely didn't deserve Evan.

Evan.

Who was always there, no matter what. Wore his heart on his sleeve, would do anything for anyone, Evan.

Evan, who was a soft kiss after a hard day. Who's body fit with Tommy's like two puzzle pieces that were finally placed together. Stubborn, smart, bold, unafraid, open, honest, loving, kind, adorable, Evan.

He'd talked to his therapist about it one day. Things were going too well, his life felt too good, and that nagging voice drudged its way up from the back of his mind to repeat over and over you don't deserve it, you don't deserve it, you don't deserve it.

Then his therapist asked him a simple question. “When you hear the voice, is it your voice, or is it your father?”

After thinking about it for a while, Tommy answered, “A morphing of the two. Starts as him, ends as me.”

A nod. “Let's dissect that.”

They did.

It sucked.

But it helped too. It didn't make the feeling go away, but it did help him recognize that what he was feeling didn't just stem from the choices he made as an adult, it started all the way back when he was a child. When he was told, time and time again, how he didn't deserve good things.

Oftentimes, Tommy felt like his mind was a cruel joke that liked to play, well, mind games on him. As soon as he'd push through his feelings of being undeserving, his brain would laugh and tell him he was pitying himself. Making himself the victim when, in the majority of the things he did as an adult, he was in fact not the victim. This would, in turn, make him feel undeserving of feeling undeserving.

“My mind is a very screwy place,” he said on a particularly grouchy day at therapy. “Truly can't believe they let me fly an aircraft.”

“It sounds kind of like you're torturing yourself for not being perfect.”

“I feel like the more I try to learn and grow from my past, to- to move on from it, it throws itself right back up in my face. I try. I really, really try to let it go, but I can't.”

“I know it's a sensitive topic for you, Tommy, but-”

“No.” Tommy knew where this was going. “No, it's not that.”

A sigh. “Tommy, how old are you?”

He was not in the mood for this today. “Forty-one.”

“And how old was your mother when she passed?”

“Forty-two.”

“I know you've mentioned before how she held onto her guilt. She felt hopeless. Worthless. Let it eat away at her. Your words.”

“I'm not like that. I'm not... I wouldn't do that. I don't feel that way.”

“I'm not saying that you do. I'm saying, sometimes, the reason we feel certain ways stems from our parents, grandparents, etcetera.”

Tommy uncrossed his legs, picked at a string hanging from his jeans. “Can we change the subject? Evan and I have a date tonight and I don't wanna be bitchy when I pick him up.”

*****

Tommy continued down the sidewalk, the only light from the street lamps above him. Occasionally, he'd hear a dog bark or a bird chirp but it was mostly quiet.

He was a couple miles from home now. He knew he should be heading back. His anger had mostly died down to something else by now. Something he couldn't really explain.

Emptiness, maybe?

Yet another word he'd used to describe his mother before.

But, he wasn't like her. He could always get out of bed. He didn't have problems brushing his teeth. He didn't let himself go. He never lost his appetite. He never felt like downing an entire bottle of pills on a regular Sunday afternoon. Would never think of risking his future child walking in the room, excited to tell him about winning the little league game, and instead find him on the floor, long gone.

“I'm the complete opposite of her,” Tommy said at his next session, still annoyed from the previous week. “I don't call out of work, I take extra shifts, I always have something planned when I'm off. I'm in a stable relationship which, yeah, I've only been in for five months, but it's been the best five months of my life. I manage everything fine. Sometimes my mind is just a dick to me.”

“Depression is different for everyone,” his apparently all knowing therapist replied. “Some people have all the symptoms, some have a few, none are exactly alike. There's levels to it, different kinds.”

Tommy slumped back on the couch, sighing as he stared out the window. “Well, that really sucks.”

He tried to be open with Evan. He'd told him so much about his life, about who he was. Evan knew everything about Tommy's time in the military. He knew what Tommy was like when he worked under Gerrard. He knew all the ways Tommy had struggled with himself and his sexuality. He knew all the bad parts, and he loved him anyway.

“I've made so many versions of myself, Tommy,” Buck told him one day, “I think I lost count at 5.0. They're all still me though. I wouldn't be here if I was never there, and I really, really like being here. Sometimes the crappy stuff makes you better in the end.”

Maybe it wasn't as well spoken as something his therapist would have said, but Tommy understood. No matter what, Evan wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't scared off by Tommy. Didn't judge him. He loved him. They loved each other.

Still, as Tommy walked the desolate street, he couldn't help the new voice inside his head. This one was his alone. It was telling him that, as open as he'd been, he'd still closed off a huge part of his life to Evan. It wasn't even necessarily intentional, it was just easier. Easier to avoid the topic altogether. However, it wasn't exactly fair.

He could hear his therapist in his mind, asking him the questions. “Why do you think you've closed that part of yourself off to Buck?”

He'd answer, “I don't exactly like revisiting the subject.”

“Do you not trust him with that part of your life?”

“Of course I do! I trust him with every part of my life.”

“Then why don't you tell him?”

“Because...”

“Because?”

Tommy would feel like pulling out his hair at this point. “Because I have spent so many years letting those parts of me go!”

“Have you really let them go? Unless you hit your head and get amnesia, is that even possible? Wouldn't it be easier if you let your partner help carry the burden when it gets hard for you?”

“He doesn't need to carry my burdens.”

“Don't you help carry his?”

On the street, Tommy stopped in his tracks. He groaned, staring up at the sky as if his therapist was some ethereal being. “I hate you,” he mumbled, before turning around and heading back home.

*****

He opened the door expecting to be hit with the ghost of his father standing there just hours earlier. Instead, he was met with the sight of Evan. Straight ahead at the kitchen table. He plopped his phone down on the table and stared up at Tommy, eyes wide and wet.

“Hi,” Buck said softly. He eyed Tommy carefully, trying to gauge the mood.

Tommy let out a shaky breath. “Hi,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and, once again, placing it on top of the duffel that hadn't moved.

“I was worried about you. You didn't take your phone and I- you were gone a long time.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize.” He really hadn't. He forgot he had ever put it in his duffel in the first place, usually opting to keep it in his pocket the majority of the time.

“S'okay.”

Tommy walked over to the table, pulled out the chair next to Buck, and sat down.

“I'm sorry, Evan,” Tommy repeated, for a different reason this time. “I shouldn't have left like that.”

“You don't need to be sorry.” Buck sat up straighter, splaying his hands out on the table. “I'm sorry. I had no idea your dad was like that. If I did, I never would have let him in your house.”

“Our house,” Tommy corrected. “Soon enough, anyway. You don't need to be sorry either. You didn't do anything wrong.”

Buck smiled at him, turning one hand up for Tommy to take. “Can neither of us be sorry instead then?”

Tommy held onto it, Buck's touch relaxing him in the way it always did. “Sounds good to me.”

“Are you hungry? I left the food in the oven on warm, just in case.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I am actually. I'll get it though, you relax.” He squeezed Buck's hand as he got up. Before walking away, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple. When he began to pull away, Buck held onto his shirt, turning his head and giving him a real kiss. He moved his hands up to Tommy's face, stroking his thumbs along his cheeks as he did his best to project all his love into the kiss.

Tommy looked dazed as they parted. “I think I need to go on walks more often.”

Buck rolled his eyes, swatting at Tommy's butt as he walked off. “Ass.”

“And you love it.”

“I suppose I do.”

“So, what'd you make?” Tommy asked, putting on some oven mitts before pulling the dish out of the oven.

“You're, uh, not allowed to laugh at the name. It's a recipe I got from Bobby, but he got it from the internet or something.”

“Oh God, did you make that goat in the boat dish again?”

“It was toad in the hole, and you loved it!”

“Mm,” Tommy hummed. He got out a couple plates and started plating the food. “What's it called?” he asked again.

“It's... It's called, um, it's Marry Me Chicken.”

After a beat of silence, Buck looked over to see Tommy staring at him, an eyebrow raised. “Evan Buckley, are you proposing to me over a chicken dish?”

Another eye roll. “Absolutely not.”

“You know the saying, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

“And all this time I thought it was through his ass.”

“Aye!”

Buck laughed, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Tommy finish up in the kitchen. “There's also some very finely chopped cucumber in the fridge if you'd like that as well, but it's not part of the dish.”

“Still a delightful addition to any meal,” Tommy replied, grabbing the bowl out of the fridge. He balanced it on his wrist before picking up the plates and bringing them to the table. “This looks amazing, Ev.”

“I hope it tastes good.”

“I'm sure it will.”

As Tommy and Buck both began to cut up their pieces of chicken, Tommy glanced over at his boyfriend. “So, um, tonight was... it was a lot.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I wanted to...” Tommy's voice trailed off, unsure of how to articulate what he wanted to say. He put down his cutlery and focused on Buck. “I was thinking on my walk about how open you've always been, talking about your mom and dad. Even the hard stuff, the uncomfortable stuff, you share it all. I- I haven't done that with you, Evan. That's not fair to you.”

“I've never felt that way,” Buck assured him. “I understood.”

“Still, I- I've always shared everything with you, besides that. It's not even the worst parts of me, really. I know... I know that stuff, when I was a kid, I know none of that was my fault. I think part of me felt like if I ignored it forever, it would eventually go away.” He shook his head. “It doesn't go away.”

Once again, Buck held out a hand for Tommy to take, connecting them on top of the table. “I'm here. Whenever you're ready. Now. Ten years from now. Whenever.”

Ten years from now. Those words hit him hard. He could feel his heart swell.

They were forever. Evan was his forever.

He took a deep breath, his residual anxieties melting away. “There's a lot about my parents you don't know.”

“Practically everything,” Buck agreed.

Tommy let out a laugh. “Well, I'd like to change that,” he replied, sharing a soft smile with Buck.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because we don't have to right now, if you're not ready.”

“No, I'm ready,” he answered. He squeezed Buck's hand tighter. “There's a lot to talk about with my dad,” he started, grabbing up his fork with his free hand to pierce a piece of the chicken, “but I think I want to start with my mom. She was... She was a lot like me.”

Buck nodded, smiling gently. “I love her already.”

[hitechlatte]

Tattered Cloak Chapter 1 - Sneak Preview

This is still in progress, but I wanted to give you a sneak peek of the first chapter of my latest Donnie X Reader fic.

This is set in the same universe as Purple Hoodie and Prince Charming's Jacket, set a few years after the conclusion of PCJ.

I will note however this can be read as a stand alone (you'll see why MWAHAHA), with only some minor references to the prior fics.

Chapter 1 - Read More Below The Line:

“Fucking hell, do I need to rewrite this whole section?” 

Digging your elbows into the wood of your desk, you buried your face into your hands. The aching of your back mocked you as a long groan left your lips. 

After expending all the air from your lungs, you slowly leaned back in your chair, staring up at the cement of the ceiling. 

Your thoughts ran laps throughout your head, as you tried to recall every detail of the tale you were crafting. Yet no matter how hard you tried to wrangle your thoughts, the words jostled around your mind, still a jumbled tangled mess. 

Eventually your gaze returned to your monitor and with a sharp huff, you slammed your pointer finger against the backspace key.

The frantic cycle of typing and deleting the same 3 lines seemed to continue for ages, until a chipper voice caught your attention.

“Yo! Y/N!” 

A blur of purple whipped around you, eliciting a chuckle from your lips.

“Shelldon, what’s got you so giddy?”

Swirling to a stop in front of your chair, the bot buzzed with delight.

“Come on! I’ll show you!”

Slipping between your back and the chair, he pushed you forward. As you clumsily landed on your feet, Shelldon clutched onto your arm and tugged you towards the door.

“Alright alright!”

Exiting the door to your office, you hurriedly followed the bot through the lab. The monitors flashed around you as you and Shelldon darted past the piles of scrap metal and wires. Turning a corner the scent of stale coffee hit your nose. Several cups lined the edge of a working station, while another few laid precariously on a box.

With a slight chuckle, you turned your attention back towards Shelldon, trying to keep up with his rampant pace. 

Finally exiting the large metal doors of the lab, you appeared in the main foyer of the lair. Giggles and murmurs of chatter bounced off the walls, and you could see a large group congregating in the center of the room. Three of the turtle brothers and Cass stood next to April as she seemed to ramble on about something.

But as you stepped closer, it was the sight of the tall black haired man that caused you to yell in excitement.

“Casey!”

The man turned towards you and smirked back, giving you a wave. Jogging over, you pulled him into a tight hug and grinned.

“So glad you could make it.”

“Of course! Wouldn't miss it for the world.” He laughed, “Also if I did I think Raph would never let me hear the end of it.”

The eldest brother let out a laugh and placed a firm hand on Casey’s shoulder. 

“No. No I wouldn’t.”

The group all laughed for a moment, until Casey gave another confused look.

“Wait but where’s Donnie?”

“I’m guessing he’s out giving his hoverbike another test run.” You chuckled.

“You think?” Raph asked, brow raised.

“I don’t have a tracker on him.”

“Nah that’s more his thing.” April chuckled.

A few more laughs echoed out, until Raph spoke again.

“Aren’t you two getting married this weekend? Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be doing wedding things?”

“Listen we’re keeping it lowkey, or well Donnie low key, but you know your brother. He had an automation system programmed and tested 3 months ago for this thing. All I have left to do is go to my final fitting with Irma and practice my vows.”

“I guess.” Raph sighed, “Well so long as you guys are all set or whatever.”

“We should be happy they’re actually doing this!” Mikey smirked, “I was worried it was never gonna happen.”

“Yeah, speaking of which April you still owe me that sushi dinner.” Leo chuckled.

“For the last time, I’m not cashing in a bet from 3 years ago.” April groaned.

“Fine double or-”

“Would you two cut it out?” Raph groaned.

With that, another series of chuckles leapt out.

“Well dinner’s just about done.” Mikey smiled, “Y/N you want to go figure out where Donnie is and meet us in the kitchen?”

With a nod, you walked towards the entrance of the lair and clicked on your comm.

“Hey D, what’s your eta back?”

There was a full minute of silence before your comm chirped.

“Oh, sorry, about 10 minutes.” The voice called from your wristband, “I just need to run one more aim assist test and I can head back.”

Fluttering your eyes, you stared at your wrist puzzled.

“Aim assist?”

“Yes for my delivery service drone contract.”

“Delivery- wait when did you get that?”

“Like 3 weeks ago- oh wait… It’s possible I haven’t informed you of it yet.”

“Nah I guess not.” You chuckled.

“Well I’ll have plenty of details to ramble at you at a later time then. And then you can tell me all about what Derek and Shiloh are up to in your latest chapter.”

“Oh I um- I sent that manuscript out for review last week. I already started my new space travel book. I um... Guess I didn’t tell you.”

“Ah well excited to hear about it nonetheless.”

“Yeah, same here. Um, just make sure to get back quick. Casey’s here.”

“That’s today?!” Donnie exclaimed.

Yep.”

“Ugh, update eta to 5 minutes. I’ll be home shortly.”

“Safe travels.”

“Thanks.”

With a smirk, you headed back out to join the others.

When Donnie finally arrived in the kitchen, every eye turned towards him.

“It’s our long lost brother!” Leo exclaimed.

Leaping from his seat, the blue brother wrapped his arms around Donnie, lifting him slightly off the ground.

“By golly brother I never thought I’d see you again!” Leo said in a poorly mimicked southern accent, “I never thought you’d make it home from the war!”

Donnie wriggled in his brother’s grip.

“Leo I was just- why are you like this?”

Before Leo could respond, Raph butted in.

“Maybe if he saw ya more than once a month there wouldn’t be a need for theatrics. Now eat ya ‘za, it's getting cold.”

“Whatever.” Donnie said rolling his eyes,

As dinner progressed, the group threw question after question at Casey, asking about his travel and what he had been up to during his latest travel excursion. However as he was telling some story, a voice echoed from the entrance of the kitchen.

“Hey everyone! I’m back!”

“Irma!” You exclaimed, “I thought you weren’t going to be back until tomorrow!” 

“I got an earlier flight.” She giggled, “Besides it's your big day, so we need to get up to shenanigans or whatever. It’s my duty as your maid of honor.”

“You’re so sweet-”

However Irma was lifted up off the ground as the red turtle scooped her up.

“I missed you boo-boo bear.” He smiled.

“Raph!” Irma blushed madly, “I was only gone a week!” 

“Yeah but I get worried when you go on your big scary missions and what if something happened?”

Irma rolled her eyes as she tried calming the eldest brother down.

And with a chuckle, you headed back to your own seat and plopped down next to Donnie.

“We’re not gonna get like that right?” You grinned.

Donnie shook his head.

“By Einstein's beard no.”

The rest of dinner went smoothly as everyone went into the foyer to watch a film.

“We should watch something romantic to commemorate the week.” Irma giggled as Raph filtered through the movie choices.

“Enchanted’s cute!” Mikey called out.

“Or Princess Bride?” Shelldon suggested.

“Die Hard!” Cass shouted.

“Well Lou Jitsu and the Radiant Samurai is a good one” Splinter chuckled

As Raph and Irma debated between choices, Casey turned to Leo and Mikey.

“Hey when are Usagi and Peace Corp getting here?”

“How does that name keep sticking?” Mikey yelled, “They have a name you know and it’s-”

“Peace Corp, we know.” Leo grinned.

Eventually the teasing ceased and the movie The Holiday was selected. You leaned against Donnie’s side as the film played on the screen. But just as the plot was beginning to pick up, you fell asleep.

You awoke later to a blanket wrapped around you and the pillows next to you, empty.

And looking around it seems most of the group had broken off, only leaving April, Casey, Cass and Mikey.

Rubbing your eyes, you saw a dark forest with a fairy and some bug-like man flying around on screen while singing a cover of some pop song. After a moment, you figured out they must have put on that movie Strange Magic. With a yawn, you stretched and slowly stood up.

“I’m off to bed.” You chuckled.

The rest of the group waved as you headed out of the room.

When you returned to the lab, you found Donnie deep in some code. 

“Grinding the late night oil?” You laughed.

“Uh-huh.” He seemed to murmur.

“You …going to bed soon?”

However the turtle just grunted back.

“Come on.” You grinned, “I think it’s time we both called it a night.”

And after a groggy nod and a sleepy kiss, the two of you headed off to bed.

The next morning, you woke to Donnie sprawled across the bed. One of his legs was thrown over your thighs, while one of his arms hung off the bed. With a roll of your eyes, you gently slipped out from underneath him and tucked him more firmly onto the mattress.

He seemed to murmur something, but you just whispered back at him.

“Go back to sleep, I'll make coffee.”

He grunted as he buried himself back into the pillows.

After checking some emails from your publisher and agent, you headed back to make some coffee. The grinder whirled around as the beans shredded against the blades. And with a steady hand, you gently pressed the grounds into the espresso machine cup. The smell of coffee filled your nostrils as the liquid seeped down slowly into your mug.

However as you began to work on the second cup, a noise caught your attention. There in the doorway stood Casey.

“Morning!” You smiled, “Coffee?”

“Sure.” Casey grinned.

“Sleep well?” You asked as you pulled out another mug.

“Yeah I did. It’s nice to be back.”

“We’re glad to have you back.”

“Oh.” Casey said as he seemed to recall something, “April told me a bunch of us might get lunch later today. You and Donnie coming?”

“Oh cool! Let me check what time my meetings are, and if I can, I definitely will. No idea on Donnie though, but I can ask him when I bring him his coffee.”

Casey stared for a moment, almost lost in thought and then a chuckle left his lips.

“You um… man timelines are weird.”

Placing the cup down gently, you turned back to Casey with a confused look across your face.

“Oh sorry I just…” Casey spoke slowly, “It’s weird. You’re like so different from my timeline. But also, not?”

You kept your expression soft. Casey would occasionally speak of his original timeline, but never too in depth. Just general overarching details.

“Oh really?” You gently pressed.

Casey seemed to turn his gaze away and the panic welled up in your stomach.

“Hey, you okay? I’m sorry if I-”

“No it’s not you.” Casey sighed, “I just. I guess… I should have given this to you a long time ago. But I feel like now's a good time.”

Casey tapped on his armband and the screen flipped up. Pressing his finger against a slot, a small USB appeared. Pulling out the rectangular chip, he walked closer to you and placed it gently in your hand.

“You… you wrote this.” Casey breathed out slowly, “It was like your memoir or I guess… like a diary.”

“My… diary?” 

“Yeah I- um. It helps me remember the old times. You talk about me a lot.” He chuckled.

“I- thank you, but why- Are there others?”

“No. Just yours. You were the only one who ever wrote one. Well Donnie had some audio logs, but they were never personal. Just analytics and shit. But I think you should read it.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.” You nodded.

Casey nodded back. 

After gently handing him his coffee, the man disappeared back into the lair.

You stood for a moment, staring at the little chip in your hand. But with a quick tuck, you stuffed it in your pocket and finished making Donnie’s coffee.

When you returned with the purple turtle’s coffee, he was still out cold, bundled up in the blankets and pillows. You left his drink on his nightstand and after a quick kiss on his head, returned to your office. 

When you sat at your desk chair, you just watched the steam from your mug flicker into the air. A million thoughts buzzed around your head as you stuck your hand in your pocket and slowly pulled out the USB.

And with a nervous huff, plugged the chip into your computer.

A green page appeared on screen, with bundles of words clumped together.

I know no one will probably ever read this. Well except maybe Shelldon or Casey(skip past the marked sections by the way you two), but I want a place to write everything down. Out of all the stories I’ve ever written, I think it’s time I finally wrote mine.

[pascalispimp]

Through the Ashes

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

Summary: In a world ravaged by loss and survival, Joel Miller has long believed that love is a luxury he can no longer afford. Haunted by his past and driven by the need to protect those he cares about, his heart is as guarded as the walls around the small community of Jackson. But when Birdie, a former Firefly with a mysterious connection to Ellie, arrives in Jackson, Joel’s world is turned upside down.

Warnings for series: some angst with happy ending. Mutual pining. Eventual smut. Unspecified age gap. Takes places after TLOU season 1. Not canon to game ending. Joel will get his happy ending. Jealous!Joel. Protective!Joel. Canon typical violence.

Word count: 3k

** Masterlist **

Hi guys, this is my first fic in a very long time so please be kind. I’m posting the first chapter and if you guy’s enjoy it, let me know and I’ll post more. Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on it!! Character doesn’t have a name but everyone calls her Birdie because of the Mockingbird tattoo on her arm.

Chapter 1- The First Meeting

The snow fell steadily outside the cabin, the wind howling through the gaps in the wooden walls. Joel was in the middle of cleaning his rifle, the rhythmic scrape of the brush against the metal barrel soothing in its familiarity. Jackson was quiet today—too quiet, for Joel’s taste—but then again, it was the dead of winter. The few settlers who ventured out for patrols returned with little to report, just the bitter cold biting at their heels.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, sharp and unexpected. Joel frowned, setting the rifle down carefully on the table. Not many people came to his cabin unannounced, especially in weather like this.

“Who is it?” Joel called out, his voice rough, as he crossed the small room to the door.

“It’s me, Tommy,” came the muffled reply from the other side.

Joel unlocked the door and pulled it open, the cold air rushing in as he did. Tommy stood on the porch, bundled up in his thick coat, but it wasn’t Tommy who drew Joel’s attention. It was the woman standing next to him.

“Joel, I’d like you to meet someone,” Tommy said, stepping aside slightly. “This is” Tommy said, your name escaping his lips. “But I call her Birdie”

Her name struck a chord in Joel’s memory, and he realized why as soon as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes—so familiar, so much like Ellie’s, but older, more weathered by the world.

She stepped forward, pulling the scarf away from her face. Her features were sharp, angular, with a stubborn chin and eyes that had seen too much. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. There was something fierce about her, a hardness that reminded Joel of the survivors he’d met on the road, but there was also a sadness that softened her.

Joel repeated her name, his voice carefully neutral.

“She’s Ellie’s aunt,” Tommy said, glancing between them. “Her mom’s younger sister.”

Birdie gave a small, curt nod. “I’ve been looking for her—for years. Since Boston.”

Joel’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he knew of Anna, Ellie’s mother, and what she might have told him about family. But there had been little to go on. Anna had been a Firefly, just like Birdie apparently was—or had been.

“You’re a Firefly,” Joel said, the words coming out like an accusation.

Birdie’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I was. Not anymore. That was… a long time ago.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension between them. “Birdie’s been on the road for a while. Just got back here yesterday, actually after travelling back to Boston”

Joel nodded slowly, though his eyes never left Birdie’s. He could see the exhaustion in her, the weight of whatever she had endured in her search for Ellie. There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken questions. Why now? Why here?

“Ellie doesn’t know yet,” Birdie said quietly, as if reading his mind. “I haven’t figured out how to tell her. I needed to see her first… to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine,” Joel said, a bit too quickly, the protective edge in his voice undeniable. “She doesn’t need—”

“I’m not here to take her from you,” Birdie interrupted, her tone sharp, but not unkind. “I’m here because she’s all I have left.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Joel found himself softening, just slightly. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to have only one thing left in the world to hold onto. It was a pain that twisted and festered, driving people to do impossible things.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. “Well, I’ll let you two talk. I need to check on Maria. Birdie, your place should be ready for you whenever you’re ready. Hasn’t been touched since you left.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Birdie said, her eyes flicking to him before returning to Joel. “I appreciate it.”

Tommy gave them both a nod and then stepped off the porch, disappearing into the falling snow, leaving Joel and Birdie alone.

Joel stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “You might as well get out of the cold.”

Birdie hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin hit her, and she could feel the chill starting to seep out of her bones. She unwound the scarf from her neck and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. As she did, Joel couldn’t help but notice how thin she looked, how worn.

“Sit,” Joel said gruffly, motioning to the chair by the fire. “I’ll get you something warm.”

Birdie moved toward the chair, her eyes taking in the cabin as she did—a small, simple space, but well-kept, with everything in its place. She sat down slowly, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face.

Joel busied himself with the kettle, filling it with water and setting it over the fire. His hands worked automatically, but his mind was racing. This woman—Ellie’s aunt—what was her angle? What did she want?

“I’m not here to make things difficult,” Birdie said suddenly, as if sensing his doubts. “I know what you did for Ellie. Tommy told me… some of it.”

Joel turned, his expression guarded. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe not,” Birdie admitted. “But I know enough to be grateful. Ellie’s lucky to have you.”

Joel said nothing, his eyes searching her face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, mixed with a weariness that matched his own. She wasn’t here to cause trouble; she was here because she had nowhere else to go.

The kettle began to whistle, and Joel turned back to pour the water into two mugs. He handed one to Birdie, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“So,” Joel said, settling into the chair opposite her, “what’s your plan?”

Birdie took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I don’t have one. I just want to be a part of Ellie’s life, if she’ll have me. And if you’ll let me.”

Joel studied her for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. Finally, he nodded, a silent truce forming between them.

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice low. “But know this—if you hurt her, if you bring any trouble here…”

“I won’t,” Birdie cut him off, her voice firm. “I swear it.”

Another silence fell between them, this one less heavy, more accepting. They were two people with jagged pasts, brought together by the same person they loved more than anything in this broken world.

And though neither of them could have known it then, that moment—born of mutual understanding and a shared need for connection—was the first step toward something neither of them had dared to hope for.

Something like love.

—-

The mid-afternoon sun bathed Jackson in a soft, golden light as Ellie stood on the porch of Joel’s cabin, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced over at Joel, who was leaning against the wooden railing, his expression unreadable. He had been unusually quiet that day, and Ellie could sense the tension rolling off him in waves. Something was up, and it was putting her on edge.

“So… what’s this all about?” Ellie asked, her voice filled with cautious curiosity. She wasn’t used to Joel acting so cagey, and it made her uneasy.

Joel sighed, pushing himself off the railing and turning to face her. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said slowly, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. “Someone from your past.”

Ellie frowned, confused. She had already met everyone in Jackson who might have known her from before. Who could Joel be talking about? But before she could ask, the cabin door creaked open, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the woman standing before her. She was tall, with her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes—her eyes were so familiar. Ellie couldn’t place why at first, but something about them tugged at the edges of her memory.

“Ellie,” Joel said, his voice gentle but firm, “this is Birdie. She’s your mom’s younger sister.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her. *My aunt.* She had never known her mother’s family—Joel had only told her bits and pieces about Anna, but never anything about anyone else. The idea that she had an aunt, someone who had been out there looking for her, was overwhelming.

Birdie took a tentative step forward, her eyes filled with emotion. “Ellie,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

Ellie stiffened, the mix of emotions swirling inside her too complicated to untangle. Part of her wanted to run, to push this stranger away, to keep her distance as she had learned to do with everyone except Joel. But another part of her—a part she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—wanted to reach out, to grab hold of this connection to her mother that she had thought she’d lost forever.

“I… I don’t remember you,” Ellie admitted, her voice shaky, her eyes darting to Joel for reassurance.

She smiled sadly, a soft, understanding look in her eyes. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you,” she said. “We were separated in Boston when the Fireflies took you after Anna, after she passed. I tried to find you, but by the time I got back… you were gone.”

Ellie swallowed hard, trying to process the flood of information. She had always wondered about her past, about the people she had lost, but she had never expected this—never expected to have someone from that past suddenly standing in front of her, claiming to have been searching for her all these years.

“I know this is a lot,” Birdie continued, her voice soft and patient. “And I don’t expect you to remember me, but I brought something that might help.”

She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small, worn photo album. It was old, the edges frayed, but it had clearly been well cared for. Birdie opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She held it out to Ellie, her hands trembling slightly.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Joel again. He nodded encouragingly, though she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t like Joel to be so tense around new people—especially not someone he had invited into their lives. But there was something in his eyes that told her this was important, that this was something she needed to do.

Ellie took the album from her, her fingers brushing against the worn leather cover. She looked down at the picture on the page, her breath catching in her throat. It was a photograph of a woman holding a small child—a baby with big, curious eyes and a tuft of dark hair. The woman was smiling, a bright, loving smile, and Ellie felt a pang of recognition deep in her chest.

“That’s you, and me. Not long before you were taken.” She said softly, pointing to the baby in the picture. “And that’s your mom, not long before you were born.”

Ellie’s fingers traced the edges of the photograph, her heart pounding. She had seen pictures of her mother before, but never like this—never with her. There was something so achingly familiar about the woman in the picture, something that made Ellie’s chest tighten with emotion.

“I… I remember this,” Ellie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I remember you holding me like this.”

Birdie smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “You were so small, but you were already so strong. Just like your mom.”

Ellie’s throat tightened as she looked at the other photos in the album—pictures of her as a baby, pictures of her mother and Birdie together, smiling and laughing, snapshots of a life she had lost and never thought she’d find again. The memories were faint, like trying to grasp at wisps of smoke, but they were there, and as she looked at each picture, they became clearer, more vivid.

Joel watched them from the side, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He was happy for Ellie—truly, he was. Seeing her reconnect with a piece of her past, a piece of her mother, was something he had always wished for her. But at the same time, a pang of jealousy twisted in his gut, mingling with the protectiveness that had always been there, simmering just below the surface.

Birdie was Ellie’s blood, a living connection to her mother, and Joel knew that was something he could never be. He had tried his best to fill the role of father, of protector, but deep down, there was a fear—a fear that now that Ellie had someone else, someone from her past, she might need him less. The thought terrified him more than he could admit.

As Ellie continued to flip through the album, her eyes bright with a mix of wonder and sadness, Joel forced himself to push the jealousy aside, focusing instead on the way her face lit up with each new memory that surfaced. This was a good thing. He had to remind himself of that. She was here for Ellie, and that was what mattered.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Ellie said, her voice trembling as she looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes.

Birdie smiled, her own eyes wet. “I kept them for you. I knew that one day, I’d find you, and I wanted you to have something to remember her by.”

Ellie bit her lip, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Birdie reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I found you, Ellie. I’ve missed you so much.”

Ellie looked up at her, the walls she had built around herself slowly crumbling. She could see the truth in her eyes—the love, the longing, the pain of having been separated for so long. It was the same pain Ellie had carried with her for years, the same sense of loss that had haunted her. But now, for the first time, it felt like that loss was being filled, piece by piece.

“I’ve missed you too,” Ellie admitted, her voice small, but filled with a deep, raw honesty. “Even if I didn’t remember, I missed you.”

Birdie’s face broke into a tearful smile, and she pulled Ellie into a gentle hug, holding her close as if she was afraid to let go. Ellie stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to the sudden show of affection, but then she relaxed into the embrace, allowing herself to feel the warmth of it, the connection she had been missing for so long.

Joel watched them, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. He was happy—so damn happy—to see Ellie finding this connection, but the pang of jealousy was still there, sharp and insistent. He knew it was irrational, knew that Ellie’s love for her didn’t diminish what they had, but it was hard to shake the fear that had taken root in his heart.

Ellie finally pulled back from the hug, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at Birdie, really looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the family resemblance—saw the way Birdie’s eyes mirrored her own, saw the way her smile reminded her of her mother.

“I want to know more,” Ellie said, her voice steadier now. “About her. About you.”

Birdie smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made Ellie feel like she was finally home. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promised. “Anything you want to know.”

Joel stepped forward, unable to stay on the sidelines any longer. He placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You two have a lot to catch up on,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, though the tension in his body betrayed him.

Ellie looked up at him, her expression softening. “You’re okay with this, right?” she asked, searching his face.

Joel nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course, kiddo. This is good. It’s what you need.”

Ellie studied him for a moment longer, sensing that something was off, but not quite able to place it. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re still my family, Joel. That’s never going to change.”

Joel’s heart swelled at her words, the jealousy easing just a little. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and gave her a small, grateful smile.

Birdie watched the exchange, understanding the depth of the bond between Joel and Ellie. She knew that Joel was protective of Ellie, that he had been her rock through everything, and she didn’t want to come between them. But she also knew that this was something Ellie needed, something that would help her heal.

“Joel,” She said gently, “thank you. For everything you’ve done for her. I can see how much she means to you.”

Joel met her gaze, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment of the roles they both played in Ellie’s life. Joel nodded, the tension in his chest easing just a bit more.

“She means everything to me,” Joel said quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Birdie smiled, her eyes soft with gratitude. “And now, she’s got both of us,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

Ellie looked between them, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a real family—one that stretched back to her past and carried her into the future. And as she stood there, between Joel and Birdie, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could finally start to heal.

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 1

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: been writing this fic for about a year now so it's nerve-wrecking to finally post the first chapter. I hope you'll like it!! (pls be gentle...)

thanks to the lovely @nexusnyx for motivating me a few weeks ago, would've never considered posting without having our convo the other day!! Thank you so much<33

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: You're a woman who as been visiting the same library for all your life. One day a handsome new face comes walking in. That's the moment when the ball starts rolling and your entire life changes. Will you accept the new challanges coming your way...?

2,200 words

You have been visiting the same library all your life. While you were in school you  would go there to have a quiet place to study. Since at home you always had a lot of family and busy energy around, you needed the library as sort of an...escape from all the noise. Later when you got into university, the library had become kind of a safe space for you. So you would rather sit in the bus for half an hour to and back to study there instead of the grimy and packed library on campus.

Even now that you work and have enough books at home to basically open your own library, you still can't part from your little paradise. Everyone knows you here and a few months ago the owners of the library even adopted a cat that seemed to really like you. So chances of moving on from here had definitely been ruined.

You loved reading all kinds of story based books, but spending so much time here made you curious, so you also picked up a few skill based ones. you had read a few gardening and science books but the ones you would actually start applying were the books that had to-do with art. Autobiographies of different artists and painters, different studies and research on colour and brushes. You became almost a bit obsessed at some point. So you started sketching and drawing things around you based on the knowledge you'd gathered from your extensive research. you would draw people around the library after work or before meeting friends in the nearby café. You'd never claim to be an artist but you were proud of your drawings nonetheless. for the past few weeks you had started to draw one very specific person. You saw them for the first time a bit over a month ago…

It was a rainy day and you'd just finished lunch with a friend. You said goodbye and you decided to head to the library to continue on with your sketches of the cute ginger kitten. After saying hello to the owners and giving the kitten a treat, you made your way to your usual corner in the back. Since the library wasn't very big you had a good view of the entrance and a few tables. you'd been sitting and drawing for about ten minutes when you noticed the kitten smelling your coat pocket in search of more treats. You smiled down at her 'hiiii kitty!' you picked her up and placed her on your little round table. 'you want another treat huh?' She looked back with big shiny eyes 'alright alright...there you go'. She happily chewed on the fish-shaped cookie while you continued drawing her. 

The familiar noise of the door opening caught your attention....a man came in, he was wearing a brown flat-cap which was obscuring your vision of his face. He reached to take it off with a gloved hand and pushed his black curls back to reveal the face, of what you could only describe, a Greek god. He had strong and angular features, a sharp jawline and a beautiful slightly crooked nose which you felt the need to trace over with your finger. He had crows feet decorating his eyes, you'd assume he had them from laughing but seeing his resting facial expression, smiling almost seemed to be a foreign task to him. He brushed the remaining rain off his shoulders and made his way to the history section. When he disappeared behind a shelf you were brought back from your trance and took the first breath in what seemed like minutes. 

You wondered what he would be looking for in the history section of this old library. You were in London, a place with alot of people, then again this library was old and in a secluded part of town so it was usually the same people walking in and out. You would definitely remember his face if you had seen it before. Whatever it was that he was looking for he had apparently found since he was making his way to the register with a thick leather bound book in his glove covered hand. You had a bit of a thing for hands and you knew you'd be sketching hands for the next few hours because of this stranger. He hastily left the library and was gone as fast and suddenly as he appeared. After that day you couldn't stop drawing that pretty stranger, you'd given him multiple names during this time. His name had been Jack, Edward, Steve, Malcom and many more. you'd started just drawing his gloved hands and his forearms but quickly you would switch to drawing his intense gaze and soft curls. The amount of times you fantasised about running your fingers through them and tugging slightly had you embarrassed. It had been weeks since you'd seen him and you wouldn't stop imagining him in your apartment just sitting next to you, sometimes you would also imagine him a bit closer and wearing a little less clothing…

A month had passed since you'd seen him and you finally managed to stop drawing him and went back to drawing people around the library. Though you still looked up when the door opened and a new customer came in hoping for your handsome stranger to come in and maybe stay a little this time so you could find out more about him and his movements, for drawing references of course...nothing else. It seemed the universe wanted to help you out, because the next time the bell chimed and a customer walked in, the familiar brown flat-cap wearing stranger entered. This time it was warm and sunny outside so he wasn't wearing any gloves and wore a white fitted polo. His muscles were visibly moving underneath the fabric of his sleeves when he reached up to take off his hat and ruffle through his hair with the same intention as last time. He was also holding the same thick leather bound book from his last visit to the library.

 According to the owners he couldn't buy that one since it was rare literature, so he got to borrow it for a month...you knew this because you may have asked about him and his purchase after he left. This was also when you found out that the book he borrowed was about an Egyptian god. During your time in this library you have read books on Egyptian history and it did peak your interest. All this time you’d never even noticed that book before? Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time studying in that part of the library, so overseeing such a unique looking book was very strange of you.

You see him talking to the owners, it was quiet enough to make out parts of the conversation. It was 10am on a Tuesday so you were pretty much the only customer here. He had a pretty strong Latin accent and you were pretty sure he was from mexico. part of your family is from south America so you grew up learning Spanish and you remember hearing them speak English with that exact same accent. 

He was thanking them for the book and asking if he could take a look around the library again. The owners kindly told him to go ahead and that he didn't even need to ask. He briefly nodded his head mumbling a quick 'gracias' and went over to the history section. You watched intently and spontaneously decided to head in the same direction. You felt a bit creepy lurking on this man but you were sure you wouldn't get caught since you were rarely a very visible person. it's not that you didn't have a strong presence but you know how to blend in really well and when to use that to your advantage. You hid behind the shelf of the history section facing his profile. He really was a pretty man, his eyes were squinting and his bold eyebrows furrowed. There was a stray curl hanging over them and you badly wanted to brush it back and feel his thick hair between your fingers...you couldn't of course, since you were too preoccupied drawing him at the moment. The window was creating beautiful shadows beneath his hooded eyes and high cheekbones. His jaw looked sharper than ever and his neck extremely kissable. His lips needed an honourable mention, they were like two squishy pillows that were begging to be bitten. You've been paying special interest to them and trying to get the details just right, so you didn't notice that he had moved from his previous spot. 

You couldn't see him anywhere and were actually kind of disappointed to think he probably left. you were about to turn around and go back to your discarded belongings when you accidentally bumped into someone while moving backwards. 'ohssshit! i- i am so so sorry um- i didn't mean to wal-'

you had managed to pick up your pencil, sketchbook, and hopefully all of the scattered pages- when you finally looked up just to be faced with the god-like looking man you had been fawning over for a month now. he was practically towering over you and… was that a smirk? If you weren't already kneeling on the floor right now you would've probably lost your balance. 'hola~ I don't mind this view but do you need help standing up, muñeca?' This is when you realised that you were on your knees in front of the most attractive man you have ever seen and you quickly scrambled to your feet 'nono um thank you-' 

'Jake, my name's Jake' he stuck out his hand and you introduced yourself after thanking him again. So his name was jake...huh pretty basic for a man like him. You were kind of joking when you temporarily gave him very basic names but you guess his parents weren't much more creative than you are. 

You realised you were staring when he raised his left eyebrow and started grinning.

 'So...why were you spying on me?' He asked cockily and it had you word-vomiting all over the place 'what? i wasn't-? I-I was just…drawing-?' pretty hard to sound convincing when finishing every statement with a question mark... 'yeah I know-' he looked you up and down and coming a bit closer 'I saw you get lost in your notebook and I just had to come see what you are drawing that garnered all of your precious attention, hermosa' 

The nicknames were really starting to get to you, making you feel all sweaty and nervous. you were clenching the book to your chest accidentally pushing up your breasts and making your cleavage much more noticeable. you saw him glancing down, taking his time in bringing his eyes back up your neck and finally to your face. This entire time you were basically pressed into his chest, you were leaning on the shelf and he didn't seem like he wanted to move anytime soon 'h-how long were you looking over my shoulder exactly?'

 'Long enough to see what had you so...como se dice...transfixed' Your breath hitched and he answered with a toothy grin. 

'I am flattered, preciosa. I really am, didn't think someone as pretty as you would follow me around the library just to draw my hands and ass' 

You push him back- 'I did NOT draw your ass! I-' You were interrupted by his chuckle and him moving closer again and grabbing your chin between his fingers and caging you in with his other arm. 'I know muñeca , I just like seeing you flustered...toda nerviosilla...it's cute.' At this point you’ve decided it's best if you just don't speak. '...maybe next time you can draw me shirtless? I would love to see you solely focused on my abs for half an hour.' He flashes you a toothy grin. Oh he’s getting too cocky…somehow you manage to move away from the bookshelf, momentarily getting even closer to him. After seeing his eyes flicker with surprise you move to the side, backing away from him. Turn around finally being able to take a breath of normal air that wasn't deliciously tinted with his aftershave. 

'Sure, next time you can waltz into the library without a shirt on and we will see how far you get before being kicked out' you say while looking over your shoulder. 

 'Seeing your reaction would be worth it, nena' he called after you, not even registering your feet carrying you back to your corner. you took a deep breath replaying what just happened. He should not have this effect on you, it's almost embarrassing how easily he got so close to you. You are a grown woman, damnit! How did you not shove him away and get mad at his advances? You should be creeped out but you notice how you’re wishing to bump into him again soon...you hear the doorbell ring and see him walk out. He takes one look back and holds up a piece of paper. ‘Oh fuck me’ you feel your feet glued to the floor when you see what it is…its a drawing you made of him. It was a closeup of his torso upwards. You had drawn him from above and he was laying in your bed with heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. you were absolutely mortified- he was grinning like an idiot and winked at you before storing the drawing in his back pocket, crossing the street and vanishing from your eye-line. leaving you in the library, plagued by his stupid masculine scent and his dumb pretty face.

a/n: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter, I've got a few already locked and loaded sooo the next one should be posted soon. Pls like and reblog if you liked it<3 it would mean the world!

part two

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

May 29th

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1. Hi, I’m looking for a fic in which lan zhan and wei ying are in a relationship. They argue a lot but every argument ends with wei ying jumping in bed with lan zhan and hugging him from behind to resolve it until one day they have a really serious argument and Wei ying doesn’t come to resolve it first. They might have broken up as well, and lan zhan realized wei ying constantly made effort to resolve the arguments first and lan zhan never did.

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2. Hello hello!! I have two requests this time

A) In this fic Wei Ying is the God of the Underworld. Infact everybody is a God here. And Wei Ying has a town or city built in his domain for the souls of the dead and I think the Wens lived there. Also the other Gods considered him a pariah. I remember this one scene where he comes up or goes down the stairs from heaven which leads to the Underworld after a conference with the Gods.

B) I remember only one scene from this fic. It was during the Wen Indoctrination where after Wei Ying was sent to the cell with the Dog he acts dead and Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin are heartbroken. But actually Wen Qing just helped Wei Ying's heart rate to slow down to convince Wen Chao of his death. I think Wei Ying wakes up right there after a few minutes or so. @yilinglaobunny

2A)

FOUND! there will come soft rains by infinite (recursion) (Not Rated, 14k, WangXian, Gods & Goddesses, Hades/Persephone AU)

2B)

FOUND! 🔒💖 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, wangxian, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Some mentions of blood, it looks like someone is dead but!!, it is okay, everything is going to be okay i promise, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Wwx and lwj know they’re in love, They just don’t know the other loves them back, Everyone Lives AU, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ)

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3. Hi I'm trying to find a fic where lan zhan and jiang cheng are repeatingly kidnapping it wei ying from each other

FOUND? Wei Wuxian’s Kidnapping Back and Forth Farce (Starring Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji) by misscam (M, 5k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Switching)

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4. Hello, I’m looking for a specific fic that takes place post canon. Basically it’s a short fic where Lan Zhan goes out to travel for something and while he’s gone someone upsets Wei Ying, so to get back at him Wei Ying pretends to have sex super loudly every night. Lan Zhan hears about it and rushes back and hides in the room to find out what’s going on. I think they slept together after but I don’t remember well. I read it a few years ago and all can’t find it since.

FOUND? 🔒 The Sweetest Morsel to the Mouth That Ever Was Cooked in Hell by Silvarbelle (E, 14k, WangXian)

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5. Hi! There was this Wangxian fic where Lan Zhan got cursed and pushed Wei Ying away because he didn't recognize him and Wei Ying got badly hurt. Wen Qing was alive she made some sort of a healing bubble around Wei Ying for him to heal. I clearly remember she identified Wei Ying as her brother and asked Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen to keep Lan Zhan away from him. Lan Zhan was distraught after the curse wore off. Along with Sizhui and the others. Thank you!

FOUND? Brothers, Brothers-in-Law and Husbands by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 7k, WangXian, XiCheng, Lan Zhan accidentally hurts Wei Ying, Injured wei ying, Wen Qing is alive, protective Lans, protective Cheng, for once both Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng are good, Wedding, Protective Wen siblings, Jingyi and Yuan are best boys)

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6. Hi, I remember there being a fic but can't seem to find it : where the juniors end up in the past or a different universe where they see JGY and other cultivators in a meeting and one of JL or LY throw a weapon most probably a dagger killing JGY which makes LXC unhappy, hostile and maybe a little shocked but when he makes a move towards the juniors WangXian appear and WY tells/warns him from doing so. I remember I read it on ao3 but don't recall the chapter count apologises for the vague details but this is all that I remember so something with a similar premise or any help would be appreciated.

FOUND? A Blast from the Past by NightSky07 (G, 8k, WangXian, LCC/JC, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, WWX Needs a Hug, JYL gives it to him, juniors time travel, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Protective LWJ, Protective LSZ, BAMF WWX, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, YLLZ WWX, Past WWX meets future WWX, Confused JC)

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7. Need help in finding a fic where a modern day girl gets transmigrated into the MDZS universe and she uses her phone to make maps and helps with the war from the shadows but she gets caught by Lan Xichen. I think Lan Xichen fell in love with her but not sure as the fic was in progress. Please help

FOUND? i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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8. hi there I'm looking for a fic where's wei Ying deleted himself from existing I think and there was some kind of flower that represent that and Jiang Cheng and lan wangji are trying to save him, I'm sorry I'm not so got at writing in English I hope you understand ❤❤❤❤❤

FOUND? Remember by Amona (T, 59k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Mentions of Suicide, Self-Sacrifice, Erasing oneself from history, by WWX, forget WWX, colored souls, because it's pretty, Sword Spirits, JC has to take crash courses, But he'll do it for his brother, Major Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con)

FOUND? missed by ilip13 (T, 5k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, But also, Modern with Magic, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death, Sort Of, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love, Mention of canon-typical violence, Not time travel but timeline manipulation, Not nonlinear storytelling but the opposite of linear storytelling)

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9. Hiya,

Looking for a modern fic where LWJ is constantly being mean to WWX, whose constantly trying to befriend him. Eventually wwx has a whole breakdown about it, and he mentions how LWJ is an asshole to him for no reason. There’s a scene mentioning wwx baking cookies for him and he thought Lwj threw it out but in reality it is revealed in the end by Lwj himself that he ate it (although he was allergic to it) and WWX says something along the lines of that’s why you missed class that Monday. Turns out LWJ just struggles with communication. I think they are neighbors or roommates I can’t remember. Hopefully someone can help.

Thank you!!

FOUND? A Marriage Story by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 38k, wangxian, NMJ/LXC, married wangxian, but there are some complications, because it’s marriage, Sex is complicated, Angst and Pining, Pining while fucking, Mature elements, Mutual Pining, HEA, Arranged Marriage, Sort Of, Misunderstandings, of epic proportions, One True Pairing, Good Sibling JC, Good Parent YZY, Fluff and Angst, in that order, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Loves WWX, Angst and Hurt/Comfort) or if not this one, by this author

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10. I am looking for a canon era (not modern) fic where Lan Wangji was kidnapped as a child and I think he was raised in a brothel. He grows up and curses himself to be hideous so that the men who frequent the brothel don’t try to touch him. Eventually true love breaks the curse (like, WWX loves him regardless of his appearance) and I think Wangji happily reconciles with Xichen.

FOUND! Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with Happy Ending)

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11. It's been some time since the last FF I've asked but here we go again :'D I'd like to find a fic that had WangXian traveling together and LWJ's back/scars were bothering him and it worsened because of cold weather? Most likely the fic was post canon. There might have been a bath house or a hot spring involved there somewhere

Yes, LWJ knew he was traveling with WWX. No, he didn't get more scars.

did lan zhan not know it was wei ying travelling with him, and did he get more scars as time went on?

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12. Hi, I would love some help locating a fic. I can't really remember a lot of the main plot since it has been a while since I read it. I believe it is a post-canon fic, but Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had to go back to the Burial Mounds, and Wei Wuxian had to unbury his original body that was buried in the blood pool. I think. I also think that for Wei Wuxian's original body to survive, he had to wear a bracelet of some sort. I don't remember, or maybe I am confused by two different fics.

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13. For the fic finder!! TIA!!

This may be a scene from a long fic but I’m not sure. Wwx is possessed by something more than resentful energy- it’s an ancient demon who wants to destroy the world. Wwx seals himself inside the cold pond cave and puts up a barrier- I guess prepared to stay there forever? Lwj somehow gets in there to stay with him, and has conversations with the demon. The demon is extremely strong, throws him around and hurts him a little. His brother and uncle are pacing outside the barrier demanding he come out. The elders want to execute wwx which is why lwj is in the cave in the first place.

It’s canon setting but I can’t remember the time line- war? No war? Wwx and lwj aren’t together yet though. I remember this fic being pretty good- I’d love to reread it!

FOUND!🔒 Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake (M, 110k, wangxian, angst, fluff, captivity, creepy WRH, no non-con, dreamsharing, politics, people making the best decisions they can, epic length, mythical creature WWX, canon-typical violence, dark, happy ending)

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14. hello!! thank you for all the work you do. i've been trying to find a fic in my bookmarks/ searching for it but i just can't seem to find it unfortunately. i remember it to be an arranged marriage au? where lwj and wwx loved each other very much but upon learning that wei wuxian's tail colour (or species) meant he would not settle, miscommunication happens and just angst. it is a happy ending though, because i think that another person tells lwj that wei changze's tail colour/species meant that wwx would be loyal to him? sorry if this is too broad, thank you!

FOUND? what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings (not the romcom kind that can be resolved in a 5min convo), Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, vague biological essentialism (animal species have different mating preferences), Canon Typical Alcohol Usage, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved "gaslighting", Dragon LWJ, Fox WWWX)

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15. Hello! I am searching for a fic I read that I think was multiple short installments in a series on ao3. It was a war au where Wangji had presented as some kind of dragon and he was in charge of the Lan clan. Wuxian was a thief or mercenary. They had met as children and Wangji imprinted on Wuxian, but they parted ways then. They meet again on the battlefield and Wangji pulls Wuxian into his tent and is like “bathe him!” I think Wangji put a silver collar on Wuxian that Wuxian couldn’t remove on his own. There were dom/sub undertones. Any clue?

FOUND!🔒 Have him stripped, bathed, and brought to my tent by KizuKatana (E, 30k, WangXian, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Huli-Jing WWX, powerplay/powerdynamic, dubcon (due to power dynamics), Overstimulation, Edging, Biting, Scenting, Possessiveness, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, warlord, Emperor LWJ, civilian (sort of) captive (also sort of) WWX, dragon sex magic, Not traditional Chinese emperor history fully alternate reality of immortal creatures)

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16. HI, thanks for all your amazing work!! You rock!! Sorry to bother, but I hope I can get an answer!! I'm looking for a story were in the future, in space, Wei Wuxian is kidnapped everyone believes him dead and is used by Jin Guangshan and I think Xue Yang to try to destroy others. I think he has an implant that has prevented him from escaping but he manages to plant bombs and asks Lan Zhan to kill him when he finds him!! Please help!! be well!! @monicaop21

FOUND! Stars bring us apart (Stars pull us together) by Sixlayerhouse (sixlayerhouse) (E, 124k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, (Vaguely) Star Trek AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD, Body modifications, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Recovery, married!wangxian)

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17. Hi, I need some help looking for a fic on ao3 I was SO SURE I had bookmarked, but apparently not. The fic is Jingyi-centric and features a drunk jingyi trying to hit on Jin Ling's uncles at a bar, I'm fairly certain Jingyi is college age and the fic mentions sizhui and wangxian near the end. It was marked as complete, and I think it was a one-shot. Sorry if it's a bit vague, but it's been a while and I'm starting to think I just made it up if it hasn't been deleted. Thank you in advance! @angrymarconi

FOUND!🔒UILF by bosgood (T, 3k, JC/NHS, LSZ & NHS, JC & JL, NHS & the juniors, ONE-SIDED LJY/NHS and LJY/NHS/JC, and mention of ONE-SIDED LJY/WWX/LWJ, LJY has the UNREQUITED hots for JL's various uncles OK, unrequited, nothing happens!, featuring reactions ranging from laughing one's ass off to fully dying inside, Humor, I love the fics where LJY and/or OYZZ is like damn JL's uncle is fine, so this is my contribution to the genre, Modern, College, Established Relationship, WWX & LWJ are LSZ's parents, JL Has a Lot of Uncles, canon-typical junior shenanigans)

~*~

18. Hey! There’s this thread fic I read a while ago, I believe it’s a “Bikini Armor” au? It’s where Knight!Lwj is meets another fellow knight (Wwx) on the road, but Wwx’s armor is magical? Basically it only visibly covers his privates and part of his chest, the rest is magic. I remember it was a punishment by Madam Yu, and that Lwj finds out when the armor breaks.

Ty!

FOUND? His Knight in Shining Armour by celerydragon (E, 23k, WangXian, dead dove do not eat, Curses, Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Slut Shaming, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, yu furen sucks, protective lwj, Hurt/Comfort, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, mild dirty talk, Biting, Outdoor Sex)

~*~

19. Hello!

I’m looking for a fix where Wei Ying is gorgeous and coveted by everyone. The junior quartet often have to run interference because he doesn’t realize it. I think an innkeeper’s brother lusts after him too. One of his admirers decides to capture and assault him. Thankfully, Wei Ying is able to use ghosts to overpower him. Eventually, Lan Zhan comes and rescues him. Please help me find this fic! Thank you very much!

FOUND! Cotton Wool by incendir (M, 34k, wangxian, LJY/OMC, JL/LSZ, JC & WWX)

~*~

20. So I've lost a fic again, and I need your help once more!

So the premise of the fic was that lwj did enact that fantasy of taking wwx in the library when they were young, only after lwj internally freaks out and runs off to his brother for punishment because "xiongzhang I took someone by force 😢 I'm horrible"

I don't remember how exactly they got there but lxc gets lwj and wwx to talk, intending for wwx to decide how lwj should be punished as the wronged party. Except wwx somehow comes to the conclusion of "Let me f*ck (fuck) Lan zhan! 😠 he took me, so now I should take him!"

Things end happily but that's all I remember. Please help me! (And before anyone asks, no I'm not mixing it up with the Teapot Plot)

FOUND! My Boyfriend Is So Talented by Xiao_Zhang (E, WangXIan, Underage, Rape/Non-Con, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Sex, LWJ gives in to his lust, Teenage Wangxian, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Humor, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings)

~*~

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

A New Life, You and I

Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort (more comfort than hurt), fluff

June of Doom, Day 7: "What happened?"/"Stumbling" (late entry) @juneofdoom

CW: mentions of injuries

A/N: this is very short and I wasn't sure where I was going with it, but I think it's cute. This takes place after the last chapter of AOT, Levi and the Reader are in an established relationship and live together in a small cottage :,)

A loud, clattering sound coming from the kitchen pulls your attention away from the book you were reading, startling you. At first you think that perhaps some sort of critter has managed to enter your little home and that it made a ruckus in its exploration of the kitchen while searching for food, but then you hear a familiar, annoyed grunt coming from the room and suddenly you are on your feet and running.

“Levi??” You call out with concern more than evident in your voice, and when you reach the kitchen you let out a small gasp at the sight of Levi on the floor surrounded by various utensils, bags of tea and a miraculously unbroken jar of honey. His wheelchair waits abandoned in a corner of the room, quite far away from him. “What happened?” You ask as you hurry over to help him get back up.

He grunts again as he tries to not weigh you down while you pull him up. “I fell.” He mutters in a flat tone, as if you asked him a stupid question, and it makes you huff a little. “Yeah, no shit...” You mumble as you carefully help him back into his wheelchair, holding back a little hiss from how tightly he is gripping onto your arms for support. Once he is sat back down you take a look at the mess still strewn about the floor. “... Were you trying to make yourself some tea?” You ask while you bend down to pick up all the stuff that fell down, noting the open overhead cabinet that's definitely emptier than how you left it.

He huffs, his shoulders stiffening up a little as he looks to the side. “Yeah...” he grumbles rather dejectedly, and you immediately recognize the embarrassment and annoyance in his expression. It breaks your heart.

When things finally got to an end a couple months ago you felt nothing but relief. You and Levi both survived and maybe you'd finally get a chance to leave the past behind once and for all. Sure, that relief soured pretty damn quickly when you realized just how extensive Levi's injuries were... but he was still alive and breathing, and you thought that, compared to everything else, this was just a small hurdle. Nothing you couldn't face together... And you still feel like this.

However, as happy as you were to finally have Levi at home with you, that's also when you began to realize that perhaps this was a little more than a small hurdle. For Levi especially. After everything that's happened he mostly looked tired, rather than sad. At first he looked like he accepted his new living conditions rather quickly and that he didn't let the changes bother him too much... but you see it sometimes. The way his frown deepens when he accidentally drops something after absentmindedly reaching for it with his right hand, the flashes of pain across his face whenever his injuries start acting up for whatever reason... and the frequent antsiness in his demeanor whenever he gets up off his chair to try and walk for a little. That last one in particular seems to take a toll on him.

The doctors have encouraged him to try and take a few steps every once in a while, but they were very clear on him needing support and not pushing himself too hard in order to avoid injuring his body further. And you, on your end, made it very clear to Levi that he can rely on you. You know he is grateful for your presence, he'd never take it for granted or see it as a nuisance... but it is more than apparent that he wishes he wouldn't have to rely on you for so many things, especially when it comes to the simplest of tasks. He was humanity's strongest no more than a few months ago, for God's sake! And now he can barely take a couple of steps without stumbling or folding like a piece of paper. You can almost hear these thoughts echoing from his mind.

“Mh... You know, we should move all this stuff somewhere else. Keeping it up there is just impractical.” You state as you clear a small space on the kitchen counter to accommodate all of the things Levi uses to make his tea. You make it a point to arrange all of the items neatly, cocking your head to the side when you are done. “I think we need some cute jars for all those tea leaves... and maybe a little rack?” You scrunch up your nose in thought as you observe the little tea corner work in progress. You hear a small scoff behind you.

“I'll come with you to buy that stuff. I don't trust your tastes.” He comments in his usual sarcastic tone, making you laugh. “How very dare you!” You exclaim as you turn to him with your hands placed on your hips, pleased to see that he already seems to be less tense than before. “Uh huh, remember the curtains that didn't fit the windows? 'Oh Levi, these are just perfect for the kitchen!' and then they didn't even reach all the way down.” He repeats your words from when you first started decorating your shared home, but still uses his deadpan tone while imitating you. Honestly it just makes you laugh harder. “You're an ass!” You huff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you keep buying mismatched stuff...” He grumbles, secretly adoring the sound of your laughter.

You sigh, raising your hands. “Alright, fine, that may be true... I will make sure to consult the real artiste when we go on our next shopping trip.” You say jokingly, making him scoff again and roll his eyes at you.

“Hey Levi...” You begin while stepping aside so he may get closer to the counter. A simple “mh?” is the response you receive. “Would you make a cup of tea for me as well?” For a moment he stills, with his hand in mid-air as he was reaching for one of the bags that contain his tea leaves. “I like yours the best...” You add as a smile slowly curls your lips when you notice the tips of his ears turn slightly red.

“...Yeah.” The way his voice softens makes your heart melt in your chest.

[erule]

Nothing you can take | c.s.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: you and Sejanus make a bet involving you and Coriolanus, that you’ll have to become a couple in order to get some money from him, but everything changes when the two of you fall in love for each other for real.  

Warnings: fake dating AU, (kinda) enemies to lovers, bet to fall in love trope (if I can call it like that), sunshine x grumpy/black cat x golden retriever trope, light violence and mention of blood, romance, comedy (I think), (probably) slow burn, fluff, angst

Word count: every chapter of the series will have a different amount of words 

A/N: hi! Here we go with my first Coriolanus story!! I don’t know if Coriolanus is OOC here, because I watched the movie like one month ago and I still have to read the book, but I did my best to make him similar to the character I saw. Anyway this is a fanfiction, so please don’t be mad at me if he’ll be, I’ll probably need him to be for the storyline. I apologize to the people in the tags, because I’m really late with the upload, but I’ve been really busy in the past few weeks. Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy! X 

Tag list: @meeksity, @mxacegrey, @astess, @jasmineee05. 

Masterlist

Prologue – Don’t fall in love with me 

“Coriolanus Snow? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Y/N? You think you can’t make him fall in love with you?” Sejanus asks with a grin. 

“Oh no, I was just thinking about the amount of money you’re gonna give me when I’ll win”.

“Don’t, he’s not easy”.

“A challenge, uh? Even better!” You exclaim. “Now excuse me, but I have to go. Before your last drink, watch me sing and put under my spell mister Coriolanus Snow”.

“Careful, Y/N. You don’t wan’t to fall in love, right? People say he’s got a very cute pair of blue eyes”.

“I prefer the color green as my money, Sejanus. Prepare to lose”.

“I think you don’t know what’s coming for you, Y/N”.

You run to the stage, your place in the world, where you can finally give free scope to your passion: singing. Singing has always made you feel free, but tonight, perhaps due to the tension of the challenge, you feel a constriction in your chest. You and a little tipsy Sejanus have agreed on a bet against Coriolanus, but you have a better idea to win: you will tell him everything immediately, in order to pretend to be together for a while, so Sejanus will pay you and you will split the money with Coriolanus. No one will be fooled in the end, right? And then everyone knows that he needs that money too, so he certainly won't suffer from it. While you taste the victory on the tip of your tongue, the words escape your mouth. You apologize to the audience and your gaze falls right on Coriolanus, who isn't paying you the slightest attention, while he's drinking a beer on the sidelines, his Peacekeeper uniform making his eyes as blue as the tide stand out. Sure, Sejanus was right, but that doesn't change anything: a pair of light eyes isn't enough to make you fall in love.

Coriolanus Snow goes to the Academy, he dresses well, but that doesn't mean he's rich, far from it. You, on the other hand, were kicked out of the Academy because you didn't like their behavior, which is why Sejanus is your best friend. You always had the feeling that Coriolanus liked to follow the rules, but in reality he probably preferred to have control, power or money more than a conscience. That's why he's never been kicked out and you've never particularly bonded. It's not that you're greedy, no, it's just that you need money for your family and if a stupid bet can get it easily, then you will do anything to earn it, since the pub doesn't pay you enough for your fantastic shows. And anyway, Coriolanus is certainly an attractive guy, which isn't a bad thing.

“This song is dedicated to all the handsome blue-eyed boys here,” you announce, then grin, while some of your fellow soldiers make fun of Coriolanus and he finally notices your presence. “This song is called Nothing you can take from me and I dedicate it to my old school friend, Coriolanus Snow. Come say hello to me later, Coryo!” You exclaim with a wink and notice his gaze shift to you. For a second, just one, you feel a shiver run down your spine. You would never have believed that playing with fire could make you feel so cold.

Your song makes everyone present dance, everyone except him obviously, who continues to stare at you coldly, without smiling or saying a word, like a marble statue and this almost scares you. It also happened at the Academy, but there you didn't pay attention to it, also because there was no need to win his attention, but here there is a lot of money at stake and you need it desperately.

You descend onto the stage with a feline leap, you leave your guitar aside, while a roar of applause and compliments accompanies you behind the scenes, hoping that Coriolanus will follow you. The door closes behind you, but when you turn around, no one is there. Well, no big deal, it means you'll go look for it later or tomorrow at the latest, there's no rush anyway. But you feel observed and this sensation worries you a lot: it's as if you have someone behind your back.

"Well?"

You turn around, surprised that he's there. Up close he's taller than you remember and you can see his blonde hair well, even though it's shaved. His arms are crossed as he looks you up and down, but without eyeballing you, just a look of pure curiosity painted on his face. So why do you feel like a hunted animal?

“Coryo”.

"Do not call me that. You asked me to come here, right? You asked for my attention in front of everyone. I'm here now. What, the cat got your tongue?” He asks you, a crooked smile somewhere between amused and mischievous that gives a sinister light to his face. He has enough charm to seem like the Devil.

“Don't get any illusions, it's just a game”.

“I don't like playing and you don't like winning, as far as I know.”

“Those games are abominable and I think you know it too, since you're here, right?” You ask him. His smile fades and inside you rejoice, because you know you've hit the mark.

“Speak quickly, Y/N, the rooster crows early in the morning.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you tell him, getting dangerously close to him. He doesn't take a step back, but you see him on guard, almost as if he expects to be stabbed at any moment. “I bet Sejanus that I would make you fall in love with me,” you reveal to him and he smiles wickedly. “I only did it because he promised me money in return and my family needs it. I'm telling you this because I think we could pretend to be together for a while so he'll think we're really in love. In the end, I will split the money with you, since you need it as much as I do,” you explain to him.

For a moment, he observes you, perhaps because he is trying to understand whether you are sincere or not, then he nods, his face serious.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you: you like winning as much as I do.”

“I wouldn't play if it wasn't for a serious reason. We both know that Sejanus pays and well."

“But he's your friend, right? I wonder why he is doing all this."

“Maybe he's just bored.”

“Perhaps,” Coriolanus repeats, thoughtfully. “Anyway, Tigris must never know. I only ask for this in return,” he says and you offer him your hand.

"Deal".

“And try not to fall in love with me, Y/N. Unlike many others, I don't like playing. You wouldn't survive."

“There's no danger, Coriolanus,” you say, shaking his hand.

Now you feel less sure: why do you feel like you've just sealed a pact with the Devil?

[martiandmichelle]

Ya comfortable cause this is a kinda long post. . .

Some of you long-time followers may remember that I used to do a fair amount of prostitution. I cut way back on it several years ago after one bad experience and the growing success of Studio M. I did keep a (very) few of my favorite johns that I might see once or twice a year. One is a guy near my age (73) who lives alone on an isolated ranch in Texas. In the 11 years I've known him he's always been a gentleman with a great sense of humor. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately!) he has minimal control of his average-sized cock and cums quickly though only a couple times a day. In between those few orgasms of his he spends his time with me groping, sucking, and staring at my tits.

Soooo, anyway, it was during my last visit with him this past late winter, and while his was admiring his handiwork with my boobs, that he asked me about other tricks I had going. I try to be as honest as I can with someone who pays so much interest and cash on me, so I told him he was only one of 5 guys and 1 woman that I prostitute for. He wanted to hear more so I told him what little I could - not wanting to give away any secrets of my other clients. He began rolling my nipples between his fingers and masturbating them as they grew, lowering my resistance and increasing my breathing. He said he thought it would be really hot if I prostituted myself more often. The winter/spring "conference" of the southeastern US chapter of my global studio was coming up and he thought I should go and advertise my services. By this point my nipples were squirting milk all over the place and my cunt was gushing so how could I say no?!?

So, I went. He guessed at what I could charge new clients and I thought he was crazy while still begging him not to stop what he was doing to me tits. (I never have charged him more than I did that 1st time with him.) I took his suggestion and got management's wholehearted approval to go and show off and offer my services for what I thought was a ridiculous price. I made a bet with him that, at that exorbitant price, I wouldn't get over 10 clients.

So I staked my space at the "show" and opened up for business. Advertising my all natural T cup tits (that's before I grew to a U cup) and learning the next largest natural bust was an M cup, I thought maybe I had underestimated my traffic. What I did underestimate was my underestimation! After only one hour of opening, the organizers had to move me to their largest empty booth because of so many guests visiting me. My midday, they had moved me to my own room and at 5:00 pm they moved me again to my own ballroom - and even THAT was crowded!! (The photo above was from the conference as I accepted a sealed offer from a member.)

I simply could not believe there was that many men (and women!) who wanted to - and were willing to pay so handsomely - for time with me and my body! There were guys going together to have, threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, and more "-somes" with me. There was no way I could say anything but "yes!" and "Thank you!" to them all.

If you would like to read more, just message or inbox me, or even just comment on this post. I'm not starting this service until after my mountain trip so my first "working visit" is on October 3rd of this year. 2025 is going to be wonderfully busy!

(But don't fret, I'll still be posting here lots!)

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 8

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 8: Invitation

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 10.3k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food, AA meeting mention, jealousy, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, internal conflict, suggestion of sexual assault, trauma response, verbal argument, we're gonna pretend i know what i'm talking about w the criminal justice system but lets be real i don't

Notes: HEY HI! First of all big thanks to @frannyzooey for beta reading for me, I appreciate you with all my heart. Ok so up until a few days ago, this chapter was going to be this plus the birthday party. But I made an executive decision I think it will be better. So here's this and just know I already have a pretty solid head start on the next chapter lol. ANYWAY let me know what you think, ok love u bye.

[ Previous ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next ]

“…Happy birthday, dear Sarah, happy birthday to you!”

Sarah’s pudgy little feet patter in place on the seat of the dining room chair. Frankie rubs her back and says, “Blow out the candles!”

“Wait sweetie, let me just,” Angie scoops Sarah’s long chestnut curls into a bundle, “Ok go ahead.”

She leans over the small, two-tiered cake and blows them out one at a time.

“One… Two… Fwee… Four!”

All three of them cheer as the ribbons of black smoke dissipate into the air. Sarah claps her hands and squeals, looking up at her parents with big, sparkling eyes. Frankie can’t wipe the smile from his face. His heart aches with adoration.

While Ang plucks the spent candles from the cake and cuts it into sixteenths, Frankie takes a seat next to his daughter and asks, “Did you have a good day today?”

“Yes,” Sarah nods, watching her mom slip a chef’s knife under the biggest slice of cake and plop it onto a plate. Angie slides the plate in front of her and gives her a fork.

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

“Ummm,” Sarah stabs the chocolate sponge cake with her fork and manages to tear off a wobbly chunk, “The penguins.”

“The penguins! I never woulda guessed,” Frankie chuckles, glancing up at Angie when she hands him a plate, “Thanks, hun.”

Sarah carves a line into the air with her nose, a smile digging out dimples in her chubby cheeks.

“Got to stay at the aquarium for a long time today, huh? What kind of penguins did we see?”

“Mmm,” she pauses her attack on the cake to scrunch her face up and think about this, then resumes as she tells him, “King penguin… rockhopper penguin… emperor penguin… little penguin…”

“So many penguins!” he grins.

She giggles, “Yes.”

“And then we got pizza, and opened presents, and now we’re having cake.”

She wriggles around in her seat and giggles some more, “Yes.”

“That’s a good birthday, huh?”

Sarah nods and plunges a finger into the pink strawberry frosting.

“Use your fork, sweetie,” Angie reminds her, taking a seat adjacent to Frankie. 

Sarah sticks her finger in her mouth to clean off the frosting, then obediently picks up the fork.

“What should we do after cake?” he asks Sarah before taking a bite. 

The little girl hums thoughtfully, tapping one confectionary-coated finger to her chin, “We can… watch Happy Feet?”

Her big, dark eyes sparkle, a mirror of his own, and Frankie grins from her to Angie, “What do you think, Mama, should we watch Happy Feet after cake?”

She checks the smartwatch on her wrist and shrugs, “Sure, we can watch it for a bit before dropping Daddy off.” 

A pleased smile spreads across Sarah’s face as she digs her fork into the cake. Frankie turns his attention to his own plate, and a content silence falls over the table as the three of them eat. 

The silence is broken when Sarah asks, “Daddy, why don’t you sleep here anymore?” 

He stops chewing and looks over at Angie, who just tilts her head at him like she, too, would like to know the answer to this question. 

“Well,” he swallows a mouthful of cake and clears his throat, “Daddy, uhh… Daddy did something bad and got in trouble with the police.” 

She frowns at her cake, seeming to consider this, then looks up at him,  “Like when you and Mommy were fighting?” 

The response zaps him. Stuns him. His lips part to respond, but he finds himself speechless. 

What the fuck is she talking about? 

He combs through his memory and hits a snag. 

They just got back from some kind of a trip. Ang was giving him the cold shoulder. He recalls drinking in the garage, fuming by himself, trying to work up the courage to confront her. Yelling. Not just him, though, Angie too. Both of them just fucking screaming at each other. Blue and red lights outside. Doorbell. Cops. 

The scraps of his memory bind together and he remembers… it wasn’t a trip they all went on together. It was just Angie and Sarah. Not a fun vacation, either. More of a spur-of-the-moment trip to her parents’ house in Texas, inspired by his recently uncovered infidelity. 

Wasn’t Sarah sleeping? How the fuck does she remember that? 

Frankie shifts in his seat, glancing at Angie, whose face is inscrutable, then back to Sarah, “No. Well, kind of, I guess. Except worse. They took me to jail.” 

Her dark eyes go wide, “But bad guys go to jail.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Leaning forward onto the table, he presses his fingertips to his lips and watches her sponge-like brain absorb this information. He’s getting into the weeds. Keep it simple. 

“They let me go, but now I have to have a babysitter like you do. That’s why I don’t sleep here,” he reaches over and tucks a loose ringlet behind her ear, “Does that make sense?”

Her brow furrows, “Is Chacha your babysitter?” 

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. Asking all the right questions to make him squirm. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah, she’s pretty much my babysitter now—”

Angie scoffs. 

He shoots her a sharp glance, “Until we know how much trouble I’m in, at least.”

“I saw Chacha at the park,” Sarah informs him, as if he wasn’t there. 

The nickname makes him chuckle. She hasn’t used it in forever, now twice in one night? 

When he thinks about how your face will light up when he shares this news with you, warmth sparks in his guts. 

“You did see Chacha at the park,” he gives Sarah’s arm a playful pinch, “She told me she was happy to see you, and that she misses you.”

At this, Sarah giggles, dimples and all. 

And, at this, Angie shoves her chair out behind her and stomps out of the kitchen. Like a fucking child. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

The thought strikes him square between the eyes. Brief, but distinct. He sweeps it under the rug of his mind to deal with later. 

“Mommy don’t like her,” Sarah tells him in a loud whisper when the bedroom door slams closed.

He has to stifle laughter. 

“Don’t worry about that, princesa,” he waves off the petulant outburst, leaning in to ask, “Would you like it if Chacha came to your birthday party?”

Sarah studies him for a moment. When the question registers, she smiles wide and nods, “Yes.” 

“I’ll talk to Mommy about it later, ok?” 

“Ok.”

“Whaddaya think, should we finish our cake in the living room? Put on Happy Feet?” 

She giggles, hopping off the chair to spin in circles and clap her hands. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he snorts.

Once the birthday girl is sufficiently distracted, Frankie follows his wife’s warpath to their bedroom. He pauses at the closed door, hand hovering over the shiny knob, grimacing at what will follow. 

Did Sarah hear their whole argument that night? 

What else does she remember? 

Does she remember the days he’d call off work to take the two of you to the butterfly house? Or how he would sneak up behind you when you were cooking and kiss your neck? Does she remember you scrambling out of the house, half-naked, gasping for air, while Frankie held Angie back?

Probably not. 

Hopefully not. 

He takes a deep breath and twists the knob, pushing the door open. 

Inside, Angie is sitting at the foot of the bed, texting furiously. Frankie enters the room, closing the door behind him. He approaches cautiously and sits down beside her. Brings his hand to the small of her back. 

She doesn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Amor,” he murmurs, sliding his palm up and down her rigid spine, “You can’t get pissed at me every time she comes up in conversation. It’s not—” 

He cuts himself off with a thick gulp. 

This catches her attention. She tosses her phone aside and blinks, “It’s not what? Not fair? Is that what you were gonna say?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, Ang,” he shakes his head, leg bouncing, “It puts me in a weird spot. Whether you like it or not, she’s a part of my life—” 

“Oh, for fucks sake—”

“And—and Sarah, she picks up on that, you know? That you don’t like her—”

“I don’t give a shit if she knows I hate that bitch, Francisco,” Angie spits, “Why shouldn’t I, huh? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.” 

Answers deadlock his throat. 

Because I care about her, and Sarah cares about her, and she cares about us. Because she has helped me more than any other human has, more times than I deserve. Because she saved my life, and you should be fucking grateful. 

The thought makes him shiver as it replays. 

You should be fucking grateful.

He tries to bypass the question, clearing his throat before taking Angie’s soft hand and meeting her eyes, “I know this arrangement has been hard for you.” 

Her features sharpen. She pulls away and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Unease rings out his stomach. 

But a sense of familiarity dawns on him, too.

It reminds him of conversations he’s had with you the past two months. Those “State of the Union” discussions that loom, dark and terrifying, but end up making him feel ten pounds lighter when they’re all said and done with. 

And, fuck, he wants this to feel better. Wants to be in the same room as his wife and not feel like he’s walking on the razor’s edge. 

“Hey,” he takes back her hand, “Stick with me, ok? We can talk about this.” 

Angie glares at him, but waits. 

“We are friends. That is it. Just like Santi and Benny and Will—”

“Remind me, did you fuck any of them?” 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He stares back into her piercing gaze, with pleading eyes, “Ang.”

Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, but doesn’t storm off or start screaming at him, so he continues. 

“I know I fucked up by having sex with her. It was—It was a mistake.”

Angie’s features soften. Relief floods his veins, warm and buzzing and sedative. Like the first drink at the end of a stressful day. 

And, much like when he would finish his first drink, he aches for more. 

“It was impulsive. I was so fucking numb, I needed to feel something, and she was around. I’m not, you know, into her, or attracted to her—”

Angie scoffs. 

“I know it sounds like bullshit. I know,” he squeezes her hand, “But if I could go back in time and do anything over, it would be that day.”

She studies him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“It didn’t mean anything, amor. I love you. I mean, fuck, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.”

Her shoulders slump. She swallows hard and looks down at the floor. Her nails twitch against his palm and the rush it gives him flips his stomach upside down. 

“I’m sorry, Ang.” 

“You’re sorry you got caught.” 

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I was so fucked in the head I found comfort in someone else. I took you for granted, and I’m so sorry.”

Angie lets out a little sob. He should feel remorse. At the very least, he should feel something other than sick satisfaction at her finally breaking. Just a little bit more. Almost there. 

“But that day is behind us now, and what I have with her is entirely platonic. She has Rory, and I have you, and we are friends. She’s helping me out right now by giving me a place to live, and driving me places while my license is suspended, and just being… a really, really good friend to me. I know that’s hard for you, and I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but I promise that’s all it is.” 

“I hate it.” 

“I know,” he nods, pulling her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I know, baby. I just need you to trust that I’m doing this for you and Sarah. The two of you are everything to me. I love you.” 

Angie sniffles and straightens her spine, then looks over at Frankie, “Can you promise me something?” 

Her warm gaze is glossy and full of emotion. He leans into it, answering, “Anything.” 

“When the trial is over, and you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

It sobers him instantly. 

He pulls back, shaking his head, “Ang, I can’t—”

A fire comes to life in her eyes.

“If you give a single fuck about our family, you can and you will. You told me your friendship with her is a means to an end. Is that still true, or no?” 

Slowly, he nods, but it feels wrong. The dull blade of guilt rips his belly open. 

This isn’t what was supposed to happen. 

“Then you cut ties with her when this is done. Do that for me and I will put my feelings about her aside.” 

That’s what Angie tells him, but what he understands is this is a reprieve. A stopgap. It buys him some time to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do because—

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He swallows the thought down with a thick gulp and says, “Alright.” 

Angie blesses him with a peacemaking smile. 

Despite his churning stomach, he returns the smile and squeezes her hand, “Can… Can you do me a favor, though?” 

“What?”

“Let me invite her and Rory to Sarah’s party.” 

She stares at him like she doesn’t understand, then scoffs, “No.” 

“Why not?” 

Jumping to her feet, she shouts, “Because she fucked you in our bed, Frankie, do I really have to explain that?” 

He stands too, “You just said you’re putting those feelings aside, and she’ll be with her boyfriend, I don’t understand what the big deal—”

“Why does she even want to go?” Angie crosses her arms and scowls. 

“She misses Sarah. And Sarah obviously misses her, too. I mean, you heard her at the table earlier.” Frankie approaches her, placing his hands on her waist, searching her face, “I’m with you, amor. I promise. This would just mean a lot to both of them. Especially if they won’t be able to see each other again.” 

She softens a little. Her jaw ticks to the side, then she sighs, “Fine.” 

He represses the smile from his lips and murmurs, “Thank you,” before pressing a kiss into her forehead. 

She hooks her hands behind his neck and drops her eyes to his mouth. His pulse jumps as she captures his lips in hers, alive and wanting. The sugary sweetness of strawberry frosting makes his taste buds perk up and want more. 

Her long, red nails work into the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching that deep, aching itch for her favor. That’s the thing about Angie. She gives her affection sparingly, and when he earns it, it feels so fucking good. 

He can’t remember the last time she touched him like this, with enthusiasm and hunger. 

It was before he quit drinking. Before the failed attempts at marriage counseling. Before Angie came home from work early and caught her husband fucking the nanny.

It’s strange how something as trivial as early dismissal can alter the trajectory of so many lives. His own path seems to be an infinite freefall, always bracing for impact but never meeting the ground. 

Drinking more. Fighting more. Pushing you away again and again and again while trying to transplant these feelings into the right relationship. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Especially now, when Angie kisses him, and all he can think about is your lips, your tongue, soft and slick and writhing on his. The heel of your hand kneading against his stiffening cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, eyelids fluttering open to meet her gaze, not yours. 

He wishes it was you. 

But he closes his eyes and lets her guide him back to their bed, settling for the next best thing. 

Frankie hears the buzz of an incoming text message from his pants pocket. He kisses Angie’s sweaty forehead and departs from her body, snatching the discarded jeans off the floor. 

> MARIPOSA:  > Rory is over here fyi, let me know when you’re on your way 

A nagging, confusing spring of jealousy bubbles up in his chest. Something else, too. Like guilt, but deeper. An infection festering away inside him. 

“I should get going before the birthday girl falls asleep. I don’t wanna have to wake her.” 

“Can’t you stay?” Angie asks, stroking his arm, “I mean, really, Francisco. Your PO won’t ship you off to jail for spending the night with your wife, will he?” 

Her gentle touch is a branding iron on his skin. Searing. Territorial. He has to stop himself from lurching away. 

He slides his pants back on and shrugs, “I don’t really wanna find out.”

“So fucked up.”

“I know, baby,” Frankie fishes his shirt off the foot of the bed, tugging it over his head, “I have to, I’m sorry.” 

She releases a sigh and pulls her shirt back on, “Oh, don’t forget, on Thursday my parents will be here.” 

Nodding, he stretches his arms above his head. How could he forget? 

“Try to get along with my dad.” 

He rolls his eyes before turning to face her, “Tell him the same, yeah?” 

She snorts and fastens her jean shorts, raising an eyebrow, “I will, but you know how he is. Don’t take his bait.” 

Frankie grunts in response while buckling his belt. Fully dressed, they meet at the door. Angie looks him over, giving him a rare warm smile before telling him, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

She kisses him, and he places that rotten feeling: shame. 

Frankie walks up the cement path, craning his head up towards the cloudless sapphire evening sky, admiring the way it contrasts the tangerine siding of your post stamp of a house. The sun hangs just at the horizon, and its absence lends relief from the stagnant July heat. 

It’s a nice night, but he’s still a little surprised to find you and Rory are sitting out on the front porch swing, his arm draped around your shoulder with you all tucked into his side. Sure, it may be better than coming home to your closed bedroom door, with just the indistinguishable murmur of your voices to drive him crazy, but still… not ideal. 

The sight causes something deep within Frankie’s chest to clench and pulse, growling, “MINE.” 

Fuck, he couldn’t be more a hypocrite. 

“Whatta we have here, a couple of swingers?” he jokes while climbing the front steps.

It’s a bad joke, and in poor taste given the circumstances, but the sneer on Rory’s lips gives him a rush of satisfaction. 

Conversely, you light up when you see him. Your smile is fucking luminous. A goddamn heat lamp. He feels himself melting into the floorboards. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You sit up and put a little space between Rory’s body and yours, “Hey! How’d it go?” 

“Good,” he crosses his arms, leaning against the banister with a shrug, “Went to see the penguins, had pizza, presents, cake, all that.” 

“Did she like her gift?” 

“She loved it. She said she’s going to sleep with it tonight—Oh, that reminds me—Ang gave the green light for you two to come to her party on Saturday if you still want to.” 

“Holy shit, really?” you ask, eyes widening, then chuckle and shake your head, “Sorry, I’m just surprised. She really said that’s ok?”

“Yeah,” he smiles despite the guilt condensing in his stomach, and asks Rory, “Know if you can make it?” 

Rory’s head jerks back a little, and he frowns, “Well, this is the first time I’m hearing about it. But, yeah. I have nothing else going on,” he looks at you, “If that’s ok.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Your words come out airy and unconvincing. Rory studies your face.

Frankie calls your attention back to him, “Guess what she called you earlier.” 

You avert your gaze from Rory’s, tucking your hair behind your ear before you chuckle, “Oh god, did she learn it from her mother?” 

He laughs at this, shaking his head, “No, she called you Chacha.” 

“Shut the fuck up, did she really?” you gasp.

Frankie nods, “Hand to god.”

You sit with this for a few gleeful seconds before your smile falters, and you say, “I miss her.” 

“She misses you, too,” he tells you, “She’ll be happy to see you this weekend.”

You nod, then look to Rory, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line. He stares at you a beat too long for comfort. The air around the porch swing seems tense.

Frankie glances between you and Rory, then clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.”

You mumble a brief, distracted, “Oh, ok,” before he walks into the house. 

As he closes the door and leans back against it to untie his work boots, he hears you ask, “What?”

Both the sharpness in your voice and its volume make Frankie halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the curtains rustle from a light breeze. Quietly, he pulls his boots off and sets them on the shoe tray. Morbid curiosity keeps him rooted in place, barely breathing as he listens in on your conversation. 

“You didn’t tell me we were invited to his kid’s birthday party.”

“He said he would ask, but I wasn’t going to invite you until I knew for sure whether or not we could go.”

More silence, then your voice again, “Oh my god, what is your problem?” 

“I don’t like how you are with him.” 

“How I ‘am’ with him? What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.” 

“I really don’t, could you explain it to me?”

Rory pauses for a beat, then says, “You’re flirting, both of you, right in front of me. I don’t like it. And—and I want it to stop.”

“What am I doing that you think is flirting?” 

“It’s not just you—”

“What he does is irrelevant, he is his own person—”

“It’s fucking disrespectful.”

The silence that follows writhes under his skin. 

This is private. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But he can’t bring himself to move. Some fucked up part of him wants to hear what you say to Rory about him. How do you defend yourself? Do you throw him under the bus, too? 

Are you just as bad as me?

Your voice comes through the window again, metered and firm, but shaky. 

“What am I doing that you consider flirting?” 

Rory scoffs, then says, “It’s the way you look at him and talk to him. Always smiling at him, and joking with him, and asking him how his day went—”

“Wow, how dare I ask my roommate—my friend—how his day was.” 

“That’s not what I mean. It’s—it’s—I know it when I see it, ok? There’s obviously something going on between you two.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan, “Because I smile and joke with him, and ask him how he’s doing, we are so obviously fucking. You’re totally right, Rory. You caught me.”

“He’s a fucking loser, you know that, right?”

Another long pause. 

“I want you to leave.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously, get the fuck off my porch.” 

“I don’t have my—”

“I’ll get your shit.”

Frankie hears the porch swing creak and his heart jumps. He launches himself forward and manages to collapse on the couch as you swing the door open. 

You freeze when you see him. Your eyes flick from him, to the open window, then back to him before you scoff and stomp off to your bedroom. 

Rory steps into the doorway, standing at attention with his hands shoved in his pockets. Frankie stares at him. Something protective and instinctual, almost paternal, wells up inside him and fine tunes his nerve endings.

From the back hallway, you holler, “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to get the fuck off my porch.”

Frankie can’t stop himself from laughing.  

Rory glares at him, “Fuck you.”

You steamroll into the room wielding a backpack and shove it into Rory’s chest, “LEAVE.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“I sure am. Get the fuck off my property.”

Rory holds your gaze for an intense moment before turning to go. You slam the door behind him and deadbolt it, then go to the front windows and do the same with them. 

“I’m—”

You hold up a hand to Frankie and exit the room. A few seconds later he hears your bedroom door click shut. 

After scrubbing his skin raw in the shower and changing into pajamas more comfortable than he deserves, Frankie tries to go to sleep early, but finds himself restless. 

He stares at the ceiling, at his phone, at the walls. When he hears running water in the bathroom, he wonders if you’re getting ready to go to bed. Wonders if you’re ok, and if you would accept his company. 

He thinks about his wife. Her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hot breath on his cheek. The electric squeeze of her cunt as he came inside her. 

What would you do if you knew? 

Would it tear you apart, or could you care less?

Fuck, why does he feel so guilty? 

For the sex just as much as the tentative agreement he made. 

You know he intends to stay with her, and there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Not really. Nothing certain, at least. Right?

Sure, there was the slip up the week after he moved in. And the panties. And, yeah, some flirting. Not intentional when Rory is around, despite what he may think. And maybe you got off next to each other once. Then there’s the cuddling, and the hand holding, and this deep, aching, maddening desire to spend every ounce of his free time with you. To know all of your favorite things, and your life story, and your ticks. To make you feel happy and appreciated and safe and loved. 

And loved. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

His muscles and tendons vibrate with anxious energy. 

It brings him to his feet and compels him to wander through the dark, silent house, into the living room, confirming its vacancy. He starts off towards your bedroom. The light from your open door slices through the dark back hallway like a beacon. Floorboards creak under his step as he makes his way towards it, and when he arrives, he leans against the door frame. 

You’re stretched out horizontal across your bed, belly-side down, facing away from him, hovering over a thick book. He studies the curvature of your body, lingering on the generously exposed swathes of soft skin that lead to the hem of your shorts. 

“Are you just gonna hang out in the doorway like a weirdo?” you glance over your shoulder, then back at your book. 

“Sorry, I, um... I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting.” 

“You’re not,” you sit up and crawl to the head of your bed, tapping the empty pillow beside you, his pillow, his spot. “Come on in.”

While he walks over to the furthest side, you plump the pillows on your side of the bed and stuff them behind your back, then resume reading. 

“What’s that?” he asks as he stretches out across your bedspread.

You lift the cover to show him and sigh, “Still chipping away at Doctor Sleep.” 

“It any good?” 

“Terrible, that’s why I’m reading it.”

Frankie snorts and shakes his head while digging his phone from his pajama pants, “Are you doing ok?”

“Wow, you’re full of great questions tonight, huh?” 

“Maybe you’re just full of sass tonight, ever think of that?” 

“Doesn’t sound like me.” 

He raises his eyebrows and murmurs, “No comment.” 

“That’s, like, actually a comment though, in itself—”

“Weren’t you reading?” 

“Weren’t you—I don’t know, reading the news or whatever dads do on their phone?”

“Looking for car parts,” he corrects. 

“Same thing.”

Frankie drops his phone on his chest and looks at you, “Not even close.”

You peek around the corner of your book, “It’s like, equal levels of dad-ness, though, so basically, yeah.”

“Levels of dad-ness,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, “You’d know something about that, huh?”

“About what, how daddy you are?” you laugh.

He shrugs, meeting your eyes. You hold his gaze, mouth cracked open in a mischievous smile, then shake your head and look back at your book, “No comment.” 

Grinning like idiots, you both go back to reading and browsing, respectively, although Frankie can’t concentrate for shit with you next to him. His skin aches with the heat of your body so close. 

He listens to every breath you take, every wet swallow, every microscopic wiggle bringing you closer. Minutes go by, but he doesn’t hear your page turn once. 

Eventually, you let out a powerful yawn, and it spreads to him. 

You grab the bookmark off your nightstand and tuck it between the open pages before closing it, “I should go to bed soon—” another yawn interrupts you, “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” he sits up, stretching his arms over his head, then looks back at you, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your features melt and soften, lips parting as you meet his eyes. This invisible force keeps him anchored there, tugging at his chest, urging him to move closer to you. He glances at your mouth, at the pink flash of your tongue wetting your lips. 

He doesn’t want to go. 

He wants to stay and kiss you breathless, to fall asleep with the warmth of your body lining his, to wake up in your bed and never fucking leave. 

He wants to take back everything he said to his wife earlier today, to defend your honor like he should have, like you would do for him, like you did for him. 

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve you. The hole he dug for himself is a just punishment. He needs to let you go and allow you to find peace with someone else who won’t hurt you like he has. Like he will inevitably do again. 

You reach out and place your hand on his arm, thumb grazing his tingling, heated skin, “Do you want to stay?” 

The contact floods him with feel-good chemicals that his hungry synapses gobble up. 

“I, umm—”

His throat swallows around his thudding pulse. It fucking hurts how bad he wants you right now. He finds himself leaning back on his elbow, gravitating closer to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist as you roll on your side to face him. 

“Is that a good idea?” he asks. 

“Probably not,” you search his face, your gaze catching on his mouth.

His heart skitters and he doesn’t really notice that his fingertips dig into your side until your whole body shivers in reaction. Doesn’t really notice he’s been inching closer to you until your breath grazes his lips. 

The sound of your ringtone cuts through the thick air between your bodies. 

You sit up and shake your head, trance broken, then reach for the source of the noise with shaky hands, “It’s Rachel. She’s full bridezilla mode, this might take a while.”

“Ok,” he nods, “I’ll go.” 

You look over at him, apologies written all over your face. An impulse yanks hard on his body and urges him forward. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips a hand behind your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

Your lips are soft and warm, fucking perfect, just how he remembers. They barely have time to respond before he draws back and tells you, “Goodnight.” 

You watch him crawl out of your bed, stunned silent for a moment, then answer the phone, “Hey, Rach—what’s wrong?” 

Frankie glances up at you as he closes the door behind him, and sees you tracing the dumbfounded smile on your lips. 

When he turns out the lights in his room and crawls under the covers, even though he knows damn well he won’t find sleep for hours, he does the same. 

Frankie is at work, elbows deep in the engine compartment of a Bell 407, when the call from his attorney comes. 

“Your case is on the docket,” the voicemail tells him when he returns to his small, shared office space, “Trial is scheduled for Wednesday, September 6th. We might still be able to find a favorable plea deal, so I’ll get working on that, but either way, I’d like to set up a call with you early next week to discuss your options moving forward. Give me a call when you get this, thanks.” 

He takes a seat at his desk and stares at his phone for a minute, then replays the message to make sure he heard correctly. He did. 

The earth tilts. 

Everything seems to crumble as reality dawns on him. All he can see are cold steel prison cell bars and stiff orange jumpsuits. Angie’s words from the other night echo in his head:

“When the trial is over, when you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

A vast, unshakable hollowness overtakes him.

Or… or maybe it’s the opposite. 

Maybe he’s so heavy and full he’s just sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, endless pit of his mistakes, down, down, down… 

He unlocks his phone to return his lawyer’s call, but pauses when he tastes the salt of his own tears. Confused, he wipes his eyes and stares down at his damp hand.

Frankie just sits there for a moment, watching tears splatter onto his palms, stunned. When did he start crying? Why did he start crying?

He knew it was just a matter of time before the consequences of his actions became real. Now it’s happening and he’s blubbering like a baby. 

I need to get my shit together. 

He stands and shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking out his hands.

A string tugs at his chest, leading him to Michael’s desk. He watches the closed door as he carefully pulls open a drawer. Inside, he finds a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The string pulls taut, urging him to do it. 

He thinks about Angie. How her sour attitude always poisons his mind. How this thing between them feels so distant, so vacuous, he doesn’t know how he will ever restore it. 

He thinks about Sarah. How much he’s failed her as a father. He thinks about his own father and wonders if it’s pointless for him to keep resisting fate. Was it always going to be like this for him? Does it matter if he tries to be better, or is this all futile? 

He thinks about you. His chest aches and he feels tears burn behind his eyes again. He wishes you were here. You’d know what to say or do to make him feel better. 

Frankie takes the cell phone from his pocket and dials your number. He glances up at the door again as the line rings. 

“Hey,” you answer, sounding slightly confused, “What’s up?”

Kids squeal in the background as he tries to find his voice. Words catch in his throat, the only thing that comes out is a rasp. A sob. He’s fully crying now. Staring at the whiskey. 

“Frankie, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” 

Your concern is audible. It reaches through the phone and coaxes him to speak. 

“I, um,” he swallows hard and shakes his head, “I don’t know. I’m kind of freaking out right now.” 

“Why, what’s going on?” 

“I just got my court date,” he sniffles, clears his throat, then says, “I feel… hopeless.” 

“Where are you?” 

On your end of the world, Frankie hears a door click shut and the chaotic background noise becomes muted. 

“In my office.” 

“What’re you doing?” 

He pauses, so you repeat the question. 

“I’m staring at a bottle of whiskey,” he admits quietly. Just a whisper. 

“Ok,” you breathe, and he can hear your mind start to whiz into action, “Ok. Did you drink any of it?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Thank fuck,” a sigh of relief crackles in his ear, “Ok, that’s good. Good job. Can I come get you? I—I mean, do you want me to come get you now? Because I can—”

“No, sweetheart,” his eyes flick to the ceiling, trance broken, and he pushes the drawer closed, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I will—”

He turns towards his desk, “No, really, it’s ok—“

“Oh my fucking god,” you huff, “Look, I am responsible for you. Not only that, but I—I care about you, Frankie. I need to know that you’re safe. And dry.” 

Warmth sprouts up beneath his sternum and branches out under his rib cage. 

“And—and it’s ok if the answer is no, because I can just come get you and bring you h-home,” you stumble a little on the last word, but you recover quickly, “Are you safe?” 

“Yeah. I just needed to, um,” he turns and leans back against the desk, pressing his fingertips to his mouth, then drops them and says, “Thanks for picking up.”

“You promise you’re not falling off the wagon?” 

“I promise.” 

“Good,” you say, your sweet, soft voice tinged with a smile, “If you’re lying to me, though, I’m gonna break your thumbs.” 

“Break my thumbs?” he chuckles. 

“Yeah, you know how many bottles you can lift with broken thumbs? None.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “Alright, alright. Don’t get out your vice grips just yet, buster.” 

You laugh and Frankie feels his heart swell with adoration. There’s a bit of an awkward pause when your laughter fades out, then you murmur, “Thank you for calling me. Instead of… you know.” 

“Yeah.”

“Still need me to pick you up from your meeting later?” 

“If that still works for you.”

“Of course it does,” you coo, and he can hear the smile in your voice again when you say, “So, about my movie pick for tonight...”

He grins, “Uh-huh. You got a good one?”

“Well, the thing is, I was going to pick The Shawshank Redemption, but that seems a bit too topical now—”

Laughter bubbles up Frankie’s throat, and he shakes his head, “Hey, maybe it’ll give me some pointers for tunneling my way out of a prison.” 

“That is so true. In that case, maybe I’ll keep it. We’ll see,” you chuckle, “Ok, well… I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

“I’ll be there.” 

When Frankie sees your car pull up to the strip mall coffee shop that holds his Friday night meeting, a few thoughts populate his head almost instantaneously. 

At the very forefront is the reminder that he kissed you. 

It was a peck, really, just a quick kiss goodnight. But for three days, the first thought on his mind when he sees you or thinks about you or breathes or does anything really is that he fucking kissed you. 

After being notified of his court date, Frankie should only be thinking up ways to see minimal jail time. But every time he finds a still moment, before anything else, he pictures you sitting on your bed, rubbing your lips and smiling as he leaves your room. 

The thought that follows this one, on par for the past three days, is that he fucked Angie. 

Has anyone ever felt this fucking terrible about having sex with his wife?

Then, on top of that, he said shitty things about you and let Angie do the same. He knows he didn’t just betray you, but he betrayed himself, too. It wasn’t just wrong, it was disingenuous. That knowledge fills him with a heaviness so profound, at times he thinks it might break him. 

Which brings up the last thought that shotguns through his head following the kiss, then Angie: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

What “this” is, he hasn’t quite figured out yet. His marriage? His obsession with you? Sobriety? Life itself? 

Fuck, all of the above? 

All he knows is he means it, and that “this” is not sustainable. 

He built a timebomb with no countdown. If he concentrates hard enough he can hear it ticking in his bones, whispering in his ear: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Frankie opens the passenger door to your car and sits down, closing it behind him, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” you throw the car into reverse, craning your neck around to check for oncoming traffic, “How was your meeting?” 

“It was… good, actually,” he stretches out in the seat and shrugs, “Yeah. I, uhh, I think I needed that today.”

“Yeah?” you glance over at him, “So your opinion that it’s, and I quote, ‘total bullshit’ has shifted a bit?” 

He chuckles, “I guess so.” 

“Wow, look at you. A changed man,” you smirk, “You’re almost two months sober, you know that?” 

“Feels like centuries,” he taps his lips, then tells you, “But also days, sometimes. I don’t know. It’s weird.” 

“Is it getting easier?” 

Not at all. 

The thought surfaces from the hungry part of his brain. The beast that just wants and wants and wants, regardless of the cost. But that’s not necessarily accurate, even though it’s the loudest part of him. 

“Sometimes,” he admits, “Sometimes I can’t imagine being that person again. And—and sometimes all I want to do is drink until I don’t care about anything anymore.”

“But the meetings help?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What step are you on?”

“Well… I haven’t actually started the steps. So, zero.” Before you can ask, he adds, “I don’t know why. I should. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.” 

You nod in acknowledgement, then a few seconds pass before you tell him, “Last time I talked to Ralph, he suggested I check out an Al-Anon meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’ve been thinking about doing it,” you glance between him and the road, “Would that be weird?” 

“I don’t think it would be weird at all,” he answers, tapping his fingers against his knee. 

“Really?”

“It might be helpful, talking to other people in similar… situations, I guess.”

“Ok. Well, yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.”

“You should,” he gives your arm a playful pinch. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Your hand moves towards his, then the fingers curl back and you mutter, “Sorry,” before returning it to the steering wheel. 

Frankie studies your face, watching your jaw gnash around like you’re chewing on your goddamn tongue again. He lays out his hand, palm facing up on the center console. 

You look at it, then release your white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel to place your hand in his. 

Once you do, he interlaces your fingers and pulls your clasped hands to rest on his leg. His thumb absentmindedly works against your skin as he looks out the window at storefronts and restaurants rolling past. And, for the first time all day, he feels sated and calm, like he knows everything will turn out ok.

As the end credits to Moulin Rouge! run, Frankie looks down at you sleeping peacefully with your head on his lap. He rubs your arm, murmuring, “Sweetheart.”

You wake with a start, jolting upright, and clamber to the other end of the couch. Your wide, frightened eyes glow with the ambient light of the TV. Every muscle in your body is rigid and guarded. You look like a cornered animal. 

“Hey,” he holds up a hand, “It’s just me.”

It takes a moment for you to recognize him and your surroundings, but when you do, you slacken, burying your face in your hands, and release a sob.

He stares at you, afraid to move, not wanting to rattle you further. A minute goes by like this, while you cry and he sits there frozen and uncertain. 

“Sorry,” you sit up and wipe your eyes, shaking your head, “That was fucking weird I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize. It’s ok.” 

“Ok,” you stand on shaky legs, “Well, goodnight.”

When you walk past him, he calls out, “Hey, wait,” and grabs your hand, “Are you ok?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t pull away, either. For a moment he doesn’t even think you’re breathing. When your breath returns, it’s a sob that racks your body. You shake your head and choke out, “No.” 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

You nod, so he stands and follows you to your room. The lights stay off as he crawls into bed beside you, ushering you into his arms. You feel so warm there, fit so perfectly, even with your stuffed panda bear cuddled into your chest. 

When he thinks about your nightmares, your panic attacks, the times like this when you seem stuck somewhere far away, he desperately wants to know who did this to you. 

He can connect the dots. He doesn’t need you to tell him the gory details. If he could put a name and a face to the scars in your psyche, though… 

He cuts his thoughts short, not wanting to see all the methods of vengeance his volatile brain can come up with. Not with you right here, safe in his embrace, drifting to sleep. 

The long, slow breaths expanding and contracting your rib cage lull him into a hypnotic state, and sleep comes to him easily, the way it only does when he’s with you. 

Frankie wakes in your bed at dawn.

Eyes still closed, he frowns when a breeze slices through the thick, stagnant air and cools his skin.

He mutters to himself, “You stole the goddamn blanket again, didn’t you?”

One eye peaks open and confirms his suspicion. At some point overnight, you managed to twist yourself up into a cocoon on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Hmm?”

The noise is muffled and groggy. He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Go back to bed.”

The heap jiggles a little. Your hand pokes out from underneath it and grabs around for him. He scoots closer, peeling back a poofy duvet layer to reveal your serene, still mostly sleeping face. You wince at the dull light of day, but a smile ticks across your lips when you make contact with him, smoothing your palm against the heat of his chest before worming your way into his arms. He pulls the blanket with you, draping it over himself, even though the air is hot and soupy, just to feel your warmth because it’s yours. 

You mumble something into his shirt. The words all stick together when they dribble from your comatose lips and he can’t make out a single one. 

He smirks, “What’s that?”

This time, you tilt your head to the ceiling, notching the crown of your head between his collar and jaw, smacking your mouth a few times before repeating yourself. 

This time, he understands. 

“IIiii love you.” 

His heart skitters electric through his fingertips. 

He tries to keep his countenance calm when he peaks down at you. Your eyes are closed, breath passing through your slack lips in long, halting strokes. One foot in the door of consciousness, if that. 

Fuck it. 

“I love you, too.” 

Every synapse in his brain shoots off like the grand finale of a fireworks display when he says it. A sweet, sleepy hum sounds from your throat as you feel around blindly for him, patting up his arm like you’re searching for a light switch in the dark. 

When you reach his face, your wobbly fingertips twitch a little. They graze his stubbled cheek, then follow the curve of his smile. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do, you don’t go to move or push him away like he was half-expecting. 

No, instead, your gaze slides to where you trace his lips, your own parting with a sharp breath. 

If he says anything, he’ll fuck this up, he’s sure of it. And he wants to squeeze every last drop from this moment. So he just watches you and tries to subdue the wildfire scorching his bones to dust.

“I had a dream about you,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper, as if someone might overhear. 

His pulse surges. He feels his limbs wiggle a little closer to you as he asks, “A good dream?”

You nod.

“What happened?” 

The answer tucks into the corners of your mouth and spreads across your face in a big party banner smile, “I dreamed that you, um…”

You lick your lips and shrug, raking your nails along his jaw, reeling him in closer. He doesn’t want to be the fool that makes the first move. Not unless you want him to be. 

“That I what?”

The question leaves his throat in a rumble. Permission, he needs your permission, baby, please—

Then you kiss him. Delicate and hesitant, like a question: “Do you want this?”

“I do,” every cell in his body cries, aching with restrained force when his lips move in response, pressing hard against yours like a declaration, “I don’t just want this, I need this. I need you.” 

A moan bows your vocal cords, vibrating onto his tongue as you yank on his shirt and roll onto your back, pulling him on top of you. It’s like second nature, how his hips arch into yours, the dull edge of your pubic bone grinding against his already stiff, throbbing length. 

He keeps expecting you to come to your senses and shove him away, but you don’t. You keep kissing him, pulling him closer, tongue rolling soft and wet against his—morning breath be damned, thank fucking god. If you tried to shoo him now, he might die, too much inertia from this pulsing, maddening energy rippling beneath his skin, it would tear him to shreds. 

Your lips part from his and you peer up at him through your lashes, studying his face as you tug at his cock over his shorts. His whole body shudders, a groan spilling from his chest, and you smirk, “Take them off.” 

“Are you sure?”

You glance at his lips, then meet his eyes, “No, but do it anyway.” 

Frankie sits up and strips off his clothes, watching you do the same. You pull him with you as you lay back on your elbows, lips meeting again and again in frantic, desperate kisses. His cock nudges against your slick entrance, and you whine, “Please—” 

He pushes forward, swallowed up by your tight, wet heat, catching the whine of “Fuck yes,” that escapes your mouth. A thick wave of pleasure rushes up his spine, and your hips work against his, taking him faster, the shared movements quickly escalating. 

“So fucking good,” he pants, nipping at the column of your throat as your head falls loosely back, “Sweet girl, you take me so well, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open slack, eyes pinched shut, “Oh my god, yes, Frankie—”

“That’s it, baby, say my name,” he growls, this insane gush of hot, writhing ecstasy flooding his body, “Look at me.”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes. He slips a hand behind your head and cradles your skull, holding you here, fucking you in deep, long strokes, asking you, “Whose pussy is this?”

“It’s yours, Frankie,” you gasp, nodding, “It’s yours, it’s always yours, fuck—”

“Fuck yes it is,” his voice sounds far away, babbling all on its own as he grapples with the fire growing inside him, “Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?” 

You let out a pathetic whimper and shake your head, “No.”

“Do you think about me when you fuck him?”

A nod, continuing frantically when he asks, “Think about how you wish it was me to make yourself come?” 

“Fuck, holy shit, Frankie—oh my fucking god—”

You’re so fucking close. His muscles start to clench at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“That’s it baby, come on, let it go, it’s ok, be a good girl let me feel you come on this dick—”

Your moans grow louder, matching his fervid thrusts, and he feels you suck him in, the spasming squeeze of your plush, hot walls yanking him violently over the edge. Liquid static condenses, then pulses through him, and he lets out a guttural noise as he fucks his load into you. 

The rhythm of his hips slow, then come to a stop. 

He looks down at you, panting, and brushes his thumb against your cheek, searching your face for signs of regret, and notices you’re studying him in the same manner.

You smooth your hands over his shoulders, then pull him into a sweet, lingering kiss. When your lips depart his, you release a heavy sigh, dragging your nails through his damp bed head as you ask, “What time do you have to go?” 

An old, familiar ache returns. Reality setting in. He realizes what the day holds in store for him. Sarah’s birthday party. Spending the day with family and friends, playing pretend. 

When he thinks about being around you and Angie simultaneously, how he will have to act neutral or even cold towards you, his stomach twists and a sour taste rises in his throat. He’s been here a million times and it always leaves him nauseous with shame. It doesn’t feel right. It never felt right. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Everything seems to click into place. He understands what he has to do. 

“Pablo is picking me up around 9.”

Your throat bobs and a crease forms between your brows as you avert your gaze, fingers still working through his hair, “Today’s gonna be a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?” 

“Mmm,” he presses a kiss into your forehead, right on the little worry lines, mumbling against your skin, “It’ll be ok.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “We just fucked, now we’re gonna spend the day with your wife and daughter, what could go wrong?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckles, but you don’t find it funny. 

You flinch and look down, hands curling to your chest. Frankie tilts your chin up. When he meets your eyes, they’re bloodshot and watery. He opens his mouth to say something, frantically searching his brain for some kind of band-aid, but the box is empty. He’s not sure what to say to comfort you. All that comes out of his stupid fucking mouth is, “I—fuck, sorry.” 

“No, it’s ok,” you wipe your eyes and sit up, so he draws back, watching you scramble to put your shorts back on, “I, um… I’ll go make some coffee.” 

He wants to assure you it will be ok, that he’s going to fix this, make things right. Something he should have done years ago. But the words lodge in his chest. What if he can’t fix it? What if it’s another promise he can’t keep? 

So he just sits there and lets you walk away for the millionth time. 

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Frankie pours a cup of coffee and walks into the living room, where you’re scribbling in your notebook, limbs twisted up into a tight knot. Uncertainty paralyzes him in the archway between rooms. He takes a step back, pauses, then steps forward. 

You smack the notebook and blink at him, “Oh my god Frankie, just sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

He nods and strides over to the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion beside you with a groan. Meanwhile, you return your attention to the notebook, furrowing your brow as you write.

Curiosity flips his stomach. Is it about him? About what just happened? 

Desperately, he wants you to share your feelings on the matter with him like you would your journal. The unfiltered truth. 

Do you want this like I do?

He takes a big, burning sip of coffee, then asks, “What’re you writing about?”

Your eyebrow arches and you continue to scribble as you narrate, “Dear diary, he’s gonna be super fucking weird about this now, isn’t he?”

Frankie snorts, shaking his head while you spear your pencil down the notebook’s wired spine and smirk at him. He tugs at one of your ankles, and you welcome the invitation, stretching your legs out across his lap and he scoots closer. 

“Am I being weird about it?” he asks, glancing down into his steaming mug. 

You exchange the notebook for your coffee and raise it to your lips before shrugging, “A little. But I think I am, too, so…” You take a loud sip, then lower your mug and ask, “Do you regret it yet?”

He doesn’t even think about it. The answer barrels from his heart to his mouth. 

“No.” 

A timid sort of smile curves your lips. It reminds him of the way a neglected animal would react to an outstretched hand. Cautious. Not sure if he’ll slap or pet you, but hopeful. 

“Really?”

He nods, searching your face, “What about you?”

“No. But—” your smile falters, eyes dropping to your coffee cup, “But I’m scared.” 

Guilt pools icy cold in his guts. His throat bobs on its own accord. He takes your hand, weaving his fingers with yours.

Your face twists into a pained expression and you croak, “What are we even doing here?” 

“I don’t know yet,” he shakes his head, “But give me some time—”

“I can’t be your mistress again,” you whisper, shaking your head as tears pool in your eyes, voice escalating, tinged with panic, “Please don’t ask me to do that again, it would kill me, Frankie, I fucking can’t—”

“Hey—no,” he sits up to place his mug on the table, takes yours and does the same, then scoops you up onto his lap.

You bury your face in his neck. Sobs work through your body with violent force—a horrible, tortured sound that pulverizes his heart. All he can do is squeeze you tight and do his best to restrain his own tears. It barely works. Self-loathing bubbles under his skin. 

His voice cracks as he tells you, “I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?” 

He clenches his eyes shut, cradling you as a few more strangled noises burst from your chest, each one driving the thought deeper: I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“Give me some time,” he rasps into your hair, “I promise I’ll fix it—”

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying,” you choke out in an accusatory fashion, then take a big, wet, gasping breath. 

“No, I’m not—hey, look at me.”

He pulls back to meet your eyes, but you shake your head in protest, covering your face, “I don’t want to, I’m ugly crying.”

“Ugly crying?” Frankie snorts, “I don’t know about that, let me see.” 

Your shoulders bounce with a soggy, muffled chuckle, “Shut up.”

He smirks at the spunky response as you sniffle and drop your hands, shooting him a glare he knows you don’t mean. Feigning seriousness, he pinches your chin to inspect your damp, puffy face. 

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue and sighs, “Just as I thought. Too goddamn pretty for your own good.” 

To this, you roll your eyes and chuckle, “You’re a liar.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, thumb sliding across the plush of your bottom lip, “But not about this.”

Your gaze softens as you search his face, “Which part?” 

“All of it.” 

“Really?”

Frankie nods. 

You study him, brow furrowed, eyes welling up. Everything is so silent and still, he wonders if the world stopped turning. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you croak out, “You better not be fucking with me, Francisco.”

“I’m not—”

“Because, I swear to god, if you’re lying—”

He cups your cheeks and holds your gaze steady on his, “I promise, ok? I’ll tell Ang later this week. But today…” He trails off, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

A few tears break loose, so he wipes them away. 

The column of your throat bobs and you ask, “Do you still want me to go?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “Do you still want to go?”

“You first.” 

“I’d like it if you did. And it would mean a lot to Sarah,” he slips his arms around your waist and leans back onto the couch. You follow, laying your head on his shoulder, melting into him as he pets your hair and says, “But it’s up to you. It might be hard.”

“Because you’re still… with her, right? Like this?”

His chest aches. You flatten your palm against his heart and he tells you, “Yeah. Well, kind of. It’s different, but yeah.” 

“Different how?” 

I don’t love her. Not like this. 

“I, um… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just a different person. Our relationship isn’t like this. It’s kind of like it was, but, you know… worse.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “Do you still fuck her?”

“No.”

The lie slips out automatically. Immediately, his stomach drops to the ground. He wishes he could take it back, and for a second, he considers it. But, at the same time, you don’t need to know about a one-time fuck up. 

He shifts a little, looking down at you, “But we’re still… affectionate sometimes. Which could be hard to see. So, it’s up to you.” 

You smooth your hand up his chest, to his neck, and sit up to meet his eyes, “I’ll go.”

Frankie nods, searching your face. 

“We can behave, right?” your eyebrow quirks, and you glance down at his mouth. 

“Uh huh,” he leans closer, inhaling your breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. 

But when his lips meet yours, and sparks ignite under his skin, he knows it’s just another lie. 

[travellingarmy]

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

✦❘༻𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༺❘✦

Ch. 3 - Teas, Cakes, and the Sleeping Beauty

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

Malleus Draconia x fem!reader

Chapter list + Summary

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Do not steal/copy + paste my works and upload it anywhere else.

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

“The prince.. Wants to meet me?” This was certainly a surprise and one can guess so at the look on your face as look at the maid who stood by the door. You put down the book that you weren’t even invested in and just read it to kill time on the time period where you were given a break– Yes, you were given a schedule to follow each day. It consisted of all your lessons, break periods, meal time, sleeping time– whatever one could think of. Although, you find the part of them deciding when you should sleep a bit unreasonable.. I mean, you were pretty sure that you are now at that age where no one would need to decide when you should go to sleep. You weren’t sure who had made up this schedule of yours and so could only guess who the mastermind is. 

“Yes. He wishes you could meet him in the garden for lunch.” Although you could tell she does not want to be in the same room as you and in fact, could not even try to bother hiding the scorn on her face, she nevertheless answers you. 

You look off to the window in thought, putting a finger to your chin. Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s now been a few weeks since I’ve seen him.. You had assumed that he’ll never want to cross paths with you after that night, seeing as he has taken great interest in staying clear of your path for this long. 

You closed your eyes in contemplation, not that you were going to refuse the invitation in the first place since he is, after all, the prince. It would be rude to reject him, you believed, and let’s not forget to mention that if word got out that you had rejected his invitation, you have no doubt that this servant girl will spread rumours about how heartless you are to their beloved prince and that the marriage was a mistake. You could not have that now. Besides..

“Alright, I’ll go,” you conclude, turning your gaze to the girl. You had been building up your courage to meet him for a while now– not that you knew where he even was– to come and ask him about a letter you had received two days ago. Shocking as it may be, it was regarded to you. “You may leave now.” She bows her head not out of respect but out of protocols and leaves the room quickly as if she had been waiting for the moment. 

You sighed and returned to looking out the window. You were starting to come to peace with the fact that you’ll be living with a ghost of a husband but with that invitation that you could not reject still looming over your head that had asked that you come with him, it was now impossible to do so. This will be the first time I see him after so many days.. “Urgh..” You felt your stomach turn and you suddenly felt sick. You had almost forgotten how nervous you were when you were around him but now faced with the current reality, you felt yourself break into cold sweats just as you once had during the wedding. Now thinking about it, you’re beginning to wonder if the guests that day saw the sweat drops on your forehead and the slight shake of your hands when you held hands with him for that occasion.

Picking up your cup, you take a sip of your drink and relax as the sweet taste of it melts on your tongue.

Hm.. Maybe I should change my dress beforehand. You looked down at yourself and assessed the current clothing you were wearing. It was a simple, tiffany blue dress with white pearls stitched to it and white lace tracing around the open parts of the dress such as the sleeves. It was not overly flashy since you were just staying in the castle and not going anywhere fancy.

You thought about it. It has been a while since you've even taken a glimpse of the prince and although you both are husband and wife who should not need to impress each other, you weren’t remotely close to having the bonds of a couple. You’d most likely embarrass yourself wearing the plain dress you worse right now..

—

'Uhm.. How exactly do I get to the garden?' You had left your private lounge a few minutes ago since it was nearly time to meet him; however, you found yourself lost and running late to the lunch meetup. Your eyebrows twitch as you swore you had passed the same corridor at least twice now but you couldn’t be too sure since the castle looks the same almost everywhere. The manor back home wasn’t this confusing.. I hate castles.

You should have asked the girl from earlier the directions to the garden before dismissing her. O’ how could you have been so foolish enough to forget that you barely knew the layout of the castle? You wanted to slap yourself but you do not want to make yourself look crazy if someone were to come waltzing past you at that moment. Actually, you were praying– begging– to those higher up to have someone walk this hall so you could ask them for directions. 

Take deep breaths. You can find a way, I know it! You reassure yourself. And besides, right now, you should give yourself a pat on the back since you were certainly making progress through this maze; you were sure that you were on the main floor of the castle. 

Taking just up a few more steps ahead, you see light cascading through an open door. You are certain that it is leading outside since you doubted a chandelier could illuminate that bright still well through the day. A smile appears on your face as you walk towards the door. 

The smile turned to one of more confidence when you stepped out into the sunlight and the cobblestone path that had grass on their sides. Now you were more than halfway to reaching the garden! You just had to walk to the back of the castle– easy peasy! You chuckle, proudly resting your fists on your hips. It was a silly thing to be proud of if you think deeply about it but come on– you had navigated your way in the unfamiliar castle all by yourself! You were pretty proud of that.

You took eager, hasty steps around the castle with a determined look. Garden. Garden. Garde– “Oomph!” Just as you turned a new corner, you didn’t notice the large object in your path and so you clumsily tripped. The fall was not in the slightest soft despite falling on grass.

You slowly sat up on your knees, feeling your chin swelling from the impact. You rubbed your chin and hoped that it didn't look ugly.. In fact, it would be better if you couldn't see it at all. "Ugh.." What the heck did I trip on– oh! 

Your eyes widened as its gaze lands on a man. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft and steady. He does not seem to have felt the kick when you hit him and the thud when you fell since he did not open his eyes at all– wait. 

Is he unconscious!? Panic sets within you. If he hadn't reacted to all that, he surely must be, right? "H-hey.." You scoot closer to the unconscious male and nudge his shoulder gently. "I didn't knock you out, did I?" There was a slight shake in your voice just thinking of the possibility, but you were sure you had just tripped on his legs and not kicked his head! "Argh..! I don't know what to do!"

As if it was godsent, the male groans amidst his senseless state. Then, "Mm.. So noisy.." He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. O' thank heavens! He really was just asleep..! You clasped your hands together and a wide smile appeared on your face. Maybe there were a few tears of joy at the corner of your eyes threatening to fall, but who knows? You were too relieved that he was okay. In fact, you were too relieved to even question why he was even there in the first place.

"Hm?" After now being fully woken up from his nap, the man notices and cranes his head towards you, the source to his reason being awake. "Who are you?"

Eh– You felt as if you were turned into a stone statue at his bold question. Sure, you were hated on but that reputation of yours is certainly huge. Does he seriously not know who you were? 

"Ah, I'm–" Just as you were about to introduce yourself, he sighs tiredly and cuts you off. "Nevermind, don't answer that.." He says. He rests an arm on his knees and droops his head, closing his eyes. Rude.. Was what you wished to say aloud but you're sure this guy won't care at all. 

"I'm too tired.." He comments, but you're pretty sure he wasn't talking to you. Now there you were, unsure of what to do next. So awkward.. 

A cool, gentle breeze passes you by, causing your hair to be blown by the wind. You hold a hand in your head to make sure your hair doesn't become a mess since it surely would not be presentable when you meet Mal– oh.

AH, that's right! I'm already late..! Panic rises in you once more as it dawns on you that you've been making him wait for far too long now. The food has probably gone cold now, being cooled down by the breeze. "H-hey.." Your voice sounded of urgency but the man does not open his eyes to look at you. In fact.. He looks like he's gone back to sleep!

Urk..

You stare at his side profile long and hard, contemplating if you should nudge him awake again. During your awkward staring, you carefully looked at his complexion. Oh wow.. His eyelashes are pretty.. And it wasn't just his eyelashes that you found alluring; his face was also so smooth! Not a single imperfection on his symmetrical face. I'm kind of envious that a boy could be so much prettier than me. 

"Is there something on my face?" Although his eyes remain closed, he asks you a question, catching you off guard and embarrassed. "A-ah, no.. I just thought you were pretty, is all.." You chuckled guiltily, averting your eyes to nowhere in particular.

Amidst your awkward aversion, his eyelids now flutter open, revealing his equally captivating eyes. "Why are you still here?" He asks you. There wasn't a hint of malice, just a tiny bit of annoyance from having been woken up.

You straighten your posture and move your eyes to look at him again. Although he wasn't scary, he certainly had a commanding voice. Were all the people here this authoritative? Ah, nevermind that, this was the perfect time to ask him for directions, you thought. "I, uh, I was wondering if you could point me to the garden.." You say meekly, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. Gosh we're you having a hard time remaining your eyes on him.

"The garden..?" He repeats and watches as you nod your head. He turns his gaze to the sky in deep thought. "Mm.. Then you're way off the path. This is the castle's barracks; this is on the other side of where you're heading,” he confesses nonchalantly. You felt yourself become a stone statue again but this time, felt it cracking. The confidence you once had just moments before suddenly toppled down at the confession. 

He looks at your stiff posture with the look of a gawker. "Pfft." A smile cracks on his bored face and tries to stifle a laugh and covers it with a fist. When that could not be done, he turned his head away from the silly look you had on in fear of breaking out into loud laughter. 

He clears his throat and calms himself of his silly antics. "Ahem. If you want, I could walk you to the garden?" You were mindlessly staring off into space when he stood up and offered you a hand. You blinked owlishly, looking dumbly at the hand in front of you before it finally clicked in your head. 

You offer him a shy smile and a ��thank you’ when you reach for his hand. "No problem," he says and takes one look at your dress before commenting, “You should probably dust those dirt off.”

—

“Here we are.” A huge smile crept up on your face as a huge wave of relief washes over you. You scan the area to confirm if you really were in the right place– and you were. Tall hedges acted like walls to enclose the garden and decorated on them were all sorts of colourful flowers sprouted outside of it, albeit the shades of them could be a little brighter..  “Next time you want to go to the garden, turn right twice then left once from the dining hall,” he says, all the while not looking at you. Instead, he stares at the garden entrance with a hand resting on his hips. 

There was a moment of silence with you two standing side by side, just a few steps apart. Oh, right! I should thank– Your thoughts were cut short from another sigh that escaped his lips. “Anyway, I should get going now..” He mumbles which had you thinking if he was saying that to you. Just as he said that, he turned back around and scratched his head, he tiredly spoke again, “Urgh.. So much for my nap.. Now I think father will be catching up to me by now so I can’t go back to sleep..” He yawns loudly, seeming to not care about manners and bothering to cover his mouth. 

“Wait, let me–” You outstretched an arm as if you were going to grab him, but it just remained hovering lazily in the air. Before you could even stop him so you could say a proper thanks, he had turned a corner and vanished from sight. “Ugh.. I didn’t even get his name..”

Nevermind that, you were already running late to the initial lunch meetup and you were sure that Malleus would come to an agreement with the other nobles that you were chosen by mistake. I mean, you don’t recall a princess ever being this sloppy. I really should have just stayed home that day and avoided this situation entirely.. 

Your chest rises and fall as you take a deep breath to calm your nerves. Now feeling like you have collected yourself, you turned around and– “Oh..!” What is with you and running into things? You stopped yourself short, almost running into something or rather.. A someone. And O’ boy was it a situation to be in.

Without even looking up, you already felt cold sweats break loose and your fingers began to run cold. You were well acquainted with this looming figure over you since it had happened twice and you couldn’t help but take a nervous gulp. “Child of man.” Your skin crawled and your body stiffened up. You had almost forgotten the deepness of his voice and so it caught you off guard. 

When you didn't answer him, his eyes narrowed slightly disapprovingly and took his eyes off you to look at the corner where you had just watched your guide turn to leave your sight. Just what were you staring at, he was curious, but he held his tongue. He stares at that corner a minute too long for your frantic mind who still did not dare face him. “My eyes are up here.” He crosses his arms when he returns his full attention to you. “O-oh, yes!” You stutter. At his words you quickly snap your neck up, now nervously staring at him. However, his eyes.. You’ve always found them a frightening shade of green. 

“Ah.. Uhm..” You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to find the right words to start with and avert your gaze to just past his arm since you really couldn’t look over his shoulder. It really is hard to look at him for more than five seconds, but you were trying your best. “Your Highness..” You decided on the first words to greet him with and you feel like it was a good choice until you see that his eyes narrow even more to which only further serve to make you feel nervous. He hums. He didn’t look angry or disgusted by you, a human. But still, it was hard to tell if he was even remotely okay with you. 

“I-I’m terribly sorry for running late..” You picked your words carefully but they still came out shaky. When he doesn’t say anything, you start to fidget with your fingers close to your chest. Argh, how am I supposed to keep living like this when my husband is scary? You close your eyes, thinking hard of some flattery words to make him less angry at you. 

He stares at you with unreadable eyes but is certainly assessing you. You were still fearful of him, that much he knows. But after recalling Lilia’s words from that night, he calms down and relaxes his face. He was sure that it was very stern which could be the reason you look at him with fearful wide-eyes. He wants to try.. Try at getting to know you. 

Truthfully, if you had come a minute later, it would be a sure fact that the kingdom would be ravelled in a dark storm cloud. But nevermind that, he should focus on making you be less afraid of him. “It’s fine,” he breathes out and turns on his heels and begins walking deeper into the garden. “You are only late by just.. 45 minutes.” There was a moment’s pause in his voice, emphasizing the time. You were embarrassed since it was clear that he was being sarcastic. 

You stood there with an evident look of a slow-witted person so he had to halt his steps. “Hm? Do you not want to have lunch with me?” He cranes his head just enough to peer over his shoulders. His chartreuse-coloured eyes glazed over you. “Oh.. Yes, I’m coming..!” You blinked your stupified state away and jogged up to him whilst making sure you didn’t trip again. 

—

So awkward.. 

You found yourself sitting under a hooded gazebo that was decorated with a table and two chairs facing each other. The moment you sat down, several servants had come out of nowhere and placed all sorts of food on the table. Even with all the food on the table, your hands remained glued on your lap and focused on trying to not look at him, opting to look at a plate of untouched food in front of you. Malleus does not seem to have taken notice of how uncomfortable you were which made you feel even worse for dwelling on it. In fact, you could see a background of flowers just spinning beside him as he takes a savoury sip of his tea with closed eyes. Well, at least he’s enjoying himself, you thought. 

“Child of man.” Your body straightens up in alert when he calls you by that nickname. He sets down his cup on the saucer with the sound of a clack as it does so. Instead of eating, he felt that you had been eyeing him for some time now but when he looks, you’d look elsewhere. You were a curious little thing, that much he had concluded. Lilia had proposed the idea to invite you for tea when he had asked how to make you be less afraid of him and even offered enthusiastically to bake sweets for you. That, however, was shut down by Malleus since he had a fair amount of those so-called delights of his, and so the kitchen staff had made all the dishes. 

Malleus did still later ask Lilia for what should be served since he has lived long enough to have had interactions with humans before in the short decades without war. “Hm? Kehehee, why, they enjoy sweets of course.” That was what he said so Malleus had the kitchen prepare all sorts of sweets along with a few none-sweet foods. However, looking at you who had not touched a single thing– not even the slice of chocolate cake that had been deliberately placed next to you– he could only assume that you must be unwell. Certainly, Lilia does have the tendency to fool around for someone his age, but he by no means is a liar. 

He takes a dessert plate off the stand and places it right in front of you. “Have a try of this cake,” he says and leans back on his seat, “It’s a favoured recipe here in the kingdom that is well known for its overly sweet taste.” He made sure to emphasize the last few words in hopes that they might make you want to eat it. If you don’t eat it then surely there must be something wrong with you. 

The intense stare he’s giving you is making you more nervous, but he had invited you to eat so you should kindly accept the food he’s offering you. “Mn. Thank you.” You instinctively look up— something you do when thanking someone is to look at them to express sincerity. But alas, you got spooked at his frightening eyes that you flinched away. 

With shaky hands, you reached for the fork at arm’s length meant for dessert. No matter whether you will like it or not, you have to say something nice, you thought, since he did say that it was a loved sweet in the Valley and so must be his favourite as well. 

“Oh..!” The taste melts on your tongue the moment you take the forkful of it in your mouth. It was sweet, yes, but not overly too sweet just as he had said— maybe you just have a sweet tooth. It reminded you of a cloud.

Suddenly, you felt relaxed as if you had totally forgotten whom you sat across. That did not bother the fae, however. Despite the stoic expression painted on his face, he felt relieved that you’re eating and that you weren’t sick at all. He brings his cup to his lips again and watches at the adorable light that flicker across your eyes when you take more bites. You looked exactly as Silver once did when he was a baby, he thinks. 

—

Instead of going for a quiet lunch and then returning to following your schedule down to a T just as you had thought, he invited you further to a walk in the garden. Well, you hadn’t left the palace ever since coming here and this was the most time you have spent outside since your arrival.. You had agreed since it wouldn’t hurt to get to know your way around the palace, even though it’s just the garden. And in the back of your mind, you also thought that it’d be quite selfish of you to only do what is best for you after having made him wait for quite a long time. 

You walked quite some distance behind him and kept quiet and to yourself, admiring the beautifully trimmed bushes and roses that stemmed out of it. You halt in your steps when you find a particular flower that doesn’t look like the rest. It was almost crystal-like with how clear it was and how it shows different colours just as you would see when light is casted on a polished crystal. 

You bend forward slightly, clearly enamoured by the uniqueness of it. Your homeland houses a certain flower and they all come in rich, vibrant colours, but clearly it was nothing like this. “You should be careful of the thorns.” You were drawn back from the sight when a voice speaks close to your ears, its tone low. It wasn’t a whisper of a gentle breeze brushing past your ears, but it sounded of rich silk. 

You didn’t need to turn your body around since just a slight crane of your head to the side reveals Malleus leaning way into your comfort bubble. His face was practically just beside yours! His eyes traverse from the flower to meet your wide-eyed gaze. “Hm?” He blinks at your curious expression. “This flower– although different– is much like a rose with its thorns,” he explains as if that was the reason you were staring at him. 

He straightens up to his full height and it still amazes you how a giant roams this land. He is practically twice your height, you believed, even when you stood at your full height. His towering build and those eyes of his essentially makes him twice as much terrifying. “Have you ever seen this flower, child of man?” His head slightly cocks to the side with a curved finger on his chin as if he’s thinking. “I’ve made sure to replicate your home by having the gardener plant roses– your country’s symbolic flower.” 

“Ah.. N-no, I have not.. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flower like this before,” you answered in earnest, although you stuttered here and there and spoke with a shy voice. It’s true. Although your country had other flowers, none could compare to the abundant red roses that would grow out of the cracks of the ground and traces along the buildings without the care of a gardener. In fact, there was a festival every year at the peak of spring that was all about those flowers. 

"Hm, I see.. So the kingdom really lacks magic.. It amazes me how long humans have survived without magic." He blurts out with no awareness of your pride as a child of that kingdom and capabilities as a human. You felt like you've been stabbed. You can agree with him, but he didn't need to say it so casually to your face. 'Geez. This prince is awfully honest.' He kind of reminds you of a certain someone— that guy with silver hair from earlier. His eyes moves to the flower again. "If a high concentration of magic stays in one place, flowers like these are not a rare occurrence. 

"If you like it, then I'll have someone make it into a floral arrangement and send it to the room for you." He looks at you and you swear you could clearly see an imaginary dog's tail wagging behind him and pleading with his eyes to say 'yes'. "I-If you don't see it as a hassle.." Your tongue let loose before you could catch it, finding yourself surprised.

He hooks his fingers on his collar as if he's going to fix the already neat garment. "I'll have them be sent to you then." He nods, feeling proud of himself. Again, you feel like you might be going mad when you hallucinate little petals spinning behind him.

'Ah! I nearly forgot..!'

"Um, Your Highness.." You start off slow and carefully, unsure if it really is the right time to burst his happy bubble. But this is your opportunity, you think, since you're not sure when or if you'll see him again after this. "I received a letter a few days ago."

He blinks, standing quiet for a hot second before gesturing for you to continue with his eyes. "It's an invitation from Marquis Hagen's wife; she wants to meet me at a banquet she'll be hosting on her birthday," you said. 

He stills. "An invitation?" He repeats carefully. When you nod, his brows furrowed in deep thought and brought a finger to his chin. When he doesn't say anything for a while, you think that it's a 'no' answer from him. A shame, really, since you haven't– "Alright, you can go."

You clasp your hands together excitedly. It's been so long since you've had interactions with somebody outside the castle. "Really? Thank you, Your Highness," you said and adds, just remembering what else the letter wrote, "Ah, she.. She also asked for you to come– if you're not too busy, that is." You drop your hands and watch him with careful eyes. 

"Hm?" A look of a surprise dawns on his face, but only for a second. "Then, I'll go."

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