#it all went downhill when I decided to change the box in the middle from yellow to pink…

[cartoon-skeleton]

I painted for 8 hours yesterday and changed the color palette like 100 times (hence the muddiness), I scratched a bunch of shit out in frustration but I’m just gonna leave it lmfao it’s due tomorrow n too wet to work on anymore

[rafescoke]

i’m sooo obsessed with your entire page holy moly. if you’re taking requests can i get kinda an angst one where the reader is with jj and finds out him and kie have been doing stuff behind her back, and the rest of the group knew the whole time? so she ends up getting close to rafe and hanging out with his friends so it eventually ends up with rafe x reader??? sorry that’s so long lol pls never stop writing, i love your fics too much <3

All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

#Part 1

#Part 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her 

Warnings: Cheating, substance, mentions of sex, jealous Rafe, JJ & Kie being an asshole

A/N: Thank you so much for the amount of love I received from my last two works! It has been so overwhelming and I love each one of you with all my heart <3

p.s, my request box is always open! Send random ideas and I’ll turn them into a fic <33

p.p.s, so sorry if this isn’t my best work :(

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t be a party pooper!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she pulled her best friend aside from all the commotion, “Sarah. I’m serious. I feel like he’s cheating on me.”

“He’s not!” Sarah groaned, and when (Y/N) gave her a look, she sighed. “I’m serious. He loves you too much, okay? Look, tomorrow’s your birthday, right? I’m sure JJ’s just ignoring you as a part of your birthday surprise.”

(Y/N) wanted to believe her so bad, but she couldn’t deny the strong feeling growing inside her. Ever since a month ago, JJ wasn’t there for her like always. When she tried to hold him in the van or at the Chateau, he would flinch and scoot away from her. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Look-” Sarah cupped her face, her eyes boring into hers. “I promise that he’s not cheating on you. Can you please let this go? How about you go and find him, have a smoke, and then come back to me with the verdict?”

(Y/N) hummed back in response, thinking about what Sarah had just told her. When she first moved to Obx from the city 4 years ago, she had been spending most of her time with the other kooks. When she bumped onto JJ one particular evening while he was too busy mowing down her lawn, that was when most of her happiest days started. 

(Y/N) made her way towards the far end of the beach where JJ and the other pogues were hanging out, her feet lightly patting against the hot sand. (Y/N) took a deep breath when she saw the love of her life laughing on a log, and quickly walked towards him.

“Hey,” she started, sitting on the empty space beside him. JJ shifted, giving her more space, and muttered a quick ‘hi’ back. He offered her a beer, to which she shook her head to, and he shrugged before downing the whole content.

“You’ve got some beer here,” (Y/N) said, leaning forward to wipe the tiny droplet on his chin. JJ hurtled backwards as if on cue, and quickly wiped the stain with the back of his hand. (Y/N) stared at him, being caught off guard, but decided to not create any drama.

“You really don’t have to do that,” (Y/N) muttered, wrapping her cardigan over her tighter. The cold night air swept over her, causing her hair to fall over her shoulders. She didn’t bother to fix it as she watched JJ scoffed, the fire in front of them reflecting on the surface of his blue eyes.

“Do what? Wipe my mouth? Come on, (Y/N), it’s really not that big of a deal,” JJ sighed. He didn’t even bother to hold her hand, to reassure her that it’s really okay, and instead he continued his conversation with John B about some kind of a movie. She noticed Pope looking at their way, but he quickly turned to look at the waves when she returned his gaze.

“Do you want to smoke?” she tried again, this time with her hands on his lap. He didn’t move, and (Y/N) took this as a good sign, her heart fluttering happily. 

It’s progress.

“You sure?” he asked, fumbling with his back pocket to reach for his extra blunt. When he grasped the rolled up herbs between his fingers, he handed it to her, smiling when she scooted closer. He lighted it for her, watching her took a deep huff before blowing the smoke.

“That’s good?” he asked before taking a blow for himself. He felt his heavy mind getting lighter, the weight he has been holding since forever slowly lifting into the air. He laughed, and turned to look at the state of the girl beside him.

“Thank you, baby,” (Y/N) smiled, this time with her head on his shoulder. She saw Pope looking at them with some kind of a heavy look again, but just like before, he turned away before she could ask him anything. 

“Pope?” 

Pope’s attention from the crashing waves turned completely to (Y/N), his eyes wide and his mind panicking. His eyes glanced to the blonde boy beside her for a second, but it settled back to her. “Yes?”

“You’re okay? You keep looking at me. Is there anything that you want to tell me?”

“Me?” he pointed to his chest, and when he saw the look on JJ’s face, he laughed, making an action of swatting his hands against the air. “Oh no. I was just thinking about something else. I guess I involuntarily looked at you.”

(Y/N) laughed with him, her head still on JJ’s shoulder, her eyes slowly squinting against the glowing fire that seemed to be too bright. She turned to whisper to JJ, “Can we go home?”

“Tonight? But It’s Bonfire night. We can’t leave yet,” he protested, glancing at both of his friends for help. Pope, not wanting to spend anymore time with them anymore, quickly stood up from his seat and walked towards the main space of the party. 

“I’m gonna go with Pope, okay? Find Sarah. Go and talk to her? I’ll call you later,” JJ quickly added, standing up from his seat, stirring (Y/N) from her previous position. She sighed, her head still woozy, but she didn’t want to think about the possibility of him cheating on her.

He wanted her first, it’s just not possible for him to suddenly lose feelings for her. The countless times he would tell her that he loves her, that she’s the only girl he will ever mark as his, and now nothing?

She groaned, kicking the sand, all while the muffled music thrumming against her eardrums. She turned to look at John B, the only guy left with her, and opened her mouth to say something.

“Do you see the problem, John B?” she asked, her voice slow. When he didn’t reply, she sighed again, this time standing up from her seat to return to the ongoing party. “This is exactly the fucking problem.”

She didn’t understand; why is everyone treating her differently? What did she do? She sacrificed almost everything to be apart of their group, including her relationship with her kook friends. At that moment, she longed for her bedroom, where she knew she will be totally safe, all cuddled up with Netflix to enjoy.

“If it isn’t the princess,” a voice said from behind her back, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes before turning to look at the source. The tall figure of Rafe Cameron loomed over her, and (Y/N) tried to block his scent of cigarette and expensive cologne. She never really stopped liking his smell.

The Camerons and her family are business partners, and that was the core reason for her family to move to Obx in the middle of July 4 years ago. Meeting Sarah and her siblings for the first time, she couldn’t deny the strong attraction she felt towards the oldest sibling, but she had thought of it as nothing more than a silly crush and tried to focus more on her relationship with a certain blonde boy living on the other side of the island.

“You can take a picture, it’ll last longer that way,” he smiled, and (Y/N) groaned when she could hear the amused tone lacing in his gruff voice. She made to walk away, but was halted by Rafe’s fingers around her wrist.

“Come on, I was just playing. That’s not the way to treat an old friend,” he laughed, letting go of her. He looked around her, noticing her odd behaviour, and suppressed his smile. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“I don’t know,” she finally replied, and returned the gesture of looking around him. “Where’s the girlfriend?”

Rafe laughed, throwing his head back as his hair messily slicked to the back. “Girlfriend? I don’t do girlfriends. Come on, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Not a surprise,” she said in a singing tone, giving her attention towards the dancing bodies next to the speaker. “Look, Rafe, just say whatever you want to say to me, okay? I’m tired of trying to figure out what people wanted to say to me.” 

“I just want to make a conversation,” he shrugged, chugging down his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His actions reminded her of JJ, and she quickly looked away when she felt a pang of hurt across her heart.

“Uh-oh, I know that look,” Rafe said, tugging her chin to force her to look at him. (Y/N) grunted, feeling his cold skin against hers, but she let him stare into her eyes before quickly pulling away. “Yeah. It’s that look you’ll put when you’re worried about something. What’s up?”

“Rafe, it’s really nothing,” she sighed, scooting away from the boy. She looked around again, and her eyes landed on a certain blonde boy, and she could feel her heart soaring up again. Rafe’s eyes followed her gaze, and when he saw JJ, he turned to look away.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rafe replied, already making his way towards the keg station.  (Y/N) noticed the change in his behaviour, seeing how cold he turned, but decided not to mention it. She was being cold towards him first, so she guessed it was fair for him to be acting that way. 

Rafe didn’t understand how blind she could be. Couldn’t she notice the pattern of the girls he fucked? How they all looked so similar to her? 

He scoffed, sipping from his red cup as he watched her walk towards the boy that stole her from him. Everything was going perfect; they were hanging out almost every day; just her and Rafe, either it was in his swimming pool or (Y/N)’s hot tub. When her father had hired JJ Maybank to mower his lawn, that was when everything went downhill. 

“Cameron,” a voice greeted from beside him, and when he turned to look at the figure, he expressed a sly smirk.

One more person that looked like her.

. . .

JJ’s phone was beside her.

She kept telling herself no, that she should trust him since they are in a relationship, but her brain was yelling for her to go through his phone.

He’s cheating on you.

She groaned, unable to contain herself anymore as she grabbed his phone, looking around briefly before typing his passcode. 

The phone vibrated in her hands as she failed to guess his passcode, and she frowned before the screen. It had been her birthday’s date, so why wouldn’t it open? She tried again with their anniversary date, and again, was met with the same fate.

“What the fuck?” she said to no one in particular, and sighed before trying out random numbers. Lastly, she pressed all 1, not thinking much of it and already accepting her defeat. She exclaimed in happiness when his home screen appeared with his background a picture of a dog.

(Y/N) frowned again, remembering how it used to be a picture of them, but decided to not question it as their picture had been replaced by a dog instead of something else. She went through his Instagram, scroling down the many direct messages, through his Imessages; where he texts the pogues a lot and through his Snapchat, only finding their private pictures in his ‘my eyes only’.

She released the breath she didn’t realise she was holding, shutting the phone off and letting it lay in its previous position. She smiled, secretly cursing at herself for ever doubting JJ. He must’ve been busy with his life, just-

Ding!

Involuntarily, (Y/N) picked up the phone and watched as Kie’s name appeared. She typed in his passcode quickly, trying to see what she needs so that she could try and help her with anything in case if it’s urgent. Her heart stopped for a minute when she saw her text.

Kie: You’re sleeping with her tonight?

Why would she even text him that?

(Y/N) sat up straighter, her fingers gliding across the screen in a swift motion.

wdym?

She watched as the typing signal appeared, biting the insides of her cheeks. She looked at the direction of the toilet again, hearing the blonde boy humming to a Nirvana song. She looked at the screen again.

Kie: You promised me you would be with me tonight

Kie: Just us two

Oh my god.

She could feel the hot tears coming in, but her bathroom door creaked open, so she threw the phone back to its initial position and cleared her throat, looking to the ceiling and randomly muttering words to herself.

“Huh?” JJ asked, looking at the direction she pointed. He saw nothing, and looked back to her. 

“I said white’s not the color anymore. I think I’m changing it to grey. What do you think?” She asked, feeling her throat hurting. She cleared her throat again as JJ stared at the ceiling one more time, his face all scrunched up.

“I think grey’s okay?” He said, but it was more to a question. He took his phone and sat beside her, shielding his screen from her. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, silently interpreting his strange demeanor. 

She cursed when it finally hit her; she hadn’t delete her text to Kie.

She bit her lips, curling her toes and randomly tracing circles on her lap. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see clearly, she couldn’t think.

How could she forgot to delete that one, single text? 

“I have to go,” JJ stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. (Y/N) looked at him, ready to ask if she could follow, but halted her action when he put a hand up.

“I’m seeing John B. Something about, um, Sarah stuff. Just me and Pope. The boys,” he muttered, clearly trying to tell her that he wouldn’t be bringing her to the Chateau. (Y/N) nodded, feeling her heart sank, because she finally understood everything;

The glances he would give to Kie in the HMS Pogue, the brief moments where he would put his hands around Kie’s waist when he tries to slip in between her and someone, the flirtatious laugh he’ll emit when she makes a joke - it all made sense.

(Y/N) used to think that it was all just friendly behaviour and how he had known her longer hence it must’ve been normal for best friends to do that. One thing that (Y/N) likes about herself is how she’s able to guess things correctly - 

But she had never wanted to be so wrong about something before.

“You’re okay by yourself tonight?” 

“Huh?” She finally looked up to him, seeing his blue eyes staring straight into her boring ones. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he smiled, proceeding towards the open window to exit her bedroom. (Y/N) ‘s father would never give his blessings towards this relationship, so he had to enter and exit his girlfriend’s room through the window. 

He hesitated before reaching the seating girl, placing a soft but immediate kiss on her cheeks. (Y/N) smiled weakly in return, not trusting herself to say anything.

How could he?

Ten minutes after his departure, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her father’s car keys before fleeing after a particular black motorcycle. She didn’t even think about turning the car radio on, and her mind was set on only one thing; JJ and Kie.

When she arrived at the Chateau, her fingers trembling and her hair all over the place from the wind while she was driving down the road, forgetting to close the window, she quickly made her way to their usual hanging out place.

Before she could enter the room, Pope’s voice interrupted her actions.

“(Y/N)? What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes widening. He looked at her palm around the doorknob, and let out a nervous laugh. “You’re looking for JJ? He’s not here.”

She gets it now.

“Pope, I know,” was all she said before opening the door. 

She felt her world shattering right after she was greeted with the sight of Kie on JJ’s lap, running her fingers through his blonde locks while she kissed him tenderly like  (Y/N) always did. John B and Sarah were right next to him, cheering him on, but stopped when they finally looked up to the looming figure.

“Oh my god,” Kie exclaimed, pushing herself off JJ and fixing her hair. (Y/N) made a look, disgust filling every inch of her body as she quickly walked away from the scene, not wanting to hear any apologies or explanation.

None of that mattered to her; she just wanted to go home.

“(Y/N)!” she heard him yell, but she exited the Chateau as fast as her feet could take her, not stopping to look at him. She cursed when she couldn’t find the right key to open her door, her fingernails clanking against the metal.

“It was a dare!” JJ said, right after he reached her. He watched as she didn’t pay any attention towards him, still fumbling for her keys. “I swear! The kiss was just a dare!”

“Was the text a dare as well?” she asked, finally putting the right key into the keyhole and stepping into the car. JJ cursed and stepped aside, feeling drained and tired from the screaming.

Of course he didn’t send the ‘wdym’. He never like short forms, only using them when he is in the toilet and typing with his left hand. Why didn’t he realised this sooner?

“I’m sorry,” he said, but before he could say anything else, the girl drove straight towards the exit, away from him. 

The worst part of all wasn’t about not having a chance to explain himself to get out of the mess he made, but it was when he saw the pained look on her face. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, kicking a stone and making his way back towards the Chateau. 

(Y/N) fingers scrolled down the many contacts in her phone as she tried to focus on the road simultaneously, and finally stopping when she reached the letter ‘R’ contacts. 

She tapped on the first name under the R letter, putting the phone call on speaker and placing her phone on her lap. She shuddered, suddenly remembering the way she had found JJ and Kie in, but shook her head when his voice filled the atmosphere.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Rafe.”

-

add yourself to the taglist!

[ererokii]

Repudium || Shouto Todoroki & Katsuki Bakugou

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader x Pro Hero Katuski Bakugou

Repudium means rejection in Latin.

Warnings: angst, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag once again, mwah katsuki is a king

Word Count: 10,734

Synopsis: Shouto leaves your heart in pieces and expects you to come back to him, but doesn’t realize someone is mending it back together. 

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @miinaashido @saltie @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder @sugacookiies @pixxiesdust @sacro---sainte

➺: Note: This is for @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event! The prompt is Pain Comfort. You asked, so now you shall receive, this is part two of Once More. I suggest you read that first before reading this. Thank you Zeze, Mar, and Gabs for betaing <3

Bingo Masterlist

“I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.” 

Those words replayed like a song worth listening, over and over again. Your mouth that could sing dozens of symphonies sang a song that could curse a man for the rest of his life. Words of hatred and malice drowned Shouto to the pits of the earth, each syllable leaving your mouth another pierce to his heart. The twinkle in your eyes that could outshine any of the stars in the night sky were dimmed to the lowest as a waterfall of tears cascaded down your face. 

The look on your face could have brought anyone to their knees to beg for forgiveness, stuttering nonsense that was coherent only in their head. He could see it in your expressions. The way your bottom lip quivered as you listened to the poison of his words. Your smaller hands clenched and unclenched by your sides, your body shaking with each blow. Your head shook with nothing but denial as you tried to shrug his words off. You couldn’t. 

The grip you held his shirt with was full of pure disappointment, hurt, and dishonesty. He heard nothing in the moment, his cerulean and grey irises staring at the movement of your mouth, watching it open and close with each sentence you spoke. Your lips were curved down as you continued to yell at him. He suddenly felt light in your grasp. You had every right to tell him how you felt. He deserved your words. 

He felt even lower than dirt. The steel door blocking him from your life grew thicker and thicker, leaving him vulnerable and isolated. He used to be untouchable. He would stand on his throne, watching as everyone slowly sank lower and lower. A surge of pride and power would fill his body as he watched those struggle to get to his point in life. Until you came, and sent one kick to his throne, making him fall right through as he desperately tried to sit on top once again. 

You were a tide that kept washing him away. You caught him by surprise. Your twisted ways made him open up in ways he didn’t realize until it was too late. 

The moon illuminated a path of soft light through the curtains in the pitch-black room. The modernized clock resting on Shouto’s bedside table read 5:37 AM. His orbs trained on the time, watching every second change with him. The red digitized numbers are slow to switch.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

His long fingers ran through his hair slowly, lowering his head to look down in his lap as his fingers scratched the back of his head, nails adding a slight sting. A small sigh of distress left him as he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the joints of his elbows crack with the movement. 

It’s only been three weeks since his pride took over his brain. Whenever he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was you. 

Every day, he would be bombarded with news headlines about how amazing and heroic he was the night before. It was almost as if it was mocking him, reminding him of how much of a horrible person he was. Yet, he couldn’t wipe away that smirk that made its way onto his face when he noticed more people speaking about him. 

Big news broadcasting stations constantly asked for him to make an appearance on their shows, to which he happily obliged. Nothing made him more satisfied than being on the big screen for everyone to see. The shining star of the show making an entry. It pleased him. 

He mindlessly scrolled through his twitter, noticing some merchandise links and useless tweets from his PR Team. Dozens of notifications flooded his timeline, fans pinging him for meetups, random DMs from his followers or getting nasty tweets—which he didn’t appreciate, but it was the internet, after all. 

A red dot caught his attention from his DMs. Curiosity got the best of him as he clicked it, noticing none other than Ground Zero’s profile at the top. 

Bakugou: So are we on for that stupid patrol or what? You never responded back asshole. 

Oh, that. 

Shouto groaned softly, completely forgetting that he had a patrol with Bakugou later today. He clicked the message, fingers immediately typing a response out. 

Shouto: Yeah sure. Just meet at my agency at 2 PM.

Bakugou: Don’t tell me what to do bastard. 

“Well that settles that,” he muttered, tossing his phone somewhere on his bed, not really caring where it landed. His back collided with the silk sheets, his body relaxing upon contact. His hand reached out to the spot beside him, slowly running his hand up and down on the empty space as if he was looking for something, or maybe someone. 

His fingers curled around the material of his sheets, an iron grip at hand. He glanced over, expecting to be met with a pair of eyes or a back turned to him. Instead, he found nothing but the soft light produced by the moon. It peeked through his curtains, a small patch of light resting beside his relaxed body as if it was mocking him for his actions. His eyes gazed on the spot, noticing it was the area where you once laid. He growled quietly, grabbing one of his pillows, chucking it towards the curtains in anger. 

Shouto watched the pillow collide and fall on the floor. His lips parted slightly as small puffs of air left his mouth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, running his hands over his face as he kept repeating the word. His hands hit his thighs with a slap, his nails digging into the skin and leaving crescent shape indents. “What the fuck am I even doing?” he questioned aloud. 

“Here I am, in the middle of the night, letting my emotions get the best of me. What kind of crap is that?” He got off his bed, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top two drawers and pulled extra clothes out, deciding that a shower was the best course of action. 

When he got in the shower, he closed his eyes as the beads of warm water hit his face and streamed down his body to the drain. His tufts of hair were plastered onto his face like glue. The water jet seemed to be on its best setting for his needs as he stood there, collecting his thoughts. 

He placed his hands against the tiled walls of the shower, back muscles flexing as he lowered his head to look downward at the shower drain, watching the water gather around and go down the hole. His long hair at the top covered his eyes, the water trailing down his nose as the droplets hit the bottom of the tub. 

“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?” he groaned, standing up straight as he slicked his hair back. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You hated it. You hated how weak you became in an instant. In a snap, everything went downhill. You weren’t able to smile as bright as you did before. You hated how he was able to get under your skin and become the only thing you could think about. He was a parasite to you. You despised him, yet he somehow came back to annoy the hell out of you. 

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool.”

Your eyes widened as you misplaced your foot, tripping over the ledge of your car. You quickly grabbed a hold of the handle, keeping yourself upright. You felt your cheeks swell in embarrassment as you quickly regained your composure, clearing your throat. Shutting the car door shut, you looked up to the powerful building that was the viewpoint in all of Japan. 

Shouto’s Agency. 

Just the mere thought of seeing him made you grit your teeth in anger. Your blood boiled at the fact that you had to step a single foot into that forsaken place, and even had to share the same air as him. 

The soles of your shoes hit against the cement as you walked around your car, opening the other side to stare at the brown box full of objects that had no use to you. This box was filled with Shouto’s things that he left at your place and the daycare. You didn’t feel like burning them, so giving them back would suffice. Holding the object in your arms weighed more than it had to. 

You bumped your hip against the door to shut it, and felt no use in locking it. A small sigh left your lips as you walked to the entryway. Each step felt heavy, like the earth could swallow you whole. Your pulse was beating like crazy, at any moment you wouldn’t be surprised if your heart jumped out from your mouth. 

You stopped your movements in front of the doors, watching them slide open before continuing inside. Upon entering, you were hit with the smell of new furniture—which was just the recently cleaned objects and cold air from the ceiling fans. The room was dimly lit, relying on the light from the outside. The main foyer had couches and small tables laid out, covering the area. Men and women filled the furniture, reading a book, or talking amongst themselves. 

You noticed that some of the workers were actually some of Shouto’s sidekicks or new interns he once told you about. Even just looking at them made you sick to your stomach.

Clearing your throat, you walked over to the main desk and dropped the box on the counter, watching the employee jump in surprise.

“Uh- Hi yeah, I’m here to drop off some things for Todoroki.”

“For Shouto?” the lady asked and looked up at you. “Hey aren’t you that girl he-”

“Yeah that’s me,” you interrupted her. “I just wanted to give his things back.”

She fixed her glasses and nodded, chewing on her gum as she typed something on her computer. “Alright, I’ll let Todoroki know.”

“Let me know what?”

You froze at the voice, your body stiffening up. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps get closer to you from behind until the presence of a body was close. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep laugh filled your eyes. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Miss me already?”

You growled quietly as you took a step to the side, refusing to face him. Don’t give him the pleasure of seeing you. He doesn’t deserve another glance. He doesn’t deserve anything from you. 

“I know you can hear me sweetheart. Come on, let’s talk.” His voice sent chills through your body. His hand rested on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

You swiveled around, raising your hand as your palm collided with his cheek. Your vision was blurry as you let out a choked sob, your hand still raised in the air. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The sound caught everyone's attention as they all stared at the commotion. Shouto moved his jaw slightly and rubbed his cheek, wincing slightly. There was now a red imprint on the swollen skin. “Damn, you really know how to slap someone huh?”

“I thought I made my point clear,” you sneered, lowering your hand to rest by your side. “I said I never wanted to talk to you again. I don’t want to see your face again.”

“Well, you came by didn’t you? Must have needed something from me if you decided to show up.”

“I came,” you started, ignoring the lingering stares from the bystanders, “To drop off your things. I could have burned them, but instead I decided to bring them back to you. Trash belongs with other types of trash, doesn’t it?”

The man in front of you laughed softly, shaking his head. Why was he laughing in a moment like this?

“Feisty, huh? Guess that was one of the things I love about you.”

Shouto had the audacity to say that he loved you? Even after all the shit he pulled?

“Oh no you don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that word.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. “You don’t fucking love anything. No one but yourself. You’re a selfish bastard, how many times do I have to tell you? You are the worst in all of Japan.”

Even hearing those words for the second time in his life, he couldn’t shake the feeling off. Was he hurting? Was he turning upset? 

Deciding enough was enough, you nodded in self-reassurance and turned around, only to collide face-first into a muscular chest. “Hey!”

“Hey? That’s what you say when you bump into someone? Some manners you got.”

You automatically recognized the voice and pulled away as if he had the plague.

Standing in the flesh, Ground Zero stared down at you with his intense vermillion eyes, his arms crossed over his torso, wearing that famous scowl of his. 

“Some manners I got?” you growled and looked up at him. “Why do I have to move for you? You saw me here, didn’t you? Oh just because you’re in the top five, that gives you authority to act like that?”

His eyes widened slightly in shock. “Hey that’s not-”

“You know what? If all heroes are like him,” you yelled, pointing a finger at the bi-colored male behind you. “Then you guys need to stop being heroes! There’s no point in being out there if you don’t care for those in need! What kind of fakes are you guys?!”

Not giving him a chance to respond, you brushed past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with yours. He stumbled slightly, placing his hand on the counter to regain his balance. “What the fuck was that?” he whispered, watching you exit the main foyer.

Shouto sighed dramatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She’s always been like that.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

Shouto quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his torso. “Why do you ask, Ground Zero?”

“I asked because she’s hot. I asked because I’m fucking curious, you bastard!”

The bi-colored male tilted his head slightly in confusion before shrugging, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s Y/L/N Y/N. She works at the local daycare about 20 minutes from here.”

“And how do you know her? What the hell was this shit show that just happened.”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about it too much. She’ll come back soon.” 

A laugh rumbled in the depths of Shouto’s throat as his finger traced the sensitive skin of his cheek. Bakugou stared at him, unamused. 

“She rocked your shit and you’re saying don’t worry about it? What kind of bullshit answer is that?”

“Sounds to me like someone is scared to be seen with the number one pro hero, but that would be silly huh?” Shouto asked, completely dodging Bakugou’s questions as he checked his hand, front and back.

“Hah?! What did you say?! I’m not afraid of anything! Especially you!! Now quit talking and start fucking moving!” Bakugou shoved a gloved finger in Shouto’s direction before swiveling around. The ash-blond’s footsteps boomed with each step he took. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, his gauntlet hitting his hips as he walked. 

“What kind of bullshit answer is that?” he grumbled, tapping his foot against the cement sidewalk as he waited for the number one hero to come outside. For someone who wanted to patrol, he was sure taking his sweet time. 

“Shall we?” Shouto called from behind, walking past him. His chest was puffed out, his chin raised proudly in the air. A sly smirk was displayed on his face as he glanced at Bakugou from the corner of his eye. “Better get a move on. I would hate for you to fall behind.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth as he followed Shouto from behind. Many people on the streets gasped in astonishment at two of the top five heroes walking together. Children pointed at them from across the street, a toothy grin and shining sparkling eyes trained on them. 

“Look, papa! It’s Ground Zero and Shouto! I want their autograph!”

Shouto’s head perked up at the sound of his name and looked over to the small boy, who was bouncing up and down. Amused by his antics, Shouto walked over to the boy and crouched down to his height. 

A small smile was plastered onto his features as he patted him gently on top of the little boy’s head. “You wanted an autograph?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he nodded furiously, clenching his fists in front of his body. “Y-Yeah! Can you sign my backpack?!”

“Turn around, bud.”

He did as told, almost too fast as he stumbled over his own two feet. The pro hero took the sharpie from his smaller hands. Taking the cap off with his teeth, he kept it enclosed between the pearly whites as he quickly signed the backpack. 

“There. Now it looks even more amazing.”

“T-Thank you, Shouto! G-Ground Zero, can you sign mine?!” he gasped and approached rather quickly, holding the sharpie in his head. 

Bakugou wasn’t one for signings out of the blue, but this was an exception. 

The blonde nodded and took the marker away from him, turning the boy around as he signed near Shouto’s signature, making it a tad bit bigger on purpose. 

“Thank you!” he exclaimed and ran back to his dad, who wasn’t that far away. Both heroes could hear the excitement in his tone as he shoved the backpack into his father’s arms. 

“I thought you never do signings like this. Has the Ground Zero gotten soft?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance, refusing to be part of Shouto’s games. “Whatever, idiot. Just keep on walking.”

“Oh, is someone upset?”

“Shut up and stop talking!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The patrol was nothing out of the ordinary. The two heroes made their roundabouts, no trouble seemed to bother them. The only thing that annoyed Bakugou more than anything was the fact that Shouto couldn’t keep his mouth shut. And paperwork was the worst of all. Shouto kept asking small insignificant questions that drove Katsuki up the wall. 

Finally getting away from the devil himself, Katuski found himself standing in front of his car, his eyes hard and intense as he had his toned arms crossed over his torso. His eyes trained over a building, taking in the colorful delicate patterns of butterflies and kids smiling on the walls. The paint wasn’t chipping off. Instead it looked like it was fresh, maybe too fresh. The newly trimmed hedges that outline the building bloomed with budding roses. The flowers in the white pots loomed over the ground, each dancing tauntingly with the wind that sent small shivers through his hoodie and caused his hair to sway with each breeze. 

Katuski analyzed the area once more before placing his hands behind him on the hood of the car and pushed off, walking towards the door. 

Unlike Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou arrived with a calm and open mind. Upon reaching the door, he noticed a hanging pot filled with yellow carnations. The bright color of the petals fluttered as if they were welcoming him. He stared, mesmerized by the color before shaking his head quickly, bringing his hand up to the door. His knuckles met with the door once, twice, and finally a third time before lowering it again. 

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door as the knob turned, the wooden surface opening up. 

Katsuki took sight of you, eyeing you up and down before meeting your eyes.

“G-Ground Zero?! W-What are you doing here?! This is so unexpected wow! I’m such a mess, god I’m so sorry! If only I knew you would come I would have at least cleaned myself up!”

“Can you stop rambling and actually let me talk?”

You stopped mid-sentence and shut your mouth, before opening it again. “Yeah uh… why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“T-To me?” You looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you. No one was; you just couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Well yeah, who else am I gonna be talking to?”

“I- just you know after I went off on you there… I just didn’t expect you to ya know, come visit. Just caught me by surprise.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh. Well, we can talk then.”

“Out here? Please,” he scoffed and made his way inside, causing you to press up against the door as he walked past you. In those three seconds, you could smell his natural scent of ash and caramel with a hint of smoky wood. It pleased you. 

You automatically shut the door and followed him. He was sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, but with his legs bent, no manspreading. His attitude was drastically different from Shouto’s.

“Well,” you started, sitting across from him as you rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What happened between you guys.”

“Between who?”

“You and Icy-Hot. I saw you hit him and tried prying answers out of him. Better to get it from the other side than from someone whose head is up their fucking ass.”

“Oh,” you whispered and sunk your teeth on your lower lip, looking away. “That’s personal. Whatever happened between me and him, will stay between me and him. Besides, it wasn’t a big deal anyway.”

“Big deal?! You smack his face and say it’s not a big deal? Damn, what kind of shit answers are those?”

“Realistic answers!” you choked out, feeling your voice crack mid speaking. “They are realistic answers.”

“Real huh?” he whispered before leaning forward, clasping his hands in his lap. “Fine. Let’s be real, okay? You guys slept together huh? And he decided he didn’t want you anymore. Is that what happened? That’s the type of guy he is after all.”

Hearing his words made you realize how shitty you’ve been feeling. He was only in your presence for five minutes or less and he already cracked your mid-life crisis. The quiver in your lip was his answer. 

“So that’s what happened then,” he whispered.

“And what if it did?! It doesn’t matter, like I said! I was his stepping stool! He didn’t care! I was his doormat and I let him walk over me because I was too gullible to notice before! He’s a fucking heartless asshole!” you cried out, hiccuping as you covered your face from him, shielding the somewhat dignity you had left. Your nose was getting stuffed up by the second as you sniffled, letting out another pained sob, the first of many that day. Each day would end like this, you going into a state of confusion and would cry yourself to sleep. It was a continuous cycle of pain that you wanted to end. 

“Everyone thinks of him as this high and mighty person that cares for others, but he doesn’t!” You looked into the hero’s eyes, your own filled with nothing but defeat and pain, the whites of your eyes now turning red from the onslaught of crying. “I hate him! I fucking hate him!” each word had a powerful meaning behind it. “He ruined me! He had me wrapped around his finger and played me like a fiddle!”

Bakugou felt bad for you. You went from someone who told him off hours earlier, to sobbing up a storm and ranting about your feelings. He felt awkward sitting there as you poured out to your heart’s content. His body was tense as he fiddled with the pocket of his black hoodie. Seeing you there hopeless made his heart sting with pain, and he felt like he had to save you, even though he didn’t know you.

To be your hero. The hero you deserve, not Shouto Todoroki. 

He contemplated something before standing up and walked over to you. The couch creaked at the new addition of weight that was put on top. “Look,” he started as his mind went blank. What was he going to say? Hey, it's okay, forget him. He's legit shit anyway. How do you comfort someone when their relationship was a total lie?

Your sobs filled his ears as he sighed softly, rubbing his temple in growing annoyance. “First of all stop crying already!”

The sudden change of tone surprised you as you stared at him with innocent wide eyes. “W-What?”

“I said stop fucking crying. It doesn’t look good on you.”

You let out a hiccup as you wiped your eyes with the pad of your fingers. For some reason, Katsuki thought you looked like the most beautiful person on the planet. Here you were, in raw emotion for some idiot who wasn’t worth your time, yet at the same time you decided to show Katsuki and no one else. It filled him with a sense of peace that you trusted him enough, despite barely knowing him. 

The ceiling fan shined artificial light upon you, somehow making you look ethereal as your tears glistened. Your lips formed in a pout as your bottom lip kept quivering, no matter how many times you tried to control it. The tips of your ears were red, your cheeks joining in on the rosy color. Your makeup was nowhere perfect anymore. Mascara dribbled down your face as it mixed with your tears, black staining your cheeks. 

“Are you done crying yet?”

There was a moment of silence before another whimper left your throat as you shook your head. “N-No!”

Yet again another round of painful sobs wracked through your body. Your head was starting to hurt at the attack to your body. Bakugou inhaled deeply as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest. He could feel your shaking form as you threw your arms around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. 

“H-He-”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his voice rough around the edges, but wasn’t his normal tone. His calloused hand pressed against your back, his fingers slowly running up and down as his thumbs rubbed small circles to calm you down. “He’s a shit person. I get it. But you aren’t going to sit here and cry about him forever, are you?”

The silence was a sign to continue on. 

“He played you. He’s an asshole, but I didn’t know he was this big of a dick. Everyone plays him as Mr. Nice Guy or Mr. Hero. I didn’t know he was this bad,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cradle the back of your head, stroking the skin behind your neck in a soothing manner. “Honestly, fuck him. He doesn’t deserve your time and certainly doesn’t deserve your stupid fucking tears. He still thinks you’re going to go back to him. Why don’t you show him who the bigger person is, hah?”

“He thinks I’m going back to him?” you whispered, your words coming out muffled due to hiding your head from him.

“Yeah. He does. His head is so clouded with stupidity that he thinks he’ll always get what he wants.”

“...he is pretty stupid.”

The rumbling in his chest indicated he found it funny, but true. He pushed you away from his chest, placed his hands on your shoulders, and stared into your tear-filled eyes. “So. What are you going to then, Princess?”

You licked your lips and looked down at your lap, staring at the palms of your hands. “I’m going to... Stop crying over him, m-move on and be the bigger person?”

“Are you asking me? Or are you telling me?”

“I-I’m telling you!”

His lips curved upward slightly as he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you to his chest once more. “Guys like him expect everyone to spoon feed him because of his reputation. And everyone says I’m the worst out of the top five,” he grumbled to himself, running his hand up and down your back. “I’ll take care of you. I promise you that.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

A man of his word, Bakugou did as he promised. Since that day he visited you the first time, you stayed in contact. You were wary of course, looking for any red flags that history could possibly repeat itself. 

Unlike Shouto, Katsuki couldn’t come around as much. As he told you before, his hero work was the most important since where his agency was stationed, there was a lot of crime. You respected that, of course. It made you feel happy when he would talk to you on the phone about the amount of citizens he saved and how many villains he took down by himself. The kids, they went wild.

When one of the girls took notice of a gauntlet laying around the room, she screamed in happiness saying that Ground Zero was here, or that you bought a knock-off from online. Of course from the screaming, the pro hero ran inside at top speed, looking for any sign of danger.

“Where is it?!”

“It’s Ground Zero!!”

A flock of children surrounded him as they screamed incoherent words of happiness, jumping up and down as if he was their idol; which he was. 

“How hot can your explosions get?!”

“Do you burn yourself?!”

“Can you fly?!”

“Do you sneeze and they go off?!”

“Hah?!” he yelled and crossed his arms over his torso, looking away. “What kind of fucking questions are those?!”

“Bakugou!” you snapped, walking into view with a bag of something inside. “We talked about using that language in here!”

“What does ‘fucking’ mean?” a little girl asked, tugging on the material of his pants, looking up at him with child innocent eyes. 

His mouth parted but no answer came out. His cream-colored cheeks soon became a soft rosy red as he looked away quickly. “I-”

“I bought mochi!” you said quickly, lifting the bag up and shaking it slightly to grab their attention. At the mention of treats, they all scrambled away from him and stood in front of you with happy grins and eyes. 

“Get in a line. Bakugou, come help me please.”

The ash-blond groaned but walked to you anyway, taking the small bowl from you that held the dough filled with sweet ice cream. He eyes them warily before crouching down to their level and stuck the bowl out for their awaiting grabbing hands. 

“Only one,” he said to a little boy who laughed joyously and placed it back before running to his friend, comparing the flavors they had. 

“And one for me,” you teased, taking one from him. Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance and placed the bowl back on the small table. “I don’t know how you can eat those. They seem too sweet. Spicy is where it’s at.”

“Well I’m not going to burn a bunch of six-year-olds’ tongues either, Bakugou!” you huffed and took a bite out of the dough, the taste of the sweet ice cream filled your tastebuds. “Come on try some!” you lifted the sweet to his mouth, urging him to bite it. 

“Hah?! That’s bad for you!”

“Come on, Katsuki. Are you afraid of a little sweet? Never took you for the scared type.” You grinned. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He growled and snatched the green treat from you.

“‘M’not scared!” he yelled and eyed the delicious treat before taking a bite out of it. His eyes widened slightly from their original state and chewed slowly. He looked away from you and swallowed. “Not bad, still tastes like shit.”

A happy smile graced your features at his change of heart over something as small as this. “So will you eat the rest of it with me?”

“I guess. Only if you wipe that stupid dopey smile off your face.”

A cry of pain distracted you from your reverie as you turned quickly to find the source of pain. 

A group of kids was surrounding one young girl who had a hand covering her eye. 

“Himarie, sweetie what happened?” You asked the small girl, kneeling beside her as your hand hesitantly reached for hers that shielded her eye. 

“Fire!”

“Fire? Honey let me see.”

“I’ll hurt you!”

“No you won’t. Come on, let me see.” you encouraged her softly, wrapping your hand around her smaller wrist and lowered it slowly. 

Fire shot out from her eye as soon as her hand was lowered. She cried in pain and covered it again, whimpering softly. 

The rug caught on fire as you shrieked, moving the kids out of the way. “K-Katsuki!”

“Got it,” the male voiced out, immediately putting out the fire with the fire extinguisher, his tongue peeking out in concentration. He let out a huff and lowered the hose. “Looks like someone got their quirk. That’s a nice one if I do say so myself.” He put the red canister down and walked over to where you and Himarie stood. 

“Is she going to be okay Miss Y/N?!” 

“Yes, she’s going to be okay. She’s a strong girl, aren’t you honey?” you whispered softly and stroked her brown hair. 

“Let me see,” Bakugou whispered, nudging you away from her gently. “Look at me.”

She shook her head, afraid of hurting him as well. “I’ll burn you!”

“I burn myself on a daily basis, Himarie. I’m used to it. Now let me see.”

The brunette shakily lowered her head, her bottom lip quivering in fear. 

Bakugou analyzed her before bringing a hand to her face, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb. “You’re scared huh? I remember when I first got my quirk. I was scared. I thought I would blow myself up at one point. But there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll learn how to control it soon,” he said to her, his voice soft yet rough at the same time. Each word seemed to roll off his tongue with ease, as if he was made for moments like this. His larger hand patted her head gently.

Himarie continued to stare at him with uncertainty before launching herself onto him, her small arms encircling his neck. “T-Thank you Ground Zero!”

He tensed up before hesitantly wrapping an arm around her, patting her back with a gentle touch. “Of course. That’s what we’re here for anyway, to make sure kids like you are out of harm’s way. Just don’t do anything stupid with that, got it?”

You watched a few steps away, your heart softening at the moment in front of you. In all of his fame, his unruly behavior was something that everyone saw. This moment was intoxicating to you. You wanted to see more of him like this. If only the public knew this was how Bakugou Katsuki was, everyone would be throwing themselves at him. The only difference between him and Shouto, was that Bakugou cares. He did it to save those in need, to be a protector, not for the fame and the money. 

His vermillion orbs met yours as the corner of his lips curled into a smirk, sending a small wink your way. A wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you gave him a small wave in return. The light’s reflection illuminated his eyes, the different colors of his irises shining. It was amazing to see him here. You only wished for one thing: that he was here before Shouto Todoroki. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As time went by, the hot atmosphere turned chilly, and the trees turned to orange and red. Fall approached faster than anything. Months upon months passed by without a second thought. 

The cold air of the autumn wind descends upon you, each needle of the breeze poking through any open outlet through your clothes. You buried your nose in your burgundy scarf, begging for any type of warmth to relieve your shaking body. The vibrant assortments of oranges and red were pleasing to the eye, but getting harder to appreciate as each second passed by. 

Your hands were stuffed in the pocket of your jackets as you kept your head down to shield your eyes from any upcoming harsh wind. The annual fall festival arrived and that was something you wanted to see, with a special someone of course.

“Are you that fucking cold?”

You peered up through your lashes, glancing at the blond who walked beside you with ease. He seemed to be content with just his jacket and scarf. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling from the inside.

“Y-y-yes I’m cold!” you spoke through your chattering teeth, bringing your hands up and placing them underneath your armpits, relishing in the warmth from your jacket. Your eyes trained over the different stands full of crafts, food, and beverages. 

“That’s too bad.” you could hear the smugness in his tone as you continued to walk the brick pathway through the festival. “Your teeth look like they could fall out any minute now due to your stupid chattering.”

“Well not everyone is a walking heater, Katsuki,” you chirped, your voice muffled by the fabric of your scarf warming your neck. “If I was, I’d be looking like you.”

“Like me?! What’s that supposed to mean, hah?!”

“Meaning I could wear a jacket and a skirt and not worry about the cold! I said what I said!”

Bakugou growled and tugged you closer by your elbow, no ill intent in his hold. His hand reached under your elbow, his fingers digging into your skin. It was a simple yet meaningful gesture. 

A small smile graces your features as your eyes watch the leaves fall from their respected trees, trails of orange and red filling your vision. The sky was a pink layout with splotches of blue and orange that complimented each other. The clouds floating through the sky effortlessly, the sun saying its slow goodbye before sleeping for the night until the next morning.

“I wish they had more festivals like this.”

“Well if they did, stupid villains would be surrounding this shit place anyway.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, leaning your head on his bicep as your fingers curled around his arm. “Uh-huh, sure. Way to be optimistic about it.”

“Just being realistic. Something you should be.”

“Hey!” you pouted, feigning hurt. “I can be realistic!”

Bakugou gave you a side glance before shaking his head. “Don’t fool both of us dumbass.”

You whined and stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. “The only one I can fool is you after all.”

A pleased hum left his throat as he laced your fingers together, the warmth radiating from his palm automatically making you fuzzy inside. 

Ever since Shouto left, you felt confused, lost and most importantly, empty. The void in your heart felt that it would never be filled again. Shouto left and took your happiness with him, deciding to leave you a wreck for this own personal pleasure. He was everywhere you looked, paper news, broadcasting, twitter. It was like you couldn’t escape him. Each time you saw a photo of him, he always had the same expression. A smug smirk would grace his features, it was taunting you and you knew it. 

When Bakugou entered your life, it made you realize that you didn’t have to worry about someone like Shouto ruining you again. Bakugou slowly filled the void in your heart, and you were beyond thankful. At first, you didn’t trust him at all. He was in fact in the top five heroes, and was known as the mean one in the public eye. You couldn’t tell if his actions were genuine or just for show to lure you in like a predator. 

“Hey.”

“Huh?” You shook your head, kicking you out of your daze as you looked up at the male. 

“Y-yeah?”

“Why do you look like that?” he asked, but more in a demanding tone.

“This is my face?”

“No, you idiot. You look lost. What’s wrong?”

“Just thinking about before is all, ya know, Shouto,” you muttered the last part, your head lowering in shame.

“Well stop thinking of that icy-hot bastard. I hate the way you get over some stupid guy like him,” he growled, his finger curling under your chin to make you look up at him. “Cause Princess, he’s an idiot for letting someone as beautiful as you go.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours tenderly. Your hand reached up and cradled his cheek, rubbing the swell with your thumb gently. His arm wrapped around your waist tightens, bringing you closer to his chest. In your moment of love, unbeknownst to you, the sound of a camera went off. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His grey and cerulean orbs filled with anger, staring down at the photo that was displayed on his phone, a new headline for the news. 

Ground Zero getting comfy at the Autumn Festival!

Shouto’s fingers curled around his phone, his hand unintentionally getting colder by the minute. He was seething in anger. His shoulders moved with his erratic breathing as he threw his phone across his desk, ignoring the noise of his device hitting the ground. 

A small flame emitted from his hand. He abruptly stood up, gripping the edge of his desk with a vice-like grip, his fingers slowly turning white from the pressure. His fingernails dug into the hardwood, ignoring the pain shooting through his arms. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as his hands let go of the edges before reaching under and threw his arms up, flipping the wooden desk over in anger. 

The furniture broke on impact as he groaned out in annoyance. Not only were things not going his way, but he also needed to buy a new desk.  

“Just who in the hell does he think he is?” he whispered angrily, running his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in his office, his footsteps hard against the rug. “Just walking in her life and thinking he can do that? He’s far from right.”

Shouto was no idiot. He was intelligent and knew what happened on the sidelines. Bakugou stayed with you to help out with the daycare. He did the same exact thing as Shouto did, and oh did it piss him off more than anything. In Shouto’s eyes, you were going to come back to him. You might just be acting up, but you’ll return to him.

He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. It read 4:46 PM. From what he remembered, the daycare should be closing at 5 PM. If he left now, he could probably stop you before you headed home. 

The chiming of his phone knocked him from his cloud of thoughts as he walked over to the shattered screen, the light illuminating on his face.

Midoriya 

“Fuck,” he groaned and reached above his head, his joints cracking with the movement. His finger tapped the green circle as he brought his phone to his ear, sighing softly. “Hello?”

“Hi Todoroki! I just wanted to make sure you knew about tomorrow still!”

“...what’s tomorrow?”

“You forgot already? Figures if you’re so busy! It’s the meet and greet we have with Kacchan tomorrow!”

He choked on his spit as he coughed into his hand in shock. “T-that’s tomorrow?!”

“Yeah! Your PR team didn’t tell you?”

“Uh...” he trailed off, glancing at the mess of his room. Pens and papers were scattered all over the place. “I’m sure they did. Whatever, what time was it at?”

“11 AM!”

“Do I have to go?”

“Of course you have to Todoroki-kun! You’re number one! And number one has to be there, remember?!”

Number one. 

Hearing those words made butterflies flutter in his stomach as his head filled with conceited thoughts. He smirked faintly as he hung his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. You’re right. I am number one, and I always get what I want.”

“What was that? You cut out at the end.”

“Huh? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning with...him.”

“Oh speaking about Kacchan, did you see the photos? Turns out he was with that girl you were seeing before you broke up!”

He growled into the microphone, his noise being caught by Midoriya’s ears. “I saw. They look terrible together.”

“You think so? I think they look cute together! I’m glad he found someone.”

“Yeah well I’m not,” he snapped and began to pace around the room. “I know she’s playing hard to get. She came to visit me again even after saying to fuck off. That obviously means something. I mean, why wouldn’t she want me? I’m rich, successful and the highest out of everyone. Why would she settle for him?” he spat, his voice dripping with malice and hatred for the blond. 

“Uh, Todoroki? Do you hear how you’re sounding right now?”

“Course I do.”

“Then don’t you think you’re being a bit too...over the top?”

“I’m not. I sound perfectly fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.”

“Ahh okay! See you tomorrow Todoroki-kun!”

Without saying goodbye, Shouto hit the red circle and turned his phone off, shoving it into his front pocket. “I guess some things I have to keep working for,” he whispered and walked past the mess he made prior to the phone call, to the door. His hand wrapped around the knob and twisted it, pulling it to open the door. 

“I’m Shouto. I’ll win her back. She’ll realize I’m the one for her, and he’s complete utter shit. I’ll get her back. I’m the best after all.”

An amusing chuckled rumbled through his chest as he made his way down the corridor, on his way to take back what was his first. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Shouto Todoroki would have never thought about this situation in a million years. Yet again, here he was. Arriving at the daycare with a frown upon his face, he exited the vehicle with a gentle push of the driver’s door, the car not moving from the gentle force. He took one glance at the daycare and sighed softly. “It’ll be easy,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the new and improved details. The once peeling paint was newly refurbished, each drawing looking amazing as ever. The hedges surrounded the center like a barrier, protecting them from him. The flowers he ordered were no longer there, which he assumed they died over time or you tossed them out, Instead, they were replaced with lilies and roses, each color displaying just for him. The color orange only reminded him of Katsuki Bakugou, a newfound hatred for him. Each flower moved with the wind as they greeted him.

He walked to the front door with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Upon reaching it, he slowly lifted a hand that seemed to weigh more than anything in the world. He let out a shaky sigh and let his knuckles hit the door twice. Shouto brought his hand to his mouth and wiped it, his lips dry from nervousness. 

He felt as if years passed by as he stood there, waiting for you or someone to answer. He hoped it was only you, but by the looks of it, another car was parked beside yours, and it definitely wasn’t one of the employees. 

The sweet melody of laughter filled his ears as he stared at the knob moving to open the door. The hinges squeaked and it was pulled open, Shouto keeping his eyes trained forward. 

You opened the door with a laugh, Bakugou bringing up an old memory from his high school years. 

Your smile faltered as it was automatically wiped with your face, a scowl replacing it instead. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t,” you snapped and went to close the door in his face but he stuck his foot out last second, the only thing keeping you from shutting him out forever. 

“Please. I just want to talk.”

You said nothing in return, slowly opening the door again. You stood in front of the frame, your arms crossed over your torso. “Outside.”

“Princess? Who is at the door?”

Shouto’s ears perked at the sound of Bakugou’s voice as he tried looking over your shoulder before you moved in front of his line of sight. “No one Katsuki! Give me five!” you yelled back, pressing a hand against Shouto’s chest and you pushed him slightly, shutting the door behind you. 

“Princess? He’s here too? So you’re fucking him now?”

“And what if I am? What’s it matter to you, Todoroki? Why do you care now? We aren’t together. You made that quite clear a year ago.”

“I know but, him? Out of all people you went for him?”

“Yeah, I did. Is that a problem for you? Oh wait, I guess it is if we are even having this conversation. Plus I thought you wanted to talk. Not pick on the things you think are wrong with my life.” 

Shouto’s hands twitched by his side, itching to feel your body against his once more. “I-“

“Or is the problem is that you can’t even hold a real conversation without making it about you, huh?”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You tilted your head to the side. “Prove it then, right now. What the hell is so important that you have to bug me?” you demanded. You hated how he could just waltz up in here and act like nothing happened. One of the many things you hated about him.

“I’m sorry.”

You choked on air as you stared at him, shocked. “You— you’re what?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Y-You’re sorry?”

He nodded quietly, a look of sadness in his eyes. You didn’t believe him one bit. You couldn’t. If he was actually sorry, why did he wait so long? Did he expect you to make the first move? 

“If you are, why did you wait so long?” you whispered softly, the ground becoming your main interest as you kicked at it gently with the tip of your shoe. “Why a year? Why not when I saw you again?”

“...I don’t know. I thought you would have come back to me after what I said. I didn’t think it would get this out of hand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said back then.”

“I don’t believe you Shouto. I’m sorry but I can’t. You caused me so much fucking pain that I—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a shaky breath. “— I couldn’t even trust him. It took me so long to finally trust Katsuki because of you. You ripped my heart and took it with you until you didn’t need me anymore for your selfish desires. You don’t care for me Shouto, you never have.”

“Y/N,” he whispered and took a step forward, halting when he saw you take a step away from him. “Please. I still love you.”

“No you don’t!” you yelled suddenly, clenching your fists as you looked into his eyes. Your vision became glossy with tears, the glistening substance trailing down your face. “You don’t! Stop lying to me! When will you stop lying to people Shouto?! Don’t you see?! We have feelings! We get hurt!” you cried out, pointing a finger in his way. “We aren’t for your personal pleasures!! You used me! You threw me out! And now that I’m finally happy, you want me back?!”

Your bottom lip quivered in pain as you let out a choked sob, bringing a hand to shield it from him. “You aren’t the only human on this planet! Stop pretending that you are! You can’t even see the real message in front of you, can you?!”

Shouto stood there in shock. His mind was moving a thousand miles per hour but nothing left his lips. His body refused to move any closer to your, afraid of a future he didn’t want. He loves you. After all this time, he’s in love with you. He misses your small kisses, your beautiful laugh, your smile that was only for him. He misses seeing you beside him in the awakening morning, your messy hair or tired displays of love. Yet in his own foolishness, he lost you. 

“I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true,” he started off with a whisper, letting his body move on its own. “Cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you, Y/N.”

“Stop coming towards me.”

He didn’t listen, only advancing forward to you. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you placed a hand behind you, feeling the door that was behind you. He bent one leg slightly, looming over you. You lifted a hand up, bringing it down to slap him but he caught it last second, holding both of your wrists in his hand. 

“Look at you go, I just adore you,” he whispered softly, his voice sending chills through your body. His own orbs glossed with tears, sniffling as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes squeezed shut as his tears cascaded down his face, the substance hitting against your hands. 

“I wish that I knew what makes you think I’m so special,” you whispered meekly, your voice cracking with each word that left your mouth. The wavering in your vocal cords made you upset with yourself. His fingers tighten around your smaller hands, bringing them to his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart. 

“I learned how to love like you… and in my own stupidity, I ruined it. Please, all I ask is for one more chance. I’m better than him, ” he opened his eyes, his heterochromia ones staring into your own. His tears flowed effortlessly. 

Here was the man that once said he didn’t need anyone at the top. That he was the one looking over everyone with no one by his side, that no one was worthy of him. The one who couldn’t believe in trust. The one who was the best at everything. The one who got what he always wanted. Here was the man that you fell head over heels for, but got your heart crushed in the process. Leaving you for the dust, you were left. Until someone else came in, slowly picking up the pieces of your broken heart and piecing them back together until you were ready to hand your heart off to him. 

You squirmed in Shouto’s grip until your hands broke free from his grip. “Get off!!” you yelled, pushing him off of you with full force, watching him stumble back and fall on his ass, landing on the soft grass. 

“What part don’t you get anymore?! I said I never wanted to see you again and you want to talk and pull that crap?!”

“That’s not—“

“That’s not what?!” you yelled, your tears of sadness turning into fresh hot tears of anger. “You think you can come walking in here and say ‘Hey I’m super sorry I didn’t mean it! Can we get back together again?!’ Did you honestly think that would work, Shouto?! I don’t love you anymore!! I don’t want you anymore!!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You swiveled around quickly, a sense of relief filing your body at the entrance of an ash blond. Bakugou walked up to you and noticed Shouto on the floor, his fingers digging into the earth. “What the hell is happening?”

“Katsuki,” you whispered and threw yourself at him, burying your head into his chest as your arms encircled his torso. His arms immediately wrapped around your body, bringing you closer into his protection. 

“Why are you here, Icy-Hot?!”

Shouto got up quickly, wiping the dirt from his backside. “I came to talk to Y/N.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you yelled, turning around slightly to face him. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s side, not hard enough to cause any pain. “I want you gone!!”

“I’m not done talking with you yet!”

“She said she doesn’t want you here. Now leave!! I know you’re a fucking asshole but I didn’t know you can’t listen!!” Bakugou yelled, his face slowly turning into a rosy red as his anger levels rose. His grip on your body tightens, his knuckles turning white. 

You cracked Bakugou’s jaw in your face, forcing him to look down at you. Yet, he couldn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the hero in front of him. “Katsuki,” you whispered, gently patting his cheek. “Please look at me.”

The ash-blond reluctantly looked down at you, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I love you,” you said softly, your hand reaching up and brushing some hair out of his face. 

His face softens at your words, feeling his anger slowly fade away. “I love you too.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, inhaling deeply as you walked up to Shouto, your head held high. He stared down at you with nothing but eyes full of defeat and sorrow. A small smile of sadness curved at your lips as you cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, begging for more of it. 

“Shouto,” you whispered softly, keeping the gap between both of you evident for Katsuki’s observing eyes. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m happy. Can’t you see?” you asked, pulling away from him. “I love Katsuki with all my heart. I want to be with him. What you and I had, that’s long gone. You decided that you didn’t need that, you didn’t bother to care for someone other than yourself. You chose this route, I didn’t. I loved and cared for you. I truly did.”

You took a step back and looked into his awaiting eyes, his heart waiting for the words he longed for, but knew he wasn’t getting them anytime soon. “You chose fame and money over me, I can’t get upset by your decision. All I ask, is that you leave the both of us alone. Please.”

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry for what I did. Please just-”

You shook your head and lifted your hand in the air, cutting him off. “I’m tired of hearing you now. Please, leave already. You’re making it worse by being here. So do us a favor before he comes in and does something he won’t forget.”

Shouto’s heart of stone fell to the base of his body, cracking upon contact and shattering into millions of pieces. This time it was unfixable. The last time he felt this hurt was when he was a mere child, seeing the abuse his mother was put through by his father. He felt lost and alone like no one was by his side. Here was the woman he loved. He thought he had a future with you. But let’s be realistic, after the show he put on a year ago, that dream was long gone. He chose this path, with many regrets. What was he even thinking? He let his pride win over his own humanity. And now he has to pay the price for it.

Without another word to you or Bakugou, he swiveled on his heel and rushed to his car, his hand fishing in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door as quick as he could and got inside, jabbing the keys to start it up. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get back with you. 

You stood under the tree, the sun making its way to take its rest for the day. The gentle rays of orange seep through the leaves, hitting your supple skin that gave you a glow. A small smile of satisfaction graced your features as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to bathe in the tranquility of this moment. 

You wrapped your arms around your body as you hummed softly, your eyes stinging and tired from your previous crying. 

Arms from behind wrapped around you, bringing you to rest against his chest. Bakugou leaned over slightly, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “What are you thinking about, pretty girl?”

“Mmm, you as always.”

“That’s funny,” he mumbled, nipping the tender skin of your neck before placing a kiss in its place. “What were you really thinking about?”

“You!” You laughed softly, resting your head on top of his. “Am I not allowed to think about my amazing boyfriend?”

A pinch to your side made you squeak in surprise as you tried pulling away from him, but his strong arms kept you in place. “I didn’t say that dumbass,” his gruff voice whispered in your ear as he suddenly lifted you up, holding you in a bridal style carry. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck.  

“What’s with the over the top affection now?” you teased, kissing his cheek gently, lingering your lips on the warm skin. 

“Damn you always have to question everything I do, don’t you?” he huffed in annoyance as he walked back inside, kicking the door of the daycare center shut. “Can’t just take my answer as it is.”

“Oh but you know I love messing with you, Suki!”

He grumbled at the pet name you’ve given him over the course of your relationship. No matter how many times he said he hated it, deep down he loved hearing it come from you and only you. If anyone found out about it, he wouldn’t be afraid to blast them to hell. 

“Katsuki?”

“What?”

“What do you think about that whole ordeal?”

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he started off, placing you down on the couch beside him as he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to rest your head on his shoulder. “He had no business coming back again, even after you told him you wanted nothing to do with him. He should have known better than to mess with you. Fucking bastard doesn’t know when to stop,” he growled, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Well I don’t think he’ll be bothering me anytime soon,” you looked up at him, smiling. “Especially now. After all, I got a little guard dog.”

“Guard dog?! Is that what you think of me as?!���

“Maybe,” you trailed the last syllable out, grinning before going serious. “But overall… I’m glad I met you. As you know, I was in a dark place before we started dating and, I just want to truly thank you for coming into my life, Katsuki.”

His vermillion eyes trained on your expressions before kissing your forehead. “Dumbass, you don’t have to thank me. After all, that idiot needs a good punch to the face. And I might be the one to do it.”

You rolled your eyes and nestled your head into his chest, breathing in his caramel scent. Before meeting Bakugou Katsuki, you thought you could never trust or find someone that truly loved you and was not using you for their personal gain. You were a broken piece of art and he was the sculptor. Over time he mended the pieces of your shattered heart and formed it into something better than before. Bakugou Katsuki was not only your lover, he was your best friend, your shoulder to cry on. 

But most importantly, he was your hero. 

[stevesharrlngtons]

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him. 

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives. 

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam. 

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way. 

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit. 

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved. 

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).  

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most. 

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more. 

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen. 

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking. 

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door. 

“Didn't Ma call?” 

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch. 

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.” 

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times. 

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing. 

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time. 

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips. 

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance. 

“What are you doing here, Kev?” 

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch. 

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,” 

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.” 

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table. 

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again. 

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette. 

“(Y/N) loves me,” 

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.” 

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.” 

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last. 

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up. 

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course. 

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged. 

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply. 

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” 

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!” 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!” 

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.” 

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.” 

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock. 

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. 

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you. 

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace. 

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you. 

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug. 

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?” 

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone. 

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke. 

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?” 

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison. 

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen. 

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother. 

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -” 

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.” 

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!” 

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?” 

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?” 

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far. 

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.” 

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.” 

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit. 

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall. 

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated. 

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.” 

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed. 

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache. 

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully. 

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence. 

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration. 

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did. 

“I do. And I love you, too.” 

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his. 

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm. 

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring. 

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.” 

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.” 

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.” 

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest. 

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?” 

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.” 

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?” 

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.” 

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love. 

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned. 

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips. 

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy. 

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him. 

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could. 

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot: 

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.” 

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe. 

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.” 

“Really?” 

Mickey simply shrugged. 

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering. 

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze. 

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.” 

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously. 

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit. 

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.” 

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy. 

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of. 

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow. 

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.” 

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology. 

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery. 

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt. 

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“ 

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?” 

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt. 

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving. 

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind. 

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click. 

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.” 

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck. 

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point. 

“And if I was?” 

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist. 

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of  dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it. 

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (:  if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

[meetmymouth]

when sunny met harry (2) : harry styles imagine

read part one here summary: harry and y/n break up but they’re not the only ones suffering. their -now her- golden retriever sunny thinks harry’s coming back.

Just like everyday, as soon as she turns the lock, Sunny comes running to the front door, nails ‘clicking’ on the wooden floor as he jumps up and down on the other side of the door. As soon as the door’s unlocked and opened fully, Sunny leaves no time for hellos or any other form of greeting before he’s on her. It’s Friday night which is why there’s a bag for life full to the brim with groceries next to her backpack and Sunny takes it upon himself to sniff around the packaged food as if he’s looking for food.

It’s also the night Harry’s finally coming to see Sunny.

A month has passed since the phone call and it was last week when Harry’s name appeared on her phone, messaging to see if he could visit Sunny soon. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready to see him just yet. She knew she could’ve said no, or told him she would let him know when it would be a good time to visit but one look at Sunny’s way, she had caved in. Or was the look for reassurance only? She had accepted it in a heartbeat because deep down, she knew Sunny wasn’t the only one missing him.

And now there she was, trying to ignore Sunny as he barked relentlessly at the hoover.

When she reaches the corner of the sofa, Sunny comes closer to her and barks directly at Hetty the Hoover as if he’s trying to set some ground rules.

“Sunny, no!” The hoover is now turned off and she tries moving Sunny away from poor Hetty.

“Leave her alone! Sunny, down. Come ‘ere!”

Sunny does come, and she sits his bum down at her feet and stares at Y/N as if she’s going to reward him for being a menace.

“Why are you such a dickhead, huh,” she gives a pat to his fluffy head. “Do you know who’s coming to see you? Wanna wear your nice collar?”

As the pets continue, she feels a sudden pang of sadness at the memory of seeing Harry for the last time in this flat.

She thought about the look on his face; his beautiful eyes all glassy and lips pouty. Dark circles under his eyes and a large box full of his own share of vinyls to accompany his reluctant posture. How alien and hesitant he had looked in the middle of their, now her, living room.

She tries remembering the last conversation they had, last proper conversation before everything happened but Sunny’s heavy panting interrupts her thoughts and she heaves a sigh.

“Do you...” she extends the word deliberately knowing it will hype him up. “...know who’s comin’ to see your squishy mug today?”

This does nothing to hype him up though. Sunny remains seated at her feet, tongue slightly out as he stares at Y/N’s face as if she’s talking nonsense. “Harry’s coming, Sunny.”

At the mention of Harry’s name, Sunny’s goes crazy. He starts jumping up and down -as much as he can with the limited space between him and the sofa- and his tail keeps wagging in sync with his hoarse barking.

Although she too feels giddy about having Harry in the flat again -though she has to repeat the reason why he’s visiting in the first place every five minutes-, she’s also worried that her next door neighbour Mr. Yoni will knock on her door with puckered lips and slit eyes. As soon as she opens the door, Mr. Yoni will sigh and Y/N will start apologising, trying to bribe him with a cuppa and Tesco’s bourbon biscuits she knows he likes.

As she writes and plays the scenario in her head, she also keeps tidying up the living room, fixing up the pillows, collecting empty mugs and some pens scattered around. When she starts doing the washing up, she hears Sunny chewing the bone Harry’s gotten him and can’t help but roll her eyes at how sentimental she’s being. Exes and a dog.

So what, she thinks, are we going to co parent a bloody dog now? Saying yes to him visiting was a weakness on her part. She knew it was. She’s also not expecting them to get back together just because Harry’s coming to see Sunny. No. She has to get her shit together.

Harry’s charming. Interesting. Lovable and endearing. From the first night she’s laid her eyes on him; in his stupid corduroy trousers and a fuzzy striped cardigan, she knew she couldn’t forget him after that night. She was totally mesmerised by him. By his face. Yes, he was handsome- he is handsome. But he was also beautiful. Pretty. He had soft features, delicate... but there was also a sharpness to him, could cut you with his affection as soon as your eyes met across the room. His love could kill you. He could’ve told you the earth was flat and you would think ‘well, this kid is onto something’. It was his charm and the general aura to him that held you back from questioning him and his actions.

When they first met, he had just gotten out of a relationship. She knew because they ran in the same circles. She knew of him. They’ve been to the same birthday parties and even one or two weddings. Despite that, they had never spoken to each other before that night. So when they shook hands at a close friend’s birthday party that night, his hand still damp from the beer bottle he was holding, she knew she had to get closer to him, she wanted to be the reason behind that dimple appearing and the crinkle by his eyes when he smiled, his two larger front teeth peeking between his parted lips.

Though, much to her dismay, they didn’t hit it off like it happened in the movies. Theirs was a civil introduction. Nice… friendly. She couldn’t say much and the conversation died quickly as he was swept away from her by his friends. She had later learned that he found her annoying at first. In his words, she looked like she was better than anyone in that room. In her defence, it was because she was mesmerised by him and well, she wasn’t exactly the social butterfly Harry seemed to be. They always laughed it off though, with drunken smiles and chuckles between wet, sloppy kisses. It took them six months of friendship until she had enough and asked him out. One day while sipping margaritas in her garden, she had had enough and called him out. ‘Bloody hell you’re stubborn as fuck’ she said, ‘you’ve been looking at my arse all day and I’m pretty sure you’ve been eyeing my lips since like last month. So either come kiss me or just… keep it in your pants’. And then there he was, making a move.

Seven months into their relationship, Sunny became a member of their- well mostly Y/N’s family. They were happy. Sometimes too happy that it kept her up at night, wondering if the universe was plotting something against them soon. Turns out it wasn’t. They were just Harry and Y/N. Too comfortable with each other. Too in love. Too happy. Until the bickering had begun. At first it was mostly because Y/N kept putting his clothes in the wash before they got ‘really dirty’. Or how Harry kept making a mess in the shower, never cleaning up after himself, leaving his hairy razor on the counter. And it didn’t help when he started spending most of his free time in Los Angeles while she worked in London. It wasn’t only his fault. She had also stopped making time for regular phone calls as he kept them no longer than ten minutes and it went from long, meaningful chats to Harry talking more about his friends and their adventures than himself. In return, Y/N more or less, and perhaps without realising, started cutting their conversations short and vague because ‘I think the chicken’s ready, I’ll ring later’ or ‘Sunny’s chewing my shoes again, gotta go’.

When he came back from LA, everything started going downhill as if they weren’t bad enough before. Y/N started feeling uneasy in his presence; feeling self-conscious, mostly when they ate, when he came to have a wee while she showered or when they had sex. It also didn’t help how they always had people around. They didn’t get much free time to themselves. It was always Harry and Y/N… and the others. So it was a gradual thing, the fall of their relationship. And when they officially ended things, he not only left her heart in pieces but also another, much tinier heart was more or less broken. Sunny’s.

She puts those thoughts away and focuses on the washing up in front of her, snorting at how she’s been rinsing the same mug since God knows when despite it looking squeaky clean. Taking off one of the gloves, she touches the screen of his phone and her eyes widen at the time. Harry would be here any minute and she didn’t even have the heart to change into something more comfortable.

She decides on a cup of tea and spots the opened package of cheese twists and perches on the sofa. TV’s on, filling the flat with Alan Carr’s distinct voice as Sunny comes up and places his head on Y/N’s leg, looking as precious as ever.

“God forbid I eat anything by myself. You silly boy,” She breaks one of the cheese sticks in half and throws it next to his paws. “There you go.” As soon as the stick hits the floor, it’s gone in seconds as Sunny tries to lick the remnants of the cheese stick off of his face and the wooden floor.

Two more cheese sticks later, she gets a text from Harry letting her know that he’s here, at the door.

As she makes her way towards the front door, Sunny follows behind. Her heart starts beating faster and she feels her cheeks heat up, having an epiphany that Harry’s here, on the other side of the door. Sunny barks once as her hand reaches the door handle as if he knows who’s here. As soon as the door opens, their eyes meet and it’s like someone’s pouring hot water down her head. Harry opens his mouth but he gets interrupted when Sunny spots him.

Y/N watches as the two go crazy for each other, Sunny jumping up and down, trying to get his paws on every part of Harry’s body as Harry tries crouching down to pet him.

“Dear God you’ve gotten huge! Sunny! Bloody hell- ouch- stop biting m’ankles!”

“Come inside, he’s inviting you in,” she mutters and immediately regrets that stupid remark. As if it’s Harry’s first time meeting Sunny.

He looks up again and gives her a smile. “Are you inviting me in?” He says, tone as playful as ever. He glances down at Sunny again before she catches his eyes.

“Come in before he has a heart attack trying to get all your attention.”

“Always been an attention seeker, am I right Sunny boy?”

After he takes his shoes off, they make their way inside, careful not to trip and fall since Sunny’s still trying to catch Harry by his ankles. She sits on the far end of the sofa as Harry crouches down to give Sunny a proper cuddle.

The dog looks like he’s having the time of his life as Harry scratches his head, massages behind his ears and gives him gentle pats on his furry bum and Y/N tries hard not to cringe at the dog hair swirling in the air. He looks mesmerised by Harry and Y/N can’t blame him. When Sunny sneaks in a couple of licks, they both laugh as Harry wipes the sticky saliva with the arm of his thick jumper.

“Alright, alright, chill.” He gets up despite Sunny’s whines and his attention is now on Y/N.

“Hi,” she can’t help but give him a little wave from the sofa.

“Alright?”

“Mhm. Want a cuppa?”

“Would kill for one actually,” he grins impishly and Y/N’s already on her feet, walking towards the kitchen.

When she glances back, Harry’s following and just like before, Sunny’s following close behind as if he’s being pulled by an invisible string. Clingy dog. She wonders if he’s feeling the things she’s too afraid to feel ever since Harry’s stepped into her flat.

They wait for the kettle in a slightly awkward silence as she takes the time to get used to his presence in her home again. It’s bittersweet, having him in the kitchen. Like when he used to wake up in the mornings and make a mess which he referrer as making breakfast. If it weren’t for the sound the kettle was making, she swears she could still hear the clatter of cutlery and Harry swearing loudly whenever he dropped something on the floor.

“Thanks for, you know, thanks for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. He’ll probably go ballistic as soon as you leave but I know you were missing him so… yeah.”

He gives her a sad smile and looks down at the dog who’s laying at his feet.

“Does he bark... always? Like, how bad does it get?”

“Well,” she puts the teabags in the mugs. “He sits in front of the door and barks non-stop as soon as I’m home. He usually tires himself out by the time I’m out of the shower but it’s been worse lately.”

As she pours the water, Harry glances at the fridge and a snort leaves her mouth at how reluctant he looks.

“Wha’?”

“I know you wanted to get the milk out. Just- don’t make this awkward. You can open the fridge without my permission.”

He gives her a pout and she has to turn her back to him and fiddle with the spoons for an unnecessary amount of time so that she doesn’t reach out and pinch his lips.

“I didn’t want to act like I own the place,” he mutters, milk in hand and Sunny all perked up at the sound of the fridge.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

The milk is back in the fridge, teabags stored back in the cupboard, kitchen light is turned off and they find themselves on the opposite sides of the sofa. Y/N sits cross legged on the spacious sofa while Harry’s looking oh so formal, one hand holding his tea and the other scratching Sunny’s fluffy neck who’s still not letting him out of his sight.

“You comfy there?”

Harry looks up, startled, and chuckles. “Erm, yeah. Why?”

“Dunno, you just look like you’re ready to run as soon as your tea’s finished.”

She knows she’s not subtle, judging his every move ever since he laid foot in the house. It’s not like she wants him to feel uncomfortable or guilty. It’s the opposite really; she doesn’t want to see him look so uncomfortable and on edge. It’s selfish really because it’s only been months after their breakup. Of course they both felt uncomfortable and awkward. And when he looks like his one foot is out of the door, Y/N feels horrible. She feels like it’s her own fault that he’s not feeling welcome.

“I just- I don’t know the limits? Like…” he places his tea on a coaster and clears his throat. “Like how comfortable should I get? Or- should we get? Am I allowed to sit all relaxed on the sofa…”

“Look, I get it. I’m sorry. I’m acting like a kid,” she takes a sip from her tea.

“Maybe- maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it this soon?” Harry more or less whispers, as if he’s walking on thin ice and he is. They both know it.

And well. Is he wrong? Were they stupid? Was she stupid, having his ex over for the sake of a bloody dog? Who was she kidding? She selfishly wanted to be in his presence again and she used both Harry and Sunny.

The awkward silence now increases as she tries to find something to say.

She wishes she was Sunny. Not because he’s still at Harry’s feet, head laid upon his socked feet but because he’s probably clueless to what’s been going on.

“Y/N?”

When she looks up, Harry’s still looking at her. His eyes are full of concern and she hates how familiar it looks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t feel unwelcome at all. I know that’s what you’re thinking,” he gives her a tiny smile and her eyes fall to his dimple.

“You’re right though. I think we both acted without thinking. I mean, it’s kind of my fault anyway. Calling you like that-”

“No-”

She shakes her head feverishly. “Yes. Ringing my ex as if Sunny’s a baby and he won’t fall asleep until his daddy wishes him good night.”

It’s dead silent until a snort comes out of Harry’s mouth and Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“Well he kinda is a baby, in’ he?” He reaches and pats Sunny in the head, making him perk up at the attention being given to him again. “And I am the daddy so…”

When he looks up though, Y/N’s watching him with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Too soon?”

“Not surprised at your inability to read the mood. Always cheeky. You done seducing that tea?”

When she stands up, Sunny does too. He knows she’s making her way to the kitchen with her tea in hand so he would normally follow close behind, thinking she’s going to fetch him more snacks.

He laughs at that though. He does because they get each other’s weird sense of humour.

“Nah I’m trying to see if I can finish it.”

“I won’t even take offence at that. I know I make a mean cuppa so, suit yourself.”

She tries passing him but he stops her.

“Come on, please sit down. I won’t get mad if you do the washing up after I leave,” he gives her a smile and surprisingly, it’s enough to make her sit down.

He waits for her to speak but it never comes. They sit in silence while Harry pets Sunny aimlessly.

“Can we- can I continue what I was saying before?”

“What? About you being a daddy?”

He snorts at that, the same hand that was petting Sunny now coming up to his head, fingers running through his hair so effortlessly. She watches as the hairs glide smoothly between his long, ring cladded fingers.

“No,” he rolls his eyes but a there’s a hint of smile there somewhere.

When their eyes meet, she smiles at him, properly smiles at him for the first time that night. When he returns it with his own dimpled smile, she almost forgets. She forgets why he came and for a second, it feels like they’re back in time. Back to when they spent most of their nights in front of the TV. Sunny curled up and snoring by the sofa while Y/N played with Harry’s hair, their legs tangled and his back against her chest. It takes her a minute to understand why Harry looks so confused.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired,” she murmurs.

“’s okay. I’m kinda glad you didn’t hear what I so bravely confessed there,” he chuckles at the ground and the sound makes Sunny lay his head against his legs, asking for more pets.

Despite his vagueness, she smiles at his boyish charm. “What was it?”

“Nah, not tellin’ you now,” he smirks, never once looking up from his petting session with Sunny.

A sigh leaves her mouth and that’s when he looks her way.

Were they flirting? Could exes flirt? Should they flirt?

And wait, did he get a new ring?

“Was it about my poor taste in cushions again?” She smirks, trying to sound as nonchalant as she can.

“Well-”

He tries getting comfortable on the sofa, leaning back and crossing his legs but Sunny starts barking as if to complain about Harry’s divided attention. He reaches down and gives him a pet but never once takes his eyes off of her.

It’s quiet after that. None of them speak. They lose the eye contact as soon as Sunny abruptly gets up from his laying position and walks to his water bowl, both of them watching him leave.

“He’ll bite my ear off as soon as you leave tonight,” Y/N mumbles, trying to pass it off as a joke but Harry doesn’t smile.

Instead, he sighs and scratches his knee. “I actually saw Sunny the week you called me… your brother was walking him near Gemma’s house and- well, yeah.”

At the news, she feels an anger bubble up inside her. Not towards Harry -maybe a little- but towards her brother. Since her brother’s not here, she’s going to take it out on Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I rang? You- I, oh God. I’m such a fucking idiot. You came here out of pity and not because you missed Sunny, right?” She keeps going as if someone’s been timing her. “You probably laughed after right? At how pathetic I was? You should’ve told me!”

“Well, I didn’t! It’s not a big deal-” he tries again but she cuts him off and he’s slightly taken back by her widened eyes.

“Not a big deal? You came here because you pitied me! Well fuck, I know it’s pitiful but you shouldn’t-”

“I wasn’t missing the bloody dog, I only saw him that week! I used him to see you!”

She freezes, trying to process his words but as always, Sunny steals the show.

This time, he’s choking on his water.

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[brainfuzz]

New Jersey is not letting me go easy.

Ok, so my husband is retiring because his job is the biggest bunch of bullshit and after 30some years, he's done. Because you can't afford to live in a decent place in NJ unless you make a shitload of money - and I do not - we're moving. Because spouse is the outdoorsy type, he wanted to move to a place with a lot of land. I found a beautiful little house out of state on 50 acres of woods, and we can afford it on just my salary so we're moving. We bought the house in November, but can't move until April, so one of the neighbors is keeping an eye on the place, we've been going up periodically, and I've got a couple of cheap cameras installed so I can keep an eye on it too. The last time I was up there was mid-January and everything was fine with the exception of mice in the house. Which I kind of expect because, middle of the woods and empty house. The food and dishes are all secured, so its not a big deal and the cats will take care of it when we finally move.

Anyway, about a week after we left in January, one of the camera shifted. Its just a little thing, and its sitting on a little box in the window so I figured a mouse bumped it or something. I could still see what I needed to see outside, so I didn't worry about it.

Now, this is a long weekend for me and my husband, so we thought we'd go up and fix up some things, change the locks, fix a faucet just kind of relax a bit and take up some things we don't want movers taking. Spouse decided to extend the weekend, came home early Thursday and then go up Friday. I'll follow on Saturday. Shit has gone downhill quickly since then. Thursday night, he was target shooting in the basement with his tournament bow, and the fucking thing literally exploded. I had gone to take the girl to work, and when I got home, he was standing heartbroken in the middle of various bow bits. Apparently one of the cables snapped, the arrow released early (and into the cement floor thank fuck) and cables and limbs and things went everywhere. I'm not sure it can be fixed, and it definitely means he's not going to be able to finish his last tournament circuit in NJ before we move. Again, he's heartbroken; this is his passion.

He leaves at god-knows-what-time this morning (I wasn't up for work yet) and heads up to the new house. He gets there around lunch time, and calls me ranting about everything being shit and why the fuck is he even trying. Finally he tells me the soapstone backsplash unglued itself from the wall and fell...right on top of the glass cook top. The cook top is shattered, glass is everywhere and the soapstone slab is cracked. Now I'm scrambling to find a new cook top that will fit the existing hole and when I think I've got one, it turns out they don't *really* have it, the inventory was wrong. I'm also trying to work, pack my shit up to leave tomorrow, and grab the couple of things he's called and said he needs to fix this new mess. So I go to the basement to grab a couple of tools, and why the fuck is there water on the floor. Oh, great, the pressure relief valve is leaking on the water heater. So now the kids (who are full adults) will have no hot water in the house for the weekend while we're gone until he comes home on Monday and fixes it. Assuming he can find the part. I just want this to be over and in my new house, in the woods with my gardens.

[jennygirl2014]

Birthday Cake~ Chapter One

Summary: You had good intentions.  You really did.  It just all went downhill so fast....

Word count: 3233

Warnings: 18+, NSWF, adult themes, swearing, masturbation

              You were on your way over to Steve’s apartment, already feeling uneasy about your upcoming visit.  There were several reasons why you tried to make good with America’s golden boy, but you just hadn’t been able to get on his good side. Working for Tony Stark, that was one thing, he and Steve butt heads all the time, and that didn’t work well in your favor.  Second, you didn’t have the cleanest record.  Tony had implemented an intervention program where he found local people who had previous trouble with the law, and he turned their lives around by turning them into technological whizzes.  He called it Stark’s Restart Program.  The public loved it, and it helped to further fund his many other operations.  You got caught robbing houses at age 16, you were a professional even, but when you got the choice between going to juvy, and eventually prison, or entering Stark’s program, you gave up your profession. Were you a technological whizz? Not even close.  Technology was not your forte, yet Tony kept you on as a regular employee, thus keeping you out of trouble for many years.  No more drugs, no more burglaries, but still lots of partying, because that’s one thing Tony was all about.  If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know where you would have been in life.  

              The third reason was obvious, the age difference. Being in your best years, you were all about fun, and trends and enjoying life.  You had that “forever young” mentality, that” you only live once” attitude, you were in your prime and you were going to have fun.  Steve, whose age you couldn’t even quite calculate, was the total opposite.  You had a few tattoos, lip and nose piercings, and your hair always seemed to change colors. But why not?  You worked hard, you played hard, Tony paid you well.  You turned your life around.  You deserved to have fun.  Steve occasionally made comments about your appearance or what you were doing that somewhat rubbed you the wrong way.  “What made you want to have purple hair?” “Another tattoo?  You know those are permanent.” “Back in my day, we didn’t have to listen to music so loud we could go deaf to enjoy it.” “Women used to dress so…differently.” You were sure he didn’t see eye to eye with your lack of modesty, but that wasn’t going to change.  You were civil with each other, but you wouldn’t have ever called him a friend.  

              Which was a shame…because boy was he one fine looking man.  Although his traditional ways sometimes irked you, you could always look past it, as long as you found something good to look at.  And there was always something good to look at when it came to Steve.  You hated that he had to be such a prude, because his smile would make your temperature rise.  Part of you felt rather embarrassed, but you couldn’t deny the way your mind sometimes went to those dark and dirty places.  Just the other week he had bent over to pick something up and you ended up intently staring at his ass for at least three whole minutes.  But at least knowing that you were not his type kept the daydreaming from getting too out of hand.  

But what girl didn’t look at Steve Rogers that way?

“He should be home; you know with his curfew and bedtime and all that.” Tony’s voice carried through the Bluetooth speaker in your car.  “Just use the drive I gave you to install the upgrade on his computer.  I offered to talk him through it but…well, you know.”

“What’s wrong with his computer?” you ask.

“He says it’s been slow, and he keeps getting pop ups.  He spends so much time surfing the web trying to catch up on everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a virus on there.  Maybe you could check it out.  You know, if you can handle that.” He jested.

“Listen, I may not know how to build a circuit board, but I can check for viruses.  I learned some things.” You defended yourself.  

“Yeah, I’m sure you have.” He continued to tease, “Anyway, in and out, no fuss.  Oh, but don’t forget his present.” He reminded you.  It was Steve’s birthday, and while Tony had offered a get together, Steve had declined.  You looked over at the medium sized box with a ribbon on it sitting in your passenger seat and suddenly thought the worst.  

“Tony?” you started.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t another prank is it?” the last thing you wanted was to be caught up in Tony and Steve’s little rivalry.  But Tony didn’t play by Steve’s rules, Steve would go about things diplomatically, while Tony sometimes just tortured the poor guy.

“No!  Not at all, don’t worry about it.  I wouldn’t do that to you.” He sounded honest, and you felt slightly relieved.

“Okay, because, you know he’s already not the fondest of me.”

“Don’t say that.  He just doesn’t know how to handle someone like you.  I mean, with the piercings, and the hair…” he trailed off.  “You know most people wouldn’t hire you with that unique sense of style, but I find it exhilarating.”

“Yes, thank you again for allowing me to be myself.” You must have said it a million times to him over the years.  And then you wondered why he was making himself out to be the world’s greatest boss again, aside from the usual ego trip.  

“Anyway, just check out the computer, give him the present and call it a night.” Tony repeated himself.

              Yes, that was the plan, but it was only part of your particular plan.  Steve had generously lent you his jacket the previous week, which was extremely flattering, and you intended on returning it.  Of course, you had held onto it a few extra days, just because.  You may have even worn it once while sitting on the couch, eating ice cream and watching a few romantic movies, but nobody had to know.  Another thing nobody had to know was that you had purchased a small cake, which was sitting neatly by the present Tony had asked you to deliver.  It was nothing fancy, yellow cake with white, red and blue icing, and it simply read “Happy Birthday”, nothing more.  It all appeared innocent enough, right?  Were you making it obvious that you wanted to be in his good graces?  Maybe. But “bold” was your middle name.  

              You parked on the street in front of his apartment and somehow managed to carry his jacket, the present and the cake all in your hands.  The little USB drive simply fit in your pocket, no need to fuss with that.  Of course, then again, you were there to install a new program on his computer, and if it was just sitting in your pocket, maybe it looked like it wasn’t the main reason for your visit.  You started to overthink the entire situation, and decided to carry the drive in your hands as well, just to maintain the right idea. You managed the stairs, which wasn’t easy, especially in those pumps you loved so much.  They weren’t easy to walk in, and your toes were starting to hurt in them.  

              Once you reached his door, you knocked lightly, somehow managing to tap your knuckles on the wooden door without dropping anything. There was nothing.  No sound, no stirring, nothing.  You knocked again.  Still nothing.  With a sigh you knelt down and placed everything on the floor and got your phone out of your purse, dialing Tony.  It rang four times and he picked up.

“I thought you said you could handle checking for viruses.” Tony didn’t even greet you.

“Um… yeah, I can.  Or at least I would, if he were home.” You corrected him.

“He’s not home? That’s odd.” Tony sounded perplexed. “Maybe he went out to some diner for the old timer’s special.”

“So…what now?” you asked your boss what to do.

“Well…” he paused, “You used to sneak into houses, right?” You blinked in disbelief of what he was possibly suggesting. “Hello?” you went silent.

“I’m here.  And yeah, I did, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not about to break into Captain America’s apartment.” You sounded astonished just talking about it.

“But you’re not really breaking into anything.  You’re not going to break down his door or whatnot.  You can just let yourself in, leave the USB drive, and the present, on his counter and let yourself out.  He won’t mind.”

“How do you know that?” you weren’t so sure.

“Trust me.  He really needs that upgrade and I really want him to get that present today.  It is his birthday after all.”

You thought it over, and then huffed. “Fine.”

“That’s a good sport. Thank you much.” And Tony hung up without saying goodbye, in typical Tony fashion.  

“Ugh, Tony.” You muttered as you stayed knelt down and drew in a deep breath.  You looked around the hallway, over your shoulder on both sides to make sure nobody was watching before standing up.  

              Your fingers instinctively found the two bobby pins in your hair and you pulled them out.  Perhaps it was some of that old habit that hadn’t died out of you yet, but two bobby pins in your hair was the norm.  Just in case. You angled them in your hands, just as you remembered, and inserted them into Steve’s lock.  You felt ridiculous, but at the same time, kind of daring.  It was a momentary rush, just a small reminder of the thrill you used to get.  You worked the lock for some time, not having any luck, and just as you were about to give up, you felt the pins insert into that perfect spot.  You rotated your wrists and unlocked the door seamlessly. Bingo.

              With a small grin you put the bobby pins back in your hair.  “Still a badass.” You complimented yourself.  You managed to get the armful of goods back into your grasp and stood up with them, shimmying your hips a bit to straighten out your skirt.  The air stayed captive in your lungs as you slowly nudged the door open and allowed yourself to step inside to Steve’s apartment, and after taking a step in, you used your heel to close the door behind you.

              You were eager to take it all in.  You had always wondered what his place was like, and now you were seeing it.  Even with the lights off, you could make out all the details around you from where you stood.  The old black and white photos of Yankees stadium on the wall, his contemporary style light fixtures, which you were sure came with the apartment.  There was a decent sized TV in front of a red couch. But over in the corner sat an old radio and record player, and next to that a blue recliner.  It looked worn, and you were sure that he spent most of his time there, looking out the window and reminiscing of older times. It was the typical man’s apartment, no fancy centerpieces on the table, a couple books laying around, nothing special.  But the air smelled of him, and you inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of musk, cologne and aftershave.  There was a hint of cedarwood in the air that tickled your nose.

              Finally, you remembered why you were there, and you took small steps further into the apartment, still looking around.  The kitchen was small, and spotless.  The carpet was a casual tan.  You were tempted to take a quick look into his bathroom to see what soap and shampoo he used.  You felt silly, like a little girl who finally got to see how their crush lives at home.  But you didn’t belong in there, you had to get in and get out.  So, you turned the corner, assuming the hallway led to his bedroom, and you saw the cracked door into the dark room.  Only it wasn’t dark, there was a flickering light.  

              Maybe he was home and had fallen asleep.  Maybe that was a second TV he had in his bedroom. You swallowed hard, worried that you would disturb him and wake him up, and make him mad.  You shouldn’t have just let yourself in.  If you just put the stuff on the counter and ran off, he would still know what you did.  What about making it a surprise?  

Yeah!  That would work!

              Just sneak in, catch him off guard but smile wide and say “surprise” as you give him back his jacket and present the tiny cake.  And work on his computer.  No big deal. So, you took another step closer to the cracked door, seeing the flickering light and holding your breath.  It would be okay. He couldn’t stay mad with a present and cake, right?  You could play it off, you were clever.  Your elbow lightly touched the door and you started to lean in, preparing to ease the door open wider. A smile was already spreading across your lips.

              But then it hit your ears, a weird sound.  A moan?  A groan?  A yawn? Maybe he really was asleep.  The sound came again, but then something else followed.  A woman’s voice. Was there a woman in there?  It didn’t sound like there was another person there, it sounded like it came through a speaker.  His TV maybe, or his computer.  Which you were there to fix.  All good, no worries, it would be fine.  You pushed the door open further, and then planted both feet it the doorway.  

              His back was to you, you would catch him off guard. He was sitting at his computer; his bed was against the wall to the right.  Okay, don’t yell surprise, just whisper it, you thought.  But then you saw it, the little bit of screen shining at you from around his large silhouette.  Skin tones, odd.  What was it? A movie?  And then you saw what looked like a woman’s bare ass, shaking, jiggling, another moan.  And his silhouette wasn’t smooth, it was moving.  His right arm, shaking.  A grunting sound?  

He released a breathy moan that made it very apparent what was going on. The woman’s voice on the screen carried louder, that raspy pitch of a woman in the throes of pleasure.  You had just walked in on the poor, innocent man pleasuring himself, to an adult movie.  Captain America was in front of you, with his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him, and his dick in his hand.

You panicked, bad.  That cold sweat kind of panic.

The words that were about to come out of your mouth were instantly sucked back into your lungs and your brain scrambled as you immediately realized you had overstepped your boundaries, big time.  You went to shuffle backwards, preparing to dart out of the room, but your back hit the door that had partially closed behind you, knocking you off your balance.  Your heel caught something, probably your other foot, and the next thing you knew, you were going down.

You went crashing down on the floor without an ounce of stealth or pride and everything in your arms spilled with you.  The commotion of it all startled you, and it definitely startled Steve, who had no idea about your presence until that very moment.  He shot out of his chair, standing and spinning around, eyes wide and his member still in hand.  His pants dropped to his ankles as he scrambled to cover himself, letting out some sort of sound that could only be described as a half shout half snort sort of thing. You, on the other hand, shamelessly screamed.  You held up your right hand in a flash, trying to shield yourself from his view, or rather block the view of what was in his hand from your eyes.  

To make matters worse, in your mad dash to get back on your feet, you kicked the present from Tony, tearing off the lid and thus somehow setting free a flurry of glitter that erupted from the contents and covered half of the room in the matter of a mere second, including you where you sat.  A mechanical, prerecorded laughing sound started emitting from the box.  Was it laughing at you? No. This was no gift.  This was a prank.  Damn Tony and his lies.  The mocking faux laughter continued as Steve gripped whatever contents were on his desk and attempted to cover his bottom half, a mix of papers, a book and a mousepad. By then you were scrambling onto your feet, but not before your hand sunk into the cake, which was now mysteriously missing its box and had been dumped on the floor, and your hand skidded forward, causing you to face plant in a mound of cake and icing.  

“Y/N…!” Steve shouted, probably coming to his senses. You swore you heard his voice crack a little.

              Somehow, by God’s grace, you had managed to get to your feet, despite your wobbly knees, and being partially blinded by glitter and icing, and you took off in a mad dash down the hall, back to Steve’s front door, leaving a trail of mushy cake and glitter in your blaze.  You ripped that door open and pulled it shut behind you, but didn’t waste a moment to make sure the door actually closed, and your heels were click clacking as your sprinted your sorry ass out of his apartment building.  Getting down the stairs would have been easier if you had just jumped from the floor you were on down to the landing, because you must have twisted your ankles a half dozen times as you stumbled down to the ground floor.  You wondered how you managed not to break your fancy heels, or your ankles, or your neck, in the process of running from your shame. And what were you hearing as your ran? The echoing of your profanities.

“Oh shit!  Oh fuck!  Oh shit, oh shit!  Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!” you said it over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer turning into your last words. “Oh my God!  Oh God! Oh shit!  Oh shit!”

              You raced out to your car, limping and trying to frenziedly wipe the icing and glitter from your face, from your shirt, and your skirt, and your knees.  You threw yourself into the driver seat and fumbled with your keys, dropping them and tossing them between your hands. “Oh man!  Oh shit!  Fuck! Fucking keys!  Shit! Shit, shit!” your eyes were burning from the icing and glitter, both clouding your vision.  You instinctively reached for your half empty water bottle in the cup holder, unscrewed the lid and dumped the water onto your face, trying to rid the burning from your eyes.  More profanities and more yelling, and maybe now some tears thrown into the mix.  

It all happened so fast! And yet, you felt like it was all in slow motion.  You stomped on the gas pedal, aching ankle be damned, and you were out of there.  

Nothing would ever compare to the humiliation you were feeling in that moment. You were convinced the shame would kill you, and you were even more upset that it actually wouldn’t.

[grace-sully]

We're Never Playing This Game Again

* this is not my gif; all credit goes to the owner

Pairing: John B x Reader

Warnings: drunken pogues? But not that drunk, mentions of sex

Word count: 1,669

Summary: It's a summer night, and the Pogues plays a little game of never have i ever with a side of a few beverages

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

John B was expecting a messy night. It was the first day of summer, and the atmosphere around the campfire at the back of the chateau was as peaceful as can be.

However, as soon as he saw Pope and Kie step into the threshold of the chateau, armed with crates of beer and pizza boxes, he was expecting the crazy kind of trouble that came from drinking too much alcohol like all of the other times the lively group got together and drank and smoked the night away. 

Like the one time, JJ challenged everyone to fight him as he had recently been watching Kung Fu videos on youtube and believed he could take on all of you Pogues, all for JJ to dislocate his shoulder when he tried to throw Kie to the ground.

Or the time when Kie had a breakdown and was hysterically crying because she realised fish and most ocean life had to live their lives without arms.

Or when Pope spilled his bottle of beer over himself and it went on his socks, and him being the genius he is, decided that the quickest way to dry them off was to put them in the microwave only for everyone to find out by Kie yelling “who the fuck is cooking a sock?”.

He was expecting all of that craziness and even more.

Instead, mellowed-out Pogues, all too tired from a day of surfing lounged out by the fire pit outside of the chateau, stuffing their faces with pizza and washing it all down afterwards with beer.

And these nights with you, were what he looks forward to most when thinking about summer. Where you both can’t get enough of each other. Spending the long days surfing, on the H.M.S Pogue, wandering aimlessly around The Cut, hanging out with the other Pogues were all that John B loved about summer.

But if he was being honest with himself, he looks forward to falling asleep with you most and waking up entangled in each other's arms and getting touchy with each other. He loved having your arms wrapped tightly around him. never wanting to let go of you, to never stop loving you. Wanting to defend you, keep you safe forever.

You were tucked into your boyfriends side, his arm draped over your shoulders, talking to Kie, recounting the story of the time she got a ‘Karen’ come into The Wreck while she was working one day and how JJ had to step in and try to resolve the problem. However, resolving in JJ’s instance, was to annoy the ‘Karen’ even more to where she walked out screaming that she would ‘never return to the establishment again’. The whole of your body relaxed as you retold the story giggling between sentences.

It only takes twenty minutes after the last piece of pizza is eaten for JJ to make his way into the chateau, only to return with an expensive bottle of whiskey in hand, which you presumed he brought with him that was properly stolen from his dad’s stash, and enough shot glasses for all of you to have one each, for the night to go downhill.

“Alright,” he says as he returns, pausing as he makes his way to the centre of the group, “who wants to play never have I ever?”

Whenever the Pogues were together, secluded from the world, with a crate of any type of alcohol, the urge to play drinking games was always strong.

You, Kie and Pope instantly agreed to JJ’s suggestion. Hearing everyone's embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears.

John B however, exhales, scrunching up his nose. Not in the mood to play and drinking games. And just wanting to savour the cool, starlight sky with the light music playing over the crackling sounds of the campfire and the playful laughs coming from his best friends around him.

Still, he entertains JJ’s idea, readying himself for a few rounds of burning liquid down his throat and ridiculous questions that he has to admit to.

JJ starts, since he suggested the game, looking around at the Pogues before his eyes zero in on you and Kie. “Never have I ever worn a bra.”

“Really?” You narrow your eyes at JJ, refilling your glass, while Kie mutters words of protest at the blonde boy, who can’t contain his smug smile and giggles. You roll your eyes, both of you taking your first drink alongside each other.

You think of the next question almost instantly, looking at the two who you were directing the question to  “Never have I ever gone surfing in the middle of a storm.”

John B thinks you were holding onto that one for a while.

Pope catches your eye from across the campfire, waving a hand dismissively at your obvious jab towards him and your boyfriend.

“No way, you surfed the surge?” JJ asked, impressed, but a little hurt that he wasn’t there to join them.

“Yeah,” 

“That's my boy. Pogue style,” JJ leaned over and patted Pope on the back of the shoulder. He obviously hit it too hard, however, because as soon as JJ removed his hand, Pope whipped around and rubbed where JJ had made contact. 

John B eyed the shot glasses lined up in front of him warily. Picking it up, he drinks it at once alongside Pope, rolling his eyes at the mocking cheer that erupts around his friends, as they both successfully swallowed the amber liquid.

You pinch at the skin that is revealed when he leans forward, to put the glass down. To which he does the same back to you, smirking in retaliation.

The game continues on with more questions. Each round getting less and less serious and leading into everyone’s personal secrets. Everyone trying to one-up the last, in more efforts to embarrass each other.

More than once have you had to hide your blushing cheeks, and knowing smile behind the rim of the shot glass you drank from because of the invasive question asked by the overly curious Pogues.

John B lets himself get lost in his friend’s exchanges and participation in the game. Basking in the conversations and laughter that is happening around him. His warm hand slips beneath your shirt and presses you closer into him, rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip. 

You return the gesture by leaning back into him, moulding yourself into his side, and turning in his grasp to give him a quick peck on the lips. Noticing that he has been relatively quiet throughout the game, only speaking to ask a question for the group.

“You okay?” you ask so only he can hear you. He lightly smiles at you and nods. Squeezing you tighter to him. You take this as his ‘okay’, rolling your head back onto his shoulder, listening back into the group, just as JJ asked another question.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing the rest of the group to give all of their attention to him, “Never have I ever, had sex in public.” 

You down your drink without really thinking, suddenly feel your boyfriend's entire body still as you settle back into him. He halted the movements his hand made along the skin of your hip. Looking up at his face, you see red creeping itself upon his neck, across his face and up to his ears, whether from remembering the intimate memory of you two, or being embarrassed by it being brought up in his group of friends.

One hot day on The Cut lead you and John B taking a ride out on the H.M.S. Pogue together, spending the day listening to music, drinking beer and enjoying each other's company. Kie and Pope had to spend the day working, and JJ was busy doing JJ things leaving the two of you to do whatever you pleased without interruptions from anyone else. 

This led to many, many make out sessions and more. On the boat, on the beach and in the water. 

All he could imagine was flashes of sweat-slick skin and hurried kisses. How you fit into his body, your chest flush against his chest. the way you pressed up against him in the water. Shaking, trembling, panting into the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh, what have you two been up to then?,” JJ playfully jabs, bringing John B out of his own head, with a bright smirk plastered across his face. Proud of himself that he's caught his friends out.

Kie takes the lead in the friendly interrogation, giggling as she gestures towards the both of you with an open hand. “You guys wanna share?”

You just shrug, “Not particularly, no,” you declare, leaning over to grab the bottle from Pope to fill another shot and down it in less than no time, “I’m not drunk enough for this anyway.” 

“You’ve gotta tell us now!” Pope wails, trying to keep in his laughter for long enough to stutter the sentence. Extending his hand out towards the red faced couple to exaggerate his point.

John B could die from the overwhelming weight of his embarrassment on his shoulders. And he can tell you’re also regretting taking the shot after JJ asked the question in the way you fall further into him, hands coming up to cover your face in humiliation.

“We’re not part of this conversation,” John B sighs, trying to change the conversation topic. Too embarrassed that his friends know a secret that was just meant for you and him to know. And too turned on thinking about the memory about you and him, now just wanting the night to be over so he can be alone with you. 

You shake your head, speaking into your hands, letting out a long groan.

Kie and Pope stop cackling for long enough to splutter at the same time, “you took the shot!”

“We are never playing this game again”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please give it a reblog and leave some love <3

[sourbkg]

ｓｉｘ

ｆｉｃ  ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ

ｗｏｒｄ  ｃｏｕｎｔ:  １６１７

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ:  ｎｏｎｅ

You wake up the next morning with a slight headache, no doubt from staying up so late entertaining your new friends while also helping take care of two wild kids. And to think, you didn’t even touch a drop of alcohol. You can only imagine how the others feel. You stretch from your bed, rubbing your forehead and deciding it was now or never. There were still things to do, boxes to unpack, a kid to take care of. 

Maneuvering out of your bed took more effort than you thought, but you managed. One glance into Kiro’s room told you he was gonna be asleep for a few hours more, and with that in mind, you began the quest of organizing kitchen utensils and miscellaneous boxes. Setting up framed pictures of you and Kiro, paintings you grabbed from your old house- overall changing the barren walls before you, making it lively and lived it. Making it your own. 

You finished unpacking everything in the kitchen and broke down the boxes, carrying them out of the house and to the road so the garbage trucks could take them. Curiosity caused you to glance towards your neighbors house, wondering if everyone had stayed the night or if Jirou and Sero made due on their promises of taking their drunk friends home. Two bikes and a jeep remained in the driveway, and upon further inspection, you could see the red hair of your friend laying in a bush. 

Just as you were about to go over and check on him, the door swung open. A scowling Bakugou stepped out, followed by Sero, who was rubbing his forehead. They don’t take immediate notice of you, instead walking to their friend who hadn’t moved an inch. Bakugou nudges Kirishima with his foot, and you can hear the groan he lets out from where you stand. 

“Morning, (y/n).” Sero says with a wave, taking your attention from the red head (who’s sitting up and looking extremely confused). 

“It’s 2 in the afternoon,” You say, but wave back anyways, “what happened to taking Kirishima and Mina home?”

Sero rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Things got outta hand after you left-” 

Bakugou scoffs, offering Kirishima a hand and hoisting him up from the ground, “Kirishima dared him to take five shots of fireball and it went downhill from there.” 

With the brief explanation out of the way, the three wave you off and you head back into your own home while the boys go back to Bakugou’s. You can only laugh at their strange dynamic. 

--------

Weeks turn into months and you’re settling in just fine. Your job has you working the perfect hours and the daycare is always Kiro’s favorite topic, getting ready in the mornings going without a hitch since he’s actually excited to go. You even frequently see the people you’ve become friends with, the Bakusquad, as Kirishima calls it. 

They ride motorcycles and act all big and bad, but you know the truth. Deep down, they’re all softies. Even Bakugou, though he’d kill you if you ever said it to his face. Before you know it, you’re being invited to a movie night, this being hosted at Mina and Kirishima’s apartment. It’s not horribly far, and Mina throws in the suggestion of maybe you and Bakugou riding together. 

“To save gas!” She explains, “and ‘cause I know Bakugou’s gonna want to drink, but won't if he has to drive. It’ll be a win-win!” 

“What if I want to drink?” You argue, but the look she gives tells you she knows you wouldn’t touch the alcohol with a five-foot pole. You falter, “I don’t even think he likes me enough to want to sit in the same car as me.” 

Another look she gives has you doubting yourself again, and you completely crumble, “Fine! But I’m not gonna suggest it to him.”

“No worries, babe,” Mina grins, whipping out her phone, “I got you.” 

“Just don’t say anything weird-” you groan. 

--------

The movie day rolls around all too quickly, Jirou told you there was a theme. That being “junk food”. You’re almost certain they picked it to not be shown up by Bakugou’s cooking again. You decided to bring chips and dip, not having enough time to prepare something decently better. Just as you finish getting Kiro dressed, there’s a knock at your door. Your brother, elated as ever to meet whatever stranger could be behind it, rushes over the second you’re done helping tie his shoe. 

You end up having to follow behind him, unlocking the door with a laugh when it’s thrown open to reveal Bakugou. Red eyes rake over your form, and you’re suddenly self conscious of the plain tee and jeans you wear- nothing you own could compete with what adorns Bakugou’s figure. Dark jeans, dark jacket, dark shirt- as edgy as it may be, he pulls it off. A chain looping from his belt only adds to the aesthetic. 

“You guys almost ready?” He asks, stepping into the house with a 12 pack. You nod. 

“Yeah, let me just grab our snacks and we can head out-” 

Despite the proclamation, Bakugou’s grabbing the grocery bag from your hands the second you confirm it has everything you need. You give him a look, but he shakes his head. 

“I can carry these since you’re driving.” 

His explanation is simple, and with a nod of your head, the two boys are following you out the door. You unlock your car so Bakugou can put the snacks down and Kiro can climb into his carseat while you lock your front door. When you turn towards the car, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Bakugou buckling Kiro in, drinks and snacks left to the side on the ground. He catches your eye when he finishes, and averts his gaze almost immediately. 

“We gonna leave or what?” He asks, moving to the otherside of the car to place the things in the backseat. You climb into the driverside, and wait for Bakugou to get settled before you put the car in reverse and pull out of the driveway. 

The cars quiet, save for Kiro singing a song from some TV show he likes a lot and the occasional direction from Bakugou. 

“You’re really good with kids.” You find yourself saying after a few minutes, eyes flitting to the side momentarily before they’re back on the road. 

Bakugou grunts, “That a surprise?” 

“Only a little.” You can’t help but tease. He doesn’t reply, but you know you didn’t offend him in any way. Soon, you’re pulling down a long driveway, coming to an end at a cute cottage. You can just barely see a lake behind it, with a trail leading to it lit up by dorky fairy lights. Yeah, this had to be their place. 

Bakugou doesn’t let you grab any of the snacks again, sending you a glare when you reach over Kiro to at least try to help. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, and go about unbuckling your brother instead, who wiggles out of your grasp the second he’s free and running towards the open doors despite you calling out for him to wait. 

With a huff, you’re walking beside Bakugou instead, hearing the laughter of your brother once you reach the foyer. When you walk further inside, you see Kiro being held up by his ankles, Kirishima wiggling him back and forth while the captured boy wails in delight. 

Sero ends up arriving late, again, while Jirou and her crew never show. Mina explains it’s because Mari caught the flu, gave it to Kaminari, and now she has to deal with two sick babies. You feel bad, but not enough to go help her. However, you and Mina agree to make chicken soup or something to bring to them one day soon. 

The movie starts after the  six of you settle in front of Mina and Kirishima’s tv, Kiro curled against your left side while Mina sits at your right. Kirishima leans against Mina’s legs, while Bakugou has his back propped up against a pillow right beside yours and Sero sits in a beanbag chair (he said he refused to sit on the floor, complaining about his butt hurting the last time it happened). 

Kiro had the honors of choosing a movie, that being Wreck-It Ralph. In the middle of the movie, Kiro and Mina end up falling asleep, small legs lay on your thighs while the rest of him is on top of Mina. 

“Can��t believe the lil shit picked the movie and can’t even stay awake to watch it.” Bakugou complains, glare moving from the screen to your brother. 

“Don’t call him a little shit,” is the only argument you can manage. He opens his mouth to reply, but vibrating against your thigh has both of you becoming distracted. You wiggle your phone from underneath you and look to the caller ID. 

If Bakugou notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t say anything. You maneuver yourself out from under Kiro, carefully laying his legs back down on the couch and send Kirishima a small “be right back” when he asks where you’re going. 

You stare at the caller ID, frown on your face as you step into the cool air outside. You shouldn’t feel obligated to answer, and yet you do. Musutafu City Jail stares right back at you. You press the green button. 

“....” 

There’s shuffling on the other end, a few coughs in the background. 

“Hello? (y/n)? You there?” 

You give a shaky exhale, “Yeah, what do you want.” 

“That’s no way to speak to your father.” Comes the reply. 

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

{𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼} @mrsreina @cold-deep-water @pm4gal @dragonempress123 @my-neighbor-todoro @starsandkeysruler @goodpop9

[bitch-i-migth-be]

Crash Course | Chapter 06: That one weird uncle-godfather-almost-parent-figure-thingy that refuses to go away because you're a walking disaster and they love you to pieces (sometimes literally)

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman,  

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton,  Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton & Vlad Masters, 

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Random ghosties mentions *boo*, Vlad Fucking Masters Everyone, OC. 

Words: 5′195

Tags: Sibling bonding, Shenanigans, Swearing, Quasi Family dinners, cuddling, ghost core shenanigans, OC, Ghost King Danny, Vlad being vlad

Chapter Summary: Vlad.exe has started ‘the scheming’. These kids are tired. And another agent of Chaos is here.

A/N: I can’t believe I can get away with using that title.

Why is no one stopping me?

As the writer, I reserve the right to withhold information for now. Remember what I said about taking liberties?? Yeah, still doing that. Roll with me, pls-

Good news! This and another chapter more before Gotham! Fucking finally.

-.-.-.-

THIS IS ON AO3, IF ANYONE WOULD PREFER TO READ THERE. LOVE COMmENTs  so if u have anything to say IwillBeReallyHappyYesThankU

CHAPTERS: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

-.-.-.-

Vlad considered himself a man of simple pleasures.

If something caught his attention and would make him happy then he went and got it. 

Not caring about what other people might think about his choices. If his happiness was on the line what other people had to say was irrelevant. Unless said people were influential enough to affect his future, in which case he had to tread carefully. But he never gave up on what he had put his sights on. 

This way of thinking had accompanied him since he was a young lad and It didn’t seem like it was going to change anytime soon. If his experience with Jack and Maddie hadn’t made the trick he didn’t know what possibly could. 

At the time, meeting Jack Fenton at the University of Wisconsin had opened the door to new possibilities. The man got so pumped up that he seemed to exude cheer all over the place, it was a sharp contrast to the dull family Vlad had left behind in his search for higher education, for something better than the leftovers they hoped would make him happy. 

What Jack brought to the table was new. A field of study no one had ever researched before, not like this, not with proper scientific evidence.

So he had let himself get dragged along. Just to see what it was like. A shot in the dark, so to speak. 

It was enough to intrigue him.

To the point that Vlad, who until that point was gunning for a major in business, had upgraded to a double major to include engineering, with a personal-extra-side of whatever the hell he needed to know to make sense of the things Jack kept spouting around like a complete madman.   

With the proper knowledge, and even more intrigued, Vlad had come to realize that while Jack seemed like a goofball at first sight, there was some backbone to his theories. That had just sealed the deal. 

And then Maddie came along. crashing into them with all the brilliance of a shooting star.

Madeline, who had been the cherry on top. Beautiful, passionate, and headstrong. Well on her way to becoming an amazing engineer with the meanest right hook Vlad had ever seen.

He had become infatuated. It was almost laughable how hard he had hit the ground running with that one. 

It went downhill from there with him none the wiser.

They had shared hopes and dreams with Vlad in a way not even his blood family had. Become his best and only friends. And he was sure that with time and careful planning Madeline could become more.

Could anyone blame him for thinking this could be what a true family was like? For thinking that this was it. 

They had been his everything, and as such he would have done anything within his power to lay the world before them. 

Which made their betrayal hurt deeper.

He had failed to see, as submerged as he was in his little happy bubble and the research, the growing distance between them and him, the sneaking around, the way they had started to look at each other. The distraction that had lead to mistakes 

Irreversible mistakes.

Ones they hadn’t stuck around for. 

He had been a complete mess after that. 

He had carried on. Once out of the hospital he has persevered and achieved everything that got on his way, and if he used a little bit of ghostly help that was no one’s business but his. And maybe he would have been happy with that, but there was always that little thorn that seemed to be stuck to his core. He had tried to play the fool. It hadn’t worked. And it wasn’t even his style, to begin with.

So when the opportunity presented itself to try and fix some of what he had lost in the past, he took it.  

He had planned to barge in guns blazing. And he did. But he hadn’t been expecting the pair of scrawny teens he had been presented with. Much less for one of them to have been subjected to the same affliction that haunted his days. Just that the brat had it worse because it had been his parents who had half-killed him and not his best friends.

Vlad would find out later about what exactly happened in the Fenton’s basement and laugh bitterly while sipping cognac because that made it even more ironic. 

He had thought about it long and hard. And decided to accept the child as his apprentice and honorary son. The kid was in urgent need of some proper training. A pair of meals for him and his sister wouldn’t hurt either — as blind as he had been back then, he was coherent enough to still recognize the mistake that was letting either of his ‘friends’ in the kitchen. — He was deliberately choosing to disregard their parent’s crime in order to help them. 

He was amicable like that. Kind, even.

If only the ungrateful little badger cooperated.

jasmine, who had eventually realized what exactly was going on — The man had seen it coming from miles away, the girl was smart and her disaster of a brother kept stumbling around town as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It was distressing to witness. — and not just the surface passive-aggressive way they sniped at each other in public, would help him realize that he had been going all wrong about approaching Daniel.

He had been treating him like he used to treat the boy’s parents

The older Fentons had never treated him seriously, so he always had to find dramatic ways to make them go along with what he wanted. Come to think of it, he had done that with a lot of people…

So, he had unconsciously regressed to his college years. Never a good stage to revive. It had obviously led straight to disaster, and he might or might not have neglected his business in the meantime. Thankfully, Jasmine had taken it upon herself to snap him out of it. Trying to run for mayor in a town in the middle of nowhere. Him. A goddamned Billionaire. What was he even thinking?

Obsessions were a dangerous thing. He would need to be more careful in the future. 

To summarize, Jasmine had been, as much as it pained him to accept it, most helpful in their little chats on how to deal with teenagers.

Now, he realized, the desire to keep striving for his beloved Madeline’s hand was putting a dent in his interactions with the little badger, and even his sister would show reluctance if he went a little too far. And if he wanted to educate this childr- child, educate this child properly,   that was not going to help him to accomplish his goals.

He was a businessman. He knew when risks were acceptable. Knew what investments would not be profitable.

There was a reason he had managed to convince the University of Wisconsin to finance their research when there wasn’t any concrete proof of ghosts, a reason he had managed to become a millionaire. Other than sleight of hand. That is. 

In the end, the final choice was pretty obvious. 

Having his obsession slowly shift targets after meeting the kids had been quite the experience. 

Especially because he, self-made billionaire, the man on top of everything, who had fingers in all of the biggest pies out there, The Vlad Masters Himself, had not seen it coming. 

-.-.-.-

Vlad would love to say he exhorted the best place to eat out of the boy. But really. Once Vlad said he was paying Daniel was more than happy to shoot for the tastiest and expensive things the siblings normally couldn’t afford. Jasmine was not openly contributing to her brother’s effort to suck him dry of money, but she was not stopping him either. 

He didn’t have any proof those two could communicate telepathically but by this point, he felt he didn’t need any. They probably had some sort of silent signals. The sneaky little shits. 

The man didn’t mind. Not really. He got the brats all for himself, after all. It was a win-win situation. 

“So,” he started with a hum “What happened with the box ghost?” Vlad inquired

The boy glared at him. Vlad smirked. Jasmine was making a great job at feigning deafness while looking completely done with them.

“I dealt with him accordingly.”Danny glowered, stabbing his burger with a fork. The billionaire wasn’t sure if that was meant to make a point or the teen went feral on automatic these days even with his food. “The fuck, Vlad. I thought we were in peace mode.”

“Excuse you, child. I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was just making a simple question.” Which was mostly true, Vlad wouldn’t lower himself to the point of using such an annoying ghost as a lackey. He just liked to poke fun at little badger  “And even if I had, that was before I called a truce. It would have been completely valid.”

Daniel just grumbled, conceding the point, and continued mangling the food on his plate. The little heathen. 

Having lost the attention of the boy, he took a sip of his drink and turned to look at the other sibling. 

“You convinced them to do your research in ghosts, hm?”   

“Not like it was hard.” she was eating at a more sedate pace than her brother, but still a little faster than would be considered appropriate in polite company.  “Thanks to a pair of someones.” she sniffed at them. Danny smiled at her but kept his mouth closed and otherwise occupied with food. Vlad just hummed in quiet approval. 

“Good job.” then he frowned. “But also, why?”

“Why what?”

“Not the best place you could have chosen to do that, is it now?”

“Maybe not the most agreeable, no.” She conceded, reaching over to take a napkin. “But it is the best place for my purposes.” 

“Why though?” He insisted, hoping for a proper explanation.  

“Why not?” she retorted, the picture of innocence taking another bite. Vlad sighed and rolled his eyes, he kept forgetting she could be as bad as her brother sometimes. 

“Does it matter, old man? We are going anyway.” Daniel finally joined the conversation again, waving one of his french fries in an extremely judgy manner in Vlad’s direction “I didn’t pull all those strings in the zone for you to come complaining and think we are backing down just because you don’t like it.“   

“Oh ho, strings, you say?” Vlad mocked, “Would that have anything to do with the reason why Skulker came to me seeking refuge with his tail between his legs?”

Daniel almost choked on his next bite. Enough that Jasmine started looking worried, most likely about whether or not she would have to use the Heimlich on him. She relaxed when her brother finally sucked some air into his lungs just to immediately start laughing. 

“It does have some relation, yes” Jasmine took over for her brother, seeing as he was too busy making an impression of the lion king’s hyenas. It was a good thing they were in the more private part of the restaurant. “We, um, had to get creative.”

Vlad just raised both his eyebrows at her, and with a background of her brother’s cackles, she finally acceded to give in some ground. 

“I have a theory, and frankly, it would be faster if I do this in Arkham. For a bunch of reasons I don’t feel comfortable discussing at the moment.” Jasmine offered, “Plus, seeing as Danny is insisting on tagging along and at the moment he can’t really afford to leave Amity for longer than necessary-” Hearing that made Daniel come back from his endless snickering.

“Hey! don’t try to pin this on me. This was all you-!” 

After that, a free for all started between the siblings and Vlad stopped listening, feeling honest to the ancients offended. Couldn’t afford to leave longer? Please, Vlad could fix that in a jiffy, they just needed to ask- but nooo, the brats always had to go to the extremes for everything.

Although Vlad had to admit that Jasmine most likely had good reasons — If Daniel had said it, he wouldn’t even contemplate the validity of such a loose statement — for saying it would be faster doing it in Gotham- ugh, he had to stop himself from sneering just at the mention of the place. 

He had decided to open a branch office for one of his companies in the damned city and it had been nothing more than a headache in the last years. He had opted to send people over from the other branches to take care of everything rather than hiring people from Gotham to fill the spots available. 

After a pair of months of operations, it had become obvious that the place wasn’t working as smoothly as any of his other offices all over the world. 

It seemed like his employees didn’t have the spine to deal with the city’s threats properly. And hiring more Gothamites, who were guaranteed to have a spine on behalf of being raised in the place, would just make the mess bigger without him there to supervise. 

Which he hadn’t had the time to do. 

Come to think of it, the only reason he hadn’t taken it into his own hands was because-

His train of thought stopped right in its tracks, eyes snapping open as he took a long look at the kids in front of him. 

They seemed to have stopped discussing at some point, but the teenaged halfa was currently trying to steal some food from the plate of the young lady at his side. His sister, on retaliation, was moving her fork in an exaggerated stab motion to discourage her thieving little brother. 

“Oh,” he uttered under his breath, as good as speechless and unable to take his eyes off them. 

I didn’t take matters of Gotham into my own hands because of them.

The thought, and the implications that came along with it, struck him so suddenly that they left him startled enough to start laughing without care for present company. 

Oh, this was too good!

Daniel was watching him warily. As if Vlad showing any kind of amusement was a sign of danger. Which, considering, was fair enough. 

Jasmine just took the opportunity the distraction lent her to keep eating peacefully before her brother got any other funny ideas about food-thievery.  

Vlad put his elbow on the table, interlacing his fingers so he could rest his chin on the joined hands, smirking and allowing himself to let out some random chuckles from time to time. Seeing the boy get all ruffled up was fun. Especially when he hadn’t done anything yet.

‘Yet’ being the keyword.

Oh, this was going to work perfectly after all. 

-.-.-.-

After eating their fill and doing some more quasi civilized talking they finally got some dessert and the siblings took the opportunity to order some take-out to have for breakfast. It was never a bad thing to secure food beforehand, and Vlad had seemed agreeable enough. 

Way too agreeable if you asked Danny. But food was food, and there wouldn’t be no looking at horses’ mouths in this household, no sir. 

Vlad said his goodbyes claiming to have urgent business to attend to, and vanished into the night like the dramatic pseudo-vampire-ghost he had always aspired to be.

Why the man had bothered to come all the way to Amity Park if he had work to do was beyond Danny, but good riddance. His random giggles were starting to creep him out. 

Once he was sure the fruit loop was not coming back and they were truly alone on the sidewalk, the teen turned around to his sister and found her stifling a yawn on her hand. A quick look at his phone confirmed that it was already pretty late, and having a full stomach always made Jazz get all lethargic on him. He would too, but that was why he consumed coffee religiously, unlike his sister who preferred the occasional vitamin drink. 

So he resigned himself to playing pack mule yet again and let her lean on him so they could start their trek back home. A trek that would be slow as fuck, because Jazz kept insisting on using him as a pillow while they walked rather than focusing on using her feet properly. 

She was lucky he loved her and had ghost cheat codes to support her weight, otherwise the night would have ended very differently. 

Danny huffed and let her snug closer to him.

Now they just needed to sneak into the house without alerting their parents. 

Yey.

-.-.-.-

Jazz had to give it to Danny, he was the best cuddle partner she could have asked for in a brother. 

Though she could admit that her brother’s temperature could fluctuate wildly sometimes while sleeping because of his ghost-core-thingy or other random ghost power, whichever it was at the time had made it a little awkward for them to share sleeping quarters when one of them needed the comfort.

Luckily, they had found ways to deal with the temperature clashes. In summer it was easier to deal with them because in that season her brother’s often chilly nature was a complete godsend. Winter was trickier but there was nothing a pair of isolation blankets couldn’t manage, and when Danny’s powers decided to be contrary and transform him into a living heater, Jazz was more than happy to take advantage of it.  

They had a few space blankets too, Jazz was pretty sure Vlad had gotten those just for Danny, but her brother had been rather tight-lipped about them, even if he clearly loved them.    

So here they were, sprawled on the bed with Jazz’s arms firmly around her brother’s waist and half her face buried against his upper chest, rejoicing in the coolness emanating from the spot.

She had been awake for a little while but couldn’t make herself let go of her little bro. After they had sneaked in — after Danny had half-dragged her in — they had ended up crashing in her room. This for two important reasons, first because Danny’s room was still a mess after their parents threw all the equipment they could their way, and second because she had refused to let go of her newly acquired pillow. So her bedroom it was. 

Ugh, she would get hungry eventually and would have to go downstairs for their breakfast effectively separating her from the cuddles. Jazz released a little grumble and buried herself deeper into the embrace. 

The only up-side was that she would only have to heat their food and not make it from scratch. As long as she managed to avoid their parents and make it back upstairs she could rejoin her brother without interruptions and-

“Good morning, Princess Jasmine! ”

Wha-?

Jazz lifted herself and turned her head towards the voice so fast she immediately regretted it. There went her neck. she winced and raised a hand to carefully massage her nape. It would never work the same way again. At least she could see the source of the unfamiliar voice now and it left her perplexed.   

There was a ghost on the window sill. 

Why was there a ghost on their windowsill?  

As a general rule, most ghosts tended to stay the fuck away from the Fenton house once they got out of the zone, so this development was very strange. Then again, Jazz had never seen this ghost before. 

It was a female ghost, that was clear, and her hair-

Jazz had to blink a few times, completely awestruck at the number of colors her brain was trying to process at the same time.

She really had rainbow hair. What the-?

The apparent twenty-somethings female ghost had her hair done on a perfect half-up ponytail and displaying all the colors in the visible spectrum, she was clad in a cute summer dress that seemed to be patched up with- were those postage stamps? and a pair of lace-up sandals. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, a giddy smile stamped on her face. She was glowing. literally. 

Meanwhile, Jazz had not bothered to change clothes before going to sleep or even tied her hair up into a bun, and now it looked like she had gotten trapped in one of her parent’s ghost traps. She managed to stifle the urgent need of running to the nearest mirror to tame down her hair as much as she could. She was feeling tacky all of a sudden.  

Ugh. She felt like a hobo just looking at her. she had patches on her dress and she was still pulling it off. Maybe that was the ghost’s thing? making other girls felt like vagabonds with just her presence. Jazz blinked a pair of times, brain finally processing the other girl’s words, and becoming even more baffled by the living — animated? embodiment? — rainbow’s presence. 

Had she just called her ‘princess’?

“Um, hi?” Jazz finally greeted her, she sent a look to her still slumbering brother and debated on whether or not she should wake him. On one hand, he had been running himself ragged the last weeks getting everything in order so she was reluctant to do it. On the other hand, there was a ghost on the window. A rather cute one, but still.

Choices. choices.

The redhead turned her whole attention towards the ghost again. Well, she looks calm enough, and has not set anything on fire or attempted any kidnapping yet, so- 

“Sorry, I’m still rebooting. Do I know you?” Jazz went on, trying to get some sort of grip on the situation. 

“Not really, but I have heard plenty about you.” the ghost beamed, just to falter suddenly and offer a chagrined smile “I must have seemed very rude.” 

“My name is Iris.” She finally presented herself and jabbered on while pointing at the little cloth string bag resting on her hip. “I’m the Infinity Realms’ Official Messenger. And I have a few packages for both of you, my lady.” 

“The Zone’s messenger?” Jazz parroted back. She had never heard about a messenger in the zone, but it was a rather big place and there were things even Danny hadn’t heard about, so it was a possibility.  “And just Jazz is fine, thank you.”

The skittle girl just smiled. “Yes, I made the rounds earlier and there were some packages for the crown prince,” she said, confirming the reason for her presence in the room. 

Ok. She could deal with ghosts addressing her brother with titles. And messengers? messengers were fine in her book. She could deal. She got this. Still-

“Danny was in the zone yesterday, though? Why would they wait until now and not just take advantage of his visit?”

“There are some fragile things in here, and your brother seemed to be getting- uh, quite busy yesterday,” she replied, clearly amused. “The senders didn’t want to risk it. So here I am!” 

With that declaration, she opened her little bag and started to unload a staggering amount of packages and even some mail into neat little piles. Great, more things to pack. How some of them could get into such a tiny bag was a mystery, but that was probably just ghost zone physics. Or magic. Maybe both.

“Oh, thank you.” Jazz just conceded. It was better to just go along. Iris hummed in acknowledgment, still organizing everything and explaining to Jazz where each pile had come from and some extra information that the messenger had found interesting on her rounds. 

She was quite lively for a ghost.

“Pandora in particular was rather twitchy yesterday about not catching your brother for a chat. Did you know she is having a gathering next month?” Iris gushed at her in low whispers, with all the air of a gossipy neighbor that couldn’t separate himself from their windows. “It’s a shame you will not be accompanying them for the festivities.”  

“But Isn’t that just for amazons..?” Jazz asked from her seat on the foot of the bed, where she had moved to have a better view of the things the other ghosts had sent to Danny and her. 

“Yes.”

“…I think I missed something.”

“Haven’t you heard?”Iris giggled. Getting a pen and notepad out of her bag and starting to write something down, she presumably used that to keep inventory. “You are both part of Pandora’s honorary amazons.”

The redhead’s eyes widened. “She can do that-?”

“I mean she is the Queen of the Amazons on this side of the pond, so-” the messenger replied, tapping her pen against her chin and looking up in thought. 

“Wait, does that mean Tucker and Sam are honorary amazons too?” Jazz startled at the sudden sound of her brother’s voice coming from behind her. He was practically on top of her now, still looking half asleep but definitely awake now. She hadn’t even felt him move. 

“Good morning, Lord Phantom!” Iris beamed at him from her spot on the ground among the still growing piles. “For what its worth, I think so, yes.”

Danny couldn’t help himself. He started cackling. 

“Seriously, Danny?” She pursed her lips at him in disapproval.

“You don’t understand. They are going to flip, Jazz. Pandora can count me in.” He gushed, finally getting a hold of himself. 

“She already did. Weren’t you listening to me, My Crown Prince?” Danny sighed.

“I did bubblegums. Sounds amazing.” her brother had already given her a nickname, or many for what she knew, so he probably had met the messenger before this. “So you were talking about some go-away gifts” Jazz sighed and rolled her eyes.

“They are called farewell gifts, Danny” jazz corrected. 

“Whatever. It’s almost the same.” he waved his hand dismissively and looked down at what Iris had just laid down. “You got way too many things there. You are almost done or..? “

“Yep! I was actually just making time until you woke up.” She admitted sheepishly, lifting the last package that had come out of the bag and had been all by its lonesome amid the others and passing it along to the halfa. “Your Order is ready, Majesty!”

Jazz watched her brother extend a hand to take the package but his face reflected puzzlement at her words rather than excitement at finally receiving something he ordered.

“Direct from the FarFrozen and the Acropolis, Sir Casper!” 

With those words, Danny seemed to snap wide awake, “already?” He didn’t waste any time in seating properly and opening the package. Jazz took the opportunity to peer into it. 

“Jewelry?”

Danny jus hummed back in response and started examining the little jewelry box inside

“you ordered jewelry?” Jazz asked again, a little confused because even if his brother didn’t mind using the occasional accessory it was not like him to own them. Her brother —as well as herself — was more of a borrowing person “Ghostzone’s jewelry?”  

“Yep.”

“why?”

“why not?” Jazz debated tackling him to the ground and tickling him until he talked, but considering they had company the redhead didn’t know very well yet and thus was not completely comfortable around, forcing Danny to spill the tea would have to wait. 

The little shit probably knew it too and was openly smirking at her. 

“hey, colorfalls?” Danny called to Iris

“Yes, winter pools?”

“Am I imagining things or this is way more than what I asked for?”

“The crafters outdid themselves, didn’t they? The Pan Queen said it happened because you ‘didn’t specify for shit so you better suck it up, brat.’ The Yeti-man said something too, but it was long and boring, so I forgot~” She ended sheepishly.

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“wouldn’t they have explained it in the letters?” Jazz offered, bringing his attention to the pair of envelopes under the probably-handcrafted box. 

Danny grabbed them and grumbled. “Probably. But, ugh, reading.”

Jazz tried to snatch the letters from his hand. Danny dodged her lunge and moved the letters out of her reach. 

“Thought you didn’t want to read them.” Jazz sassed.

“That I don’t want to do it, doesn’t mean I won’t do it. There is a difference, carrot cakes.”  

“Well, get on with it then, cakesicle.” 

They could have continued sniping at each other, as they were fully prepared to do so until Iris talked again.

“I better get going and leave you to it. Places to be, gossip to spread. You understand.” She declared with a playful smile and hopped up from the ground and attached her cloth bag to her hip again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jasmine.”

She made her way to the window waving her goodbyes as she went, the siblings waved back a little entranced by the sway of her hair. 

Danny looked thoughtful, he seemed unsure for a moment and ended up waiting until the last moment to call after her.

“Hey,” The girl turned around to raise an eyebrow at him in question. Danny smiled at her and pointed a finger towards her little cloth bag. 

"Do you think I could get one of those?”

-.-.-.-

“Jazz” 

“Yeah?”

“How long was she here for before I woke up?”

“She-” Jazz stopped herself and really thought about it. “I, I don’t actually now? I think she was already sitting on the window sill when I woke up”

Her brother had gone suddenly quiet, watching intently through the window Iris had just left. 

“She has a- quite bubbly personality. Good to know there is someone like her around.” She offered, trying to break the tense silence that had enveloped them. 

“I once saw her knock-out Walker from a single blow,” Danny replied, finally turning to look at his sister. Jazz’s eyes widened. 

“She what?”

“He threatened the network.” Danny deadpanned. “One does not simply threaten the network, Jazz” he stressed, seemingly trying to make the importance of a network she didn’t know anything about very clear to Jazz. 

“…That sounds really ominous.”

“She moves around human merchandise in the zone.” Danny explained, “She has- umm, I think you could say she has a thing for humans.”

“…”

“I’m not telling you this to make you wary of her.” Her brother said after the lack of a proper answer, carefully keeping eye contact with her. “Walker was being an ass, he deserved it. Jolly Beans is very helpful around the zone. Has even helped me with a pair of things. A real pal, she is. But-” Danny sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair in exasperation.

“Just- Just don’t mess with her gossip mags ” 

-.-.-.-

“Hey, Danny?” She probed, going through one of the ‘care packages’ that had been sent to them, “Do you think the ghosts know humans don’t wear these types of clothing anymore? They are cute, but-”

“I’m going to tell them.”

“Don’t you dare.”

-.-.-.-

ENDNOTES:

Say hello to Iris, everyone :)

She is one of my agents of chaos. She got the Job 5 minutes ago when she bitch slapped me with her bag and the pOssIbiLItieS.

(Not to be confused with intrepid reporter, Iris West, that might or might not appear here. )

-.-.-.-

Me, writing about sciency stuff, major and double majors like I know what I’m talking about: seems legit.

-.-.-.-

It’s fucking sad when the reasons you used to love someone end up becoming the same reasons you end up hating them.

-.-.-.-

I don’t remember if Vlad used Boxy as a lackey? If he did, let’s pretend he didn’t.

-.-.-.-

Vlad to Danny and Jazz through all this fucking fanfic:

-.-.-.-

The moment when your weird-murderous-uncle is actually more responsive to your ‘How-To-Parent’ talks than your actual parents.

Press F to pay respects.

-.-.-.-

I just want to let you know that one of the reasons Danny curses like a sailor is because he has a great respect for Pandora and that woman puts sailors to SHAME.

-.-.-.-

Did the show care about historical accuracy? no. Do I? That’s also a no.

-.-.-.-

The ghost jewelry will come back later to bite all of us. Be patient.

-.-.-.-

Danny is the Elsa to Jazz’s Anna.

-.-.-.-

UPdate on the JJ Ship!

I just imagined Bruce looking at this tiny (but feral) red-head psychologist interning in Arkham and seeing how good she is for Jason and just pulling a Mulan’s Grandma when Jason asks her to have dinner with them, like:

“WoulD YouU like TO sTAy FOREVEr?!?”

And Dick with, like, a banner and streamers behind him, fully supporting the notion.

And-aND! then on the eventual-some-years-in-the-future-engagement party:

Jazz: “Jay? Seems your family invited someone to help us celebrate the engagement.” Jason: “Really? Who?” Jazz *Opening the door that leads to the Mansion’s garden that is currently full to the freakin’ brim and deadpanning*: “Gotham.”

{(And all the fucking league. Let’s be real people-)}

Can u Imagine the wedding? The absolute chaos?? If you think the ghosts aren’t crashing the party or even demanding to hold a ceremony in the zone u are a FOOL.

bECAUSE If DanNo is theIr HighKING, Guess who is their MoTHErFUCkING PRINCESS.

It’s what she deserves.

My god, Jazz would look so pretty in a wedding dress.

I’m crying.

Danny would definitely sob.

Send tissues.

-.-.-.-

Great.

Now I want to write about the wedding and they haven’t even met in here yet.

*wishful sighing*

The struggles of a shipper-

-.-.-.-

These goddamned endnotes are getting bigger and bigger.

-.-.-.-

I’m still thinking over Danny’s SO. Guess who. Yes. You are right. It’s the Demon Spawn. You KNOW who I mean. I didn’t make them be a year apart in age just for the giggles. Like, I was aiming for Bros Wreaking Havoc when I started this but then The Shipper Feels struck me dead plus-if-Jazz-is-getting-a-wedding-out-of-this-then-why-the-fuck-not and here we are. What do u think?? Because it’s most likely happening. Though, this one is going to burn slowly, because these boys.

And, wtf. Why didn’t anyone tell me Bruce and Selina almost got married?? I don’t know what happened to prevent it but I cAlL foUl.

Who wants a wedding. I want a wedding.

-.-.-.-

Me: Writes like 40 pages of this fic Also me: They are random scenes in different chapters and I’m still struggling to wrangle everyone into some sense of order and coherency.

The first twenty-something chapters already have titles and brief summaries so that’s something?? I can’t see the light at the end of this tunnel.

If you have ideas about things you would like to read about? Between the Bats and the DP Characters? Interactions and blabla? You can write them in the comments and I will see if I can fit some in :D

I have more or less decided where this is going, but I still need to enrich the chaps, SO, this might take a while. The good thing is that they will probably be way better now that I have Some Plot and I’m not just running blind all over the google doc.

-.-.-.-

Really, tho, if you have some headcanons about the characters? Bless. I need help with Steph and slightly less with Cass.

I have some plans for Cass. Steph is the one worrying me.

-.-.-.-

Chapter 9 will be their arrival to Gotham! I. am. happy.

[multific]

Paradise

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Requested by: scorpionchild81

Request: Imagine winning a ticket to a luxury cruise, disaster strikes and you end up shipwrecked on an island with none other than Tom Hiddleston…

 You thought that this was your chance, you finally won something!

A not just a bar of chocolate or something, but a ticket for a luxury cruise. And you just couldn’t wait to be on the ship. You won the ticket when you went with a friend of yours to shop at a mall, there was a young woman trying to get people to spin the wheel and win. You and your friend thought why not. She won a coupon while you won the ticket.

The only downside was probably that you had to go alone. But other than that, your prize included everything.

It was a month and a half trip on the Atlantic Ocean, the trip would start from Portugal and it would go over to America, the first stop is Brazil and then Miami and then it would be back to Portugal. It honestly sounded like the best vacation one could have. Being on a luxurious ship that offers everything you can wish for, beautiful rooms, restaurants, shops, and scenery, really sounded like a dream.

It was almost as if it was too good to be true.

And it was.

Because on the fourth day of the ship, everything went downhill.

You got woken up by an awful loud sound and then the alarm went off. Everyone was yelling, panicking and running around.

Everything was chaos.

At some point a person pushed you and you ended up hitting your head. Just as you reached the dock, you saw what caused the panic, fire.

The loud sound you heard was an explosion and then came the fire.

You heard crying, shouting as you ended up falling over the railing and into the water.

Luckily for you, you found a piece of wood to hold yourself up.

You were on the open water for a day, trying to find other survivors was impossible, since after you fell off, the ship another explosion hit, but this one, blew the whole ship up. The whole ship was gone in a matter a minutes. Leaving everyone dead.

You were devastated.

You watched hundreds of people die, a huge ass ship sink and the fact that your whole life was ruined wasn���t even your biggest concern. All you could think about is the bodies, as you floated with them in the water. Reminding yourself that all of them had lives, families. So, this is what they call ‘survivors guilt’?

Another day passed on the piece of wood. Now you floated far away. And honestly? You were ready to die. Thirst will get to you quick or exhaustion.

Then you heard a faint noise, it made you pick your head up, but as you couldn’t see anything other than water, you blamed it on your imagination.

Then you saw it, in the corner of your eye, an island.

The revelation lit a fire inside you as you basically raced there.

And once you were on land, you flopped down in the shade of a tree, you slept what felt like days, hunger and thirst woke you up.

You sat on the sand for a good minute before going into the forest and finding a water source and a coconut to eat. You were extremely lucky to be able to find a water source that is safe to drink and food at the same time in such a short amount of time.

***

You didn’t know how long you have been on the island. On an island in the middle of the Ocean. Every day, you’d go to the beach in hopes of seeing a ship or plane, to see someone who will help you. After all, it wasn’t that small of an island, it had a mountain and when you climbed up there, you noticed that the place was bigger than you originally thought. The water has washed some wreckage from the ship to shore, from those materials, you were able to build yourself a shelter, but after a few days you found a cave in the mountain, and now you were living there. It rained a lot on the island. Which was a great way for you to collect water. You even found a pond and river in the forest, but you saw enough episodes on Discovery Channel and you knew better than to immediately jump into the water. After you made sure everything was fine with it, which was, you decided to go there every day to clean yourself and to collect water.

You managed by yourself, but one thing never left you, the nightmares. Whenever you thought back, all those people, children as well. Just… dead.

One night, it was the worst storm since you have been there. You sat back at the furthest part of the cave, trying to keep yourself warm with your found clothes and blankets. You watched the entrance of the cave with fear and alarm. Then suddenly out of nowhere, a man appeared in front of the cave. He was breathing heavily, clothes dirty and wet, he had facial hair, which was an obvious giveaway that he had been there for some time now.

Both of you froze as you just stared at each other. You grabbed your defense knife so if he tried anything, you’d be ready. But he didn’t, instead, he was the first to talk.

“Are you from the cruise as well?”

That’s when you recognized his face. You saw him, wearing a nice blue suit, shaved, eating with the rich. You heard that he was an actor, but even so, you were glad to have at least one person with you.

“Yes. How did you get away? Are you alone?” you asked, putting your knife down, he came a bit closer to you, the storm was too loud outside. He sat down on the opposite side of the fire. He looked tired and relieved that he found not only shelter and warmth but a person too.

“I’m alone. After the cruise blew up, I was knocked into the water. I survived, but I have this.” he said as he pointed at a very nasty looking cut on his chest.

You stood up and opened a luggage, looking for the first aid kit you found earlier in one of them.

When you pulled the white box out, you heard him letting a sigh out, probably relieved that he would get help. You patched up his cut as best as you could. You prepared him by saying that you had to sew the cut together.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N.” you said while you applied the finishing touches, trying to keep his mind off of the pain. It was rather hard to do so since you weren’t a nurse and he was grunting and moaning in pain.

“Tom Hiddleston.” he got his name out during another groan.

When you were done, you put everything into a bowl to wash it. When you looked back at him, he was sleeping. The exhaustion and the pain got to him.

***

The next day you were there when he woke up. You gave him some food.

“I don’t know how long I have been here. What about you?”

“About a week I’d say. I tried to keep track but I just couldn’t.” he said as he looked at you. “But you made a shelter, I never did. I walked around this island, trying to find something or someone. Then yesterday, during the storm, I was looking for shelter and then I thought I saw light coming from here. I’m glad I was right.”

Hearing someone talk was like a blessing, having someone to talk to was even better. You and Tom talked for a very long time. You both shared your stories and basically helped each other get through and over the trauma.

If it wasn’t for the tragedy, you would have never been able to sit down with him like this and talk.

And you were glad you had the opportunity since he was a very sincere and kind person. And the fact that he helped you a lot was only a bonus.

You made the most out of your situation, you built a house in the forest near the river, a small wooden house, but it fitted perfectly with the weather and was a lot warmer than the cave.

Since Tom and you were the only ones on the island, you became close. He helped you hunt and skin animals, when you asked how he knew about those things, he said that he had a role like that once.

You soon became friends.

But as one night you finally had enough, you decided he needed to shave. He said he never did it with a blade, so you had to do it.

As you sat in the cabin, next to the fire, shaving the man, you admired his face.

Sure, he was handsome, but without his beard, his cheeks were more visible so was his jawline, and those eyes, those blue eyes had you mesmerized.

He smiled when he noticed you staring at him, but that smile soon turned serious when he noticed just what state you were in. You looked like you were under some kind of spell.

You slowly moved closer to him, staring at his lips then into his eyes. You stopped for a brief second, waiting for him to pull back and reject you, but when you felt his hand on your back, pulling you closer, you weren’t afraid anymore.

As your lips melted into his, you completely forgot your situation, you completely forgot the place you were at, all that mattered was how perfectly his thin warm lips felt against yours.

The next morning you woke up naked, on the floor and in his arms.

You wanted to sit up or at least change your position, but he held you way too close and tight. All you could do was wait for Tom to wake up while you stared at the wall thinking.

You wondered if he’d wake up regretting last night. You wondered if he even saw you that way or he just let you do what you wanted to.

And when he finally woke up, you didn’t even know why you were so nervous, even if he said he wasn’t certain about his feelings, he didn’t turn you down, instead, he said he was interested where it will take the two of you.

Sure, the two of you had different backgrounds but the tragedy brought the two of you together, the two of you were able to find heaven on earth and changed the hellish place into a paradise of your own.

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[maryjancwatson]

IC PORTION; BASICS —

CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS: Mary Jane Watson

FACECLAIM: Madelaine Petsch

AFFILIATIONS: At the moment, unaffiliated. 

AGE (physical age as well, if different): 24

SPECIES (human, metahuman, alien, etc): Human

IS YOUR CHARACTER’S IDENTITY SECRET OR PUBLIC? N/A

IF SECRET, OR YOUR CHARACTER IS A CIVILIAN, DO THEY HAVE A CIVILIAN OCCUPATION?: Mary Jane very recently snagged a job at the UN in Sokovia as their Goodwill Ambassador. Mary Jane is also working with a local charity, both in relief work and working to raise funds independently due to her following on social media platforms.

IF YOUR CHARACTER LIVES IN THE FORTRESS, WHAT ARE THEIR DUTIES? : Maybe one day she will return to being Tony Stark’s coffee bitch.

DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM: + Passionate: Anyone that meets Mary Jane knows that she has passion, as it’s clear within the first five minutes of talking to her. She’s passionate about everything: coffee preferences, movies vs. books debates, and in particular, Broadway shows. It goes deeper than that, though, and that becomes clear in knowing her better. Mary Jane practically bleeds for things that she believes in. She gives 110% into everything she does, and it shows. + Adaptable: Mary Jane grew up in an ever-changing environment, and it turned her into a person that can roll with the punches. She’s able to adapt to situations quickly, and is able to think on her feet. She can stay relatively unphased with change and adapt accordingly. + Charismatic: Mary Jane is a people person. She spent so much of her childhood and adolescence moving around that she had to learn how to socialize quickly, and it made Mary Jane into a social butterfly. She knows how to talk to people, knows how to make small talk and easily does the back-and-forth with just about anyone. - Hot-headed: There is no way around it: Mary Jane Watson has a temper. She goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, and sometimes struggles coming back down to 0. It’s not easy to light the flame under her and set her alight, and it’s something she’s been working on since childhood. Even on the rare occasions where she does manage to keep a lid of the explosions, her facial expressions give it all away. - Commitment-phobic / flighty: Mary Jane doesn’t like to stick to one thing or one place for long, and sometimes has trouble sticking to things. While she gives 100% in passion, sometimes it’s a solid 60% in commitment. She dropped out of college, almost dropped out of high school a few times before that, and never signs more than a six months lease. Most of her romantic relationships have ended poorly because Mary Jane never knows what Mary Jane wants, and she starts to feel claustrophobic when things get tough. This is more on a personal level. Professionally, she sticks to her guns a little more. - Selfish: Mary Jane is always looking out for Mary Jane. She’s trying to do better, but her bottom instinct is always to do what’s best for herself. She’s scrappy, as one needs to be in the showbiz world, but it impacts her personal relationships as well.

POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: Mary Jane is very human, and possesses no super-human abilities. However, she’s semi-famous with a solid social media following! (if only that were a super power) MJ is charismatic and highly organized, and has a leadership quality to her. She enjoys organization and administrative-type tasks, and is a go-getter to get shit done.

WEAKNESSES: Again, MJ is definitely human. I would say her strongest weaknesses are her fear of commitment and her tendencies to be selfish, as this only gets in her own way of what she wants. Mary Jane is also a chronic over-thinker, and can think herself into a box at times.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? MJ is a spitfire and my spirit animal. She’s feisty and fiery and I love how she’s always unapologetically herself, even when it shoots her in the foot. She’s not the traditional-type character to bring to Sokovia considering she is very much a civilian, but I think her personality can definitely bring some fun.

IC PORTION; DETAILS —

WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA? It’s a little complicated. She applied for a job at the UN in Sokovia to be their Goodwill Ambassador, and somehow someway she’d gotten through the first several rounds of interviews. She had gotten a job with a charity working out of Sokovia for the moment as well, as a back-up just in case they went with someone else. But, surprisingly enough (or so it felt to her), she’d gotten the job. The charity work and the Goodwill Ambassador job went hand in hand, and MJ found that it was more joy-bringing than she’d thought it would be.

DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT? This isn’t exactly applicable, considering Mary Jane is most definitely a citizen, however she would certainly not have if she was on the other side. 

PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER: MJ is a chain smoker. She’s tried to quit, though those have only ever been passive attempts at best. She does not do well when she’s off her nicotine. She’s also a fan of the other kind of mary jane, if you catch my vibe. MJ blogs, has a YouTube channel, and practically lives on TikTok. She’s verified on her social media platforms, and has a pretty big following. She still has fans from her Broadway runs and from her short-lived fame on Netflix, and so she does her best to stay relevant and keep them despite her current break from acting. The term ‘social media empire’ comes to mind, even if she feels weird about her claim to fame. MJ lives in high heels and generally dresses nicely. She has a very firm belief that first impressions matter most but all impressions matter. She always wants to look like hell on wheels, even if it’s impractical at times. She usually saves jeans and t-shirts for time at home only, and even then finds herself more comfortable in a dress. Despite having a party girl persona and having dropped out of college, Mary Jane is intelligent. She excelled in history and English courses in high school and in college alike, though her passion was in performing. She’s obsessed with trivia games and trivia-type TV shows. Wheel of Fortune is absolutely her favorite. She’s also super fond of reality TV, the more mind-numbing the better.

POTENTIAL CHARACTER ARCS: Maybe a potential Iron Spider or Spinneret arc? I love civilian!MJ, but I think this would be interesting. This would be a little complicated and would require a lot of thought and plotting, but maybe down the line! IS THERE A THEATRE/DANCE PROGRAM IN SOKOVIA? BECAUSE MJ WOULD BE SO DOWN TO RUN ONE. TEACH LITTLE KIDS BALLET AND SHIT. GIVE HER THAT. Nomad-y things. MJ obviously wouldn’t be affiliated with the rebels from the jump, considering her position in the UN. However, she may gravitate towards at least a sympathizer down the road, considering her connections with Tony.

CHARACTER BIO —

Mary Jane was the second born child to Madeline and Phillip Watson, the first being her older sister Gayle. Her father was a professor, though changed jobs often, resulting in multiple moves throughout Mary Jane’s childhood. Her father wanted to be a writer, not a professor, though his books never succeeded. This led to anger that was often taken out on his family, usually while drunk. Mary Jane was in middle school when her mother decided that enough was enough - her father had been turning on her mother for years, but he’d finally turned on one of the girls. The three left Phillip for good.

Unfortunately, the constant moving didn’t seem to stop. Mary Jane’s mother still moved them around often, usually to be near relatives. Her mother usually worked as a waitress or a bartender, relying on tips for income, which wasn’t always stable. Thankfully, her mother’s family was kind, and would help with the girls as much as they could. Her mother went back to school, deciding that she and her children deserved more. Mary Jane’s favorite relative to stay with was Aunt Anna, who lived in Queens.

The frequent moves caused Mary Jane to have a rather extroverted and fun-loving personality, a way to try to get noticed and make friends quickly. She knew she would never be in one place for long, so she tried to remain care-free. She never allowed herself to get too close, because she knew it would only be so long before she would be moving again. It was easier to have a lot of people she barely knew that were fun to be around than to have a few close friends she would have to say goodbye to.

She was fifteen when her mother got sick, and things went downhill quickly. Mary Jane watched her mother wither away before her eyes, and vowed in that moment to never take life for granted and grab it by the horns. After her mother passed, Mary Jane refused to move back in with her alcoholic father. Part of her blamed him for robbing Mary Jane and her sister of quality years with their mother, and memories of the abuse were still fresh. Instead, she went back to the home where she’d always been the happiest - Mary Jane moved in with her Aunt Anna in Queens.

Her life of the party attitude and fun/over-the-top personality quickly gained her friends in school, though Mary Jane still had trouble letting people in. she knew she wouldn’t be moving again this time, but it was somehow easier for her to have her walls up. People liked her, she liked them, and she told herself that was enough. It wasn’t, really, though it was all she knew how to do. She participated in the drama club and the choirs at school, as well as in community theatre.  This was where she made her true friends, where she made real connections that actually meant something. She had Broadway aspirations and spotlights in her eyes, and worked hard to perfect her craft. However, later in high school she found she had to put some productions on the back burner to get a job to help support the household she was living in. She mostly did waitressing jobs, though found a few assistant/secretary type positions to hold down as well after school.

Mary Jane was accepted into NYU’s musical theatre program at Tisch, and starred in many of their productions. However, she learned that in the real world, auditions were hard to secure and she found obtaining roles was even more difficult. She’d been praised so heavily in high school and during her time at Tisch that this was a harsh slap to the face, though she didn’t give up. She worked at Ellen’s Starlight Diner while in school, and was cast in the off-Broadway production of Heathers as an ensemble role and an understudy to Heather Chandler. Shortly after, she was finally cast in a Broadway production. She was cast as an ensemble part in American Idiot, and she’d never been happier.

After securing her first role, Mary Jane’s name slowly made its way around. She dropped out of school after a lot of consideration, deciding to devote her full attention to work. Her second show was Wicked, another ensemble role though she became Elphaba’s understudy after a few months. She left for the Spring Awakening tour, where she was cast as Wendla.

When the tour ended, Mary Jane experienced a huge wave of auditions due to praise she’d gotten from critics. She landed her first TV role, the main character for a show on a Netflix YA murder-mystery series. Unfortunately, as things went in that genre, she found her character killed off at the finale in the first season. She was brought back to film some flashback type scenes for season two, and then her contract was completed. The rise to fame was quick and unforgiving - MJ went from near constant press and finally feeling like she was making it to nothing. She returned to New York and experienced a drought in auditions, which many actors face. While she knew that, it was a hard pill to swallow after success, and she didn’t want to go back to the diner. An opportunity arose (mostly thanks to her sister’s husband, who worked for Stark Industries and brought up her name and vouched for her) and Mary Jane found herself working for Stark Industries. She was the personal assistant to Tony Stark, and MJ found that she and F.R.I.D.A.Y. worked well together and that she didn’t hate administrative work. It wasn’t acting, but it was a job, and Mary Jane was more than competent in the role. She proved to be organized and efficient, and MJ liked it more than a little. However, before long, the events of Sokovia transpired and MJ found herself without a job. To be fair, she’d quit, finding herself unable to work for Simon Trask and deciding that she’d rather find other opportunities elsewhere.  She’d snagged a role in an off-Broadway production she wasn’t really feeling, and found herself applying for other positions, surprisingly in charity work and using her time at Stark Industries as a reference. She loved performing, would always be an actress at her core, but she found herself searching for something more meaningful. Her time away from film or stage had made her think more clearly on what she wanted in life, and she couldn’t help but feel like she needed more. She snagged a job for a charity in Sokovia, which Mary Jane only really knew about due to the press that had been drawn in after the events that transpired with the Avengers and with the Sokovia Accords. She found herself in the last round of interviews for a job at the UN in Sokovia as the Goodwill Ambassador (she was the right kind of famous, is what they said), and with the charity job already secured, Mary Jane was booking her ticket. 

EXTRAS —

MYERS-BRIGGS: ENFP Sin: Greed & Pride HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ZODIAC: Scorpio

[spn-safeandsound]

08. Julia Ruth

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x12; Faith

Word Count: 11,431

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, injury, a steamy scene that doesn’t get very far, protective Dean

Author’s Note: Hi there! Sorry for the weeks since I last updated but I’m here again. This chapter is when things start to change for Dean as far as his feelings toward Julia. Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

The car was dead quiet. There was no music playing, there was no talking; the only sound that anyone could hear was the roar of the engine as Dean sped down the road to the abandoned house they had tracked the rawhead to.

Dean was the reason for the tense silence that filled the air. Well, really it was Dean and Julia but Dean was the only one still angry. Sam honestly thought his brother was overreacting but this was Baby they were talking about.

Their day started out normal. It was Julia's turn to pay for the motel, so they got connected rooms. They had breakfast, they questioned some witnesses about the disappearance of two young siblings, and then they went back to the motel to do some research. That's when things went downhill.

Dean had eaten the last of the chocolate chip cookies that Julia kept stashed away in her bag. Julia had thrown a fit when she found the empty box—it was then that Sam realized that he knew her way too well because he figured it was around the time of the month she started PMS-ing—and started an argument with Dean. Dean was never one to pass up a challenge, so he matched her tone and volume yell-for-yell.

And then Dean mentioned in passing that he saw her undergarments while looking for the cookies and it made it much worse. Sam had seen the embarrassed glint in Julia's eyes before Dean could and within the next moment, she burst into tears.

Dean had been absolutely horrified and started to apologize but Julia wasn't hurt—she was angry. She quickly went into her room and slammed the door that connected their rooms shut. When Dean had gone to the bathroom ten minutes later, she walked back into the room and stole the keys to the Impala.

Sam hadn't stopped her but he should have. He knew about the mood swings she'd get the week before her time of the month and he usually stayed out of her way but Dean was much more terrifying when it came to his precious Baby. He knew now that he'd much rather have a small ball of fury glaring at him with tears in her eyes than deal with his annoying brother when he was angry.

When Dean came out of the bathroom and saw that his keys were gone, he was livid. He waited for Julia in her room and when she got back from the gas station she drove to, with two packages of chocolate chip cookies and a tube of Pringles, the yelling started back up again—and the crying.

Sam honestly wondered how they hadn't gotten a noise complaint.

It had been hours since then and Julia had calmed down considerably. In fact, Sam would guess that she wasn't mad at all anymore, especially when she got her chocolate chip cookie fix. Dean, however, was a different story. He was still furious and was not talking to Julia whatsoever, leaving Sam to mediate. Now he knew how Julia felt whenever he and Dean argued.

Dean pulled into the driveway of the abandoned house and parked, turning off the engine. The three of them gathered at the trunk, watching as Dean dug through their arsenal to find the three tasers.

"How many volts are those turned to?" Julia asked Dean tentatively.

Dean pointedly ignored her.

Sam sighed heavily. "What do you got those amped up to?"

"A hundred thousand volts," Dean answered Sam. Julia's gaze hardened but she didn't say anything as he handed Sam the two tasers; Sam passed one of them onto her.

"Damn."

"Yeah, I want this rawhead extra-fucking-crispy," Dean grumbled as he shut the trunk. "Remember, you only get one shot with these things, so make it count."

They walked into the house and carefully searched the whole main floor before heading into the basement. They turned on their flashlights and slowly walked down the stairs, making sure to keep an eye out for the rawhead. There heard a thump come from their left and saw that it had come from a closed wardrobe.

"On three," Dean whispered to Sam as the two of them walked toward the wardrobe. "One. Two. Three."

He hurriedly opened the wardrobe, hearing a shrill squeak of fear. Julia turned around from where she was searching for the rawhead and saw that the brothers had found the little kids that had disappeared.

"Is it still here?" Sam asked them quietly; both kids nodded.

"Okay, grab your sister's hand," Dean grabbed the boy and gently pulled him to his feet. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."

The kids scurried up the stairs with Sam on their heels and Dean and Julia watched their backs if the rawhead decided to attack them. Sam tripped as his ankle was grabbed through the staircase, causing the little girl to scream.

Sam watched as Dean whipped around the stairs and shot his taser. It surged out but hit nothing.

"Sam, get them upstairs!" Dean called to him. "Get outta here!"

"Here, take this," Sam tossed him his own taser before turning to scrambled up the rest of the stairs. He grabbed both of the kids' hands and led them out of the house. "Come on, come on."

They were safely outside when Sam heard Dean scream, "Julia!"

The desperation in his brother's voice chilled Sam's blood. He briefly told the kids to stay outside before sprinting back into the house and down the stairs to the basement. At the foot of the stairs, in a puddle of water, Dean knelt over Julia's body, desperately shaking her to wake her up.

Sam's breath left him.

"Julia!" he grunted, checking her pulse. "Come on, Jules, don't do this."

"Dean, what—?"

"Call an ambulance, Sam!"

He felt like his life was slowed down and then sped up in a second. He didn't remember calling for an ambulance, the paramedics doing CPR on Julia, or the ride to the hospital. It was like he blinked and he was suddenly in the middle of a silent waiting room, waiting for news on his best friend.

Sam hadn't been allowed to go back with Julia since he wasn't family but Dean had lied to the paramedics and told them he was her husband. While Dean stayed with Julia as the doctors ran tests on her, Sam called her family and took care of the paperwork that needed to be done while the police waited to ask him questions.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask," the nurse at the desk smiled sadly at him. "but your brother said you would give us Mrs. Petersen's insurance."

"Right," Sam shook his head blankly, pulling the insurance card that he took from Julia's wallet. He handed it to the nurse, along with her driver's license. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Mr. Petersen," the nurse assumed that his last name was the same as Julia's since they were told that she was married to his brother.

Sam nodded at her and turned to the police officers while she typed in Julia's information.

"Look, we can finish this up later," one of the officers suggested.

"No, no, it's okay," Sam shook his head; he wanted to get this done now. "We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. The windows were rolled down, we heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped and ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?" the officer asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, thank God you did," the officer's partner commented

Sam looked back down the hallway when he heard the door to Julia's room open and close. A doctor walked out, holding a clipboard, and nodded at him so he could share Julia's results.

"Excuse me," he muttered to the officers.

"Sure," the officer nodded. "Thanks for your help."

Sam gave him a polite smile and turned away, walking over to the doctor. "Is she...?"

"She's resting," the doctor assured him.

"And?"

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack," the man informed him. "A pretty massive one, I'm afraid. Her heart is damaged."

Sam stiffened. "How damaged?"

"We've done all we can," he said sympathetically. "We can try and keep her comfortable at this point but I'd give her a couple of weeks. A month, at most."

"No," Sam shook his head in denial, his heart starting to race. "There's—there's gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

They could put her on the transplant list, they could give her a pacemaker...they had to do something, at least. Julia could not die. His sister could not die. He would do anything in his power to make sure she stayed alive. She was the one who was supposed to plan his funeral. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The doctor gave him a sad smile. "We can't work miracles," he mumbled. "I really am sorry."

Sam pressed his lips together and stormed away from the man. What kind of doctor wouldn't even put his patient on a heart transplant list? Didn't Julia qualify for that kind of thing? It's not like she smoked or did anything that would prevent her from being on the list.

The door to Julia's room was opened slightly and Sam could hear the low rumble of his brother's voice talking to someone. At first he thought that he was talking to Julia but then he realized that Dean was actually on the phone.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do, Beth," Dean spoke to Julia's oldest sister as Sam slipped into the room. Dean nodded at him and started again, reacting to whatever Beth told him, "No, a few weeks...he didn't say anything about a list, no... I can't exactly move her, Beth. She wouldn't make a drive back home, it's fourteen hours."

As Dean continued speaking with Beth, Sam observed his best friend. Julia was still asleep and the hospital bed made her look so damn small. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head, an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose, and dark circles stood out against her pale face under her eyes. There was a burn on her left cheek and at the top of her left arm, there was a bandage; Sam remembered that she had a few burns from where the volts left her body. He had never seen her look so sick.

"We're in Cheyanne, Wyoming," Dean told Beth.

Dean sounded as tired as Julia looked. His voice was dull and thick, as if he had a frog in his throat. The tip of his nose was red and so were the rims of his eyes. Sam had realized that Dean had been crying and it made his own throat tighten with emotion.

When he saw that Dean's, fingers were wrapped firmly around Julia's right hand where it rested on the hospital bed, tears came to his eyes.

God, he thought to himself, this couldn't be happening.

"Okay, I'll keep you updated," Dean confirmed into the phone. "Talk to you later, Beth."

He snapped the phone shut and stayed silent as he set it down and picked up the TV remote. He unmuted the volume and flipped through the channels, all the while keeping his hand around Julia's and his eyes on the TV.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV?" he asked Sam.

Sam sighed heavily. "I talked to J's doctor..."

"That fabric softener teddy bear," Dean narrowed his eyes at the commercial before flipping to a different channel as he avoided the conversation Sam was trying to have with him. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

Dean pressed the power button on the remote, shutting the TV off before looking at Sam. "Abby's on her way here," he informed him. "She's gonna stay with Julia while we head off."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "We're not leaving without Julia, Dean."

"I don't want to leave her, either, Sammy, but..." Dean trailed off and pressed his lips together to hide the emotion that Sam saw brewing in his eyes. "...there's nothing we can do for her."

"No, she's not gonna die, okay?" Sam quickly got defensive. "I'll—I'll find a way to save her. I'll look into every option."

"Sam, the doctors—"

"The doctors don't know the things we do, Dean!" he interrupted his brother.

"And what if you can't find anything, huh?" Dean's voice raised in frustration, his fingers tightening around Julia's hand.

"Then I'm staying with her until the end," Sam's firm statement made Dean pause and lower his eyes.

Dean's vision blurred as he stared at the periwinkle polish on Julia's fingernails. She had been so damn excited to find that color that she blabbed about it for almost an hour before Dean tuned her out by turning up the volume of his music. He wished he hadn't done that. He'd listen to her talk about periwinkle nail polish for days if it meant that she'd be okay.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll stay with her, then," he said quietly, his wet eyes flickering up to meet's Sam's equally sad ones. "and we'll try to find something."

Sam nodded, glad that his brother agreed with him. He sat down on Julia's other side and took her hand, careful not to dislodge her IV. An hour later, when the nurse told them that visiting hours were over, he pretended he didn't see Dean kiss Julia on the forehead before they left.

-

The field was full of four kinds of flowers this time. Different ones than before; yellow ones on her left, pink ones in front of her, yellow Tulips on her right, and blue behind her. It was the different meanings of the flowers that struck Julia as odd, rather than the amount

Goldenrods for encouragement. Blue salvia for thinking of someone. Yellow tulips for sunshine. Peonies for healing.

Three of them were flowers that you'd find in a hospital giftshop. Ones you'd pick up on your way to visit a loved on in the hospital. When Naomi was in the hospital, Julia would always bring her yellow tulips instead of the bouquets in the gift shop because her mom's smile lit up the room like sunshine.

It was comforting to see the tulips even when she knew something was wrong.

"Julia Ruth."

Julia looked away from the yellow tulips and saw the beam of sun in front of her. Even with the sun hitting the grass a few feet in front of her, the sky around it was dark and stormy. She could see flashes of lightning here and there and rumbles of thunder in the distance.

"What's happening?" she whispered shakily.

She was scared. The last dream of her angel she had like this was the night after her mom died. At that time, she was surrounded only by yellow tulips and an almost black sky. She had taken a look at the flowers around her and started to bawl. Her angel was there to comfort her.

"What's wrong?"

Was it Sam or Dean? Levi, Beth, or Abby? Her dad? Lydia or Taylor? Who was hurt? Who was dying?

"You're in the hospital," the angel told her.

Julia paled in realization. The peonies, the healing. She was relieved, though, that it was her instead of one of her loved ones.

"You were injured on a hunt. You had a heart attack from the electricity that flowed through your body."

She remembered a little. She had shot the taser at the rawhead as it lunged at Dean. The rawhead lit up like a firework and she heard Dean scream her name but that was all she could recall.

A heart attack at twenty years old. Who would have thought? She always knew that hunting was dangerous and she was mostly likely to die at a young age due to her new lifestyle but it was too soon. She'd only been hunting for seven months.

She sure did draw the short straw, huh?

Julia looked back at the dark gray sky. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

She didn't feel as sad as she thought she would. She knew that Heaven awaited her once she passed and she'd be in paradise. It was her loved ones she felt sad for. Beth, Abby, and Levi would lose their little sister only four years after their mother. Her dad would lose his baby girl, her niece an aunt. And Sam and Dean...with their dad gone, all they had left was each other and her.

Maybe that's why most people were afraid of dying, she mused to herself. Because they know that their death really only affects the people they leave behind.

"You're not dying," her angel proclaimed. "Not today, not from this."

As he finished speaking, Julia's hand went to her forehead where there was a sudden pressure and a jolt of energy that came out of nowhere. She waited to feel it again but the sensation was long gone.

"Julia Ruth."

She hadn't realized that she had zoned out, thinking of the strange sensation on her skin.

She focused back on the sun beam. "Are you here to take me to Heaven?"

"No," her angel said simply. "You are Chosen for a reason."

"What?" Julia wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"When you wake, there will be a solution," her angel declared. "We will meet again soon."

-

On the numbered oak door in front of him was a large light-blue sign shaped like a dinosaur skull, a familiar name cut out in the bottom. JONAH. Dean stared at it, perplexed, before looking around at the unfamiliar hallway he was standing in.

The floors were made of white linoleum tiles and the walls were painted a light gray with subway tiles covering the bottom half of them. There were industrial sconces in between the numerous doors that lined the hall. He had no idea where he was. He had never been there before.

Dean turned back to the dinosaur door and cautiously opened it. He slowly stepped into the room, looking around in shock.

It was a nursery. Two of the walls were painted light green, one was the same blue as the sign on the door, and one was covered in a wallpaper with dark blue dinosaurs. The white tiles were covered in a light green area rug with the same blue dinosaurs as the wallpaper. Toys were neatly organized in a toy box in the far-left corner with a rocking chair and a bookshelf next to it. Against the dinosaur wall was a white crib with JONAH painted above it in dark green. On the wall across from the crib was a white changing table that doubled as a dresser.

Why the hell was he in a nursery? What was this place?

A soft cooing noise came from Jonah's crib, startling Dean. He cautiously walked over to it, his eyes widening when he saw that there was an actual baby laying inside of it. Wearing a onesie with a black car on the front, the baby smiled up at him, making a happy noise.

Dean had to admit that Jonah was a cute baby. He had a head full of dark brown hair. His eyes were hazel and his dimples...they were the Winchester dimples. The ones that his dad and Sam shared. A shocked noise came from the back of Dean's throat as the baby wiggled around in the crib, kicking his feet excitedly. Was Jonah his son? Who the hell would he have a son with?

Jonah's face fell when Dean continued to stare down at him in shock. He opened his mouth—his nose wrinkling with a familiarity that Dean couldn't recall—but Dean moved before he could let out a cry.

"Shh..." he cooed to the baby. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Where the fuck did that come from?

"You gotta be a man about sleeping in your crib, all right?" Dean apparently had no control over his mouth. "You're getting too big to sleep with me and your momma."

Jonah's face smoothed out, happy with the attention his dad was giving him. "Da."

Dean didn't know why but his heart soared with happiness. "Yeah, bud," he smiled down at his son. "I'm your dad."

Jonah fidgeted, one of his curled fists resting against his dimpled cheek. He smiled again and, this time, Dean saw a couple of new teeth popping out of his pink gums.

"If you sleep through the whole night, I'll give you five bucks," Dean dared him. "Can you do that for me and Momma?"

Jonah hummed and Dean grinned. "Good," he answered, satisfied. "Love you, Jonah. Goodnight."

He reached up and turned the mobile over the crib on. Jonah was instantly enraptured by the rotating stuffed dinosaurs, his green eyes lighting up. Dean began to leave the room, switching on the lamp on the changing table, and turning off the overhead light. He took one more look at the nursery before closing the door.

Across from Jonah's door was another room. On the door of number fifteen, there was a sign just like Jonah and Levi's, except it was a red truck with another familiar name carved out in the bottom.

PETER

Maybe this kid was Sam's. Dean opened the door and peeked into the room. It wasn't a nursery like Jonah's room but it still was a kid's room. The light was on already, showcasing the construction theme. The little twin bed was covered in sheets and a comforter with tractors, dump trucks, and cranes all red, yellow, or blue. The walls were a light blue.

On one wall, PETER was spelt out in large red letters. A toy chest was underneath it, along with a dresser and a bookshelf. On the wall across from that was a desk. And on the floor in the middle of an area rug that was designed like a highway, was a freckled blonde toddler wearing pajama pants with lions on them. He wore no shirt and he was playing with Lego set.

"Pete, where's your shirt?" again, Dean didn't know why he was saying anything.

Peter looked up with wide green eyes, identical to Dean's. "Hi, Daddy," he looked very guilty and Dean was instantly suspicious. "Whatcha doing?"

"You're supposed to be bed, buddy," Dean walked over to him and bent down, easily swinging him up into his arms. "Where'd you put your shirt?"

"Momma said I didn't have to wear one," Peter declared innocently before placing a hand on Dean's left cheek. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Course I am," Dean assured him; Peter smiled widely, showing off a dimple in his left cheek.

The famous Petersen dimple.

If Dean had any control over his body whatsoever, he might have dropped Peter in realization. He knew three women with those Petersen dimples and one of them was already married with a kid.

So, who did he knock up? Julia or Abby?

As if the universe was answering him, Julia stepped into the room—looking pale, exhausted, and older than her twenty-year-old self—and gave both boys a stern look.

"Peter Samuel, you're supposed to be in bed," she scolded him, placing her hands against her t-shirt clad hips.

And, God, if Dean didn't find that sexy. He'd seen Julia's mom-mode several times before but never had it made him hard like it did now. Was this what happened when you had kids? You get turned on by good parenting?

"Did you say he could sleep without a shirt?" Dean found himself asking her, ignoring the start of his erection in his sweatpants.

Julia rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to them. "Yes," she tickled Peter's bare stomach, making the toddler squeal in delight. "He takes them off anyway. Don't you, sunshine?"

Peter laughed, pushing her manicured hands away from his stomach. "Momma, no!"

Dean's heart soared again and suddenly he was wishing this was real. That he and Julia were together and raising two sons. Two beautiful sons that seemed like great kids. Sons that he already loved with all of his heart.

If this was a dream, Dean didn't want to wake up.

Julia stopped tickling Peter and kissed the boy on the forehead. "You gotta go to sleep or we're not having blueberry pancakes tomorrow."

"No!" Peter whined. "I want them."

"Go to sleep then," Julia dared him with a raised eyebrow. "You know, I heard your dad tell Jonah that he's giving away money to sleep through the night."

"What?"

"Mmhm," Dean hummed. "I guess your brother is gonna have more money in his piggy bank than you..."

"No!" Peter wiggled his legs against Dean's chest, struggling to get down. Dean set him on the floor and he sprinted to his bed. "Okay, I'm sleeping now."

Dean laughed and grabbed Julia's hand, intertwining their fingers. "All right, hotshot. Goodnight."

"Night," Peter chirped, pulling his comforter up to his chin and giving his parents a dimpled smile. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Pete."

"Love you, Peter," Julia promised. "Don't forget that the angels are watching over you."

"Yes, they are!"

Dean and Julia left the room, after turning out the light, and walked down the hallway. Despite the casual way he walked by Julia's side, he was in turmoil. His mom had told him that all the time when he was a kid. The fact that Julia used that same phrase for their son made love swell within his stomach.

God, he wished this was real.

Dean and Julia stopped at room eleven and entered. There were records displayed on one wall, family pictures on the other, and above the king-sized bed was a picture of Dean and Julia of what looked to be their wedding day.

Holy fuck, he married Julia. Since when was he a marriage guy?

"Did you talk to Sam before he went to bed?" Julia asked him, shimmying off the pajama shorts she had been wearing.

"Yeah," Dean answered as he pulled off his shirt.

"And?"

"And he's still feeling a little off," Dean shrugged and then stepped out of his sweatpants. "How are you feeling?"

She sighed tiredly and Dean felt a wave of worry falling over him. "I'm tired and my bones ache a little."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "That's it? I heard you coughing earlier."

"I'll get better, Dean," she assured him, walking over to him and lovingly placing a hand on his cheek. "I was made for this."

Dean grabbed her hand, intertwined their fingers, and bowed his head, his nose grazing against her dimpled cheek. "You were made for me."

What the hell were they even talking about? What was he talking about?

"Yeah, I was," Julia smiled softly and pulled away, looking at him with bloodshot hazel eyes. "Now, are we going to keep talking or are you gonna put me to bed because you look very sexy right now."

Dean chuckled, feeling his cock start to grow once again. "It's because I'm wearing sweatpants, isn't it?"

"It's the sweatpants," she confirmed jokingly.

"Well," Dean kissed her forehead, then her nose, her chin, and then back up to her lips. "Whatever my baby needs," he pressed his hips into her stomach. "What are you thinking tonight?"

Julia sighed against his cheek, her lips trailing across his jaw. "Whatever you want. I just want you."

Dean moaned and reached down to grab her ass, roughly pulling her closer to him. Jesus Christ, he wanted her so bad. He was so hard that he had to remind himself that this was definitely a dream and this was not really him and Julia at all.

Julia's face was overcome with desire and, with a soft moan, she pushed Dean back onto the bed. Dean grinned as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and...

"Dean, would you wake up?"

Dean jumped up at Sam's voice, his eyes shooting open.

No, no, no, he thought frantically, seeing that he was back in the motel room in Wyoming. There was no bedroom, there was no Julia, and there were no Peter and Jonah.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes to stop them from filling with tears. That dream...it was a future he wanted to have. An apple-pie life with a couple of kids and his brother at his side. And Julia...she was his wife. His chest filled with grief and longing when he thought about her and those boys.

Julia was dying. She'd never get that life, either.

Sam gave him a weird look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and rolled out of bed; it was seven in the morning and Sam was already at his laptop, doing intense research to find something to heal Julia. "Find anything yet?"

He remembered doing his own research before he went to bed. He found nothing that would be able to help Julia. It frustrated the hell out of him and scared him, too. Maybe that's why he had that dream...He wanted Julia healthy and to live a long life and his head manifested a little family for them.

Yeah, that's what it was.

"I'm looking into something right now," Sam informed him; Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Abby called and said something about a specialist in Nebraska."

"Like a heart specialist?" Dean wondered; Sam nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well, is Abby almost here yet?"

"I talked to her an hour ago. She said she was only a hundred or so miles away," Sam said. "She's coming from Bobby's place."

Bobby. Dean hadn't seen Bobby Singer in years. Bobby was a family friend that he and Sam stayed with some over the years but when he and John had a falling out, Dean hadn't seen him since. He missed the hell out of that cranky bastard. He was wicked smart and the father figure he should have had in his life.

"Hey," Sam got his attention when his thoughts trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Dean shook his head to focus. "I'm just, um, I'm worried about Jules."

Sam sighed and stood up, grabbing a white box off the table and bringing it over to Dean. "Me too," he smiled sympathetically before going back to his seat at the table. "Hey...I was thinking that maybe you should call Dad and Luke."

"Why?" Dean scoffed as he opened the box, smiling slightly when he saw the chocolate glazed doughnuts inside. "Neither of them are gonna answer. In her last call, Beth very angrily told me that her dad wasn't answering any of their calls."

"That's what Abby said, too," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But I think you should try them, anyway. For Julia."

Well, when he put it like that, Dean couldn't refuse. He'd do anything for that stubborn little shortcake.

He called Luke first and wasn't surprised to get his voicemail. "This is Luke Alexander and I am currently unavailable. If this is an emergency, call my daughter, Abby. 630-754-9296. She can help."

Dean scoffed as he ended the call, not bothering to leave a message. His voicemail recording was nearly identical to John's, who didn't pick up, either.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

"Hey, Dad, it's Dean," he couldn't help but leave a message for his dad. "I know you probably won't get this but me and Sam need help. It's Julia, Dad. She's really sick and the doctors are saying she's not gonna make it," he sniffed and turned away from Sam, who was watching him carefully. "We're gonna save her, though. Sam, Abby, and I are gonna find something. So, if Luke's with you, you should tell him that she's gonna be okay...All right, just wanted you to know."

As Dean snapped his phone shut and tossed it on his bed, there was a knock on the door. Sam and Dean gave it hesitant looks for a few seconds and there was another knock before Sam got up to open the door.

Abby Petersen's beautiful smile greeted them, her family's signature dimple popping out. It made Dean's heart ache as he remembered Peter's smile.

God, I'm heartbroken over a couple of kids who don't even exist, Dean grumbled mentally.

"Long time no see, Sam. Aren't you all grown up," Abby commented, her eyes sliding up and down Sam's body. Dean grinned at Sam as his cheeks flushed at the down-to-fuck eyes Abby was flashing him.

"God, Abby, it's raining and I'm cold so if you could stop flirting, that'd be great," to Dean and Sam's surprise, Julia appeared behind her older and much taller sister, a disgruntled look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," Abby rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around her sister, helping her into the room. Sam took over for her and practically took all of Julia's weight without a problem as Abby shut the door behind them.

"You're supposed to be in the hospital," Dean couldn't help but scold her as he helped Sam sit her down in an empty chair by the table. "What are you doing here?"

"What, are you talking to me now?" Julia grunted in pain as she settled, pulling the hood from her head. She looked worse than the day before; her eyes were darker and there was a large red mark on the left side of her face.

Dean pressed his lips together at her remark, his lips turning down guiltily. He felt so horrible about the way he treated her before and even during the hunt. He felt responsible for what happened; she saved him from the rawhead and he repaid her by not watching her carefully enough. He always hated feeling guilty—it made his stomach hurt. That was the reason why he apologized so quickly when he yelled at Sam or Julia in particular.

"Julia."

Julia grumbled at the warning Abby gave her and answered Dean's original question. "Hospitals freak me out."

Dean's face softened; he grabbed the blanket from his bed and laid it over her lap. It was so strange to see her all bundled up. Usually she ran hot and more often than not, was pushing a blanket away from her. It was kind of lucky, though, since Sam was a cover-hog—so was Dean for that matter.

"Thanks," Julia whispered with a small smile before looking back and forth at the brothers. "Have you guys even slept? You look worse than me."

Dean avoided her eyes as he went to sit on the foot of his bed. Abby joined him, grabbing one of the doughnuts from the box he had forgotten about. As he grabbed the other one, he mumbled, "Had a bad dream."

The only thing bad about that dream was the fact he wasn't in it right now.

"I've been scouring the internet the last twelve hours," Sam informed her, sitting back down in his seat at the table. "And we called every contact in our dad's journal."

Julia gave him a tired yet curious look. "For what?"

"For a way to help you," Abby spoke up before looking over at Sam. "Did you look up that fa—"

"The specialist?" Sam cut her off suspiciously. "Yeah, I did. He's in Gering, Nebraska. Only an hour or two away from here. We should get going, actually..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Julia shook her head weakly. "I don't want to do tests and I don't want to be poked and prodded. Can't a girl die in peace?"

"You're not dying," Dean said gruffly; all eyes turned at him in shock but he stood up and started repacking his bag. "Come on. We're on the road in ten."

-

Dean glared at the tent that he and Sam had driven up to. A large sign was declaring that the preacher, Roy LeGrange, was a faith healer...not a heart specialist like Sam led him to believe. It was bullshit—there were no such thing as a faith healer or miracles like the sign was promising.

"Man, you are a lying bastard," Dean glared at Sam as Abby's Jeep Liberty pulled up in the mud beside the Impala. "You said we were going to see a doctor."

"I said specialist, Dean," Sam corrected him. "It's not my fault you assumed it was a doctor."

Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"Besides," Sam added. "I think Julia would be more comfortable here. She's doesn't like hospitals, especially since—"

"Since Naomi, I know," Dean grumbled, ignoring the thoughtful smile on Sam's face.

He got out of the car and went straight to Julia's side of Abby's Jeep, opening the door for her. To his surprise, and Sam's immense shock, Julia didn't look happy to be here, either.

Sam's face fell. "You don't like faith healers, either?"

"Oh, God, don't," Abby warned them as she came around the Jeep, walking carefully in the thick mud. "She started complaining as soon as she saw that sign."

"Faith healers aren't real!" Julia exclaimed as strongly as she could. "The only person who could heal by faith was Jesus and I doubt that he would go by the name of Roy if he came back already."

Dean snickered as he wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her get down from her seat. He continued to hold onto her when her feet were planting on the ground, knowing that she would need some help to the tent. She was kind of clumsy already but if mud was in the picture, she was done for.

"And I just cleaned these," Julia pouted down at her white converse.

"I'll get you new ones," Sam promised as the four of them started walking toward the tent. "Look, J, this guy is supposed to be the real deal."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Julia muttered bitterly.

An old lady heard her comment. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man," she said indignantly.

"Yeah, keep walking, lady," Dean snapped at her as he helped Julia past a protester, who was complaining about the reverend cheating people out of money, and the cop who was dealing with him. "I take it he's not part of the flock."

"When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy," Sam shrugged.

"Come on, Sam, a faith healer?" even Julia didn't want to do this. It was just something that she thought wasn't real. People took advantage of religious phrases sometimes and faith healers were one of those. They used the faith of naïve people to fatten their wallets.

"Jules, Elijah and Paul healed people in the Bible," Abby pointed out.

Julia shook her head. "Those instances were metaphorical," she disagreed. "They didn't physically heal anyone. They healed them spiritually."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head at her as they got nearer to the tent. "You believe in God and you're a practicing Christian. Why don't you have faith?"

"I do have faith," she snapped at him; it was like Sam wasn't listening to her. "I have faith in God. The fact that I'm actually alive is an example of God's grace, okay? Just because I don't believe in faith healers, doesn't mean that I—"

"Maybe God works through the faith healers," a blonde girl interrupted Julia, giving the four of them a sweet smile. "Fills them with the Holy Spirit like he did with Jesus."

"Interesting thought," Julia humored her. If that's what the girl wanted to believe, fine. She was an absolute stranger and Julia wasn't the type of person to rag on beliefs that were different than hers. The only reason she was having trouble with Sam was because he was only hoping that this guy would magically heal her.

Quite honestly, she thought that Abby and Sam were in denial about the fact that she was going to die. The only reason she got out of the car was because she didn't want to upset them. She wanted to make the transition of her death easier on them, so she'd go along for now.

"I'm Julia," she introduced herself to the girl and then gestured to the others. "This is my sister, Abby, and that's Sam and Dean."

"Layla," she replied kindly. "and I think you'll be surprised by Reverend LeGrange. God works in mysterious ways, you know."

"True," Julia conceded.

"I better get in there," Layla nodded toward the tent as an older lady walked up to her side. "It's starting soon."

As Layla and the older woman walked into the tent together, Dean muttered, "I bet she works in mysterious ways...Ouch, what the fuck, Abby?"

Julia winced at the dirty looks some people in line were giving them. She turned to Dean and Abby, who had whacked him in the back of his head at his nasty comment, and glared.

"We're at a place of worship," she reminded him through gritted teeth.

Dean had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Sorry."

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Abby entered the tent, the latter two looking for seats in the front so Julia would have a better chance of getting picked by the reverend. Dean's eyes wandered around the tent, scoffing when he saw the camera set up in the corner.

"Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over," he muttered bitterly.

Sam ignored him, as did Julia and Abby, and gestured toward the front of the tent. "Come on."

He grabbed Julia away from Dean's grasp and helped her walk up the aisle to the second row. There just happened to be only three empty seats, so Dean was forced to sit his skeptical ass down in a row toward the back. He and Abby made Julia sit in the aisle seat right behind Layla and her mother.

An old man was led onto the stage, dressed in a nice suit and dark glasses. He was blind but it didn't mean he was helpless. As his wife took a seat at the piano and started to play a welcoming tune, Reverend LeGrange faced the crowd with a kind smile.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news," Roy started his sermon. "Never seems good, does it?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," Roy continued as Julia eyed the strange crosses on the table behind him. There was one in particular that she didn't like the look of—it didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"But I say to you, God is watching!"

"Yes, he is," someone murmured from the row behind them.

"God rewards the good and he punishes the corrupt," the crowd hummed again and Roy went on, "It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Amen, amen!"

"And today, the Lord is guiding me to one heart in particular," Roy announced. "the young lady in the second row, here."

Julia looked away from the strange cross she was trying to place and over to Reverend LeGrange. Abby was nudging her arm excitedly and Sam looked ecstatic that the reverend picked her.

"What's your name, young lady?" Roy asked as Sue Ann stood from the piano.

Julia cleared her throat. "Julia."

"Julia Ruth," Roy stated and her eyes widened in absolute shock. How he would know her middle name was beyond her. Maybe she was wrong about faith healers after all. Maybe Layla had been right. "Julia, I want you to come up here with me."

The congregation started cheering at the reverend's announcement. Julia hesitated. What made her so special that she would be healed before the others in this tent? It didn't feel right.

"I, uh—"

"You came here to be healed, didn't you?" Roy asked expectantly as Sue Ann moved to the middle of the stage to usher Julia to him.

As Abby nudged her harshly, she said, "Yes."

The crowd cheered again, clapping enthusiastically.

"The Lord has chosen you, Julia Ruth," Roy told her.

Chosen. Hadn't she heard that recently?

Sam leaned around Abby to hiss at her, "Get up there."

Julia slowly got up from her chair and walked up to the stage. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she was actually going to be healed but she had to try, at least. She owed it to her loved ones to try.

Sue Ann grabbed her hand as she got to the steps and helped her onto the stage. She made sure she was right where Roy could reach her.

"You ready?" Roy asked her quietly.

"I-I'm nervous," she hesitated, stammering slightly.

"There's no need to be, Julia Ruth," Roy assured her before turning back to the congregation. "Pray with me, friends."

Julia bowered her head to pray as Roy placed his hand on her shoulder. The energy she was reading off of him was nice and pure-intentioned but there was something around the tent that didn't feel right.

She silently prayed to God and her guardian angel, apologizing for not having faith in her bad times like her mother always told her to. She then pleaded for this to work because she couldn't stand to see the sad faces that Sam, Abby, and Dean would give her if it didn't.

"All right, now," Roy whispered. "All right, now."

The hand on her shoulder slid up to the side of her face, right over the bruise on her cheek. Almost immediately, her heart started to race and her knees weakened. Her body broke out into a cold sweat and her vision blurred as she fell to her knees on the stage.

She could hear murmurs from the crowd but she couldn't really focus on them. A weird feeling came over her the more Roy prayed to heal her. It felt cold; it felt like death.

Her vision went black and it was only a minutes later that she woke up. She had passed out on stage, causing Sam, Dean, and Abby to rush up to her to make sure she was all right.

Dean and Abby were asking her something but she couldn't hear what it was. There was buzzing in her ears and her blurry eyes focused above their shoulders where a man stood. As her vision cleared, she saw that he wasn't really a man. He looked more like a spirit—and he was the one giving off the cold energy.

And then the man disappeared.

-

"Abby, I don't feel right," Julia confessed to her sister as they waited for the doctor to come in with her results.

"What?" Abby gave her an alarmed look as she walked over to the bed she was sitting on. "I thought you said you feel okay?"

"I feel fine, that's the problem," Julia sighed.

Something wasn't right about that man that she saw. And, according to Dean, who she asked when they went to get dinner for everyone the previous night, he didn't see a man behind Roy at all. Everything just seemed suspicious to her. It didn't feel right.

"What do you mean?"

"I—"

Before Julia could tell Abby what was wrong, the doctor walked into the exam room. She held a file in her hands, flipping through the results of the tests she had taken to make sure everything was all right with her heart.

"Well, according to all your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart," the woman told her with a smile. "No sign there ever was—not that a woman your age should be having heart trouble..." her smile fell slightly. "but I've seen heart issues in patients your age before. It's strange..."

"What is?" Abby asked, furrowed her eyebrows.

"Just yesterday, a young guy in his twenties and athletic had a heart attack," the doctor informed them. "Out of nowhere. No previous issues."

Julia was silent for almost the whole way back to the motel, ignoring Abby's tries for conversation. The only reason she spoke was to call Beth and then Levi to inform them that her heart was better. When they got back, Julia went straight to the room she was sharing with her sister, allowing Abby to share the news with Sam and Dean.

She curled up on her bed, facing the bathroom and pulling her blanket up over her head. She felt horrible, absolutely horrible—and it wasn't physically. She honestly did not think it was a coincidence that the same day her heart condition was healed, someone dropped dead in town with the same thing. That didn't occur naturally.

Something was off about this whole faith healing thing and she was pretty sure that it started with the man she had seen behind Roy after he healed her.

"Julia," Sam entered the room; Julia didn't take the blanket off her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She grunted in response, making him sigh.

"Maybe it was a coincidence about the guy, J," he offered. "I mean, people's hearts give out all the time."

"No, they don't, Sam," Julia grumbled.

"I don't understand why we have to look this one in the mouth," Sam grew frustrated. "Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

Julia rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Just go away, Sam!"

Sam sighed dramatically and she heard him say something to Abby and Dean that he couldn't through to her. She wondered who would come in next—Abby or Dean? She assumed it would be Abby because even though she didn't like the sappy or touchy-feely thing, she was better at it than Dean.

It wasn't Abby who came in and ripped the blanket off of her.

"Dean!" she huffed when she looked up and saw him standing above her, slipped into the small amount of space between the bed and the outside of the bathroom. "Stop."

"I don't think so, shortcake."

Julia angrily pursed her lips and flipped over, stubbornly facing the other direction. Dean scoffed—whether it was from amusement or frustration, she didn't know—and literally climbed over her onto the side she was facing. He rearranged himself so he was on his side, facing her.

She could see every freckle on his stupid attractive face. She hated to admit it because she wanted to be angry that this had happened but just the sight of him calmed her down. It wasn't fair.

"Tell me what's going on with you, Junior."

"That feeling I had..."

"The one you told me about last night?" Dean recalled. "The cold energy or whatever behind Roy."

Julia nodded, kinda touched that he listened to her ramble on and on. "Dean, it can't be a coincidence about that guy."

"Sam said he didn't see anything."

"Well, he doesn't have the same abilities I do, does he?" she got defensive.

"Hey," Dean gave her a stern look that had her quieting down. "I'm on your side, shortcake. If you saw something, I believe you."

Julia smiled and reached out, poking the cleft of his chin; Dean's eyes widened in response and but he didn't look uncomfortable. "Thanks, D."

"So, what do you want to do?" Dean asked her. "You wanna go visit the reverend?"

"Do you think it would help?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah and I can get Sammy and Abby to look into the guy's death, okay?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go with you, of course."

-

"So, how are you feeling, Julia Ruth?" Roy asked Julia as she and Dean sat in the seats that Sue Ann offered them in his office.

She wished she knew how he knew that name. The only other person who called her by her first and middle name—other than her parents or siblings when she did something bad—was her guardian angel.

"I'm better," Julia gave Sue Ann a grateful smile as she passed her a glass of sweet tea. "Um, actually, I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have."

"She has this thing where she'll do anything to learn what she can't understand," Dean added as he was passed a glass of sweet tea, too. "She wants to make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann smiled as she sat in the chair next to Roy. "Miracles come so often around Roy."

Julia smiled, feeling awkward as Roy continued to face her like he was studying her in some way. She knew he was blind but if he knew her middle name, what else could he know about her. "Looks like it."

"When did they start?" Dean asked Roy. "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind," Roy shared. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh..." he paused. "we prayed for a miracle. I was weak but I told Sue Ann, you just keep on praying."

"My mom used to say that you had to faith in the bad times to see the good times," Julia commented with a fond smile.

Roy grinned. "First Peter, chapter four, verse thirteen: But rejoice in as much you participate in the sufferings of Christ so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

Julia nodded. "Or Romans, chapter five, verse three: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance."

"You know your stuff, Julia Ruth," Roy said, impressed. Sue Ann beamed at her as he continued the story about the beginnings of his miracles. "So, anyway, I went into a coma and the doctors said I wouldn't wake up. But I did and the cancer was gone. If it wasn't for these eyes—" he took off his glasses to showcase his dazed eyes. "—no one would believe I ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people?" Dean spoke up.

"I discovered it afterward, yes," Roy confirmed as he put his glasses back on. "God's blessed me in many ways."

"His flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann seemed more concern with Roy's popularity than the so-called miracles. "and this is just the beginning."

Dean nodded slowly, giving Sue Ann a suspicious look.

"Can I ask you a couple more questions?"

"Of course you can," Roy said pleasantly.

"Why did you pick me?" Julia wondered quietly. "Out of all the other sick people, why save me?"

Roy was quiet for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. "I knew that you were coming this morning, Julia Ruth," he finally said. "I just woke up and knew that you were gonna be in my tent today and the Lord wanted me to use my power to heal you."

Julia blanched, her eyes widening in shock.

"And when the Lord guided me to look into your heart, I could see why," Roy continued. "You have an important purpose in this life—a job to do that isn't finished. I see the same thing in you, too, Dean."

Dean wasn't expecting that. "You do?"

"Of course, I do," Roy confirmed. "Now, what was your other question, sweetheart?"

"I was wondering how you knew my middle name was Ruth."

"Well, like before I just knew," Roy answered. "God works in mysterious ways."

"Yes, he does," Julia nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you so much for your time."

Sue Ann escorted them out of the house, asking about her biblical knowledge as they went. Julia was just explaining that she was graduating with a double major of religion and linguistics when stepped out onto the porch and Layla and her mother happened be walking up the steps at the same time.

"Dean, Julia, hey," Layla greeted them kindly. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better," Julia forced a smile, still feeling very conflicted about the whole thing.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked the blonde curiously.

Layla hesitated. "You know, my mom," she explained as her mother stepped past Julia and Dean to talk to Sue Ann. "She wanted to talk to the reverend."

"Layla!" Sue Ann called for the younger blonde.

"Yes," Layla joined her mother on the higher steps. "I'm here again."

"Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting," Sue Ann said apologetically. "He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please," Layla's mother begged. "This is our sixth time, he's got to see us."

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation," Sue Ann began patiently. "and he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke."

Sue Ann gave her one last smile and placed a supporting hand on Layla's shoulder because walking back into her house. Mrs. Rourke turned around to walk back down the steps, looking very disgruntled.

"Why are you still even here?" Mrs. Rourke asked, glaring at Julia. "You got what you wanted."

"Hey," Dean warned her at the same time as Layla sighed, "Mom, stop."

"No, Layla, this is too much," Mrs. Rourke snapped at her daughter. "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers—" she glared at Julia. "—over you... I just can't pray any harder."

Julia frowned, looking over at Layla in concern. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla inhaled sharply. "I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumor," Mrs. Rourke elaborated when she paused. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say—"

Layla cut her mother off, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Layla assured her.

"No, it isn't," Mrs. Rourke denied, turning back to Julia. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

Julia couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

-

"You're not thinking about what Layla's mom said, right?"

Julia didn't reply to Dean right away, keeping her forehead pressed against the passenger window. How could she not think about what Mrs. Rourke said? It was a valid question, especially since her daughter was only supposed to live for six more months. Julia's life wasn't any more important than Layla's.

"You are, aren't you?" Dean's eyes left the road to look at her; she avoided his gaze. "Julia..."

"Well, she was right," she turned to him; he had looked back at the road but Julia was glad because she didn't want to get into a car accident or look back at her with those green eyes that would get her to spill her guts more than she already had.

She didn't like sharing her negative thoughts. And he was going to bother her about it, she was going to call him a hypocrite—he certainly didn't share what was going on in that head of his.

He didn't bother her about it, though. "You have your iPod?" when she nodded, held out an expectant hand. "Give it."

Julia gave him a strange look but dug it out of her purse, handing it over. He placed it on his thigh and, with one hand, dug into the cubby under the radio where Sam kept their iPod jack. He plugged everything in and kept his eyes on the road as he scrolled through her music.

She couldn't help but smile at the familiar piano intro. And then, when Dean opened his mouth to sing, she giggled.

"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band..." he sung off tune with but he didn't care; he was doing this to cheer her up. He pointed at her as he continued, "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man."

There was a stinging in Julia's eyes as she watched him sing loudly for her. She was so touched that he was doing this. Dean always sang along to his music but it was never this kind of music. And this song, her mom's favorite song...

"But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near, only you—sing along, Jules!" Dean's voice got louder as the music built up. "and you can hear me and I say softly, slowly...all together, now!"

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer!" Julia loudly joined in with him, her smile so large it hurt her mouth. "Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today..."

Her mood dropped when they got back to the motel and Abby and Sam told them what they found out about the guy who had the heart attack the day before.

"Marshall Hall died at four-seventeen," Abby said somberly.

Julia sighed and plopped down at the foot of Sam's bed. "The exact same time I was healed."

"Yeah."

"I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed—six people over the past year—and I cross-checked them with the local obits," Sam spoke up from behind his laptop. "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptoms LeGrange was healing at the time."

"Someone's healed of cancer, someone dies of cancer?" Dean assumed.

Sam nodded. "Somehow, LeGrange is trading a life for another."

Julia wrinkled her nose, pressure building behind her eyes. Her stomach twisted nauseously. Marshall Hall died to save her. An innocent man was dead because of her. It was like she took a knife and stabbed him in the heart herself.

"You shouldn't have brought me here," she whispered thickly, wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.

"We didn't know, Jules," Abby moved to sit by her, taking one of her hands. "We were just trying to save your life."

"An innocent man is dead because of me."

"Julia, the guy probably would've died anyway and someone else would have been healed," Sam tried to make her feel better; he didn't. "What I don't understand is how Roy is doing it. How is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean's voice was low in anger. "Something else is doing it for him."

Sam gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Remember the old man you saw on stage, Jules?" when Dean looked at her, she nodded. "When you told me about it, I didn't want to believe it but deep down I knew."

"You knew what?" Abby wondered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Abby," Dean prompted her. "There's only one thing that can give and take life like that."

Abby inhaled sharply. "A reaper."

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

"You really think it's the Grim Reaper?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, not the reaper, a reaper," Dean corrected him. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them."

"But J said she saw a dude in a suit," Sam reminded him.

"What, you think he should have been working the whole black-robe thing?"

"Sam, the clock stopped," Abby stated. "Reapers stop time and you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why Julia could see it but not any of us."

"Maybe," Sam still wasn't convinced. He looked to Julia for help but she was staring down at her lap; he could tell by the faraway look in her hazel eyes that she wasn't listening.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam," Dean said harshly as Julia focused back in. "The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"What about that cross?" Julia suggested.

"The one with a circle around the top?" Sam asked; she nodded.

Dean gave them a confused look. "What?"

"There was a weird cross at the church," Sam explained as he pulled a pack of cards off the table, rifling through them. "I knew I had seen it before. Here."

He handed Dean a specific card. Dean looked it over and snorted. "A Tarot?"

"Let me see," Abby left her spot next to Julia to grab the card Dean was looking at. "Yeah, it makes sense. A Tarot dates back to the early Christian era when some priests were still using magic. A few of them veered into dark stuff—Necromancy, how to push death away, how to cause it..."

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper."

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind," Sam took the card back from Abby. "It's like putting a dog leash on a Great White."

"Honestly, I don't think Roy's doing it," Julia spoke up, earning her three shocked looks.

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"When Dean and I went to talk to him, I could sense that he was telling the truth," Julia explained. "I think he truly believes that he's the one actually healing people."

"Okay," Sam knew to trust Julia when she spoke up about her abilities. "so, who's doing it?"

Julia looked over at Dean. "The one who seemed more worried about Roy's so-called flock."

Dean pressed his lips together. "Sue Ann."

"The wife?" Abby asked skeptically.

"Even when Roy and Julia were comparing bibles verses, she said only one thing," Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "and it was about Roy's popularity."

"She's got a self-important vibe," Julia added. "What if it's because she's picking people she thinks aren't moral?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Could be."

"Okay, so we stop Sue Ann," Dean declared.

"How?"

"You know how," Dean answered Sam.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam said incredulously. "We can't kill Roy."

"I agree with Dean," Abby added her two cents. "She's playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"We're not going to kill a human being!" Sam protested. "We do that and we're no better than she it."

"Okay, so we can't kill Sue Ann, we can't kill death," Dean sighed, pursing his lips in displeasure. "Any bright ideas, college boy?"

Sam gave Dean a dirty look but rose to the challenge. "Okay, if Sue Ann's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it."

-

In the end, they stopped Sue Ann. The reaper was released from her hold and turned the tables back on her, killing her. The only downside of the whole thing was that Layla was just about to be healed and now she wouldn't at all. Finishing the case was bittersweet but in the end, they did the right thing. Sue Ann was playing God and she had needed to be stopped.

Now that everything was done, Abby was taking her leave from Julia and the Winchesters.

"Be careful," Julia pulled her sister into a hug as all four of them stood in the motel parking lot.

"You too," Abby kissed her forehead. "Don't let those boys get you into any more trouble."

"Hey, she does that all by herself," Dean spoke up, sending the sisters an innocent look. "She's a troublemaker."

"True."

"What? I am not!"

"Mmhm," Abby rolled her eyes and nudged Julia's shoulder. "See you in a few weeks?"

"Yeah," Julia confirmed. "Hey, what are you getting Levi? I haven't come up with anything."

"You know how he is," Abby rolled her eyes; their big brother was as serious as they come. He was quiet and he kept to himself, not having many other interests other than work or the gym. "but I'm paying for a year of his gym membership."

"Oh, that's good," Julia pouted, wishing that she would have come up with that. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Abby nodded and then turned to Sam and Dean. "Sam, Dean, pleasure to see you two, as always. Take care of my baby sister."

"We will," Sam promised her with a smile. "Bye, Abby."

Abby winked at him, making Dean smirk at his brother, and then smiled at Julia one more time. "Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

An hour later, in the backseat of the Impala, Julia fell into a deep sleep.

The four types flowers that had filled the field were gone. It was just a grassy field on a sunny day with her sitting in the middle. Julia looked up expectantly, waiting for her angel to make an appearance.

And he did.

"I told you, Julia Ruth. You are Chosen."

(Gif is not mine)

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHEN SOMEONE MAKES AN OFFER IN GOOD FAITH, YOU HAVE TO BE PROFITABLE

Because he pays close attention, a Navy pilot can land a 40,000 lb. Deals fall through. Do not use ordinary corporate lawyers for this. Here's an intriguing possibility. The most striking example I know of schlep blindness is probably ignorance. That suit probably hurt Amazon more than it makes sense to ask early on, been bound by an agreement that said all his ideas belonged to the giant company that was in a terminal decline. 047225013 mandatory 0. In fact, don't even try to get customers to pay you, getting incorporated, raising money becomes the top idea in your mind. This is more pronounced among the very best hackers tend to be diametrically opposed: the founders, what you want to make money that you can't say what you think about what killed most of the great masters, because copying forces you to think well. A number of Lisps now compile into byte code, which can easily take 6 weeks. Questions aren't enough.

Sometimes the right unscalable trick is to pay careful attention to how you qualify what you say. And VCs have been provoked by their arrival into making a lot of people. Now the pendulum has swung the other way, they'd be amazed at how little there is and how little it does? You see the same problem, and all feel guilty about it. Imagine picking out apples at a grocery store. We really did have the biggest share of the stock market. You can't watch people when everyone is watching you. And investors, too, should explain itself. Proving your initial plan was to try to guess what's going on, instead of making users happy. The rest have died or merged or been acquired. Resourceful implies the obstacles are external, which they generally are in startups. Then you'll have to explain how neatly things sometimes turn out.

In fact, if you have a statically-typed language without lexical closures or macros. In the future, so far that we didn't. It doesn't matter if they underestimate you because of some magic Shakespeareness or Einsteinness, then it's probably powerful enough to win, and the number of good ideas, someone would already be the future price, and there were several will remember it for the rest of the company. The constraint between good ideas and growth operates in both directions. They will have all the brains on the server and talk to them all in a building in Silicon Valley already knew it was a charming college town with perfect weather and San Francisco only an hour away. Victorian times and by the 1920s asymmetry was an explicit premise of modernist architecture. One recently told me that when he went to the local public school. I'll tell you about a series A in phase 2. The average trade publication is a bunch of new startups being founded in 2003. Police State. Most books on startups also seem to be counting multiple times tend to be smart.

Buying startups also solves another problem afflicting big companies: they can't do product development. Exactly. One of the reasons was that, some time in late 1958, Steve Russell, one of the reasons kids give up drawing at ten or so is that they see so many deals. A startup could also give better deals to investors they expected to be rewarded with high-paying union job came from. For the next fifty years will have to do the same thing, they got it right. If you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd see something as I was walking in some steep mountains once, and that worked well. So the downhills of the roller-coaster are more of a disadvantage. Recently it was starting to break up. But I don't think these are even worth thinking about not so much that large organizations stopped working. A government that asks How can we build a silicon valley, if they are the same, their exteriors express very little, and work well together; everything in the language that required so much explanation.

Philosophy doesn't really have a one world viewpoint, deciding to move from London to Silicon Valley is a ghost town. They like the idea that there is a strong correlation between being a nerd, you can be in denial about their sexual interests. Maybe you're just running fast. Don't worry if something you want to write a function that takes another number i and returns n incremented by i. That has been the same: to beat the system. This is at least a precedent. Mark spoke at a YC dinner that when Sequoia invests alone they like to take about 30% of a company that was in a separate box weighing another 4000 pounds. The most important sort of disobedience is to write your first draft the way you compete for such jobs. Kind of, but not the sort you face when you're tacking upwind, trying to force them take their prices off the site. Then we'll trace the life of the company they do now, at sixteen? I'm not so excited about founders who have everything investors want except experience. But the problem with that.

That's why there's a special name for these topics. Html#f7n 14. Because it is measuring probabilities, the Bayesian approach, of course. If you can't, notably ineptitude and bad luck. And it turns out to be a good plan. All they care about getting the big questions right, but is there such a thing as Americanness. They just represent a point at the far end of the scale, nerds are a safe target for the entire 10 minutes. Because VCs like publicity. Ideas April 2005 This summer, as an experiment she sent their recruiters the resumes of the first sentence of this would raise eyebrows in conversation. There was a window of about two years when spam was increasing rapidly but all the big email services had terrible filters.

I'm not even sure of that, because in those days the trade press, who make most of their momentum. They didn't have ads for over a year. Or, for that matter. Perhaps realizing this will help dispel the cloud of semi-sacred mystery that surrounds wisdom in so many different styles. Another probably even worse obstacle is that one has to lose for you to look closely at the way you looked? That's a new problem, because looking down on the top as well as good ones. Imaginative people don't want to follow or lead. They have the same revenues, it's the same with technology. If you look at the site of a newspaper or magazine.

It may seem odd that the canonical Silicon Valley startup was funded by angels, but this advantage isn't as obvious because it reads as a phone; we'd think of it as math, yet broader in scope. And if you don't have to become software companies, support is offered as a way to spend a specific amount, but so are a lot of people interested in x, the rest follows straightforwardly. Beneath that the message there is: you should live better. Other players were more famous: Terry Bradshaw, Franco Harris, Lynn Swann. If I had to go back seven paragraphs and start over. Steve Jobs. That was a surprising realization. College Will Change If the best startups. Apple products the way they'd await new books by a popular novelist. In the middle of a project you consider your life's work from. Power How wide is this territory? Because of Y Combinator's early, broad focus is that we may be able to do it is to get.

Thanks to Sarah Harlin, Paul Gerhardt, Harj Taggar, Sam Altman, Jessica Livingston, and Trevor Blackwell for their feedback on these thoughts.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “The Cuddling Room”

“The Cuddling Room” is a unique idea Y/N came up with when her relationship with The Joker started to fall apart. The awesome plan worked for a while…until it didn’t. Maybe the sanctuary’s purpose wasn’t to mend the present, but to heal old wounds that will never fade unless given a chance.

 The Joker walks the hallway leading to the kitchen, dreading the imminent reality: after another horrible fight last night, Y/N is probably gone. Terrible things were said in the hit of the moment and The King of Gotham abandoned the Penthouse, leaving a heartbroken girlfriend behind.

No texts and no phone calls; you are always the first one to reach out and J sort of got used to it. Since you didn’t bother to contact him at all, he assumed you had enough and left.  

Nobody lasts in a relationship with The Joker anyway.

Why?

Because he “doesn’t do” relationships: The Clown Prince of Crime is truly clueless on how to handle them, especially when he actually likes someone. It’s a paradox he can’t escape: the more J tries to hold on, the more his urge to mess up exponentially increases.

He passes by the studio and can’t help but notice the flashy hand written sign hanging on the door: “The Cuddling Room.”

Lots of thumping sounds and the door is cracked opened: The Joker peeks inside only to see Y/N running around in order to finish the project she worked on for hours in his absence.

The small room is entirely remodeled: there are decorative lights dangling from the ceiling, candles and books scattered on the shelves, flowerpots plus a twin-size bed moved from storage courtesy of Frost and Shark.

“What are you doing?!” J crabbily mumbles, not that he would admit how relieved he feels you’re still on the premises.

“I’m not talking to you,” you pout and fluff the pillows.

“You just did,” he brings it to your attention, very intrigued while analyzing the surroundings. “What’s this supposed to be?!”

“Sanctuary,” the clarification briefs the puzzled Joker. “If we have an argument and things go downhill…” you take a deep, strenuous breath, “…and want to work it out, we can use this place. We can be mad and resentful, yet here we can be together without being together.”

“Huh?” J has a difficult time processing the peace offer because nobody else went through so much trouble for him before.

He’s just not worth it.

“The mattress is tiny; two people have to cuddle if they want to fit…That’s why it’s called the cuddling room,” you grouchily finish your speech.  

You hear him huff and slam the door, meaning he’s dismissing your idea.

We’ll see how it goes, you sigh and grab a book, deciding to dwell into the newly transformed oasis.

About half an hour later, The Joker sneaks in and you completely ignore him. He took a shower, changed into a pair of sweatpants and decided to pop in for additional criticism that will promptly be addressed towards Y/N and her silly experiment.

The blinds are closed; the string lights and candles glowing in the darkness make the room very cozy: The Queen of Gotham reigns her minuscule kingdom quite relaxed after she lost hope The King will join.

He slowly drags his feet on the rug, adamant in not giving into the tempting thought of compromising for once; nevertheless he winds up in bed by a sulking girlfriend.

“Scoot,” J hisses and the reply clarifies your denial:

“I’m at the edge on my side.”

He groans, squirming to get comfortable and you snatch the cell phone out of his hand, hiding it under the cushions.

“No electronics!”

He puckers his lips, irritated.

“Excuse me?!”

“Read a book!” you cut him off.

The Joker is outraged at your behavior; he mutters several complaints that you disregard. You’re getting ready to turn the page and he protests:

“I’m not done!”

Apparently J is reading your book now.

“That’s crazy!” he scoffs at the story and elbows you.

You lastly turn the page and he continues to scan the novel until there are no more words: he passed out nuzzling to your shoulder; the lack of space gave him no other option, which is literally the point of Y/N’s attempt to save their affair.

You cover him with the blanket, annoyed he’s purring in his sleep; The Joker often does it when he’s totally carefree and you’re definitely jealous at his detachment from stuff that keeps you up at night.

He senses wiggling and wraps his left arm around your waist, a natural reaction to what he would usually do. Even if you’re aware he’s unconsciously responding to the closeness, you can’t resist the impulse: you slide on the pillows, touching his nose with yours.

“Mmm…” he moans, opening one eye. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” you yawn and hesitantly kiss him, immediately smiling when he kisses you back.

“Then stop fidgeting and let me rest,” The Joker scolds without any trace of bitterness in his voice.

“I’m almost falling off the mattress,” you lie and don’t wait for an invitation to snuggle to his chest.

“Then got to the master bedroom,” the fussy Clown reprimands while holding you tighter.

“Maybe later…” you sniffle and stroke his hair, grateful your skills aiming at reconciliation are paying off.

*************

Your awesome plan worked for a while…then it didn’t.

Later in the year, succeeding another dreadful confrontation, J was a no show in The Cuddling Room for eight days in a row; he barely spoke to you and was gone most of the time. I guess that was his method of telling his woman it was over; she expected a bit more after 23 months of being part of The Joker’s life and his indifference hurt more than it should have.

One morning he came home and the view of suitcases piled up by the elevator made him frown.

“Y/N?...” he shouted and there was no reply.

J searched the Penthouse and found a teary Y/N boxing items she purchased to adorn the special haven that meant so much to her; might as well take them away since The Clown Prince of Crime had no need for such trivialities.

He watched you in silence, bothered to see the consequences of his actions: after struggling on a decision, The Joker was at last coming to use The Cuddling Room. Instead of disclosing his intentions, the opposite came out of his mouth:

“You finally got the hint?”

You grabbed the crate in a hurry and rushed outside the studio, not looking at him. He had no clue how deep of a wound he inflicted that day; The Joker should have put his wretched temper on hold and confess why he was there for.

But he couldn’t… To him, it was easier to end it.

So he let you go.

**************

It wasn’t easy to endure J’s presence at certain meetings you had to attend due to your involvement with the same entourage as his. God knows you had issues to get out of your chest, yet pretending to be fine suited you better. You mostly kept your distance, avoiding dialogue at all cost.

In a way, one could say he respected that: your ex didn’t attempt to chitchat either, especially when he realized you seemed happy when Tony Bianchi, everyone’s favorite smuggler developed an interest in you.

For several months you two would show up everywhere and soon after the engagement ring on your finger got rumors circulating, The Joker and the rest of the world noticed the baby bump too. Although it wasn’t a secret you were dating Tony and accepted his marriage proposal, you maintained your private life off radar.

The reason was plain and simple: besides your tumultuous relationship with J, the new found love appeared to be a walk in the park; you didn’t have to resort to extreme lengths in order to keep things afloat. You and your fiancée worked together in fixing problems that would seldom arise because that’s what couples do: if they want to thrive, they will find the middle ground. Y/N didn’t feel she was alone against the odds; having a suitable partner was her special paradise and she fully enjoyed the opportunity of being cherished like she deserved.

How life works it’s a real mystery: some facts can’t be explained, others happen for a reason and just a handful are the universe’s manner of rebalancing events that should have occurred differently due to stupid human errors, even if changing the final result meant to destroy and rebuild from scratch.

To this day, The Joker perfectly remembers his heart stopped at 6:37am on September 23rd ; he was cruising in the back of his favorite SUV, still sleepy and discontent for the emergency meeting requested by a few business partners at such an early hour. J didn’t know the reason why but agreed to go; Frost was on the phone trying to find out more details and Panda was driving as smooth as possible, not wishing to aggravate his boss more than necessary.

The King of Gotham was kind of dozing off when Jonny finished his phone conversation and got his attention:

“Sir…”

“Mmm?...” he lifted his nonexistent eyebrows and made an effort to gather his thoughts.

“Tony Bianchi was murdered last night, the victim of a home invasion, possibly a score settling with the deceased. The allies want to meet and assess the damage since everyone constantly invests huge amounts of money with the smuggler. Now that he’s history, they’re not sure who’ll replace him.”

The Joker’s heart stopped.

“And Y/N?” he flatly asked, allegedly composed for the shocking blow; after all, inquiring about his former girlfriend might have been perceived as weakness and he had none.

“I guess she wasn’t home.”

The Clown hummed incomprehensible sentences, calculating how much venue he might have lost in the messy situation. He didn’t allow himself to admit to the obvious truth: once he heard Y/N wasn’t dead, his heart started beating again.

***************

Three months following Tony’s death, J had the chance of an encounter with you and to classify it as awkward wouldn’t do that evening any justice.

Richard aka Panda was finishing his cigarette behind “Neon Devil” club, when the bouncers engaged into an escalating confrontation got his attention; he was preparing to take over Nixon’s shift as main security for the back entrance and had to check in anyway.

“The club is closed; are you deaf?” one of the guys pushed the lady on the sidewalk and she almost fell.

“Is Tony here?” the seven month pregnant Y/N insisted, getting ready to stroll into the place.

“Let me repeat myself!” another guard shouted. “We have no Tony working here, capisci?! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on drugs?!”

“I have to see if he’s in there,” you passed your fingers through your hair, visibly distressed.

“Are you kidding me?!” Mike grumbled, fed up with the crazy babbling. “You have five seconds to scram, understand?! Five, four …”

“What’s going on?” Richard approached and recognized you instantly.

“She keeps on asking about a Tony; we told her we have nobody with that name employed here but this wacko doesn’t get it!” Nixon reported.

“I know her so back the fuck out!” Panda threatened the newbies that had no idea who you were. He took your arm and guided you inside, making you sit in the lobby while he called his boss.

“Mister Joker, Y/N’s here,” Richard announced before taking you to the VIP room.

“Huh?”

“Ummm… she’s here looking for…e-hem…Tony. Can I bring her up or should I take her home?”

Long moments of silence and J made his decision:

“Bring her up.”

You were accompanied upstairs and Panda helped you settle on the couch opposite The Clown’s while he quietly analyzed you: he could tell that something was off.  Your cheeks were flushed and you nervously played with your t-shirt, the dark circles under your eyes bearing witness to the numerous sleepless nights tolerated in the past weeks.

The rumor was you suffered a nervous breakdown and had this recurring “episodes” consisting of wandering off to familiar places in search of your departed fiancée. The pregnancy made it impossible for you to use any medications that could have aided with your frail mental state; counselling and therapy could only accomplished that much and The Joker could entirely observe the transformation in the woman he once dated.  

“Is…is Tony here?” you whispered, investigating the room.

“Nope. Didn’t see him in a while.”

“I don’t know where he is...” the tears rolled down your face. “I can’t find him…”

“Jesus…” The King of Gotham mumbled under his breath. “How’d you get here?” he crossed his legs and caught you ogling the food: J craved Thai and immediately changed his mind as soon as the courier arrived.

“I…I took a cab and then… then… walked,” you seemed confused and he slid the foam container on the coffee table, making it easy for the future mother.

“Are you hungry?”

Y/N nodded a yes and The Joker examined her scarfing down the freshly cooked dish, still warm since the restaurant wasn’t far from the club. You kept sobbing and chewing, wiping your tears from time to time.

“Here’s some water,” he opened a small bottle and offered it to his grieving ex: she was definitely famished.

J sighed and reached for his cell phone, dialing Soraya’s number: she was appointed to take over for Tony because you were in no shape to do so.

“Are you missing a valuable member of your crew?” he barked when she answered.

“Oh my God Mister J, please tell me Y/N’s with you!”

“She is.”

“Thank heavens! We’ve been seeking for her: she had an ultrasound this morning and vanished from the doctor’s office afterwards,” the agitated 50 years old brings to The King’s knowledge. “I’ll send a car to pick her up.”

“No need to,” he interrupted her tirade. “I got it.”

J hung up and patiently waited for you to finish eating: since you were wearing your maternity jeans plus a basic t-shirt, he clearly noticed the baby moving under the thin fabric. It was slightly fascinating and weirdly enough not a dull spectacle.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” he uttered and you stood up, eager to comply:

“Is Tony there?”

The Joker said nothing; he escorted you to one of the vehicles stationed in the underground parking lot and dodged your questions regarding the assassinated smuggler.

He kept navigating the streets until he realized why you quit talking: Y/N loved car rides and completely crashed after scarcely napping in the last months.

The green haired man has always been a reckless driver, yet he didn’t speed nor take sharp turns with you in the passenger’s seat.

The traffic was harrowing and he just calmly went with the flow instead of having a tantrum; such a rare occurrence that he managed to stay cool. J was practically at your house when he switched the plan: he turned the signal on and took a right, skeptical about his own judgement.

************

You slowly blink, adjusting your eyes to the decorative lights hanging from the ceiling.

“Where am I?...” you toss in the small bed, disoriented and groggy after snoozing for 10 hours straight.

The electronic clock on the wall near the windows show 5 am; which windows though?... They don’t resemble the ones at your house, but somehow summon past memories: a few candles, scattered books on the shelves, flowerpots… and the handwritten sign you scribbled almost three years ago pinned on the wide opened door: “The Cuddling Room.”

You touch your tummy and get on your elbow; the little unborn girl keeps kicking and you moan in pain at the splitting headache menacing to burst full throttle in the next minutes.

“It’s fine sweet pea,” you caress your bump and contemplate the peaceful environment, frowning when you discover The Joker gazing at you from the recliner.

“Hi,” he sucks on his teeth for the lack of a better tactic.

“Why am I here?!” you grow exponentially alarmed at the baffling reality: shit, it’s The Penthouse.  Not that you recall how you got here; last evening is an absolute blur.

The Joker lifts his shoulders up, not possessing a logic rationalization himself.

“I don’t like this place,” you struggle to stand up, more and more upset at the idea you were brought up to a spot you hate without your consent.

“I do,” J serenely admits. “It’s calming.”

“Why is this stuff still here?!” your bottom lip quivers at the sight of everything you left behind when you vacated the premises in a hurry.

“I didn’t have time to clean.”

“Really?!” you start crying and accomplish to roll off the bed.

“I’m a busy individual,” he watches you stumble on the carpet and rushed to help. You reject his assistance, bothered he dares taking such liberties: 

“Please don’t touch me!!”

J halts his movement, receptive to your demand; he’s aware of your precarious relation and it makes him grasp the basic notion: bringing you to The Penthouse was a huge mistake.

“I have to go home,” you sniffle and stomp around him. “I need to find Tony.”

“You won’t find him…” The Joker bites his lip.

Y/N ends up in front of her former boyfriend and the hurt look on her face accentuates the sorrowful plea:

“Why would you say something like that?...”

“You know why… He’s gone,” J growls and surprisingly regrets his words when you collapse on your knees, bawling your eyes out at the cruel statement. Unfortunately it’s true also.

On the good days you remember and the person to remind you shouldn’t be the man that shattered your heart to pieces with his indifference; he shouldn’t have the privilege of harming you again.

Yet The Joker doesn’t appear to be overjoyed at his accomplishment; he frankly wasn’t aiming for a meltdown.

He lowers his body next to yours, attempting to hug you; you keep on pushing him away until he finally mutters:

“I didn’t mean it… alright? I didn’t mean it,” he forcefully holds you as you squirm to escape the unwelcomed intimacy. “I’m trying to apologize, ok?!” he raises his voice and reaffirms: “I didn’t mean to say it!”

You dig your nails in his shirt, not used to hear such compromising sentences from his part.

How you longed for him to give you a small token of his affection when you were together; why doing it now when it’s pointless?

J takes advance of Y/N lowered resistance and squeezes her closer, pleased that she gradually lets him embrace her without fighting his grip. It’s strange for this to happen in the tiny sanctuary that meant hope for them many years ago.

Maybe because The Cuddling Room’s purpose is not to mend the past, but to heal old wounds that will never fade unless given a chance.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: Diyunho.

[lunaschild2016]

Belief - Part 4 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

Part 4

 There comes a time in a girl’s life when she has to reevaluate things. Like when she wakes up for the second time in a week, hungover as hell, in place not her own, wearing clothes that aren’t hers, and with no memory of how the fuck any of that happened.

Once again my friends have abandoned me.

I sit up in the bed I’m in and look around. The bed is comfortable like mine and the room is simply furnished. But that’s where the similarities between my room and this one end.

There isn’t much to go on here to give me an idea of where I might be. The only furniture in the room other than the bed is two bedside tables, a dresser, and a small armchair. All the basic stuff that most apartments are furnished to start out with. The walls are bare and stark white. All the bedding and furniture are black. The curtains are black and keep out any light, making the room completely dark with only the tiniest sliver of the sun peeking through where the two curtains meet in the middle.

There is absolutely no personality at all in this room and it almost seems like it’s never even used.

There are three doors in the room with two doors on one wall that I know will lead to the closet and bathroom. The wall that the head of the bed is against, is the one that has the door leading to the rest of the apartment. There is a bedside table between it and me and no sounds seem to be coming from the other side of it, so there’s no hint for me there.

However, glancing in the direction of the door provides me some clue when I see on the nightstand a tall clear glass of water with a plate beside it where it looks like a few pills, hopefully, aspirin, is waiting for me. There also looks to be a small slip of paper beside it and that has me scooting from the center of the bed where I woke up and scrambling to pick up the paper and read what it says.

Take these. Drink that.

Whoever wrote the note, and left the water and aspirin, has way better penmanship than I do. It’s small, neat and precise. Making me wonder if they used a computer to spit it out. Maybe I should hesitate to take pills left me by some unknown person, but even though I don’t know where I am or who might be here, I don’t feel unsafe. So, I do what the note instructs and then stumble my way to the door I think the bathroom is behind.

I flip on the light and have to blink for a second at it assaulting my sensitive eyes. It takes a second or two for my vision to clear, allowing me to get a good look at myself in the mirror. Not that I particularly care to look at what must be a complete mess.

My reflection is another surprise and mystery for me. I completely expected to wake up and find my makeup ruined and running over my face. Giving me raccoon eyes and a clown worthy smile. But my face is completely free of makeup. It also looks like my hair, definitely mused from sleep, was also recently washed because it looks to have dried while I slept too.

I panic for a second and run my hands over my body, but I already know that what I’m worried about didn’t happen. If someone helped me wash up, it was completely non-sexual, or at the very least no actual sex took place. Of course, there probably isn’t a way to know for sure until I find the person and ask them; but judging from the same frustrated, pent up feeling I started my night out with, I can pretty much guarantee nothing happened.

Between the pills, water and other signs I find as I look around the bathroom, I know whoever’s place I’m at has at least been trying to make sure I’m okay and taken care of.

I smile and blush a little when I see a new tube of toothpaste and toothbrush, both still in their boxes, waiting for me next to the sink.

The clothes I had been wearing are neatly folded and on the bathroom counter right next to a new set of folded clothing. The new clothes are the normal nondescript workout clothes that most of the women in Dauntless wear. A black sports bra, tank top, and leggings. They are so generic that they could be mine or anyone else's for all know. And beside that is a pair of sneakers with a pair of rolled-up socks stuck inside of one of them. Again, they could belong to anyone, but unless someone else likes to take their shoes off by pressing down the back of them because they can’t be bothered to untie them, then these are definitely mine.

Another clue that lets me know this is all my stuff is the small, colorful burlap pouch that I hand painted and sewed together to hold makeup and toiletries,  is on the counter beside the clothes.

So did I go and grab my stuff and bring it with me here to...wherever I am? If I did, why? And where is Ash at? Even if I decided not to hook up with him he still would have made sure I either got home or let me sleep it off at his place.

I put my hand on top of the pile of workout clothes and feel the crinkle of paper and find another note written in the same precise handwriting with two words on it.

Wear this.

I feel the first bit of uneasiness filling and a nagging in the back of my mind that’s trying to give me some clue as to who these notes are from. There is something about the bold script and tone of words that provide the clues that I’m simultaneously denying and dreading. But there’s nothing I can do to change what’s already happened. What I need to do is get answers. I can’t do that unless I get my ass in gear.

I brush my teeth and root around in the pouch to see that it looks like someone just threw a few things I might need in there. There is some moisturizer, a couple of my hairbands to put my hair up, and deodorant. It isn’t much but they are all the basics at least. 

Once I’m dressed, I carry my club clothes out of the bathroom to find a bag sitting on the small armchair that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Granted, it is the same deep black color that the chair is so in the dark it blended in. I would have completely passed it by if I hadn’t spotted my heels on the chair as well. The bag turns out to also be mine. The one I carry to and from work. Its technically a leather purse but the style is that of a backpack. Big enough for me to shove an extra pair of scrubs in along with anything else that I might need during long days at work.

I feel a surge of relief at finding it and quickly grab it and unzip it to try and find my phone and hope I can get answers from it. I’m quickly disappointed though because all I see are things I normally keep it, minus the scrubs and also minus my phone and keys. My clutch is in there but when I opened it up all I find in it is lipstick and condoms. I scowl and shove my heels and clothes into the bag then work the zipper closed on the overfilled bag.

I look at the door that will lead to the rest of the apartment and hesitate. I can finally hear some kind of sounds coming from the other side and I know I’m going to need to face whatever...whoever...is out there.

Might as well get it over with.

As soon as I open the door the smell of food cooking and coffee brewing hits me full in the face. That smells inviting enough that I take the first few tentative steps forward into the hallway. Like my apartment, the hallway to the bedrooms is short and really only has just enough room for the doors to the rooms. What wall space there is that’s free we filled with my artwork. Here it’s crammed with bookshelves that are crammed with books.

This makes me pause to look over them with a frown. No one I know would have bookshelves filled to almost overflowing, even if they are all organized neatly. I don’t even think the person I had a suspicion it would end up being, would have that kind of thing in his home.

So who the hell did I end up going home with?

All hesitancy is gone. My temper at my carelessness is simmering and making me plow forward, only to stumble over my feet with a gasp when my body wouldn’t stop the forward momentum I desperately wanted it to stop.

“You,” I gasp out in surprise before I could stop the word from spilling out.

My eyes are locked on the man standing in the open and well-lit kitchen in disbelief as Eric turns from the stove with his hands full of plates. He takes one look at me and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before he shakes his head and mutters something that I can’t hear. He steps forward and motions with his head towards the island eating area.

“Going to go out on a limb here and say that you don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

My mind starts working overtime trying to figure out how Eric once again got involved in my night out.

I remember a few things. I remember not feeling as up to the night of dancing as I had been when I planned it. I remember the thought of dancing with Ash feeling wrong and a slight pang of disappointment that it wasn’t going to be someone else I was dancing with. I also very clearly remember when things probably went downhill for me. When I realized that it was Eric’s hands and presence I was craving and that nothing and no one but him would do it for me. I decided a few more drinks would help me to get over that.

Big mistake.

He moves over to sit on one stool, leaving the one on the other side free, and it’s clear that he means me to sit down and answer his question. I slowly do both. When my bag is on the floor, my butt is on the seat and my breath has found its way back into my lungs, I finally answer.

“It’s all pretty much a blur,” I reply without looking at him. I train my eyes on the plate he sits in front of me without really seeing what is on it.

“Well, that’s just about par for the course.” Even with the coldness, there is a weary undertone to it. I chance a look at him to see he’s studying me with a frown. “Do you blackout every time you drink?”

I scowl at him, but it’s really for myself as I shake my head and answer. “No. I do have a fairly low tolerance but I only have issues when I combine alcohol or overdo it.”

He nods and the frown deepened. “Well, I’d say you hit both of those last night then. Should have stuck to the wine.”

“You were there?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks to my plate, pointedly. “Eat up. You’re going to need energy for what I have in store for you.”

I’m almost afraid to ask, especially with his lips twitching on the sides. “What’s in store for me today besides work?”

“Oh, you aren’t going to work.” I immediately stiffen and go to protest but he stops me. “The weekend is over and the normal staff is back. Plus there are a few more being added to the rotation from now on. So the days you were supposed to have off from the clinic but didn’t, you’re getting them now. We will also be doing the training and assessments that should have already been done since you have free time. ”

I frown in confusion. “How is that possible?”

He shrugs and picks up his fork, answering while not looking at me. “Erudite owes us.” There’s something about the set of his shoulders and tone that tells me he’s said all he’s going to say on that.

With a sigh of resignation, I finally look down at my plate and really see what’s on it. The wonderful smells turned out to be a spinach and cheese omelet with sides of sliced avocado and bacon. The food is surprising, delicious and a very welcome distraction.  

It’s also perfect hangover food and I dig in without speaking, sipping the coffee in between bites. It’s not like I would really know what to say at the moment anyway. It doesn’t stop my mind working hard trying to process everything while I eat.

Obviously, I’m in Eric’s apartment. He got clothes for me in some way. I can only guess by using my keys that are missing? But why would he bother?

It’s also obvious that he took care of me last night while being clear that nothing sexual happened. Again...why?

Why….to everything, but I find myself mainly embarrassingly wondering, why we didn’t do anything? Does he just, not want me, and all of this is really him playing with Four or me or both of us?

“You think any harder and your head is going to explode. You’re wincing. Did you know that? Every time a new thought enters into your mind, you wince. So why don’t you just spit whatever it is out and stop killing yourself.” Eric grumbles out after putting his fork down on to his empty plate.

He has his hands steepled over the plate and has his eyebrow raised while glaring me down.

I set my own fork down as well since my plate is just as empty as his.  I raise my chin while my eyes narrow as I look at him.

I mean to demand where he got my stuff from and why my phone and keys are missing. I mean to demand them back and confirm that he didn’t invade my privacy by rooting through my things at home. I mean to demand what right he thinks he has to have done any of that, to begin with, no matter that he’s a leader of the faction.

That’s what I mean to do but what happens instead leaves my skin hot and flushed with embarrassment.

“Why didn’t we do anything last night? Do you even really want me, or is this just some bullshit game with Four? Because if it is, you can just stop. I would rather not be the pawn in whatever messed up game you’ve cooked up.”

My jaw drops in astonishment and mortification at what spilled out of my mouth in a rush but I don’t have time to really think about it and find a way to change direction because Eric is already in motion towards me. I didn’t even get past the first question before he was standing and moving slowly around the counter towards me. His movements are fluid and casual but his expression is anything but.

His blue eyes seemed to have turned to the color of ice as they bore into mine and hold me completely paralyzed and barely able to turn my body to face him after he moved behind me.

“As I’ve told you before, twice now counting last night, it isn’t my style to hook up with someone that is obviously drunk no matter who they are or how willing they might be.”

I’ve heard the tone these words carry before. The hushed quiet one. The tone that you can equate to the sound of a blade being drawn from a sheath.

All of Dauntless fears this tone and I would be lying if I said I’m not and have not been affected by it before. But how I was affected then is nothing like what’s going on now.

Because there is a look in his eyes as he comes closer that shows me raw hunger. And the heat coming off his body sets me to fire, putting what I felt in the exam room to shame. I’m so paralyzed and captivated that I don’t even realize he’s moved me, turning my body for me to face him so that my back is now against the edge of the counter.

His eyes aren’t the ice I compared them too. They’re blue fire, an inferno is raging behind the gaze I can’t break free from.

“Eric….I…” I gasp out when his breath hits my face and seems to trigger my own inhaling of the breath I hadn’t been able to take.

His hand whips out to grab the back of my neck and he squeezes, firm and gentle until my head falls back slightly. He’s so close that my legs just opened right up for him and he slipped in.

“No, you don’t get to speak.” He hisses out and stops me from continuing on. I don’t even know if I would have been able to continue anyway. “Do you honestly believe that I would care enough to bring just anyone into my home? Do you think I would bother to take care of just anyone because they were wasted? I wouldn’t, and you know that’s true. I might make sure their friends were looking after them and they didn’t kill themselves, but that’s about the extent of the effort I would make.”

While he speaking he uses the hand that isn’t at the back of my neck, with the back of his fingers, to lightly brush over my neck. Slowly and teasing. My body arching into his touch and my nipples going hard as his skin made contact with mine.

He pauses in speaking and moves the hand up so that two of the pads of his fingers brush across my mouth, causing me to moan slightly. His eyes crinkle at the sides as a small smirk of pleasure tilts his lips and he changes the touch so that now it’s his thumb brushing across my lips.

“Open up for me, little one.” It’s a raw, low command that has some dark part of my brain snapping forward at, following along. The nickname and command have me insanely aroused.

I open my mouth and he slips the thumb between my lips. What happens next happens on instinct, spurred on by the silent command in his eyes and I follow it again without hesitation while my eyes never leave his.

My mouth closes around his thumb, my tongue swirls around the tip and down the length and then I gently sucked. His nostrils flare and he gives a deep inhalation of breath as a rumble of pleasure sounds in his chest. He moves even closer until the thick and hard bulge of his thigh pressed right up against the apex of legs. I was already burning and wet, wetter than I have ever been or ever thought I could be, but I was wrong. He presses firmly against me in a pulse and I feel like there is no way he won’t notice the flood that must be pooling at my core, just as the immense heat seems to be as well. I suck deeper on his thumb and moan around it, plainly expressing just how good I’m feeling and what I want.

I’m not the only one showing that at least. If his eyes and groan didn’t let me know then the outline of his bulge definitely does. His eyes are what hold my attention. They are wild looking with hardly any color left to be seen, just the black of his pupil. And when he speaks again, its pure gravel, full of ragged lust.

“You have no fucking clue how much I wanted you last night, little one.” Between his breath fanning across my face and the low pulsing tenor of his words, I feel electrified. Like I could break apart at any second just from his words and presence alone. “You think this is a game,” he pauses again and removes his thumb from my mouth but uses it to open it slightly while moving his face closer to mine. “That this has anything to do with number boy? You’re wrong, Devi. This has always been about me and you. If you want to call it a game so be it. But be warned that I don’t intend on losing.”

Then he consumed me.

There’s no other word for the kiss that followed that proclamation. The fire in me that won’t back down from a challenge, ignited at those words. My hands reach up to his neck and claw at him. I can’t tell you if it’s to get him to stop or to make sure he never does.

A war is being waged between us with this kiss and the way his body is dominating mine. It’s a war that I’m quickly losing and it makes me feel like much more than just a stupid contest of wills is in jeopardy here.

It feels like my heart and soul are in the line and it scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

He breaks away from the kiss with a feral growl and shoves away from me. It so sudden and forceful that it leaves me quickly grabbing the sides of the stool to steady myself.

He backs up slowly, and I watch in fascination as the change takes place. First, he takes a step back and his breathing slows down. Two steps more and his eyes, that were so wild just seconds ago, start to focus back into his familiar cold blue ones. At three steps the emotionless mask that defines Eric is firmly back in place.

He doesn’t say another word as he moves forward calmly and reaches for the two plates and cups on the counter. He busies himself cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and our dishes.

Meanwhile, I’m still hanging onto the stool for dear life and just trying to coax my heart from throat back into my chest and the air into my lungs.

After he has everything in his dishwasher and that started, he calmly turns back to face me.

“Time to head out for training. We’ll be doing a warm-up, going out for a run and then heading to the training room to go from there. Lunch and dinner will be in the mess. Leave your bag here and we can get it after.” His eyes light up and he smiles at me. A smile that’s completely predatory in nature. “I have you for the next two days.”

He walks past me and goes to the door while I’m left frozen. This isn’t going to be good at all. I can just feel it.

            *********************************************************************

I groan as I sink into the water of the bath and let out a ragged sigh of relief once I’m submerged fully under the hot water with the bath salts still dissolving in it. The last two days have been all kinds of torture for me. It was bad enough that I’m using my precious oils and salts to relieve the aching and stress my body has endured.

Eric took advantage of the last two days and rung every single second from it. From breakfast until a couple of hours after dinner, I’ve been with Eric.

I let the heat of the water work on my aching body and reflect over my time with Eric

                                 ***************************************

 The first day with Eric has gone exactly as he said and planned.

We warmed up with some stretches after getting outside of the gates that our transports use to leave the compound, and then went on a run that pretty much covered our entire sector. When we got back, he barely let me get water and a breather before we went to the training room or the torture chamber as I started to mentally call it, until lunch. After lunch in the mess hall, we went right back to it until dinner.

That’s a total of over nine hours spent in a similar way as when we were at the gun range, where Eric proved he has no concept of the words ‘personal space’ at all. He continued to show me just how little he thought of the concept.

First, had been when we were working out. I went into that at least a little confidence because that is one aspect I’ve been keeping up with.

At least twice a week I meet with my girls and we do about an hour of working out together. So I just knew this was at least something that he couldn’t catch me out on. That he wouldn’t be able to use it against me and need to get in my bubble to show me how wrong I was doing things.

That was promptly shot to hell.

My workouts, the workouts my friends and I blow through, are nothing to what Eric subjected me to after he had me tell him what my normal workouts consist of. I think he thought I was pranking him but when he saw my blush and figured out I was serious, well...the feared trainer he is to every initiate came out in full force.

There was one big change from how I know he is during initiation though. And that was when he would push me to do something that I would tell him was impossible or ridiculous, then he put himself through it right alongside me. I know for a fact that isn’t his normal behavior and called him on it.

He told me that I was right, but he was showing me that he would never ask someone to do something that he didn’t know they were capable of or that he wouldn’t do himself. He said that it might take breaking them down to get them built back up, but it was all to make them stronger. It was clear he had every intention of doing that same thing with me.

He was going hard on me and that meant my temper flared on occasion because of that. But it was also because there was the added element of what happened every time our bodies came into contact. There was a charge of heat and electricity that was impossible to ignore and was so distracting that it would throw us both off. This seemed to upset him and he would just come at me harder.

He also still did the talking thing too. Which combined with the physical torture made it feel more like an interrogation. That was always going to have me reacting defensively. So, I started launching questions right back at him. To my surprise, he was answering.

Well, he mostly answered them. He wouldn’t even acknowledge the ones that were a mirror of how personal he got with some of his for me.

By the time lunch rolled around I was at a breaking point and wondering if I really wanted to put myself through this again with Eric. My nerves were strung out from the aggressive pace Eric set to get everything that needed to be done in only two days. My sexual frustration levels were approaching nuclear meltdown mode, and my mind couldn’t even handle the barrage of information being requested by Eric along with what he was giving me back.

Before we went to lunch I would have said that if I was given an out and another option of anyone else handling things, I would have leaped at the chance. That was until the opportunity arrived and it turned out, I didn’t want to at all.

Eric and I went to the mess for lunch, just as he said we would. I expected to sit with my friends, but they were either already gone and back to work or not there at all. Eric was determined that I would be eating on the leaders level anyway and at least I knew Tori would be there.

I went into lunch a sore, grouchy, and bitchy mess. My hair all tangled and frayed on top of my head in a haphazard bun. My tank was still drenched in sweat and I’m sure I reeked from it too. I wouldn’t say I looked worse than I ever did in initiation, but I had to be damn close. I know I was in just as foul of a mood as I had been back then.

Hunger won out over any issues I might have had about being dragged along with Eric, grumbling moodily the whole way, much to his amusement. We took seats beside each other and across from Tori.

She was looking at me and barely restraining her laughter, but I could clearly tell that she was doing this and it earned her a glare from me while I flipped her the bird.

That made her chuckle while she pushed food my way. I looked over everything and loaded up on once I saw that the selections for leaders seemed to be loads better then what the plebeians on the lower level are offered. There were few veggies available, but there was a bowl of roasted red potatoes that also had green beans tossed in a garlic butter sauce. I grabbed that and some grilled chicken while nabbing a few of the dinner rolls Tori pushed my way.

While I loaded my plate, Eric casually poured us both glasses of water from the big pitcher sitting on the table. When he slid mine towards me I accepted with a blush and noticed Four sitting on the other side of the table from me, glowering at Eric. I ignored him and concentrated on my plate. I knew I didn’t have to worry about him starting anything with both Tris and Tori at the table.

Since Tris came along, Four had mellowed out a bit. He could still be a dick and a little overbearing when he had it in his head he needed to protect someone or he was worried about them. Personally, I always thought that he was in instructor mode all the time and didn’t know how to turn it off. Talking to everyone like they were his initiates and needed to do his bidding. I knew from the first time I had Tris in a bed at the clinic that she wasn’t going to be someone that would follow anyone blindly, and that underneath her quietness was a girl with a backbone. It was actually me bonding with her during her initiation that led to me and Four moving beyond old awkwardness from ours. But since they officially became more than just boyfriend/girlfriend, something they are keeping quiet for now, her closeness with me has prompted Four’s protective instincts to make his alpha gene activate. I guess Tris looking at me all worried and asking if I was okay is what caused that to kick in and had him trying to interfere.

Oh, he didn’t come right out and say,  ‘Devi you need to do your testing with someone else other than Eric’. In fact, he never even talked to me at all. He directed the conversation at Eric, reminding him of some important meetings and several proposals up for review, and was now really the time to take off for something he knew Zeke would be able to do with me? Wouldn’t it be better for someone of my rank to be tested by Zeke anyway?

It was all masked as leader business but I saw it for what it really was. Four was interfering and trying to step in because he thought that dealing with Eric would be too much for me.

Before lunch, I was mentally complaining about everything and doubting that I could handle another second with Eric if it was anything like the morning had been.

Maybe it was to spite Four.

Maybe it was to prove something to myself, Eric, Four, and everyone else that had ever doubted me.

Or maybe it was all of that. All of that and Four’s challenge of Eric and my, what I thought, right to be in Dauntless. It felt like initiation all over again.

Whatever it was had me slamming my fist hard down on the table. Dishes jumped and flatware clattered in all directions. The table conversation stopped along with the other tables on this same level that were around us. It’s enough to know that attention is on me but I don’t let that in. My only focus is Four as I let all of my ire and frustration come through in the way my eyes hold his when my action got his attention.

As mad as I am, I do remember that Four is trying to come from a good place. So I take a few calming breaths before I start talking finally.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t it say in the by-laws, that it is up to the Senior Leader of the faction to determine what training and when it is needed for all standing members of the faction?” At times like this my accent is a little thicker, my voice just a bit huskier, and I speak slowly to make sure that I’m understood completely.

I’ve been told it makes me sound menacing but I don’t see how. If it does though, then I welcome it right now.

Four’s lips thin and his skin flushes because he knows I’m right. He might have been counting on the fact that most of Dauntless unless they are really involved in the running of the faction, aren’t aware of details like that. I’m only aware of it because Eric informed me of this on our run. It took me worriedly questioning him if he would be in some kind of trouble for stepping away from all of that work I saw piled on his desk to do my training and testing. That was when he let that and another big fact drop.

Four doesn’t answer me vocally, instead, Tori answers as she sees that Four isn’t about to. I also see her glance Eric’s way and I realize, with some surprise, that he’s amazingly silent and has been this entire time. Like her, I guess I would have expected him to have some kind of snarky remark aimed at Four. I let myself glance over at him and while I do see his posture is even more rigid than usual, he isn’t even looking at Four at all. He’s looking at me, his face free of expression other than maybe curiosity.

Maybe he’s just going to wait to see how this plays out. Let me fight my own battle here. Is it wishful thinking on my part to think that maybe he isn’t stepping in because he knows I’m completely capable of handling this on my own?

“That’s correct,” Tori confirms and I look back to her, give a small nod of acknowledgment, then look back at Four as I can continue.

“Isn’t it also correct, that because of my own position being considered in the ranked officer tier, only an officer of greater standing who also has the training sanction, can oversee my training and score me?”

Again Tori nods and I see Four’s shoulders slump a little but I still carry on. This time I don’t bother to phrase it as a question, just me stating a fact that he knows I definitely know now.

“It’s also true that I brought this on myself by not doing the yearly required training and assessments that all members, but especially ranked ones, are supposed to go through. Two years automatically makes it so that the Senior Leader is the only one that has any say about what I can do to correct something that could see me thrown out. So I have to ask Four, is that what you want? Would you like to see me thrown out?”

“You know I don’t, Devi.” He replies softly. I can hear the apology in his tone.

“Then you need to let me do this and not try to interfere again.” I let my tone soften as well.

I knew where this was coming from on Four’s part. I’m not completely overwhelmed with anger at him that I don’t recognize a friend’s worry. However wrong it may be of me, worry equals fear in my eyes. Fear that I’m weak. Fear that I don’t belong.

And that causes me to feel fear that he might be right. That just like the life I left behind in Amity was a lie, my life here is a lie too. Instead of making me feel like running or denying the fear, I’m choosing to face it, to fight it, and to prove that fear wrong.

Four holds my eyes for a bit longer than I’m comfortable with, while he seems to be searching my expression for something but he finally gives me a nod and a small sideways smile. Beside him, Tris grins at him and they share a look that almost seems to me as if she’s sending him a silent ‘I told you so’ message.

The table around us seems to let out a collective release of breaths as I glance over at Eric who just casually raises his glass of water and takes a drink, but not before I see a slight tilt of his lips in a smirk.

The rest of lunch is spent listening to the others talking shop about this or that. A tiny amount of annoyance at being ignored starts to take root in me even after I mentally remind myself that it's not like I ever really like to talk at the meals I’m able to hastily grab on occasion.

Which is why Tori probably just let me eat in peace. It takes Eric asking me a few things about the clinic to bring me out of the sulking I was doing about something I would usually be grateful for. It isn’t until the end of the lunch when I realize that the questions he had and the conversation that took place was actually really pleasant.

More than that, I could tell that Eric hadn’t just tossed aside that file he took from my office, but he actually paid attention.

This realization also brings forth the whispering in my mind that my calling Four out on his attempt to interfere wasn’t all about proving him wrong it was also because deep down I didn’t want it to end.

After lunch, it was right back to the training room and workouts until dinner time. There were no big surprises or confrontations. Just more of Eric’s questions while touching and teasing me.

It wasn’t until after a few more hours of training after dinner that Eric finally gave me my keys and phone back.

Explaining, reluctantly, as we stood in his apartment where I had to go to get my bag, that he had in fact used the keys to get my stuff from my apartment after trying to call Sadie first. But when he got to there, she was just getting back and grabbed it for him instead.

Eric even more reluctantly let me leave after I had my bag. I was so tired and felt like such a mess that I didn’t bother to get mad about this, instead, I had all but begged him to let me go so I could just go home and get a shower and go straight to bed. He only let me go after giving me a warning threat that I better be in the training room by 0700. If he had to come to find me it wasn’t going to be a pleasant day.

I didn’t bother with a bath that tempted me for a second. Instead, I just did a quick shower, took the aspirin Sadie shoved at me and then crawled into bed. I passed out grateful that my mind and body were agreeing with my need for blessed sleep.

It didn’t stop the dreams though. A crazy and tangled combination of dreams that I woke up unable to remember many details on other than Eric was in them and that they left me feeling just as confused as I had spent most of the previous day feeling.

The next day, today, was even more intense. Trying to cram what normally is spread out over a week into two days means that Eric set a brutal pace and had even harder expectations of me.

We finished the weapons portion of the testing first thing in the morning and then went into a short warm-up before the run. This time the run was through an obstacle course that saw me climbing, jumping, rappelling, crawling, and balancing across a variety of different obstacles. That closed out the first part of my morning and lunch was again in the mess hall at the leader's table.

This time there was no confrontation with Four because he wasn’t even at the table. Neither was Tori for that matter. But Tris, Uriah, Marlene, and Zeke all were and I got a brief on what the last portion of the day would contain after Tris and Mar cast sympathetic looks at me.

Eric had saved the best for last.

While I wasn’t being asked to have a ranked fighting match, I still had to prove I know what I’m doing against an opponent. I don’t know if it was really because no one else was available or just because Eric wasn’t willing to let anyone in on this at all, but it was made clear I would be going against him.

I had been seriously concerned about the thought of having to fight Eric. It wasn’t until we got to the training room that he informed me how it was going to work. I had to score a certain about of points and strikes against him. And if I could last a set amount of time, then that would add to the points as well. Before we moved into that portion he was considerate enough to work on my forms with me first.

I won’t lie, the ending of today was heading towards a complete disaster.

I did everything Eric demanded of me to prepare for the final physical assessment, and even did it without much complaining on my end, even though I felt completely wrecked by the end of it.

I passed with a total of 79 from the maximum 100 points I could have gained. According to Eric, being five points over the minimum passing score was nothing to be happy about.

I disagreed and then we argued, with him using that to point out everything I could have done better and then having me do them again. Just to show me that I could and there was no reason for me not to have done them the first time.

Dinner time was passing me by very quickly, making my already bad attitude get rapidly worse. It didn’t help that I could tell Eric had no real reason for us to still be doing anything, but I couldn’t figure out why he was insisting on it. It got so bad that I just lost it and straight out started cursing him out.

I reached my limit of putting up with him and his demands as well as his attitude that was just getting worse, and I had no clue what I was doing wrong to cause him to act like he was.

“Carajo! I don’t know what is making you even more of an estúpido than normal, but I am not going to just sit here and put up with this mierda.” I snap at him and slap my hands against his chest after the final time he snapped at me for, in my opinion, no reason.

In the last hour, Eric’s cold and emotionless expression morphed into nothing but sneers and scowls. Now he scoffed angrily at me. “You’ll take whatever mierda I throw at you because if you don’t, as you so generously informed Four, I can send you packing.”

I stamped my foot in anger and frustration. My temper was getting worse as dinner time got further away. “Vete al demonio!” I yelled and whirled away from him, determined to end this and get myself some dinner.

Eric wasn’t having it as he grabbed my arm and spun me around. I lost balance but he was also pulling me forward at the time so that I slammed against his chest. “Where do the fuck do you think you’re going? You don’t get to leave until I say you can. Until I’ve signed off on that fucking paperwork, you’re mine.”

“I’m hungry, Eric!” I try for anything but the whine I know is coming, but don’t succeed.

“Fine. Then we go to my apartment and we can have dinner there.” He snaps at me, his face all contorted with anger.

“Fine!” Not that he was asking at all, but I yell out my agreement anyway.

 His mouth snaps shut and he looks down at me, the anger melting slightly from his face.

 "Good.” He agrees with a nod and then pulls me with him out of the gym and to his apartment.

 He wasn’t holding my hand or anything. I doubt Eric even knows how to do something like that. His huge hand stayed wrapped around my wrist the entire time, even when he stopped pulling me. As if he was afraid I was going to just slip off as soon as he was distracted. For some reason, I like it.

After getting to his apartment his demeanor didn’t improve much. At least not at first. Especially when he was rummaging through his refrigerator and cabinets with a look of intensity and then something that had looked like a flash of defeat when he saw all he really had was stuff for breakfast. The frown got deeper when he explained to me that’s the only meal he ever has time to actually have there, so he doesn’t bother with getting anything else.

When told him that breakfast for dinner was actually something I did for myself a lot, his mood got better and he set about making me another omelet. The dinner that followed was so similar to that breakfast I had with him in his apartment that I couldn’t help remembering that morning.

I couldn’t help but remember our kiss and wondering why he hadn’t tried to kiss me again in our time spent together. Yeah, sure he’s touched me over the last few days, but not really like he did that morning. Then I spent the rest of the dinner wondering if I should be feeling as disappointed and hurt by that as I am.

We talked though, so I didn’t have much time to really dwell on any of that. We talked about work and what I could expect when I went back. That there is now going to be more staff from Erudite available during the week beyond the normal hours they had been staffed for, possibly even overnight, and that would also carry over on the weekends.

He hinted at meetings with Erudite to talk about more, which led to him telling me about the fact that there are several big meetings with all the factions over the next month or so. Things that will hopefully lead to improved conditions for Dauntless overall. He complained about how long the process has been taking since the downfall of the corrupt leaders here and in Erudite too.

Dinner was...pleasant, honestly.

Even if it started out a complete wreck. At the end, Eric started to turn back into being surly, like he didn’t want me to leave and was upset that he couldn’t command me to stay. Instead, he insisted on walking me back to my apartment.

At the door, I turned to tell him goodbye but never got to say a word. Once again I was pressed up against something while he was kissing me stupid.

It rattled me so badly I almost shoved the door open and just pulled him inside and straight to my bedroom. I think I would have if the door hadn’t opened and Sadie had squeaked out an apology saying she thought she had heard me having trouble opening the door.

Eric had already pulled away from the kiss to look at her and glared her back before looking at me again. His hand was still at the back of my neck and his eyes were dark. “I’m going to busy with meetings and other bullshit I couldn’t get out of for the next two days.”

I swallowed and nodded numbly. He had already informed me of this earlier during dinner when we were talking about, not only what I would be going back to at work, but what he was expecting for him too.

“You told me, Eric.” I breathe out as he brings me closer to his body.

“I’m telling you again.” He growled out then closed his eyes. “I will make sure to have time with you again but I don’t know when that might be exactly.” He frowned for a second before pulling back and looking at me. “What I said about being prepared for me anytime still stands.”

He left with a smirk as I tossed a curse word at his back. His chuckle had made me smile before I went into the apartment and slammed the door behind me. Sadie and been wide-eyed and waiting for me.

“Sorry, I really did think you were having trouble getting in and thought it be because you were so worn out.” Sadie babbled out her apology that I wave off tiredly.

“Está bien,” I mumble out then sigh and repeat it in English for her benefit. She’s used to this by now and has picked up some Spanish from me, just not enough to actually be able to hold a conversation in it.

I move further into the living room, distractedly following a routine that feels off. I go to the kitchen and pull down a glass and fill it with cold water from the pitcher we keep of it in our fridge.

As I’m drinking it, Sadie watches me carefully. “I didn’t see you at dinner. Are you hungry, did you eat, or did he keep you...occupied...in the training room?”

Her question is cautious and probing. Probably wanting to find out more about what she saw at the door. I just don’t have the presence of mind to be able to handle that right now. “I already ate. We did run over dinner a little but got food somewhere else.”

I finish drinking my water, clean the glass and put it on our drainer on the counter. Our apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher, so we have to clean the few dishes we have in the small kitchenette by hand.

“Devi, what’s going on with you and Eric?” Sadie asks me softly before I go into my room.

“Nothing. He was just doing the assessment for me but that’s done now.”

We both knew it was a lie, but it was one I was planted firmly in my mind. I still had major doubts that this was anything for him other than an amusement. Maybe a challenge. Just because I am different from the other girls in some respects doesn’t mean that in end, after he gets what he wants, I won’t become just like the others then.

                         *****************************************

Back in my bath, I sink under the bathwater so that the tears I refuse to acknowledge combine with the liquid in the tub. I come up when the need for air is greater than my need of denial.

Disgusted with myself I climb out of the bath, into some pajamas and sink into bed. I am grateful when my body and mind do agree for once and sink into blissful sleep.

                           *****************************************

 It feels odd not waking up knowing that I’m going to be seeing Eric as soon as I step out of my door. I know we were only following that schedule for two days but it felt like much longer.

Despite a solid eight hours of sleep, I’m still sluggish as I get up. I contemplate going to grab a coffee from the bakery but I don’t think I can even manage that at the moment.

We have coffee here but it’s the instant kind. Our tiny kitchen can’t handle too many appliances and Sadie and I decided not to bother getting much anyway since we aren’t here so much with both of our jobs.

I fill up the kettle and put it on one of the portable induction cooktops we have, take out the jar of instant coffee and blearily measure it out into my mug then wait for the water to boil. While I’m waiting, I hear my phone buzzing from in my room.

I shuffle in to get it and shuffle back into the kitchen, temporarily forgetting why I have my phone in my hand in the first place until it buzzes again, reminding me about my unread message. I blearily look at the screen and catch the name of the sender first.

I bite my lip and stare at it with a scowl, cursing myself for the flipping in my stomach while I debate actually reading the message and wondering how Eric even has my phone information.

He did have the thing for an entire day, Núñez.

The scathing mental reminder does little to improve my mood when I realize that there is no way I’m not going to check the message. So with a sigh and my stomach fluttering, I click the message and read it.

-Since you now have lunch free, Leader’s level...or I come to find you.

I scoff and toss my phone down as I turn to pour the now boiling water into my mug and stir the mixture before I can add sugar and cream to it. I grumble the entire time, alternating between feeling elated that he wants to have lunch together, to pissed he’s making it an order for me to be there.

I decide that he’s had things his way for two days but it’s time to get back to reality and I can’t just put my life and plans on hold because of his whims. I need to get back to work and my mostly well-ordered life. I take leisurely sips of my coffee and completely ignore the warring going on in my mind and the itch I have to reply to him.

My phone buzzes with another message and this time I see his name flash on the screen as it comes in. I snatch up the phone and click on the message before I have time to change my mind.

-If I have to come to find you it won’t just be you I’ll make life difficult for, little one. Your choice.

I let out a loud growl and stream of curses as I throw my mug at the wall. It shatters and the liquid in it goes in all directions, some even landing on me and burning where it hits but I’m so angry I don’t even care.

Sadie rushes in, eyes still closed from sleep, but backs up as I spin around and brush past her while still yelling in Spanish.

I was going to reply and tell him to fuck off, but this kind of message is best delivered in person.

I yank on my boots, grab my keys and slam out of the door. The entire time I’m stomping my way to the leader offices I’m still verbally fuming out loud.

I have no clue what people think when they see me. I must look like a crazy mess because if someone gets close they jump back like they’re afraid of me or something.

My hair is up in a crazy and messy bun. I have no bra on, and just a black thin-strapped tank top along with my black sleep shorts. I’m muttering in my customary combination of the two languages and I’m shouting ‘fuck you Eric Coulter’ occasionally.

I actually hear one guy tell me to hurry up and get past him with that shit.

I finally make it to the leader's floor. A door opens towards the end of the hallway and out steps Eric. Arms crossed over his chest and a smug smirk on his face. I can see the damn thing from all the way where I’m at. As I get closer my anger elevates even more.

I don’t know why the smirk on his face starts to fade, but it does. By the time I’m standing in front of him he looks angry as hell. He jerks me into the office and slams the door behind us.

We both start to speak, our voices are raised and trying to talk over each other. I don’t know what he’s saying exactly while I’m yelling at him, asking him just who the hell he thinks he is. He doesn’t answer, he just continues to gesture wildly at me while scowling. Then I realize what he’s pissed about and the only response I can think of is to grab him by the front of his open vest and jerk him towards me. My back hits the door when his body crashes against mine and I don’t waste time in raising up on my toes and claiming his mouth hungrily.

His complaint about me being dressed like I am where anyone can see me is cut off by the kiss, which he starts to return just as fiercely as I started it. It feels like he’s using whatever feelings he was having and now communicating them with his mouth. Which is fine with me because that’s what I intended to begin with.

I shouldn’t be pleased that he was getting worked up about something I was wearing but there is a small part of me that is. Not because I’m okay with him trying to tell me what to do or what’s okay for me to wear at all, but because I could see something in his eyes and the way he was looking at me. It scared me enough that I needed to stop him from saying anything more while at the same time taking something I’ve wanted again so badly.

He groans as I bite on his bottom lip, then takes command of the kiss.

He also scoops me up so that I can wrap my legs around his waist while he backs up away from the door, and starts to walk. He’s carrying me and squeezing my ass while we go, kissing the entire time until we end up at a sitting area that’s in his office.

I expect him to toss me down on the small sofa and then pounce on me. He seems like he would be that type. Instead, he plops down onto the sofa with me in his lap and straddling him. Our tongues tangle as we kiss deeply.

One of his hands keeps squeezing and kneading my ass and hips while he pulls me tighter against him. The other hand makes its way up to my hair, where he tugs firmly to free it from the bun I had it in. I moan loudly into his mouth when he then twists it in his hand and pulls my head back, exposing my throat to him.

He greedily moves his mouth down it and begins to lick and suck in all the right places while my hands tangle in his hair. I rock against him needing more, especially of what I feel he has straining to get out to meet me right where I need him most. I feel like I’m about to combust with the heat and how much I need him right now.

Our breathing is ragged and becoming even more so with each second. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as he whips the hand he had on my hip up to shove the top of my tank down. Then he scoops my breast up while moving his mouth down at the same time.

He’s released the hold he has on my hair just enough that I can move it to look down and watch him. I see that he’s looking up at me like he wants to watch me watch him. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation and whimper in impatience as the second seems to last forever before his tongue snakes out and flicks against my stiff nipple.

My eyes flutter closed and my head falls back with my low husky moan of pleasure. I know that was just the beginning. First, he uses his teeth. Grazing and nipping at the taut flesh. Testing how far and hard he can go. My hips rock faster and my moan gets deeper with pleasure when it gets it just right. I feel his smirk against my skin just before he wraps his lips around it completely and sucks, licks nips, and repeats all over again.

I try to gain more friction as my hips move faster and can only groan in frustration when it’s impossible to achieve what I want with both of us still in our clothes. Eric growls into my flesh, letting his own frustration be known. Then he releases my nipple with a plop only to immediately claim my mouth again.

He stands abruptly with me still in his arms and walks towards where his desk is in the room. I gasp into his mouth when I feel and hear the sound of him shoving things off his desk and them hitting the ground. I try to break free from the kiss to take a look at the havoc but I’m barely free before he reclaims my mouth and lowers me to the desk.

I moan with anticipation as he positions me at the edge of it and I move a hand towards his pants only to have it stopped. We both pull back from the kiss, me scowling at him and him frowning with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Not that, not yet. I don’t have the time to do that properly.” He says with real regret and frustration. “But I can at least get you off before I have to go.”

His hand is already moving against me through my sleep shorts as he purrs that last bit out. I bite my lip and shift against his hand. I refuse to beg. But it’s oh so tempting to. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue as he presses his palm into my mound and rubs in a slow circle.

The pendejo knows exactly what he’s doing to me with that knowing smirk lingering at the edges of his mouth. His blue eyes glinting with a dangerous light. He also looks serious and focused, as if this is taking every bit of his willpower to not give me what I really want.

What we both really want.

Eric moves his hand to slide against my thigh and through the wide leg of my shorts then repeats rubbing me with the flat of his palm but this time with only my underwear on.

I whimper for more and Eric finally takes pity on me. He presses his forehead to mine and is breathing heavy as he moves the cotton material to the side and his fingers finally make contact with the slippery mess I’ve become.

“You need this badly, don’t you?” He says on his exhale of breath after he groaned and slid one finger into me.

I can’t answer, I’m to busy moving my hips to get more and moaning into his neck where I moved so I could lick and suck on the vein that’s pulsing there. That stopped and I had no choice but to answer when he withdrew his finger at the same time as grabbing my hair and tugging my head back.

“Tell me you need me.” He demanded in a voice that is raw with hunger and lust.

My face scrunches up with the effort to resist giving in while the throbbing ache inside of me just increases when he flicks his thumb lightly over the swollen nub of my clit. He wasn’t giving in and the throbbing just got worse.

“Sí, maldición. Te necesito ... Quiero decir ... Necesito esto.” I cried out in desperation.

That desperate cry out was turned into a gasp of pleasure once again as he slid not just one finger, but two firmly into me. He pulled my hair again to bring my mouth back to his and swallowed the rest of my cries.

Between the sound of his fingers pumping into my wetness, there was also the sound of his pleased rumblings and my muffled moans. Even as I was building to the release I desperately needed I was also feeling disappointment and longing for more.

Eric tore away from the kiss and held my eyes. “Let go for me, Devi. Come for me now, little one.” His tone was soft but it was all command in delivery. With the power of his own fierce need for me.

I saw this behind the intensity of his eyes that were glittering with it. I felt it in the way he held me in his arms and felt the way he worked to control his body, the clinch, and release of the muscles where they came into contact with me. His labored breathing that had the faint growl under it coming from a face tightened by need.

It wasn’t my words being returned but it was just as potent and it pushed me over that edge I had been hanging on to. My body shook as my voice rang out my pleasure.

“Fuck….yes.” Eric ground out loudly, almost as if he had just come undone himself. He kept pumping in me until I clenched my thighs a little and whimpered with the sensitivity that I started to feel.

He slowed and then pulled his fingers out, kissing me the entire time. I could feel his smile against my lips. I can feel the thud of his heart where I have my hand against his chest and it tells me that he was just as affected by all that as I was.

We start to kiss in a slower, more sensual manner when the door swings open with a thud. I jerk back in surprise and wrench my head around to see who it might be. Marlene stands there with wide eyes, looking between the two of us in surprise before her expression turns frightened and she stammers over her explanation. I can only imagine the glare being sent her way by Eric right now.

“Sorry...you just...not answering….they’re on their way in...sorry…” She got out in a jumble before she slams the door shut behind her.

“Shit,” Eric mumbles with a sigh.

I turn back to look at him after staring dumbly at the closed door, wondering how long it’s going to take for this tale to circulate Dauntless. I catch Eric just as he lifted his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean and grins widely at my wide eyes and whimper.

“It’ll have to do until I can get a taste straight from the source.” He leaned in and whispered just above my lips before kissing me again.

I flush, moan and clench my thighs together all at the same time as I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in his kiss again. We only breakaway when his phone buzzes loudly from its place on his desk.

Eric grunts in disapproval but lets me pull back.

“I still expect you at lunch.” He remarks casually but with narrowed eyes.

I huff and squinted mine right back at him. “Threatening people is not the way to do things.”

He gives a wicked chuckle and shakes his head. “Yeah? It seems to have worked just fucking fine for me before.”

I scowl and push him back as I try to get down from his desk but he grips my hips with a mocking lifted an eyebrow.

“No conmigo, no lo harás. Te lo dije antes, no soy una de esas chicas estúpidas …”

He reaches up and grabs my face, all humor has gone as he interrupts me. “And I’ve told you that you are different too. I never dated or even considered dating any of the girls before you. You alone can say this, Devi.”

My mind is a blank in shock, unable to process this. Somewhere in my mind, I hear yelling for me to say something instead of looking like an idiota. My mind finally kickstarts and I frown at him.

“When did this happen?” I ask him with a scowl.

“What did you think has been happening for the last few days?”

“You being an insufferable, demanding ass is what I thought. Never once did you ask me on a date, Eric.”

“Me making us breakfast, me taking on your training myself and taking time off to do it so I could show you how important you are to me. Lunches and dinner together. Those were dates, Devi.”

Of course, Eric would be the type to see those as dates.

I roll my eyes and shove harder this time. “By your definition, they might be. You didn’t even ask me, Eric. You commanded me to be there. I had no choice in the matter. Maybe all those other girls would just be happy to have a minute of your time but I like to have a say in the matter.”

“You had a choice. Four gave you one, and if you had looked like you wanted to take it, I would have known. But you didn’t, Devi. Tell me why you didn’t take the out he gave you if you didn’t want that time with me just as much as I wanted it with you?”

I start to walk around his desk and avoiding answering the question while searching for the keys I know I left my apartment with. I train my eyes on the floor while he follows closely behind me.

When he gets the idea that I’m ignoring him and his question he grabs my arm to stop me.

“Tell me you don’t want to see me. That you don’t want this.” He barks out when he spins me to face him.

“I do dammit! Alright! But you can’t just force me, or think it’s ok to not ask the question, Eric. It’s not okay to just think that what you consider a date is what I consider a date. Did you even think that I might not want to spend an entire day being physically punished and interrogated as well? That if I’m going to go out on a limb here with you and do this dating thing that I’ve sworn never to do again, that I might want some kind of say in it?”

Eric looks thunderstruck for a moment before he pulls me closer and frowns. “I spent time with you in the only way I could justify taking off from the crapton of work I’m under, Devi. I wanted and needed to get to know you better, and that’s my way of doing it. I’m never going to be some soft guy that’s going to sing to you or make love to you under the stars. But I’m also not going to be that guy that will start something with you only as a way to pass time until something better comes along. You aren’t the only one that has the market cornered on fucked up past relationships.”

“How would I know that about you, Eric? You know about me because you forced the answers from me but when did I get a chance to find out anything about you like that? You made me answer those questions but refused to do the same for me. This has all been on your terms.” I spot my keys by the sofa and pull from his grasp to scoop them up. “You wanted to get to know me? Well now you have, and you should have no problem understanding how I feel about having no say in my life.”

He’s still standing there, scowling at me when I open and slip out of the door.

My progress back to my apartment isn’t much better than the way I made it from there this morning. The entire time I’m walking I try to keep myself from hyperventilating or screaming or punching something….maybe all three things at once.

The entire time I’m getting ready for work one phrase keeps running through my mind. The lines of a song Sadie had played on repeat for the first month after a breakup from her last boyfriend.

‘I’m sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind. Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life. What is happening to me….’

Fuck...what is happening to me?