#let's hope the ibuprofen i took kicks in soon so i can get at least a little studying done today 😕

[cheekblush]

it's been A WEEK

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #50

previously - Journal Entry #49 (part four)

Victor

It's Tuesday again.

I keep doing this, recording entries on Tuesdays. Unlike last Tuesday, nothing much happened today, but that's not to say I don't have news. Even if today wasn’t eventful, the weekend was.

I finally heard from Seiji. It took him until Sunday to reply to the multiple texts I'd sent him on Friday, but better late than never, as they say. What's going on with him will require some explaining, so let me come back to it, 'cause I'm sure you want to know how Yuri and I are doing too, right?

Right. Here comes the health update. There’s some good news and some not so good news.

Good news first; I'm feeling a lot better. It's like my body decided to kick itself into high gear and get some serious healing done since Friday. I’m still getting headaches, but they’re not nearly as intense as they were before, and the blurriness is completely gone from my vision now, which is super encouraging. Today, I didn't take any pain medication for my arms and rib, not even ibuprofen.

In hindsight, I think I probably should've had a little something in the afternoon, because my rib was hurting by the time I got back from spending several hours at the hospital with Yuri. The chairs in there aren’t particularly comfortable and it’s hard for me to sit for long periods of time. But, you know me. I was trying to be a tough guy about it.

My biggest problem right now isn't pain. It's that I'm restless and nearly bored out of my mind. I'm still not cleared for exercise, but I keep trying to sneak in some shoulder stretches and a bunch of leg work whenever I can. Normally, I'd be training, going to work, cooking and cleaning, and taking care of Yuri, but I can't do any of that at the moment and a guy can only take so much inactivity. I'm going kinda crazy with nothing to do.

As for Yuri, his progress hasn't been quite as good as mine. He's slowly getting better, but he's still in the hospital. It's been a whole week as of today, and I don't think he'll be getting out for at least another week.

He hasn't reached the stage where he's bored yet, probably because he's really weak and he's still sleeping a lot, but at least he's able to get out of bed on his own now. He was even up and walking for a few minutes this afternoon. I coaxed him to drink some water afterwards, which probably looked hilarious because I was holding the cup for him and I had to hold it between both hands while he sipped through a straw.

He's still not eating, unfortunately, so they're still giving him intravenous nutrition infusions. I'm sure he's capable of eating independently, but I think he's scared, and nothing anyone's said so far has been enough to motivate him to try.

Dr. Kasongo has already brought up the subject of tube feeding at home, but only with me because neither of us feel Yuri is ready for that conversation yet. Obviously, tube feeding will be an option of last resort, and we really don't want to frighten or upset him any more.

I’ll be honest, the idea upsets me too, not just because I hate the thought of how debilitating it’d be for Yuri, but also because I don’t think I grasped exactly how sick he is until I had that conversation with his doctor. Like, I’ve always understood that his illness is serious and chronic, but I don’t think I fully comprehended the magnitude of it, if that makes sense.

Dr. Kasongo is hopeful that we won’t have to go the tube feeding route, in any case. She’s certain Yuri will settle enough to start a liquid diet by mouth in another day or two, but I'm not sure it'll happen as soon as she imagines it will. Not without some kind of intervention, at least.

The nutritionist came to see him while I was there today, and he had a complete meltdown in front of her. It was pretty clear that he did not want to hear anything about the food plan she was suggesting for him once he's released from the hospital, and his solution was to dissolve into tears and ask her to leave. I think I've seen him cry more in the past week than in the entire duration of our relationship. Yuri hardly ever cries. He rarely shows any emotions really strongly for that matter, regardless of how he's feeling inside, and it's difficult to see him in such a vulnerable state.

The nutritionist told me she's going to ask the doctor to make a referral to a psychologist for him. I already know he's not going to like that, and I’m predicting he'll cause a scene over it, but I do think it's a good idea for him to speak to someone.

That having been said, I can also empathize with his reluctance. At first, I didn't want to talk to the psychologist Dr. Sato referred me to either, but now I actually kinda like him. The initial referral was supposed to have been to talk about the emotional effects of my accident, but I told him I can get over that by myself, so we discuss other stuff instead. I've talked to him about the death of my dad and sister, the stress of being the main caregiver for somebody with a chronic illness, and the challenges of being an immigrant.

He says I'm psychologically healthy and that I don't need long-term therapy. I agree one hundred percent, but having someone objective to confess all my doubts and insecurities to has really helped me feel a lot better mentally. I'm happy to have that support, to go along with the support I'm getting for my physical recovery.

We'll see how it goes with Yuri and his psychologist. I'm envisioning hysterical outbursts, but I'm sure one of us will let you know what happens for sure.

Okay, I guess now it’s time to tell you about Seiji and what happened on Sunday afternoon.

I'd been with Yuri for the morning on Sunday. Mom and Julian picked me up around noon, just after Yuri's grandmother arrived to visit with him. She had Yuki with her as well, so it was probably a good thing I was leaving. According to Yuri, the energy of me and Yuki together in a room can sometimes be a bit overwhelming for other people. The last thing he needed was to deal with that.

Anyway, Mom, Julian and I had lunch at my favourite sushi bar, which was kind of chaotic because neither of them knows how to use chopsticks and even though I'm a chopstick wizard, I can't use them right now either. We all ate with our fingers, which earned us a lot of disapproving stares. I think people were mostly staring at me because I was picking up pieces of maki with the fingertips of both hands together, but I didn't care.

Back at home, stuffed to the brim with salmon, eel, rice and vegetables, I was ready for a nap on the couch and was not at all expecting my phone to ring. When it did, I was startled out of my drowsy stupor, and nearly fell off the sofa. Then, I recognized Seiji's number on the caller ID and all thoughts of napping suddenly dissipated like mist.

I tapped the 'answer' icon on my phone's screen, and didn't even bother with hello.

"Hinamori-san! Where the hell have you been?" I demanded. "Sakura and I have been trying to reach you for days, you know."

"We're not on a first-name basis now, Nelson-san?" was his testy response.

"Really, Seiji? You ghost me for days, and you're annoyed with me?"

"Sorry.”

"Yeah, you should be."

"I wasn't ready to talk," he said. "I went out to the country, to my grandparents' estate, 'cause I just needed to get away for a while."

"What for?" I asked. "And why didn't you tell Masao you were going? Why didn't you tell Takahiro and Fox? Like, how do you leave town without even telling your best friend and his boyfriend?"

"I headed out when Taka was at work," Seiji confessed. "I left him a note."

"You... No, you know what? Never mind," I said. "Why did you need to get away. Did something happen?"

"Did something happen?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "Dude, are you kidding me right now? How are you even asking that? Like, what do you think happened?"

"I... don't know." I said, perplexed.

"You're so stupid, Victor.” He sounded as though he meant it.

I did my best to force down the familiar sting of humiliation at hearing that. Kids at school used to call me stupid, and it’d always made me feel horrible. My inner child wanted to cover his ears and hide under the nearest desk so he could cry without drawing even more ridicule.

But then, a little voice in my brain that sounded very much like Sayuri Ishida's seemed to whisper, that's not true.

It really isn't true, and I need to keep reminding myself of it. Dr. Ishida had put that monster from my past to rest, once and for all, and I used her words like a shield in my mind. You have an eye condition called hyperopia. Your ability to read is normal. Your intelligence is above average.

“I’m not stupid,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. It was mostly for my own benefit, but still, I wasn’t interested In letting Seiji’s dig at me go so easily.

Seiji made a dismissive snorting noise. “Whatever. Must be the head injury, then.”

I pulled in a deep breath. "Seiji, listen. I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you please tell me what's going on? Me and Sakura and Masao have been worried about you.”

“Masao should know,” he said.

“Maybe, but Sakura and I don’t.”

Several seconds passed before Seiji finally spoke again. “Fine. I guess I owe you some kind of explanation. Can you… are you like, okay to go out? I don’t want to talk about it on the phone, but Taka said you’re in a wheelchair and…uh, you know…”

“I’m not in a wheelchair,” I said. “I had to use one for like, maybe three days after I got out of the hospital. That’s all.”

“So, you can go out?”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to come and get me if you want me to go somewhere with you. I’m not cleared to drive yet.”

"When's a good time?"

"Now? I'm not doing much, so whenever works for you, works for me."

"Okay," he said. "If you literally meant now, I can be there to pick you up in like, twenty minutes."

"That sounds good," I agreed. "That gives me plenty of time to grab some water and throw on a sweater."

You're at home, right?"

"I'm at home. See you when you get here."

He showed up about twenty-five minutes later, looking like he'd spent the week in a tent rather than living in luxury at his grandparents' sprawling country estate. His hair was a mess, there were dark smudges beneath his eyes, and he was moving like he was the one who was injured. He looked like he hadn't gotten more than a few hours sleep in the last several days.

"You look worse than I do," I commented, once we'd exchanged greetings.

"You look... surprisingly good," he remarked. He sort of nodded at my arms, where the bottom of my casts were peeking out past the ends of my slightly too-long sleeves. "You know, except for that."

"I'll be rid of these in a few more weeks."

"And then what? Back to the mountain?"

"Naturally," I said.

I couldn't interpret the expression that passed across his features. It didn't last long, but I hadn't missed it, and it could've been anything from disbelief to worry to disapproval. It could've been some combination of all three.

"Let's get going," he said, and although neither of us verbally acknowledged it, we both blatantly pretended the previous few seconds hadn't happened.

The car ride was weird. Normally, Seiji and I would be joking and laughing, listening to music a bit too loud, and talking about our favourite subjects. This time, we were silent, and the only sound in the car was Snowflake by Arashi, playing quietly on repeat.

Where we eventually ended up was in the valley, in Hanamigawa Park. The last time I'd been there was on Yuri's birthday, back in September. The park had been vibrant with colour then. Now, it was brown and grey and dismal, the last vestiges of winter not quite having given way to the tenuous first signs of spring.

We got out of the car, and I followed Seiji across the grass until we came to a bench.

"So...?" I prompted, after it felt like we'd sat there for at least five minutes, staring at our shoes.

"So, what?"

"About that explanation you owe me."

"Yeah." He scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground. "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"I'm going to move to the city. Try to get a grown-up job. Maybe go back to college or something."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "Your job with the Recreation Association is a grown-up job. There's a lot of responsibility in teaching people how to ski and snowboard."

"It's not the kind of responsibility I want any more, if I ever did."

"What?"

"I quit," he said.

"You quit your job?"

"I quit everything."

At that, an awkward silence stretched between us for several seconds because I had no idea how to respond. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'everything'. I thought I could guess, but I didn't want to assume.

When the lull was starting to feel too long, I finally ventured, "Define 'everything'."

"Everything," he repeated. "I quit my job, I told Taka I'm moving out, and I'm hanging up my board. Masao already knows, so don't bother to ask if I've told him."

"You're not going to compete any more?"

"I'm not going to snowboard any more."

I stared at him. "Why?"

As if it were too difficult to hold my gaze, he looked away from me and began to fidget with his hands. "I can't do it any more," he said.

"But... why?"

"You know how people say the mountain is magical? That there's a guardian spirit?"

"Yeah."

"It's just a story," he said. "The mountain is nothing but a cold, dead rock, and it'll take everything from you with no regrets. With no feelings at all. I named my snowboard because, for some dumb reason, I let myself think it had some kind of spirit inside too, but you know what? It's just another lifeless object."

I had to admit that what he said was correct. From a purely factual standpoint, the mountain is rock and snow, and snowboards are just Fiberglas and wood or carbon, but I have to admit I like the idea of there being something more to them than that. I love the stories of the mountain spirit Yukimatsu and his beautiful sword Shirayuki, and I believe that Elsa is more than a piece of sports equipment. When Elsa and I are flying down the mountainside, I definitely feel something from her, and sometimes I imagine I can hear her singing.

"I thought you loved snowboarding," I said.

“Maybe I used to. Or maybe I still do, but it's like a toxic relationship that you can't seem to leave until it's almost too late. Like, you can't make yourself get out of it until it steals every last bit of hope and happiness you ever had."

"I don't understand," I said, because I really didn't.

"Do you know, I think I might've accidentally hurt Masao, trying to get to you when I saw you go down?" he said. "You know how tiny he is, and he was trying to hold me back."

"I didn't know," I said.

"If it wasn't for Fox, I probably would've..." He didn't complete the thought, but instead continued with. "Takahiro said I was literally screaming. The thing is, though, I don't remember. I don't remember Masao grabbing me, or me knocking him to the ground or... anything. All I could think was, you could be dying and the people you care about most wouldn't even be beside you."

"Obviously I didn't die."

"Yeah, but how were any of us supposed to know that at the time? You didn't see it the way we saw it. Masao said it looked like you could've broken your neck, and I... I couldn't handle losing somebody else like that."

It took a second for my brain to register what he'd just said. Somebody else. Had he seen another snowboarder go down like I had? Someone who hadn't been as lucky as me?

"Who...?" I began, but quickly closed my mouth because something told me I shouldn't pry.

But, it was too late to worry about it when Seiji started to answer anyway. "Didn't Yuri ever tell you about Tsubaki?"

I tried to recall if Yuri had ever mentioned anyone by that name. "I don't think so. Who is she?"

"I thought he told you everything," Seiji said.

"Apparently not."

"Tsubaki was our..." he trailed off, and then amended. "She was the woman I loved."

"Oh."

"She was our teacher in our final year of high school," he went on. "Me, Taka and Yuri were in the same class, so we all knew her. She wasn't that much older than us and most of the boys in our year had a crush on her, but for whatever reason, she liked me and Taka best. Maybe 'cause she was into snowboarding like we were."

"You went snowboarding with your teacher?"

"Not while she was our teacher," he said. "But, we all talked about it all the time, and we'd see her up on the mountain on the weekends."

I'd seen one of my high school teachers skiing on Granite Mountain once. It had felt strange and out of context to me, and I'd tried to pretend I hadn't even noticed him. But, regardless of my effort to ignore him, the rare sighting of my chemistry teacher outside his natural habitat had been enough to distract me, and it resulted in me getting yelled at by my coach at the time.

I'm sure I succeeded in forgetting about it almost immediately afterward, and I’d never even dreamed of bringing it up with him at school. I couldn’t help but winder what it would've been like to have a teacher like Tsubaki, who I could've geeked out about snowboarding with.

"Seems like she would've been a cool person to know."

"She was amazing," he said. "When we graduated, she said we could call her by her given name, and we became friends. We all used to hang out, me Taka, Yuri, Tsubaki and her best friend Mei. We went snowboarding together then, and we did other stuff like going on road trips or going to someone's place for a meal and to play games or watch movies. Or just talk. Tsubaki and I talked a lot."

"What happened?" I asked.

"With me and her?" he said. "She always told me that she didn't want to have a relationship with me, but towards the end, I felt like things were changing between us. She was starting to treat me less like a friend and more like... well, not a boyfriend exactly, but something deeper than snow buddies, you know?" He sighed. "Then everything... ended."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Yuri really never told you about any of this? He never told you about Tsubaki's accident? How she..." He paused, closing his eyes. "How the mountain took her from me."

It was at that point when I realized Yuri actually had told me. I hadn't made the connection immediately because he hadn't gone into detail and hadn't used Tsubaki's name, and I hadn't wanted to press him for information. "He mentioned he had a friend who died in a snowboarding accident," I said. "We didn't talk much about it."

That figures. Yuri wasn't that close to her anyway." He gave a little shrug. "Yuri doesn't know how to be close to people.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Are you saying he’s not close to you?” I asked.

“Dude, from where I’m standing, he’s not even all that close to you,” he said. “I mean, where the hell was he when you needed him? At work, and even when all of us were at the hospital with you and we were trying to call him, he ignored us. You know how many times Taka tried to reach him?”

“He was probably in a meeting,” I said.

“Why wasn’t he on the mountain with you? That’s where he should’ve been.”

"His job is important, Seiji. Besides, what happened probably would've happened anyway, even if he had been there.”

"That's not the point," Seiji said. "The point is, he doesn't care about anybody but himself. Why was it you and Sakura who were checking on me? He's supposed to be my friend."

"Sakura and I are your friends too," I reminded him. "Yuri couldn't check on you. He's been in the hospital since Tuesday."

"So what? He's too sick to send a text?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, he was." I met his gaze. "Are you seriously mad at Yuri because he didn't text you for a week?"

“I’m mad at him because he’s an asshole. Because he got someone he doesn’t appreciate or even deserve.”

“So, you’re not actually mad at him. You’re jealous.”

“Whatever,” he said. “I know you love him, but wouldn't it be better to love somebody who gives a shit about you? If you'd died out there, he would've just carried on with life as normal."

"No, he wouldn't," I said. "You obviously don't know him as well as you think you do, if that's what you believe."

"I know him well enough," he said. "I've never seen him shed a tear over anything or anyone. But you? You treat everybody like they matter, and you deserve at least that much in return."

"Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter because everyone does matter," I said. "Where are you even going with this?"

"You didn't have to come halfway around the world for Yuri. You could've stayed safe at home and had anyone you wanted.”

“I want Yuri,” I said simply.

"I don't know why. He's a crappy partner."

“Yuri loves me just as much as I love him, and he treats me like I matter," I said. "Maybe you’re convinced he’s a crappy partner because he wasn’t where you thought he should be, but that’s not how it works. We don’t get to script real life to our tastes. It just happens, and sometimes it sucks, and then we gotta figure out how to deal with it.”

“You think I don’t know that?"

"Do you?"

"My life has sucked for the last three and a half years," he declared. "Worse than yours, probably.”

“My life doesn't suck," I said. "There are parts of it that suck. Like, everything's not always easy or fun, but overall it's good, and I'm happy."

"Then, you're delusional." He got up abruptly and started to walk away. "This was a waste of time."

Stunned by the suddenness of his decision to leave, I stared at his retreating figure for several seconds. When I pulled my wits back into place at last, I had to run — contrary to doctor’s orders — to catch up to him.

"Seiji, wait!" I called. "We're not done."

He glared at me. “Yes, we are.”

"You said you were going to give me an explanation."

"I did. It's not my fault that you're too dumb to figure it out."

That was the precise moment in which I lost my temper. I think that if I could've grabbed him and shook him, I would have, but maybe it was a good thing I couldn't.

"I'm not dumb!" I yelled. "I'm sick and tired of everyone saying I'm stupid! I'm probably smarter than you, but I'm not a damn mind reader, so if you want me to understand something, then explain it in a way that makes sense!"

"Fine!" he said. "You want it in language your brain can handle? Here it is. I'm done pretending I'm okay. I don't want to be in this place, hanging around with people who remind me how useless I am and how much I've lost. I don't want to be on that damn mountain every day, thinking of her."

“But—”

"I can't keep running the risk of putting my parents through what her parents had to go through. What I had to go through. It's not worth it. I'd rather have nothing myself than to leave my family with nothing."

"But, there's lots of other stuff—" I began.

“There isn't," he said. "Snowboarding was the only thing I was good at. I’ve failed at everything else. Like, I was rubbish in school, and I was useless as a medic. I couldn’t even…”

“What?”

“There was only snowboarding, but you know what? Snowboarding fucking wrecked my life, Victor! There's no part that it didn't touch, and I can't fix anything now. All I can do now is protect the people I love, and try to forget it."

By the time he was done with this speech, he was crying. Evidently not wanting me to see that, he wiped his sleeve across his eyes so fiercely that I'm sure it must've hurt.

"Seiji—"

"Leave me alone," he said.

“You’ll never forget, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can go to the city if you want,” I said. “You can go to the other side of the world or a whole other planet, but you're never gonna outrun grief or anger or whatever. You might think you feel better for a while but there's really no place far enough away to escape from it."

"What the hell would you know about it?"

"You might be surprised by what I know about it," I told him. "But I'm not gonna give you a lecture. If you’re not ready, you wouldn't listen anyway.”

"I doubt you know about it like I do," he said.

"Maybe not exactly in the same way you do," I conceded. "But, you know what? I get what it's like when somebody who was the center of your world suddenly isn't there any more."

There was a lot more I could've said. I wanted to tell him I know what it feels like to think about someone every single day and picture how the future might've been different if they were still around. I often wonder about all the stuff Dad and Caroline and I might've said to each other, and all the ways I could've been a better person when they were alive, and how they'll never know what i learned because of them, and who I became because of them.

Tears were still leaking from Seiji's eyes, but he wasn't trying to hide them any more. As I watched, he stood there with his head bowed and whispered, "I couldn't save her. No one could."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

He shook his head, but regardless of that, he started telling me anyway. "It was just a normal Saturday," he said. "I was working with Mountain Patrol, and my team got the call about an accident up on the expert run. I didn't know it was her until we got there. The advanced care paramedic on our team took one look at her and somehow he knew right away that her neck was broken. It was really bad."

"That had to have been a shock."

"They took her in a helicopter down to the hospital in the valley." He went on as if I hadn't spoken. "You know, to assess her and try to stabilize her. They might've rushed her to one of the big hospitals in Kyoto afterwards, but... there wasn't time. Her parents were in Tokyo, and there wasn't time for them to get here, either. Me and Taka were the only ones with her, and I don't know if she was aware of us being there, but I was holding her hand when she passed."

"I'm sorry," I said.

I thought about my mom. I hadn't found out until many years later that she'd been with my dad in the hospital when he passed and had been able to say goodbye to him one last time. Caroline had been killed almost instantly, so Mom didn't get that final goodbye with her, and I can't decide if that was a blessing or not.

I mean, I can't wrap my head around how terrifying and soul-shattering it'd be to hold your baby as she took her last breath. Watching your partner die would be devastating enough, but losing a child...? And my mom had to suffer through both. The pain she felt must've been immeasurable, making even mine seem minor in comparison.

I don't know how she handled it. I don't know how she survived it. I think if something happened to take Yuri away from me, I'd die too, of a broken heart. Or maybe I wouldn't literally die, but I'd wish to stop existing if he wasn't by my side.

I had to resist the urge to hug Seiji as he stood there crying. His whole body was visibly rigid, and I knew he wouldn't want me to touch him. Takahiro probably would have if he were there, but Taka the compulsive hugger could get away with it and Seiji might even relax enough to reciprocate. In fact, Taka is the only person I've ever seen give Seiji a hug that didn't look unnatural or uncomfortable. Had Seiji always been that way, or had his trauma caused him to change?

He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have told you all that."

"It's okay. You must've needed to say it."

"Maybe. It was just... that thing you said. About somebody being the center of your world? She was, you know. She would've been, for the rest of our lives. I would've taken care of her, and I think we would've been happy, but... None of that's gonna happen now."

"Have you ever talked about this with anybody before?" I asked.

"Only Taka," he said. "He's the only one who understands. Everybody else thinks it's ridiculous 'cause we weren't even in a relationship."

"A friendship is a relationship. So what if you weren't her boyfriend? That doesn't mean it should hurt less."

"You don't think I'm like, being dramatic or whatever?"

"Why should I think that?" I said. "I don't have the right to tell you how you're supposed to feel or what your grief is supposed to look like, do I? Maybe you're like Yuri and you hardly ever cry for anything, no matter how destroyed you feel, or maybe you're like me and you cry over every little thing, or maybe you're somewhere in between. It doesn't matter. It's all valid."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for letting you feel however you feel."

"Yeah, I do. Most people would judge me for it."

"I'm not into judging other people for their feelings," I said. "I've got plenty of my own that I'm busy judging myself for."

"You shouldn't. Like, if you can tell me my feelings are okay, you can tell yourself that."

I offered him what was probably a lopsided smile. "I'm working on it. My psychologist says I have to stop creating burdens for myself."

"You're seeing a therapist?"

"Yeah. Unbelievable, right? My doctor referred me to him after my accident, but we've been talking about everything. He's helping me get perspective."

"Perspective," Seiji repeated, as if he were contemplating it.

"You know," I said. "Like how some stuff in your life seems so big and overwhelming, you don't know how you're supposed to deal with it? Sometimes you have to break the situation down and manage it bit by bit."

"Like learning a trick," he said.

"Exactly. Remember when you first learned to ride? There were probably lots of people around you doing all kinds of crazy tricks, and you couldn't even do an ollie yet. Now, you're the one who's flying, but you had to build up to it, one skill at a time."

"So, how am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe start off with figuring out what's really going on in your head. Like, are you sad or angry or scared, or what? And then... I don't know. Ask yourself exactly why. Like, if you're angry at a specific person, or you're scared about a certain thing."

He nodded. "I guess that makes sense. But... do you think I need professional help for that?"

"Maybe? I'm probably the last person you should ask about that. I didn't even know I needed professional help until I was getting it."

"But, it's working, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not magic. You have to want to get your shit together before you can get your shit together, and you have to work at it."

"Good to know."

"Listen," I said. "Everything's gonna be okay. It may take a while, and it might not look exactly how you wanted it to, but it eventually does get better."

"Thanks."

This time, I could feel my smile in my entire face. "You're welcome, but give credit to Yuri, too. He taught me that."

"Yuri taught you optimism?"

"He taught me about resilience," I said. “That’s better than optimism.”

“How so?”

"’Cause it’s realistic. And it’s honest.”

“I see how optimism can be unrealistic.”

“Resilience is sort of like body armour,” I said. “Having it on doesn't mean nothing ever hurts you. Sometimes it hurts like hell, but you get through it and you survive, and eventually the pain isn’t so bad any more. Yuri's constantly showing me that, whether he realizes he is or not."

"Okay," was all he said in response.

He started walking again, in the direction of the park gates. I fell into step beside him, and the quiet between us this time didn't feel quite so fraught.

When we reached the place where we'd left his car, I asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"Take you home, I guess," he said.

"I meant in general."

"Oh." He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm going to Kyoto tomorrow. I've got a couple of appointments to view apartments. Do you want to come?"

"So, you're definitely moving?"

"I guess so."

"What kind of job do you think you'll get when you move there?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," I said. "I was just curious."

"I'll probably end up in a convenience store," he said. "But, I was training to be a paramedic before, so I might be okay at taking care of sick people at home or something. And I like kids, so maybe I'd do all right working in a daycare. Or tailoring. I learned how to draft patterns and sew from my mother, so I could probably do that."

"I didn't realize you were training to be a paramedic. When you said 'medic' before, I thought you meant you had the certified mountain rescue course. The advanced first aid one."

"I do have that certification," he said. "But, I was in college for paramedicine. After she... after Tsubaki died, I dropped out because couldn't handle it any more."

"How far did you get?"

"Not very far. I finished the first in-class module, and Mountain Patrol was my first part-time clinical placement. That was it." He made a face that might've been self-disgust. "Useless, right?"

"Not necessarily," I said.

"What?"

An idea was starting to form in my head, but I didn't want to say too much to Seiji until I'd had a chance to talk to Yuri about it first. "You think you could drop me off at the hospital instead of at my house?"

"I'll drop you off anywhere you want," he said. "But, what'd you mean?"

"About you quitting college?"

"Yeah."

"There might be more options for you than snowboarding or working in some dodgy convenience store in the city."

"Right."

"I'll come with you to Kyoto tomorrow," I said.

He frowned at me. "You've got some kind of ulterior motive, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"You're trying to convince me not to move."

"No, I'm not trying to do that. If you want to check out the opportunities in Kyoto, there's no reason not to. All I'm saying is that you might want to go there with something better in mind than working at a convenience store. Like, if you're serious about home care or child care, maybe try it out and see if you like it before you take off to the city and commit yourself to a lease and everything."

"You think I should do that in Mt. Komorebi?"

"Think of it as a safety net," I said. "Stay home for a bit longer, try some different stuff and find out what you really want. Then go off and chase your dream, whatever it is."

"What if I really don't want to stay here?" he said.

"Nobody can force you to stay. All I'm saying is, before you leave, make sure you're deciding and not just reacting."

"Okay," he said. "But I still feel like you're up to something."

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," I said.

"I'm not going along with it, whatever it is."

"You don't have to go along with it, but you should at least wait to hear what it is."

He drew back his arm as if he were going to punch me, but only flicked my shoulder instead. "You're a massive pain in the ass, you know."

"Yeah," I said. "I hear that a lot, but for some reason, people love me anyway."

"I hate you," he growled, but I knew he wasn't being serious. "Get in the car, Nelson. Wouldn't want to keep you from your pain in the ass other half."

"You didn't really mean what you said about him before, did you?"

If I was expecting an apology or a retraction, I would've been disappointed.

“Some of it,” Seiji said. “He is an asshole, and you seriously could've done better, but if you're happy..." He raised his hands in a gesture that seemed to indicate there was no further comment he could offer. "Anyway, you can tell him I'll come by and see him in a day or two. I'll make Taka and Fox come too, if they haven't been there yet, and I'll bring daifuku mochi. The strawberry kind."

"He's not eating," I said.

"Since when has Yuri ever said no to strawberry mochi? Me and Taka have literally seen him too weak to sit up, and he’d still be lying there demanding a little bite of our strawberry mochi. It's his all-time favourite. That, and tinned peaches, but they're probably already on the lunch menu at the hospital."

"How do you—"

"Just tell him," Seiji said, "And tell him I'll even feed him if he needs me to. Oh, and also tell him to expect a huge piece of my mind for what he did to you. He had no business abandoning you like that, and he definitely has no business taking you for granted. Actually, having somebody as devoted to his pathetic little ass as you are, he should consider himself the luckiest person in the universe."

I didn't show it on the outside, but inwardly, I was both relieved and amused. It might not be an apology, but I figured this was as close as Seiji would get to saying he still considers Yuri his friend.

Even if I hadn't liked hearing what he'd said about my husband, I couldn't blame Seiji for being upset. From Seiji's point of view, maybe Yuri's behaviour after my accident had looked horrible and uncaring, but Seiji hadn't seen him in my room with me immediately after. He hadn't heard the pain and guilt in Yuri's voice when he told me over and over that he was sorry, and he hadn't seen how hard Yuri worked to help me at home when he really should've been resting himself.

"I'll tell him," I said. "I think he'll be glad to see you."

"Yeah, whatever." He opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed into the car. A moment later, he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm leaving for Kyoto at eight in the morning. You'd better be up and dressed when I get to your place."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll be ready."

((More about Seiji & Tsubaki from a different perspective, for anyone curious))

[eternal-nyx]

1 MONTH ON T

 10/25/2023-11/21/2023

Days 29 - 56

Today is day 29 of my HRT diary! Holy shit! As of writing this, I have just taken my 5th injection.  Let's throw together a quick little list of the changes we've seen during month 1. 

Day 29

October 25th 2023

Hygiene: 

Looking into buying a new deodorant. Mine is slowly stopping working and I need to use so much more of it. My feet stink! I don't even wear socks or shoes. I never leave my house!!!!! This is wild. My body odor in my underarms is very much locker room stank, and my under-breasts smell like old taco bell. The amount of showers....JFC, 

NSFW: 

One inch of growth in the first month. Not mad about that at all. This thing is a plump little monster let me tell you. I get random erections, like a teenage boy. Sitting in the car? Erection that tingles and itches. Eating pizza with my family? Erection that makes me have to shift my weight, but I can't escape it! Crying over my broken bong? Yup. Erection there too. Fuck you, tick tack dick. 

I own an entire box of toys. I have a very healthy sex life and a partner who is more than willing to assist. But no matter what I try, it doesn’t STOP. And it’s not emotional its physical. I can FEEL this…..tingling? Fullness? I expected sensitive, and I expected wanting to have sex more. But being PHYSICALLY aroused more when I just wanna take a nap? Or watch tv?

Peeing is weird. I was just sitting on the toilet, peeing like one does, and I COUGHED. And my pee YEETED onto the wall instead of going in the toilet. Like....henh? The urethra in the AFAB anatomy isn't anywhere near the clit. The fuck is happening? Well. Whatever, guess this is life now. 

If my boobs don't stop feeling bruised soon I STG I might just cut them off myself. Holy fuck. Ow. 

Appetite: 

Early on I had some increased appetite that I actually benefitted from a lot. It helped me combat my ARFID ED, and was a welcome change. Though, now it's starting to taper out as nausea and PMS symptoms kick in. Hoping it comes back as my cycles hopefully cease.

Body Hair: 

Acne in places I never thought I would get it but here we are. Ass acne? Breast Acne? Thigh? Sure. I have Hidradenitis suppurativa (HS), also called acne inversus, I'm used to that shit. But my NECK?! MY SCALP? MY FUCKIN ELBOW?! The hell?! 

Vocal:

Yeaaaaaaaaaa we dropped ya'll. I'm a raspy, cracky, little bitch but OH I am loving it. I can't wait to see where it settles. 

Here are some things I wrote during earlier weeks about vocal changes:

October 18th 2023 

Night 21-Morning of Day 22

Overnight my voice really started to drop into a raspiness. It's like the beginnings of Laryngitis but instead of squeaking I'm rasping. That said, the rasping feels soothing on those sore areas of my throat. Using my voice in this comfortable range seems to help progress it without hurting it. 

October 13th 2023

Day 17 

Talking voice has begun to crack

October 16th 2023

Day 20

I think my voice just DROPPED

My throat hit an all time sore today. 

I was rubbing it and gargling numbing medicine and water. I'd taken the max dosage allowed for OTC ibuprofen and Tylenol every 6 hours on the DOT. I even took an extra of my fibromyalgia pain management medication. I had trouble eating, vaping (nicotine), smoking (medical weed), and also literally had chose my food based on what would help my throat or at least not hurt it further. I even spent parts of the day silent and nonverbal to try to sooth it and let it rest. 

However, I found that to be counter productive. I realized that using my voice in a comfortable chest voice range helped to sooth some of the tenderness. So I sung some poor man's poison and some seether. Then I went back to not talking again. It just HURT all morning. It's even affected my sleep. The throat pain bothers me more than the clit sensitivity. 

Just now, before typing this, the pain started to subside and all of a sudden my voice is like gravely and feels like I'm talking from my breastbone and not my throat. 

October 17th 2023

Day 21

The sore throat is less intense and no where near as constant. It comes and goes and so does my voice. Sometimes its normal, sometimes raspy.

Body General:

My mother noticed a change in my face shape during a video call. She said I look more like my father. 

I've noticed a change in my over all torso shape, however I'm not sure if it's due to weight loss, as I've lost 20 lbs, or the T redistributing things. Could be both I suppose. 

Menstruation:

I took pregnancy tests every single day I was late to be safe. All remained negative

After being intimate with my partner this morning, she informed me there was blood. I went to inspect, and sure enough, my flow started. My cramps are intermittent but normal for me in the moderate to severe range. So far the actual flow is light. Continuing to monitor changes. 

Misc:

Shaved off my face a few weeks back to monitor the new growth more accurately. Starting to feel itchy stubble on the chin. Here we go. 

Moody AF. Might talk about increasing my Cymbalta dosage actually. It's kind of intense.

[unfinshedsentec]

the tr boys taking care of you when you get sick!!

a/n: because flu season is almost here😭

also, I’m really sorry this isn’t that good, I kinda just threw it together!!

word count: 3.1k+

characters: mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, mitsuya, hakkai, Izana, wakasa, and you!

tw: cursing and mentions of vomit

requests: currently open!!

Mikey

o   As we all know, Mikey is usually someone who is taken care of

o He’s not someone who takes care of other people

o   But, when Mikey heard you were stuck at home sick with the flu, he immediately decided that he was going to take care of you while you felt so horrible

o   And he did

o   At least to the best of his abilities

o   He ended up dragging Draken to the store, unsure of what to do or get to help you, only for Draken to get tired of him pacing endlessly around the store and he just grabbed everything he needed

o   So, Mikey ended up getting the right stuff

o   The problem was actually taking care of you...

o   He knew what to do for smaller things, such as giving you Ibuprofen for your body aches, and that ended up helping your fever too

o   But, that was really all he knew

o   He wasn't really sure what to feed you or give you to help you with your nausea. He didn't know what he should do to help your stuffy nose and sore throat

o   Pretty much anything else you can think of, he wasn't sure what to do to help you

o   And ultimately, he ended up climbing in bed with you, wrapping his arms around you, and he cuddled with you, hoping to make you feel better

o His cuddling did help!!

o   But...there was a problem with that

o   Don't get me wrong, you loved the Mikey cuddles, but...you knew what would happen if you were to stay like that

o   "Uhhh...Mikey?"

o   "Hmm?", he groaned

o   "You shouldn't be doing this"

o   "Why? You're sick and I wanna make you feel better!"

o   "I know, and I appreciate it, but you're going to get sick too..."

o   "Yeah, yeah"

o   And you both ended up staying like that for a while, which was comforting

o   But there came a point where you actually needed help, so Mikey ended up calling Draken, who came over and took care of you

o   Hell, Draken ended up taking you to the doctor so you could get that special flu medicine (Mikey came a long of course)

o   And, in the end, you recovered well with Mikey and Draken's help and went back to normal a couple days later

o   Unfortunately, Mikey ended up catching your flu...just like you thought he would...

o   And, well, that situation is a whole different story...

Draken

o   As we know, Draken is the big brother of Toman, so, he takes care of all the toman members

o   He's used to taking care of people to say the least, and he's really good at it

o   So when you didn't show up to school that day, without texting him or anything, his instincts kicked in and he immediately got worried about you

o   It was soon after that, that he left school and stopped by your house to see if you were okay

o   Only to see you lying on the couch, with a pale face and bright red cheeks, a sniffling nose, curled up in a ball groaning in pain

o   "Y/N?!"

o   "Draken...?" you said, turning your head towards the direction of the familiar voice. "What are you doing here?”

o   "You didn't show up at school, so I came to check up on you.... What happened to you?"

o   "I got sick, with god knows what, and I feel like absolute bullshit"

o   Yeahh...Draken's Big bro-mom instincts immediately kicked in when you said that, and he immediately started taking care of you

o   He took you to the doctor, and did everything you asked him to do. He went to the store and got all the medicine he thought you needed

o  Hell, he wouldn't let you get out of bed 

o   So, you pretty much laid around and slept all day while Draken took care of you

o  That said, you still got one hell of a lecture from him...

o  You pretty much sat there and listened to Draken lecture you for over an hour because you didn't tell him you were sick

o Only for you to tell him the only reason you didn't tell him was because your phone died and you just didn't bother with it after that

o He looked like an idiot after you told him that...

o In the end, Draken really did do a great job at taking care of you, and you recovered and felt much after he helped you

o Needless to say, Draken is your go to person to call when you get sick

o Especially because of his Big bro-mom instincts

o He just knows exactly what to do, and that, really helps you!!

Baji

o   Like Mikey, Baji really isn't used to taking care of other people. The only people he cares for his himself and his mom...

o   He can take care of other people, but he usually doesn't care too. At least not in that way..

o   But he was always sure to care for you. He loves you, after all!!

o   So, when you called him, asking him if he could bring some medicine to help ease your cold, which was making you feel like shit, he immediately left to grab anything that you could possibly need

o   He grabbed medicine, soup, ice cream, etc.

o   Pretty much anything he could think of

o   And then he rushed over to your house, urgently slamming the door open when he arrived

o   But when he walked into the door, his heart immediately dropped

o   Because as he walked in, he saw you, laying on the couch with an exhausted look in your eyes. You had medicine and tissues scattered everywhere, and you were laying with your mouth open, likely from not being able to breath out of your nose. You coughed more than once, making you throat irritated, and making you feel, overall, exhausted

o   And as you spoke, Baji felt his heart drop even more, purely from how raspy and tired your voice sounded

o   "Baji...you're finally here. Yayy...."

o   "Holy shit Y/N!! Are you okay?!"

o   "...Yeah, it's just a little cold..."

o   "THAT'S NOT SOME LITTLE COLD!!!!"

o   Baji was a little irritated with you to say the least...

o   But he got over it quick because his anger quickly became overcame with worry

o   Though, he wasn't sure what to do first...

o   So, he ended up looking it up, hoping it would give him something...and it did

o   Baji ended up following the Google steps one-by-one, sometimes going out to get something he hadn't already bought, and, obviously, doing things you asked

o   And somehow, he ended up doing a great job!!

o   In fact, he did so great that you ended up calling him up again whenever you got sick!!

o   Unfortunately, it seemed that Baji had gotten a little too touchy with you while you were sick

o   And he ended up getting your little cold...

o   And well, taking care of Baji is certainly an interesting experience...to say the least

Chifuyu

o   Chifuyu is an idiot...and really doesn't know what he's doing

o   Bless his heart, he's really trying to help you in any way he can, doing what you asked and all, but if you can't tell him, he just doesn't know what to do

o   Basically, google is Chifuyu's best friend

o   Of course, he knows little things, such as being sure to rub your back and hold your hair up while you puke, or being sure to check your temperature

o  But he’s got problems with almost everything else

o   And when he doesn’t know something, he just looks it up on google

o   However, Google wasn't as friendly to Chifuyu as it was to Baji...

o   Because when Chifuyu ended up looking up your symptoms...well, he lost it

o   "HOLY MOTHER FUCKING SHITTY HELL!! Y-YOU HAVE CANCER Y/NNN!!!" Chifuyu said, absolutely sobbing his heart out, truly scared for your life

o   "I don't have cancer Fuyu..."

o   "....I'M TAKING YOU TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM NOW!!!”

o   And you indeed ended up going emergency room...

o   Only to be told that you had just caught some random stomach bug, and all you had to do was rest some and take the nausea medicine they had given you

o   Naturally, you listened to them, and you were fine by the next day...

o  But...Chifuyu was not

o   The poor boy ended up clinging to you for the rest of the week, as he was so incredibly happy that you didn't have cancer

o And well, he wouldn't let you go...

o   Hell, he wouldn't even let you go to the bathroom alone

o   It was also because of that that he ended up catching your little stomach bug

o   And, of course, you were the one who took care of him

o But the idiot also looked up his symptoms…again

o   And let’s just say you had a very...hard time taking care of Chifuyu...

o   It was pretty much pure hell for you.

Mitsuya

o   Mitsuya is by far the best person to be with when you're sick

o   The man has a lot of experience on taking care of people with his little sister and all, so he definitely knows what he's doing

o   And when you texted him, asking him of he could bring the schoolwork you missed, telling him you were sick in the process, he did what you asked without a thought

o   Not only that, but he even went out and bought you all the medicine and food that you needed, hoping to help you in any way possible

o   And thank God he did

o    Because unfortunately for you, you had managed to get ahold of a pretty nasty cold

o    And my god you felt and looked absolutely horrible

o   You had a horrible stuffy nose, one that was so stuffy you couldn't breathe. Your throat had been so bear from coughing that you had lost your voice, stopping you from speaking

o Hell, you were pretty much so tired that you didn't even dare to get out of bed

o  So, it was a bad cold to say the least

o   But Mitsuya had came over, and now was he your knight in shining armor

o   The amazing boy pretty much saved you

o   He brought all the medicine that you needed, and helped you with anything that you needed help with

o    He was great, really!!

o   But, he was definitely a mother

o He wouldn't let you do anything at all, and was constantly asking you if you were okay and if you needed anything

o   He certainly made sure you were okay

o   And even though he was being a little annoying, you still really appreciated his help

o   In the end, Mitsuya ended up helping you recover and you were back to normal within a week!!

o   And now you definitely know Mitsuya is by far the best person to take care of you, and you'll definitely be asking him for help next time you get sick!!

Hakkai

o   Hakkai is really good at taking care of you when you get sick

o   While Hakkai isn't one to get super serious about things, and often gets flustered around you, when you told him you were staying home because your horrible sore throat, Hakkai immediately went over to take care of you

o   And, he was very serious about it, already knowing what to do from taking care of Yuzuha in the rare times she got sick

o   The first thing Hakkai did after seeing in your horrible, exhausted, painful state was take you to the doctor

o   And that turned out to be a great thing, because it turned out you had strep, and you needed to get the specific medicine to help clear it up, which Hakkai picked up for you while picking up some other things you asked for

o    Thankfully, Hakkai was there to help you with anything you needed

o   Of course, he got a little help from Yuzuha and Mitsuya, but really he did a good job taking care of you

o  But he was definitely a little...panicky about you being sick

o  Every time you did something a little out of the ordinary, he immediately panicked and thought something was seriously wrong

o "Y/n!! Are you okay?! Please tell me your okay!!” he said, right after you took a fever reducer

o "I'm fine love...I really am"

o  Of course, you comforted him each time he did panic

o  Unfortunately, he was also very wary about getting to close to you

o But, other than that, he did amazing and you really appreciated him taking care of you

o  And you'll definitely call him again when you get sick next

Izana

o   Like Mikey and Baji, Izana isn't used to taking care of people, the only person he ever needed to take care of was, himself

o   And that's usually how it is. He takes care of himself and only himself

o He obviously took care of you to a certain extent, but you could care for yourself, so he never really had to worry about anything

o   So, imagine his shock to see you laying in your bed, complaining about an earache, having a high fever, and groaning in pain from your horrible headache

o   Hell, you kept on begging him to get it to stop, because you "felt like you were going to throw up"

o   It was clear that there was something wrong to say the least

o   But Izana didn't know what to do about it. After all, he's only cared for himself, so this was way out of his league

o   However, Izana wasn't just going to let you lay around in such a horrible, painful state all alone. He had to take care of you, no matter what

o   So, he did the only thing he really knew what to do, which was to take you to the doctor

o   And thankfully for him, that was the right move

o   The doctor pretty much ended up telling you that you had an ear infection and just needed some antibiotics, but you should be back to normal within a week'

o   And my god that was a huge relief for Izana

o   Thankfully, he was calm enough now that he could take care of you, and even got instructions on how to take care of you

o   And he did an amazing job

o   Izana was so gentle and great with you

o   He gave you the support and love you needed, even though he wasn't used to doing that

o   He had people fetch you anything you needed, and, he helped you with everything you asked for

o   He honestly treated you like you were a fragile puppy...

o   And it was adorable

o   Really, Izana was great and really patient throughout the whole sick process!!

o   And you'll definitely be calling him for some help again!!

Wakasa

o   Honestly, I think Waka would just get...grossed out when you're sick

o   However, it's you, and he'll do anything he needs too to take care of you...

o   And when you called, desperately asking for help because of the virus you managed to get, Waka immediately rushed over, already knowing how bad it was from the tone of your voice

o   Only for him to end up seeing you in a state of fevery-exhaustion, with a horrible nagging cough, which made you cough so much you puked, and you being in an immense amount of pain

o   And Waka was pretty calm about it...except for the fact that he wouldn't let you touch him

o   He tried to help you if you needed help, like getting you some coughing medicine, but he wouldn’t come within 6 feet of you

o   He would stand across the room away from you, purely because he didn't want to get sick

o   But there came a point where he could no longer do that...

o   "That's it, I'm gonna take you to the doctor", he said, slightly proud of himself, as he finally stepped closer to you

o   "No shit sherlock...what else would you do?"

o   He was not impressed with that comment, but Waka quickly forgave you and ended up rubbing your back while you had another coughing fit

o   And after that mess was done, Waka took you to the doctor

o   It turned out that you had bronchitis and that you would be sick for a while, but some anti-biotics would clear it up and you'd be fine soon!

o   And once that doctor told you that, Waka went back to normal and went completely calm again

o   In fact, Waka was the one to go to the store and get you the medicine that you needed, and he got little stuff that you asked for

o   Really, he did a great job taking care of you

o   He got you what you needed, was very tolerant of you, and helped you in any way he could

o   You both ended up spending the next couple of days just relaxing and watching a movie while you recovered

o   It would've been a great time of you weren't sick

o   However, Waka would only come so close to you

o   He wouldn't mind handing you stuff, or grabbing you something you needed

o   But hugging or cuddling was a no-no, and Waka refused to do any of that, despite your sickness not being contagious

o   That sort of pissed you off

o   And it sure was amusing to you when Waka ended up getting sick.. not even from you

o   Waka ended up getting sick with something completely different

o   And boy was it interesting...

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?��

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[kwinsispn3]

Souless Sam

anon asked: girlieeeee i got sumn gooood shit for u aight, can you do a sisfic during when sam lost his soul BUT like for some reason he still cared about you some how and still protective over you like he was before he lost soul? if this makes sense!!

Word Count: 1,998

summary: sister!winchester gets captured on a hunt and Sam shows that he still worries about his little sis, even without a soul.

Y/N’s POV

So, Sam lost his soul. At first it was really strange, and it still is. Sam has always been my empathetic, awkward, goofy older brother. His personality without a soul was so much different than the real Sam, and I didn’t like it. Souless Sam was cocky and careless, and for a while, I thought he could care less about me and Dean. Until one hunt gave me a little bit of hope. 

Dean was excited for this hunt because he was getting a little annoyed with Sam lately. He acted like he wanted nothing to do with hunts and just went off doing who knows what. Dean could also see that souless Sam was starting to affect me. I missed my big brother so much, Dean hadn't found new leads or thought of any plans that could get it back anytime soon. So for now, I knew we were stuck with how he was.

“Are we going or what?” Sam sassed.

“Can you at least try to act the least bit invested.” Dean snarked.

I walked in with the last couple of things that Dean asked for. “Thanks sweetheart.”

We packed the car and drove to the location where the last crime was reported. Searching the property, none of us found anything. It was quiet, which meant that something or someone was hiding, watching us. I followed closely behind Sam and Dean, when I heard a noise.

“Did you guys hear that?” I whispered, looking behind me. 

“Nope.” Dean brushed if off, thinking I was just hearing things.

I stopped when I heard the noise again. It sounded like a creak of a door towards the back of the house. Looking back, I saw that Sam and Dean hadn’t noticed I fell behind and kept walking. As I started walking to catch up with them, something grabbed me from behind and put a hand over my mouth. I tried to scream to alert my brothers but whoever grabbed me, dragged me in the other direction. I tried fighting back the entire time I was being dragged, until the person shoved me into a chair and bonded my wrists and ankles with rope.

“DEAN!” I shouted as loud as I could before I was gagged. 

“What did I just do.... All because I was distracted, I got caught. Dean is gonna be pissed that I wasn’t paying attention and got myself into this mess.” Was all I could think in that moment, besides the fact that I was face to face with the bad guy. 

The guy that took me stood in front of the chair I sat in. Looking at me, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed someone.

“Hey. Tell him we got one of them.” 

...................

Dean’s POV

Sam and I were walking around some more until I turned around and didn’t see any sign of Y/N.

“Where’s Y/N?” I said as I turned to Sam.

“Who knows....” He shrugged. I had just about enough of Sam’s attitude, soul or not. I sighed and walked back in the other direction to look for her. For all I knew, she could’ve been taken by something nearby. Sam followed me and acted like he was looking for Y/N. 

We walked into the house, which ended up being dark and empty. “They have to have some hideout somewhere...” I said, looking around to see if there was any doorhandles or whatever.

“I think I heard someone talking.” Sam said as he pointed in another direction. 

“How do you have that good of hearing?” I was skeptical, thinking Sam was just saying stuff.

“No, I’m serious. That’s the way that we last saw Y/N anyway.....” Sam said. 

“Well, I guess we can take a chance and go look.” I said as I gathered myself.

...................

Y/N’s POV

After the one guy made the phone call, three other men showed up. I could tell one of them was getting too excited, since I saw teeth..... confirming that they were vamps. One of the other guys wheeled over a table with a bunch of tools on it.

“This one looks nice.” One of them said in a really creepy way.

“I can tell she’s gonna taste real good.” Another one added. Normally I wasn’t too intimidated by monsters, since I’ve seen my fair share. But some of them were just hands down creepy. The first guy that dragged me came over and kneeled down.

“Anything you wanna say?” He laughed, taking the gag out of my mouth.

“Nice dentures, dipshit.” I said. His face turned red and he raised his fist and collided it with my cheek.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with.” He said as he went over to the table next to me. He hung a blood bag on a pole above my head and rolled up my sleeve. Now I knew what their plan was, I was gonna have my blood drained.... great.

He put a rubber band around my arm and tied it tight. I cringed as he stuck a needle in my arm and watched my blood go out through a tube. “Now we’re talking.” The guy smiled.

The four of them joked and laughed about a few things and talked about what they were going to do with you, then left the room. I tried to get my one arm out of ropes so I could stop my blood from leaving my body. After trying countless amounts of times, I just sat there and hoped Dean had noticed I was gone.

After the first blood bag filled up, the one guy came back in and switched it out for a fresh one. I was starting to feel light headed which was not a good sign. My instinct to fight was still there, but the dizziness started to take over and I ended up passing out. That’s the last thing I remember.

...................

Dean’s POV

We had found a cellar that was a tucked away in the house towards the back. That’s when I started to hear more noise, and some voices. This had to be where they took Y/N. 

Sam was behind me, I broke the heavy lock that was on the door and opened it as quiet as I could. We snuck down the creaky stairs that led to a hallway. There was a group of voices that were circling one area which led to a room. 

“I’m gonna peek in here and see how many of them there are. Go find Y/N. If there are too many, I’ll call you.” I told Sam as I kicked the door in. There were four guys that stood there in shock. Sam saw that there wasn’t that many and went off to get Y/N. 

...................

Y/N’s POV

I was in and out of consciousness at this point, from losing all of that blood. I heard some commotion coming from the other room. There was a lot of pounding and banging on the walls. I heard creaking of a door and opened my eyes slightly to see a tall figure. I thought it was one of the vamps until they came close enough to my face for me to recognize them. It was Sam.....

He kneeled down in front of me and cut the ropes off my wrists. He took the needle of my arm and tossed it aside. “Y/N?” He tried to get my attention. I hadn’t heard Sam sound this worried in a while, he almost sounded like himself, like he cared.

“Sammy...” I said weakly.

“How much blood did they take from you?” He asked.

“I dunno, like th-three pints.” I said, not really remembering how much they took.

One of the guys Dean was fighting managed to get away. He made the mistake of running into the other room where you and Sam were. Dean ran up behind him. “Sam! Heads up!.” Dean alerted. Sam turned around and clocked the guy in the head. He grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off the ground.

“If you, or your other pathetic slugs ever try and touch my sister again. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do.” Sam spat. 

He threw him back on the floor, Dean went and dragged him out of the room to take care of him, just so I didn’t have to see it. Sam looked back at me and lifted me up. “We’re gonna get you home, kid.” Sam said gently. 

He carried you out of the cellar and to the car. Dean followed behind after he made sure the place was clear. “Hey, she okay?” Dean asked, rushing over.

“Yeah, she’s a little out of it. Tried to drain her blood, they almost did.” Sam explained.

“Let’s get her home, I think she’ll be okay, she needs rest.” Dean said as Sam placed you in the car.

As soon as I felt the leather seats in the back of the impala, I laid my head down and immediately fell asleep.

...................

When I woke up, I was in my bed. I felt so much pressure in my head, like it was about to explode. As I tried to sit up, it felt worse. I almost fell over as I tried to reach into my nightstand drawer for some ibuprofen. I stood up and held onto the wall as I walked to my bathroom for some water. That’s when Dean walked in and saw me standing.

“What are you doing?” He asked surprised.

“Getting some water.” My voice croaked. Dean helped me walk back into bed.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked.

“Almost two days. You started breathing weird at some point, it was freaking me out.” Dean said.

“Sorry, next time I’ll try to just lay there and not move.” I joked.

“You really worried me.” Dean spoke.

“I’m really sorry. I just got sidetracked because I thought I heard something and I just wanted to see if I saw anything, but obviously that didn’t end well.” I trailed off, not sure what kind of mood Dean was in.

“Look, I should've listen to you, we could've gone and checked it out together. Just don’t worry about it, can’t change what happened. Glad you're okay, kid.”

I was really surprised with how Dean was acting towards the situation. Even if I ever was injured, he would always have something to say about how I needed to be more careful. I took the opportunity to tell him what I thought about Sam.

“How’s Sam?” I asked.

“Fine, he’s in the library. Why?” Dean asked, wondering why you had a sudden interest in what Sam was doing.

“Have you found anything else out about his soul? He seemed different, on the hunt... He seemed like he actually cared about me. I haven’t seen him like that in a while, and I know he still doesn’t have a soul and that I should be careful. But when he found me and talked to me, it seemed like the real Sam.” I explained.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I mean he is still Sam in there somewhere, but we can’t know for sure.” Dean said. 

Sam walked up and stood outside the door when he heard me. He listened for a while until we moved on to a different subject, then he knocked.

“Hey, good to see you’re awake.” Sam said a little awkwardly as he just popped in to see you. I nodded and smiled.

“Sam, thanks.” I told him before he left the room. He nodded as he left.

I didn’t know what happened back there with Sam acting like himself. I didn’t even know if there was a possibility of getting his soul back. But he was still my brother and I wanted to have hope that I could get him back. So I hung on to that little moment, that little piece that would make us want to get Sam back.

Requests Are Closed

Taglist:

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of amy having a bad day and struggling with mac? say he’s very clingy or also upset

Guess what, this accidentally turned into a fic too. And it kinda shifted into 'Jake and Amy having a bad day and struggling with Mac for very different reasons'... I hope you still like it!

(read it on AO3)

It had become evident pretty early on that when Mac got sick, he gravitated towards Amy much more. Sure, Jake was also sometimes good for snotty cuddles and cough-soothing baths, but at some point he would call for his mom, or whine and spread his arms towards her with his legs kicking in frustration, and it said a lot about how much Jake has grown that he didn't even hesitate to hand him over without acting hurt. Maybe the blissful calm washing over Mac's face as soon as Amy was hugging him helped with that, too. It was such a wonderful thing to see after hours of crying, coughing, sneezing, whining and general sad pouting that only a Peralta-baby is capable of, Jake barely had the energy to worry about how it felt to be so blatantly rejected by his little boy.

It'd also become evident that Mac’s clingy phase had started a bit earlier than most of their parenting books prophesied. If Amy was home, he wanted to be on her lap, or in her arms, or wrapping his little arms around her leg as she tried to work in the kitchen. Jake got “NO!”ed and waved away far more often than he was asked for a hug himself, and again, it took a lot of newfound maturity not to let that get to him - and maybe he did not have enough of that yet, because it absolutely got to him in quieter moments.

(He knew it’d pass, like any phase in a toddler’s life passes at some point. Like the phase of Mac refusing anything but that one specific carrot puree passed, or the phase of him being unable to sleep anywhere except cuddled in between them, waking up as soon as they tried to carry him back to his own bed.)

The real trouble starts when both these situations collide.

-*-

Mac woke them up at 4:30 sharp, two hours before Amy’s first alarm, crying so hard it almost sounded like screaming. When Jake tiptoed into the nursery, he had to ignore the frustrated shouts of Nonono and Mamam that he was almost used to by now, to actually check what was wrong. Probably another ear infection, he realised after seeing the symptoms they’d become very familiar with during the last time they’d battled through one of those. They had to bring him to the doctor to be sure, but he already knew they were looking forward to at least two days of unsoothable crying and fussing.

He also knew that things would be hell for Amy.

In theory, it would make far more sense for him to call in sick to take care of Mac. As much as he loved his detective work, the simple fact that his wife outranked him (and thus outdid him in both salary and responsibilities, obviously) meant that if one of them had to take a few days off, it should be him first and foremost. In practice, however, Mac was going to be even more insufferable than just from his sickness if left alone with him at the moment. He was still crying for Amy as Jake lifted him out of the cot - he would be screaming bloody murder if she closed the door of the apartment behind her.

“Earache?” Amy asked already as Jake stepped back into the bedroom, Mac’s wailing lessening only slightly as he stretched his arms out toward her. She pulled him to her as Jake sighed and nodded.

“I think so. I’ll take him to the doc when they open.” He tried to offer, but he knew Amy would refuse it anyway.

“No, I can do it. I’ll call in sick - you get back to sleep for work.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed again as he dropped onto his back while Amy was sitting up to sway Mac, who’d actually quieted down into little sobs and sniffles in her arms. “I’m sorry, Ames.”

“It’s nobody’s fault he’s sick, especially not yours.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could help more. If he wasn’t- you know.”

“I know.” Amy let her free hand not holding Mac drift through Jake’s sleep-messy curls. She knew that, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, he secretly hated the thought of his son rejecting him in any way, even if it was as nonsensical as a clingy toddler phase.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to actually fall back asleep with her hand in his hair, and she carefully wiggled out of bed to let him rest while settling down with a still crying Mac in his nursery rocking chair.

-*-

They got to get ready together as they usually did in the morning, at least - even if Amy was only getting dressed to drive to the pediatrician and straight back again. She’d already called Holt and explained the situation before Jake handed her a mug of coffee, and Mac had been, at the least, not crying for the last ten minutes while sitting in his playpen in the living room. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

“I can pick up whatever the doc prescribes on my lunch break.” Jake smiled at her, ruefully, and she considered telling him again that it was okay, that she could do it - but something told her to keep her options of at least a few minutes not alone with a sick toddler open.

She desperately needed that option when lunchtime came around.

Doctor Maurice had quickly confirmed their suspicions and told her that there wasn’t much more they could do than wait it out, keep an eye on his fever and medicate with ibuprofen and warm compresses. Not that any of that had helped. When Mac wasn’t crying, he was screaming, and when he wasn’t screaming, he wanted to be close to her, but he couldn’t lie down without the pain getting worse, so simply plonking down on the couch with him was out of the question. She’d let him breastfeed far more than had been their norm now that he was slowly getting weaned, because it seemed to give him some relief at least, as well as quieting him for a blissful moment. But then the infection had travelled to his stomach as well, the same way it had last time, and he staunchly refused any and all food or milk. She’d seriously started considering foregoing the diapers completely and just letting him play in the empty bathtub so she could rinse him off from time to time, because five dirty diapers in under twenty minutes had to be some sort of new record.

So when Jake texted her he was on his way, with a picture of another box of ibuprofen and that herbal steam-bath mix that had helped last time, she sent a silent thank you prayer to anyone who wanted to listen. And she mumbled a not quite as silent thank you against Jake’s lips before he could even get his shoes off at the door.

“I got you one of the good bagel sandwiches for lunch, too.” He said as he hugged her and combed through her messy hair.

“I love you so much.” She hadn’t even realised that the only thing in her stomach so far was still the cup of coffee he’d made her this morning.

He grinned as he put the deli paper bag on the kitchen counter and went over to Mac’s playpen, to say hello to a currently only softly whining toddler smacking an innocent teddy against a pile of soft fabric blocks. Amy followed to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head against his back, taking in a few deep breaths of Jake, of something that didn’t smell of diarrhea, moist compresses, milk-hiccups and spit up.

“Also Holt gave me an hour for lunch, so if you want to take a nap or something-”

“God.” Amy groaned with pure happiness as Jake turned around in her embrace. “Marry me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Any place, any time, babe.” He kissed the crown of her head while returning her hug, sniffing her hair with a chuckle. “But maybe a shower first before the big day.”

“Rude.” Amy mumbled with her face pressed against his chest. “I rescind the proposal.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh at that, and he slowly unraveled her arms around him. “Nap first, then shower, how’s that sound? Then a bagel. I’ll give Mac his lunch.”

“Good luck with that.” She sighed before giving him another quick kiss and making a beeline for the bedroom.

-*-

She’d hopped straight from bed into the bathroom later, relishing in the feeling of the hot water washing away any aches left over after that much needed nap. Alas, when she stepped out of the oh-so-peaceful bathroom, she was met with a wall of sound.

Mac was wailing, hard, as Jake swayed him back and forth, holding another warm compress against his little ear, and trying to make soothing noises despite the shrill screams of No and MAMA! straight into his face.

“Shsshhshsh, hey, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay. I know you don’t like me much at the moment, but it’s gonna be okay, and mom is coming back soon-”

He stopped as he noticed her stepping into the room, giving her an apologetic smile as she took Mac from him. The wailing turned into regular crying at least, albeit still loud.

“I’m sorry babe - did he wake you up? He won’t eat either.”

“I set an alarm, actually. So you won’t be back late.” Amy sat down on the couch and pulled up her shirt (freshly changed after the shower, and god had that felt good as well). Mac latched onto her breast almost immediately, and a wonderful quiet settled across the room, only his little snuffling and suckling noises breaking through.

Jake’s face was unreadable before he turned towards the kitchen to plate her bagel, but that stoic, almost empty expression told her enough anyway. She grabbed his wrist as he set the plate down on the couch table, pulled softly until he sat down next to her, running her fingers through his hair again to comfort him.

“You know it’s not true, right?”

“Hm?” Jake looked up at her after watching Mac, who finally seemed to calm down completely in her arm, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“It’s not true that he doesn’t like you. He loves you just as much as me. It’s just a difficult phase.”

“I know that.” Jake’s attempt at a smile was still sad enough, and she wiped across the corner of it with the soft tip of her thumb.

“And I love you too. So much.”

“I know that.” And this new smile seemed to turn out right, at least. “You wanna re-marry me, after all.” He teased as he leant his head against her shoulder, looking down at Mac again with a much less forlorn expression.

“Hey, I rescinded that proposal!” She quipped back, falling into their usual banter easily now that she was rested enough and sure that Jake felt better as well. “But I might consider re-re-proposing again if you promise to pick up Polish for dinner.”

“I knew you only wanted me for all the free food delivery.”

“I also need you for other things.” Amy said as she sat up a bit straighter to finish Mac’s feeding, Jake’s head lifting off of her shoulder with the movement. “Like burping your kid. I really don’t want spit-up down this fresh shirt.”

“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Jake joked, already scrabbling for the burp cloth thrown over the armchair next to them and taking Mac out of her arms.

She watched him as he expertly settled the little, squirming bundle against his chest, the swaying and patting motion almost second nature by now, ducking his head down for a quick sniff of that perfect toddler hair scent. He’d have to leave for the precinct soon enough, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the afternoon probably being a reprise of her entire morning, and she didn’t even want to think about the night or next day to come.

Life with a toddler was unpredictable. Almost nothing was in her control anymore. But, as she’d learned over the years, as long as she was with the right people, she could handle anything. And Jake Peralta proved, again and again, that he was the right person for her.

[fakeloveaskblog]

How's Remus doing!? Between on thing and another…! Before we had constant updates but now that he's had a breakthrough we haven't and I worry.

Are you there Rowan? Answer the creepily pulsing phone if you are, but just in case I'm leaving a message! It's me, the one who keeps sending plushies? I sent another one via the mail this time, because my demonic powers have been a bit over-exhausted lately. It's a surprise, and should arrive later today! (It's a also a get well soon gift, tell Remus I hope he gets better. Know what, let him hear this message. You're awesome, Remus, I hope you get better!)

The sound of the creepy phone pulsating woke Rowan up right before she accidentally planted her face in her smoothie. She looked around as if she didn't know what day or who she was for a moment before rubbing her eyes. She hadn't gotten enough sleep to say the least.

She pretty much slammed the phone up to her ear "Yeah uh princey the prince of all princes speaking. Hey" She yawned out.

Your message woke her up a bit. She gave up trying to eat healthily and just shoved a whole ass matzo ball into her mouth while listening.

"You're not the only one who's been a bit over exhausted lately HAHA! Thanks for the gift! I am totally happy that you only made one for my brother and not me. Thanks. I'm just joking. But yeah Remus....I should go check up on him"

She left the phone on the kitchen table and went out into the living room. The tv was playing a marathon of gross nature documentaries, she'd put it on to try and distract him. Sure Remus was staring at the tv but his eyes were foggy from dissociation.

His breathing was heavy as quiet groans left his cold lips. His skin was as cold as a corpse's and yet he'd kicked off the blanket and his forehead was dripping of sweat. There was a bucket beside the couch just in case he had to puke again. Rowan had put a cold towel on his head and put the goblin king plushie between his arms to try and make him feel better.

"Sorry dukey. Fell asleep while making breakfast" Rowan hunched down next to the couch and moved her hand onto his arm "You still talking? You opened your mouth before so you see nothing happen if you do it again! No matter what the thoughts say!! They're just lying demon thoughts- Sorry Demon"

It took a moment of him gritting his together before he managed to force out "i know"

"Is the pain still as bad?"

He nodded. Tear tracks had dried on his right now pale cheeks.

Rowan held back the urge to stab a pillow. She wished she could say it was 'just' a bodily flashback but she knew it was that and actual physical injuries still lingering. She could try and tell her brother all those years with his old boyfriend didn't count so they basically didn't happen all she wanted, but she knew in reality the damage Os had done to his body couldn't be reversed.

"it- it's flashback and bad thoughts and injuries an-and- it's all mixed together and it hurts" He whispered out. "there's blood on my skin"

"There's no blood. You're hallucinating. I can get you some water so you can like pretend wash it off again if you want to"

"it hurts" He repeated.

"I know dukey. I know"

She leant their foreheads together and closed her eyes.

"The plushie maker hoped for you to get better just so you know"

He let out a groan that sounded thankful. His body was trembling from pain as he clutched his stomach.

"I know you don't wanna take a painkiller but I can put one of those painkillers that dissolve in water in the iv bag so it goes through the tube? Hm? Does that work?"

(He still refused to eat or drink anything. She thought maybe he just despised the feeling of having anything in his mouth right now)

"poison" He mumbled out. Just at the mention of pills his thoughts had started to yell.

"If I wanted to poison you I would have put a poisonous dagger into your heart!! Don't be ridiculous about my poison skills!!! Okay it's fucking ibuprofen. It's not gonna kill you"

He shook his head around and closed his eyes. "bad things. bad things"

He shoved his head against the pillow and dragged himself closer to the corner of the couch. His toes curled and his breathing became shakier as pain washed over him. He held onto the plushie harder as stomach acid filled his throat.

"There has to be something that will like help. Can't you- Isn't there?" She asked.

He didn't respond. His breathing turned ragged.

Rowan went back to the kitchen and took out chips from the cabinet "Okay so Remus isn't doing so hot. It's another pain episode. They happen sometimes if he gets like really stressed or something. The anxiety just like triggers his injuries I guess. Or I mean makes them worse I guess. And with injuries plus mental pain. It's all just a bit fucked up"

She looked up to the ceiling to keep her tears at bay as he kept smashing handfulls of chips into her mouth. She was a stress eater.

"I just- I just wish I could pull all of the pain out of him y'know. And I know that a lot of the pain is just his mind being in so much distress it can't store it all so he has to like put it outwards so- so I can't imagine how much pain he actually is in. And I just don't- I don't want him to be in pain for a single more second of his life"

She banged the back of her head against the wall while her eyebrows furrowed.

"If I somehow knew where Os lived now I would- I have a lot of plans on what I'd do with him. I wish I'd fucking cut his neck open when I was already holding the knife against his pathetic fucking-"

She took a few deep breathes and quieted her voice a bit. She looked over to you.

"Do you.....Do you think it would be wrong if I forced him to take medicine? I know there are anti psychotic meds you take via syringes once a month instead of having to take pills every day and I think if the psychosis dies down he will be in less stress and in less pain and I can try and get him to go to therapy and to take meds for his other problems. If he doesn't even want to take painkillers I know he doesn't want to take any sort of medicine. But.....I.....I don't know how else to get him better. I mean your plushies are great and all but they won't make him stop having delusions"

She leant her head in her hands and forced herself to keep breathing. What if he got angry at her for forcing him. What if he started hating her. What if.

"I know why his delusions are making him not want to take meds so I know how much it will hurt him if I force him to- but it has to worth it right? If it gives him a change to get better right?" She sighed "Am I a bad sister if I force him to get on meds?"

[skinsharpenedteeth]

12 days of Malex Gift!

My gift this year is for Phoenix

Hope you enjoy it! 

You can also view it here on AO3!

    Cold creeped in through the metal of the truck’s cab despite the Chevy’s best efforts to pump heat directly from Satan’s most fiery pit onto Alex and Michael’s shins. Alex watched the plowed snow mounds and dark evergreen trees pass by his window as the approaching dark turned everything from blue, white, and green into shades of grey. Alex had never had a snowy Christmas or even snow that stayed around longer than a day or two at best. He’d never been skiing or snowboarding with a youth group for spring break or been posted somewhere blanketed in snow during a long cold winter. His life always seemed to hand him deserts, sand, and too-hot asphalt. So even with the world turning into sparkling greys and blacks, he was enchanted by everything he and Michael drove past on their way up to the cabin Isobel and Kyle had rented for a Christmas getaway. Things at the hospital had turned hectic and Kyle had found out a week before the big holiday that he wouldn’t be able to get away as planned. Isobel, in an act of magnanimacy, had offered the cabin to Michael and Alex for the holiday weekend instead of letting go of the rental and they’d jumped at the chance to get away from the suffocating, over-enthusiastic shows of holiday spirit they’d been enduring since December 1st.

    “They really were serious about getting away,” Michael commented, squinting a little as he concentrated on the road ahead of them. Alex was supposed to be helping him look for a little red sign that said “Santa’s Vacation Home”. He’d rolled his eyes at the name, but when Isobel had shown him the AirBnB listing, he’d secretly wondered how nice a gift he should be getting her for Christmas. (“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re the first guests so we got it at a really reasonable rate in the hopes we’d leave glowing reviews!”) She’d looked at him and Michael with a knowing smile when they’d jumped at the chance to get away without first hearing the details. 

    It wasn’t that he or Michael hated Christmas. In a couple years, they may too have a couple ugly Christmas sweaters in their closet and a favorite Christmas karaoke tune, but after Jesse’s and Louise’s death, it felt like a little too much effort to smile and fake it for their friends. 

    “Wait- is that it ahead?” Alex piped up, his eyes catching on something red half buried by a snow mound. 

    “Maybe?” Michael said uncertainly. He slowed the truck as they approached and they both squinted out of the windows. Between the increasing darkness and the shadows of the forest around them, it was impossible to make out anything from where they sat.

    “Let me go see,” Alex offered, hand already on the door handle to climb out of the truck. 

    “No, wait! It might be slick out there, let me go--” 

    “I’ll be fine, Guerin. I’ll go slow,” Alex snapped, annoyed at the unspoken assertion that Alex couldn’t handle himself. Michael held up his hands and pressed his lips shut in retreat. Alex wanted to feel bad, did feel bad about snapping, but he hated being coddled because of his leg. Michael usually wasn’t one to say anything, but Alex might have been feeling a little touchy since he’d misstepped earlier that day before Michael had picked him up for the long trip to the mountains and twisted his knee. It’d been smarting ever since and Alex took that as a personal challenge to push through it and prove that he wasn’t hurt. He knew he was being bull-headed, but he didn’t want to ruin their first vacation away together since reuniting by letting his leg get to him.

    As soon as he put his full weight down on his legs he regretted being a hard-headed, stubborn idiot. His knee felt stiff and swollen under his sleeve and he was already grimacing at how it would feel when he was able to take off his prosthesis later. He took a tentative step forward and his leg barked like an untrained dog. Alex grit his teeth and took another step and then another, navigating the mostly dry asphalt to stand in front of the red sign. He brushed some of the snow off with his bare hand and saw “Santa’s Vacation Home” in white lettering. He turned and gave Michael a thumbs-up and Michael pulled the truck into the drive and waited for Alex to limp his way over to the passenger side and climb in. It was too much to expect that Michael, who wouldn’t look away at the worst of times, would not have noticed Alex’s lop-sided gait.

    “Your leg hurting?” Michael asked, shooting him a worried look before putting the truck back into drive and starting up the partially covered driveway. 

    “A little,” Alex confessed grumpily. There was no way he’d be able to hide his injury from Michael as soon as they got into the house. He was mentally hoping the place had some Ibuprofen. He didn’t want to bring out the heavy hitter painkillers in his bag unless he absolutely had to. 

    “Well, we’re almost there. This place had a jacuzzi tub, right? Maybe we can take a bath and it’ll help soothe the muscle or something?” Michael suggested. The faint sexual suggestion under the offer was lost behind the tension in Michael’s voice as he navigated around some deep ruts in the driveway. 

    “Yeah, maybe,” Alex agreed, hand going up for the ‘Oh Shit’ grab handle on the truck's ceiling and not finding one. The jostling was not helping the pain in his leg so he flattened his hand against the roof as he tried to brace himself against the bouncing as they rolled forward. No matter how slow Michael drove, it seemed they were always moving too fast to keep from jarring themselves. They fell silent as they continued down the drive until a few winking lights finally came into view. Anticipation filled the trucks cab as they pulled closer to the welcoming glow until they were parked in front of an A-Frame cabin built against the side of a hill. The cabin had a circle driveway that allowed Michael to pull the truck up close to the front entrance. The convenience was appreciated after the rough ride. As soon as Michael cut the engine the cold started leaching through the metal frame to steal away the heat.

    “Iz said it would be unlocked with a key under the mat if we needed it,” Michael repeated from memory. “You wanna go ahead and go in and check it out while I get the bags?”

    “I can get my own bag,” Alex started hotly, unbuckling his safety belt and pushing it to the side. Michael held up his hands again to stop his protest before he got too far in. 

    “Alex, I know you can. You’re a very, very capable individual that I have no doubt could walk across glass without flinching, but you don’t have to. Let me just save your knee the extra ten pounds this once and you can get me back by bench pressing me in bed or something,” Michael said, ending with a joke to try and lessen the tension in Alex’s shoulders. Alex stared at him for a moment unflinching and then a small smile creased one corner of his mouth.

    “Bench press you in bed?” he questioned, trying to hold back a full fledged grin and failing miserably. 

    “I said what I said,” Michael retorted with a huff, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms in mock offense. Alex snorted in amusement leaned across the bench seat, placing a quick, loud kiss on Michael’s cheek in apology.

    “You’d like that too much,” he answered before scooting back to his side of the bench and opening the truck door. 

    “You bet your ass I would,” Michael called after him, opening his own door and stepping out into the frigid night air. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and shoved his hands into them quickly before hunching his shoulders and leaning over the side of the truck to grab his and Alex’s overnight bags. Alex had already limped his way up to the door and Michael watched him open it and step into the golden glow of the house. He hurried behind him thinking about how warm it looked in the house versus out there in the snow and ice. 

    As soon as he stepped in, Michael felt the warmth of the house envelope him. He gently kicked the door shut behind him and stood still in the entryway, eyes closed and head tilted back as he soaked in the heat. He’d never understand why people willingly sought out colder climates when they could be warm. 

    “You going to stand there all night?” Alex called from further inside. Michael opened his eyes and looked in the direction he thought he’d heard the voice. Alex was standing at the end of the entryway. He had his hands in his pocket and was trying his best to look casual, but Michael noted that most of his weight was shifted onto his left leg.Despite that, he looked good and Michael had to take a personal moment to shake the stars from his eyes as he looked him over. Alex’s good looks never failed to take him off guard when he least expected it.  

    “Which way to the bedroom?” Michael asked, hefting the bags up by his side. Alex nodded towards a staircase a few feet from the inside of the door. Michael went and dropped the bags onto the bottom two stairs and then turned to look at Alex. 

    “Have you looked around the whole place yet?” Michael asked teasingly, knowing Alex probably hadn’t made it any further than where he was standing. Michael hadn’t been that far behind him getting into the house and while the cabin was small, he didn’t think Alex would purposefully leave him out of the fun of exploring.  

    "No, but come look at what the owners left us," Alex said, jerking his head behind him before turning on his heel slowly and leading the way further into the cabin. Michael watched him and despite the limp, he looked as good as ever in his dark blue jeans and black leather jacket. ‘That ass…’ Michael admired wistfully to himself. 

    Alex disappeared around a corner and Michael shook himself out of his admiration of Alex's many fine assets to follow him. He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket while moving in the direction Alex had disappeared. The covered entryway opened into one great room. It had cathedral ceilings with the back wall of the cabin nothing but windows that looked out onto the dark, snow covered forest beyond. Michael could faintly make out some stars through the trees and it made him feel a little less claustrophobic in the press of the forest. There was a large stone fireplace in the far corner of the room with a leather sectional couch in front of it with faux fur throws thrown artfully over it in chocolate browns, greys, and creams. Michael turned his head and found Alex waiting at him behind a dark granite topped kitchen island. There were two bowls and some jars of sugar and flour huddled together on the top with a red bow and ribbon surrounding them. Alex was looking over a piece of paper and Michael walked up behind him to read over his shoulder. 

    "Gingerbread?" Michael asked in surprise, eyes looking over what he realized were ingredients sitting on the counter in front of him. He chuckled to himself and Alex looked over at his shoulder at him in curiosity.

    "Does gingerbread mean something different to you than it does to me?" Alex asked, smiling at the soft, amused look on Michael’s face. 

    "Isobel and I always make lewd gingerbread men for Christmas. We have since high school. It's the one Christmas tradition I have," Michael explained, gently taking the paper from Alex’s hand. "Though this isn't her recipe. It's similar, but she adds more cinnamon and a little cayenne for a kick."

    "Wait! What are lewd gingerbread men?" Alex asked, turning his body to lean his right side against the island and pinning Michael with a suspicious look.

    "We'd pipe dicks and boobs and ball gags and stuff on then. Sometimes we'd make them with candy. Red hots for the balls, Mike ‘n Ikes for the penises, trimmed down dried apricots for the vulvas..." Michael explained with a mischievous grin. Alex snickered into Michael's shoulder appreciatively. 

    "Are you two really thirteen at heart?" Alex asked, eyes still bright with mirth. 

    "Parts of us. The rest are fully matured as you well know," Michael said, setting the recipe down and stepping closer into Alex's space, his hand sneaking under the leather jacket to grasp at Alex’s waist. 

    "Want to make some cookies?" Alex asked, pretty sure Michael was already distracted from baking by the way he'd started trailing kisses down Alex's jaw towards his neck. 

    "Maybe later. Let's go check out the bedroom and get you into something more comfortable?" Michael's voice sent shivers of pleasure down Alex’s spine. 

    "I don't know if I can do those stairs right now," Alex admitted apologetically, wrapping his arms affectionately around Michael's neck and leaning closer to let their bodies press into each other. "But that couch looks pretty damn comfortable, so maybe we could….?"

    He trailed off when Michael’s grasp changed on his waist, moving to slip under the dark grey cabled sweater he wore under his jacket. Alex felt a sigh leave his body unconsciously at how good it felt to have Michael’s warm hands against his skin and then Michael’s lips were on his, first tender and then with more ardor as Alex opened his mouth and invited him in. Alex pushed himself harder against Michael’s body and Michael responded by tightening his arms around him in return. 

    "Fuck, Michael," Alex gasped as Michael moved his mouth from his to return to his jaw and neck but with tongue and teeth, leaving delicious stinging kisses that made Alex feel on fire inside. Michael's hands smoothed down Alex’s body until he was gripping his ass, hands kneading the muscles and making Alex feel weak in the knees. He was melting into the sensations Michael was evoking in him, his fingers tangled into Michael’s curls, and then he was whispering something into Alex’s ear. 

    "What?" Alex asked, reluctant to come out of the warm head space he’d been floating in. 

    "I said 'Hold on'," Michael repeated with a grin in his voice. Alex had only a moment to feel confused before Michael's body was ducking down and Alex felt his strong hands gripping the backs of his thighs and then lifting him. On reflex, he wrapped his legs around Michael's waist and tightened his hold on his shoulders, a shout of surprise knocked loose from him at unexpected action.

    "What are you doing?!" Alex exclaimed, leaning back as far as he could without disrupting their balance and the hold Michael had on him. He fought his knee jerk reaction to fight against the hold.If anyone else had done this, he would've rather fallen to the floor in a fit of pride than let someone carry him, but it was Michael…  and Michael would always be the exception to his finely honed, well defined rules of how much he would allow someone else to give to him, how much he would allow someone else to love him. In fact, Alex didn't like to admit to anyone, sometimes even himself, how much he loved when Michael manhandled him like this. 

    “As nice as that couch is, we haven’t seen the whole place yet and I really wanna see the bedroom right now,” Michael responded, his eyes dark. “So why don’t you get a good grip on me, just like the one I’ve got on you, and we’ll go tour the upstairs together. Maybe get naked and mess up the sheets before dinner.”

    He emphasized his words by flexing his hands against Alex’s ass where they’d naturally gravitated to “for balance”. Alex smiled and shook his head slowly at Michael’s ridiculousness even as Michael turned them and started to make his way back to the stairs and up to the bedroom. Alex held on tightly with his thighs, letting his hands continue to run through Michael’s hair as he ascended towards the bedroom loft area. Once they cleared the half wall, Alex’s heart gave a little lurch of surprise. He felt his mouth drop at how gorgeous the bedroom was. A sleigh style, king-sized bed dominated most of the bedroom, with thick, dark espresso blankets and another brown and grey mottled faux fur blanket artfully draped on it. There were also so many pillows which looked amazing in their matching and complementary tones, but seemed excessive in number for someone like Alex who was happy to have one old, mostly flat pillow under his head. They rounded the corner onto the landing and the view of the rest of the bedroom was blocked and Alex got to appreciate the view of the rest of the cabin from upstairs. 

    Alex expected Michael to put him down now that they’d made it upstairs, but he kept walking unil Alex felt his back hitting the mattress. He opened his mouth to say something, but Michael immediately started kissing him again, pushing their bodies until they were both sprawled diagonally across the mattress. Alex let himself be arranged, enjoying the feeling of Michael taking care of him. 

    They both started pushing off their jackets, tossing them unceremoniously off the side of the bed, lips barely parting as they began to paw at the hems of each other’s shirts. They did have to part to take those off and Michael felt a laugh bubbling out of him as he started working on his own jeans while Alex did the same with his. They were scrabbling out of their clothes like teenagers with a curfew.

    “What’s so funny?” Alex asked, a little breathless and already looking deliciously tousled as he squirmed shirtless on the bed, pushing at his jeans and underwear. Michael laughed again before leaning down to give Alex a reassuring kiss before answering. 

    “I was only half joking about messing up the sheets, but then I saw this bed and couldn’t stop myself. You’re really very distracting, especially when you’re pressed against me, letting me carry you, and you’re playing with my hair. Think I just developed a very specific kink in the last five minutes,” Michael explained, abandoning his own pants on the floor and reaching forward to take over dragging Alex’s down his thighs. He quickly disengaged Alex’s prosthesis and set it down on the floor by the bed before stripping him completely naked. 

    “Fuck… I hate the military, but I love what it’s done to your body,” Michael breathed, bending down and licking a broad stripe up the center valley where Alex’s abdominal muscles were flexed. Alex laughed and knocked his right leg against Michael’s arm pointedly. 

    “All the things it’s done to my body?” Alex asked and Michael tensed, realizing what he’d just said. Michael looked up at Alex to see he still had a smile on his face and Michael relaxed as he realized he was teasing him. Michael grabbed Alex’s leg and lifted it, placing it flat along the line of his body. He could tell by the way Alex gasped that the move was not only unexpected, but that he could feel exactly how turned on Michael was by their activities. Michael held his gaze for a moment before bending his head to place slow, deliberate kisses down what was left of Alex’s calf, to his knee, and then grazed his teeth at the beginning of his thigh, drawing a gasp from Alex that made his body throb in response. His hand preceded his descent down Alex’s leg and he could feel the small quivers the muscles gave as he kept moving further and further down. Michael gave a quick check and could see that Alex was still hard against his stomach. He internally gave a sigh of relief that he’d apparently chosen the right thing to do. Alex could tease all he wanted and act like his leg wasn’t a big deal, but Michael knew he still held some aesthetic insecurities about it when they were intimate together. 

    “Way to avoid a question,” Alex teased when Michael was only a couple inches from the crease between his thigh and groin. Michael looked up Alex’s body and grinned. He smoothly maneuvered Alex’s leg off his shoulder and back to where the knee joint naturally cradled his hip. Michael moved up and hovered over Alex’s mouth, locking his eyes with Alex’s, giving him a moment to appreciate all the wonderfully intimate ways they fit against each other before speaking.

    “I may not say it enough, but I hope you know that I love every, single, fucking, inch of you, past and present.” Michael paused after speaking, watching Alex try to shy away from what he was saying. Michael watched him open his mouth, ready to say something derisive or self-deprecating, but then stop himself. He closed his eyes and Michael watched Alex center himself underneath him, breath through the voices that were obviously in his head and push them out for the time being. It was breathtaking to watch. When he opened his eyes again, Michael smiled down at him. “You are the strongest person I know, and I know some strong ass people.”

    “Michael,” Alex said, a note of pleading in his voice. He was reaching the limit of compliments he’d be able to take and Michael knew it so he backed off. As much as he wanted to press every reverent feeling of love and admiration into Alex’s very soul with his words and body, he knew as well as anyone that Alex had to be ready to accept it.  

    “Now where were we?” Michael asked, rolling his hips playfully and sparking a wave of pleasure between their bodies. Alex sighed and rolled his hips in retaliation, his lip caught between his teeth, and making Michael groan at the picture he made. They moved against each other like teenagers, their bodies molding against each other for the best friction as their mouths devoured one another. It was quick and messy, keyed up as they were, and at the end of it they laid next to each other, breathing deeply. They were on their backs, shoulders pressed to one another and staring through the sky light at the stars above them.  

    “We should clean up,” Alex commented, though he reached out his pinky to hook onto Michael’s next to him. Michael curled his pinky with Alex’s and smiled before turning over onto his side to fully face Alex. Alex mirrored him, a small smile on his own face. Michael reached out and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair, smoothing out some of the strands that were standing up messily. He sighed and rested his hand on the smooth skin of Alex’s neck, letting his head hang down to rest on the mattress. He loved this man so much it scared him and if he kept looking at him, Michael knew they’d just end up getting messy again. 

    “I”ll go get the rag. Then we’ll go make lewd gingerbread men, right?” Michael asked, unable to keep his hand still on Alex’s neck and running his fingers over his jaw as he waited for his answer. 

    “Not if you keep touching me like that we won’t,” Alex replied on a shaky breath when Michael traced his kiss-swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “And I think we should make them. Send pictures to Isobel as a thank you for this weekend.”

    “Yeah, I’m definitely going to owe her next Christmas,” Michael agreed. He pulled his hand away reluctantly and sat up. He got up and found his pants on the floor. He dug his phone out of his pants pocket before heading towards the bathroom for a warm rag. He looked over his shoulder at Alex who had rolled back onto his back and was staring once more at the sky. If ever there was a moment he knew he was well and truly gone for Alex Manes, this might have been it. He forced himself to unlock and look at his phone, bringing up his messenger app.

 <Michael> Hey Iz, Alex and I got to the cabin. Thanks for this. It’s really something. The owners left stuff to make gingerbread with, recipe and all. <Izzy> Ooooo, making lewd gingerbread men without me? <Michael> Only if it’s okay with you. I know that’s *our* thing and all… <Izzy> Only if I can make them with Kyle when he gets off work. <Michael> It’s a deal. <Izzy> Send me pictures? <Michael> Duh. Merry Christmas, Iz. Love you. <Izzy> Merry Christmas, Michael. Love you too!

  THE END!

Thanks @malexsanta for hosting this event!

[amandaoftherosemire]

Harry

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Sam Wilson X Reader

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8,721

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, (very) mild embarrassment, fluff.

Summary: When Sam Wilson moves in next door, you decide he’s too pretty and too dangerous and determine to mostly avoid him. Sam, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to get to know his pretty neighbor.

A/N: My dear mutual @fashionworld12 (I hope you like it, sweets!!) suggested I write a Sam Wilson fic. I didn’t realize until she did so that I didn’t have a clear voice for Sam in my head, so it took some doing until I was close to satisfied with anything I wrote for him. I loved the challenge and adore her for offering it. And all that is my excuse for why this feels kind of different from my usual fare. I’m diggin’ it, so I hope y’all do, too. 😊

Harry; or Are You Sure That’s A Cat? 

Sam Wilson was laying on his couch with a bag of ice on his ribs, wishing he had a roommate to beg for ibuprofen or Tylenol or whatever. He’d spent the morning tangling with a woman he would swear was enhanced because she had a kick like a mule, as his aching and bruised ribs could attest. The only thing taking the sting out of every breath was the knowledge that she was in custody and wouldn't be hurting anyone else.

He started to get up, thinking of dinner, but as soon as his abdominal muscles flexed even the little bit required to get him off the couch a breathtaking ache exploded through his chest. As he sucked in a breath through his nose to stop from screaming aloud, he fell back onto the couch, deciding he didn't need dinner just yet. More ice and rest, and he'd try again in a little while.

Those crying abs were the reason he didn't move away from the open window, as he normally would, when he heard your cheery greeting come wafting out of your window into his. He loved to listen to you, adored the sound of your voice, but he didn't like to eavesdrop. He generally tried to respect your privacy since he didn't know if you knew you could be heard.

Unless he was sitting with his head on this side of the couch, he couldn't hear what you were saying, could only hear the murmur of your voice. He thought it a lovely sound, soothing in a way he couldn't explain. There was something peaceful about living just on the other side of a not too terribly thick wall from someone so delightfully, wonderfully normal that helped him with the hard parts of going back to a life of violence. Something about the sound of you going about your life reminded him of the reason he'd done so. He'd wanted to make sure people like you got to live your normal, peaceful lives.

Needing a little of that normal had been the impetus for getting an apartment of his own, away from the compound. He'd begun to feel like he lived at work, never got to escape from the omnipresent knowledge of a world full of problems that he couldn't solve because he was only one man. Being able to go home at the end of the day made it easier to bear the things he couldn't fix, the limitations of being one person in a world full of people, and problems.

When Sam had first moved in, he'd assumed, based on the cadence and rhythm of your speech, that you were speaking to a roommate or significant other who was responding too quietly for him to hear. When he had finally been close enough to the window to hear you clearly, he had also heard the chirping, chirruping, purr-meowing that was the hallmark of your cat, Harry.

"Hey Harry!" You called out as you walked through your front door into the kitchen. You dropped your keys in a bowl on the counter, the sound a familiar jangling against ceramic, then set your bags on the floor in a thump before turning to lock the door behind you. "You would not fucking believe the bullshit I had to put up with today."

Sam smiled. He could hear the amused exasperation in your voice and thoroughly enjoyed it. Something about you was incredibly appealing, made him want to get closer. He felt a little guilty staying where he was, but he couldn't bear to move yet, both the ache in his chest and the humor in your voice keeping him still.

Harry chirped and meowed, like she was encouraging you to continue. Sam had wondered on more than one occasion if you and Harry were having actual conversations. He'd seen weirder things, but it was also very likely that Harry was just a talkative cat and you were imaginative enough to play like you could understand her ‘speech.’

Your voice was getting harder to hear, like you were moving away from the window and your shared wall with Sam, but he could still make out the words. "Well, first I had to man the phones, which isn't even my job, but fine, whatever, I'm a team player and blah blah blah, right?"

Sam smiled at the acerbic note to your voice. Whenever he'd met you in the hall, you'd been sweet and polite, but there was something about the twinkle in your eye that made him think you were saltier than you appeared. Sam was only more intrigued; he considered himself a connoisseur of salty sweet.

He couldn't hear Harry, but he knew from experience that the cat responded whenever you paused, which was weird in and of itself. The cat didn't just respond, however; she replied. Sam couldn't explain it, but the sound of the meows and purrs and chirps seemed like communication, like language. You acted like you understood it and replied to questions Sam could almost hear.

Sam wasn't certain Harry was really a cat, unsure if there was a rational explanation for your conversations. He'd hadn’t asked since he’d never managed anything resembling a conversation with you beyond his initial introduction. The two of you rarely ran into each other and Sam hadn't found an excuse yet to knock on your door.

"But then this guy calls in and I can't do anything for him because he's got the wrong department." The volume of your voice was varying wildly, and he assumed you were moving around your apartment. "No biggie; I tell him I'm going to transfer him, but he blows a frickin’ gasket."

Once he thought you were far enough away, he tried again to get off the couch and move away from the window. Another shriek of pain burst across his chest and stomach. As your voice came toward him once more, he stifled the groan of agony and settled back against the couch in defeat. "He gets all 'I won't let you pawn me off on someone else because you don't want to do your job' asshole bullshit."

A soft thump, like you'd flopped onto a couch or into a chair, and a chirruping meow coming loud and clear from your window to his led Sam to conclude you were sitting on the other side of the wall. His couch was against that same wall, and the idea that yours might sit on the other side made him feel like you were only a breath away.

Your tone wry, you continued your story, but now Sam felt like you were talking directly to him. He found himself caught in the irresistible cadence of your voice. "I let him rant a little, then start trying to explain to him that it's not that I don't want to help him, it's because I can't," your voice started to speed in slight agitation and Sam could tell that the interaction bothered you, "but I can get him to the people who can help him but he keeps interrupting me, basically accusing me of being a lazy prick who would rather argue with someone than do my job." Sam smiled at the carefully restrained irritation in your voice. "I'm holding on to my temper when he does something that takes this from regular daily bullshit to unique, notable bullshit. He started quacking."

Fortunately, Harry's purring yowl of what sounded like insult and dismay muffled Sam's snort of laughter. He couldn't decide what was weirder, your story or your cat. When you scoffed out a laugh of horrified disbelief, and went on in a nasal, mocking tone, acting out your conversation, Sam had to lift a hand to cover his mouth, stifling the laughter trying to burst out of him, as well as the moans of pain from his aching abdominals.

"'All you do is quack at me. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Your voice dropped, went stern, "'Sir.'" Mocking, nasal. "'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.' 'Sir.' 'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Then, in a tone that would have made Sam's mama proud, "'Sir. I'm going to have to ask you to please stop quacking at me.'"

Harry was silent; it seemed in shock. Sam wrapped an arm around his middle, holding onto the shout of laughter-pain, trying desperately to not give away that he was listening when you went on in a tone of awed wonder.

"I said that. I HAD to say that to a full-grown adult. What in the actual fuck?"

Sam was curled into a ball, his abs and chest screaming as he strained to keep the laughter bottled up. He had one hand clamped over his mouth and nose, turning his face into the pillow he'd been resting on, hoping that the breaths and snorts that were escaping were too soft for you to hear.

You continued to speak as though you had no idea anyone but your cat was listening. Reassured, Sam worked on calming himself as you went on with your story.

"It worked, though. He stopped long enough for me to get tough and finally finish my explanation that I don't have the authority or the ability to help him, so I am going to transfer him." You laughed a little at this, as though the memory was still unbelievable to you. Sam understood this. Quacking, for fuck's sake.

Harry meowed, and Sam would swear it was a question.

You seemed to think so, too, as you answered as though it was. Sam had no idea what was going on in the apartment next door, but since it seemed harmless, he didn’t see any reason to worry about it, though the seeming mystery fascinated him. The endorphins from the laughing fit had numbed his pain, at least enough to get him up off the couch with only an internal scream of pain.

"Yeah," you were saying, "but my boss was standing right there and she's looking at me like I’m crazy because I asked someone to stop quacking and in her world there's no way that someone could be literally quacking, so what the hell have I done, right?"

Though he was now standing, and his stomach was screaming for food instead of in agony, he needed to hear the end of the story more than he needed his principles. He stayed put.

Harry gave another of her questioning meows. Sam had considered the possibility that you had trained her to do this, but in some way he couldn't explain, it seemed more organic than trained behavior.

"All calls in are recorded. I told her what happened, and the recording backed me up, so it ain't no thing." You started snickering a little now, obviously enjoying the memory. Sam thought your laugh was adorable. "She pulled the recording anyway, so we could listen together. I went into her office right before I left. She laughed like a loon when I asked him to stop quacking at me."

A long, agreeable purr that chirped up at the end. Sam decided to stop thinking about it, because trying to figure out your weird cat was making him crazy.

"Yeah," you replied to Harry's purr, "she's a good egg. Which is why the bullshit didn't get me down." You were laughing, wryly, and Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling softly. “He's one guy who I'm never going to have to talk to again. Not so important in the scheme of things. And now I've got a funny story.”

Sam sighed a little, mildly astonished. Your perspective helped him in ways he hadn’t known he needed. He didn't know how you'd done it, but you'd told a story to your cat that ended up making him feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. You, with your quacking moron, and your wry acceptance of him as an outlier in an otherwise good world, helped him deal with some of the people with whom he'd come in contact these past few years.

Outliers in an otherwise good world.

"Yes," you laughed at Harry's demanding yowl, "now that story time is over, it is dinner time. So bossy."

Even Sam had understood what that one meant.

The slam of your door woke Sam from the nap he'd been taking on his couch. He'd fallen asleep before the sun had gone down and waking into complete dark left him utterly disoriented.

"Well, Harry," you said, sounding somewhere between severely irritated and supremely pissed, "either that guy was engaged in a social experiment to be the most off-putting date of all time or he’s a serial killer."

Purr-row-ow?

Sam looked around, trying to figure out what time it was, what city he was in, his last name. There was a clomping, scrabbling sound fairly close and he could tell you were on the other side of the wall again. When you sighed in relief, he figured out the sound he’d heard was you kicking off your shoes.

"If it turns out to be serial killer and he found out where I live, do me a favor and go get the hottie next door, okay?"

Sam's head snapped up, a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He liked being the hottie next door, but he thought he’d like the sound of his name on your lips more. If he could manage to run into you, he hoped to make that happen. He was determined to get to know you better, and not by being a creep and eavesdropping on you. He lifted a hand and rubbed it over his face, stifling a groan as he did so.

Mrrrrrow?

“He answered every question with one or two words,” you replied to Harry’s chirped question, “asked no questions of his own, and stared right at me the entire time.” Sam rolled his eyes as he rolled to his back, lost in the rhythm of your voice. He found himself vaguely irritated with your date for not treating you right. You deserved better.

“Thank the good lord I only agreed to drinks. I don’t think I could have made it all the way through dinner.” You yawned, and Sam could swear he heard the rustle of fabric. The thought that you might be undressing just a few feet away made him suddenly change his mind; he wasn’t so upset that your date had sucked. He could only be grateful that he still had a chance to show you better.

Another chirping meow of encouragement from Harry and you were going on with your story. Sam told himself to get up, to give you your privacy. He sat up as you said, considering, “He didn’t seem like a weirdo online. Which is why I’m thinking social experiment. Or serial killer.”

Harry made the sound that Sam had started to think of as her laugh. It was a growly rawrrawrrawr that never failed to make you chuckle in response, the sound of which always drew Sam's attention. Sam smiled, forgetting to move out of earshot as the sound of your laughter hit his ear and lit him up.

“I knew it was on its way south as soon as I met him,” you said wryly, then went on in a confessional tone that had Sam’s conscience prodding him to his feet. “I hate to judge on appearance,” you were saying, though, and Sam couldn’t help but stop in his tracks, needing to know how you might judge on appearance, “but the guy’s shirt was multi-colored diagonal stripes and so was his tie, but they didn’t match. At. All.” Sam grinned and relaxed. “Like, neither in color nor in style. Who puts that on, looks in the mirror, and thinks, ‘This is normal; I look normal right now.’?”

Sam covered his mouth to stifle the laughter as Harry made a disapproving sound. The sheer bafflement in your tone was more hilarious to him than anything else. He was irritated with himself for giving into temptation and eavesdropping on you again, but the more time he spent listening to you, the more he wanted to, the more he liked you. He wanted to get to know you for real, let you get to know him. He wanted to find out if you'd like him, too.

You answered Harry's disapproval in a defensive tone, which had Sam smiling again. "No. I’m not wrong here." You sighed again, and the wry tone took over your voice again. You seemed like you were coming down from the aggravation of the evening into an exasperated kind of resignation. "I should have walked out then, but I’m like, clothes don’t matter, clothes can be changed, don’t be shallow." You gave a scoffing kind of laugh. "Fucking hours of my life I’m never gonna get back."

Prrrrrrrr-ree-ee?

You sighed again, this time wistful, and your answer made Sam wonder what you heard in Harry's questioning sound. "Nah, Harry, I don’t really care about the outside." The touch of sadness that took over your voice made Sam want to hug you, but what you said made him want to kiss you. "Inside is what matters and I just want somebody decent, with a good sense of humor," as you spoke, the sadness faded as humor took over, "who’s loyal. And generous. And kind." Sam didn't understand why you sounded like you thought you asked too much. "Hottie would just be a bonus," you finished with a laugh.

When Harry made a sound that Sam could only interpret as a demand, he frowned when you replied, "And of course they have to like cats."

The more he listened to the two of you, the more he wondered if Harry was a cat.

A few days later, Bucky was hanging out on Sam's couch when a small cat with tiny legs came purring around the window frame. She was on the long side of short-haired, calico from her nose to her tail, but her throat, chest, and belly were white. A short snout and big eyes made her look sweet and mixed with the short legs, she was as cute as could be. She chirped and purred as she sashayed into the apartment through the open window, and Bucky's eyes widened at the adorable cat, even as Sam moved forward with a smile, hoping he was about to meet Harry.

"What the fuck is that?" Bucky shouted in astonishment, scooting over to move toward the window. The cat yowled, the tone hostile as both men stopped in their tracks. With a careful couple of hops, she descended from the window to the couch to the floor and trotted forward on her little legs to curve purring around Sam's ankles.

"The cat?" Sam scoffed out a laugh, surprised at the enthusiastic greeting. He bent down to look at the tag on her collar, unsurprised to see the name there, but curious as to why she was visiting now, when she never had before.

"It's fucking adorable." Bucky's face had lit up, and Sam knew he'd be giving the other man a raft of shit for being so charmed by a kitty cat. Then the terrifying soldier leaned forward, his hand out to the little cat with a hopeful smile, and Sam wasn't sure he had it in him to mock the purest expression he'd ever seen on Bucky's face. "The hell is going on with its legs?" The concern in his voice was so palpable, Sam's lips twitched and the urge to tease almost overwhelmed him.

"I don’t know," Sam replied, his voice rich with that humor, as he gently scratched the cat under her short chin. She closed those big green eyes and purred like a motorboat. "It says Harry on the tag, so she belongs to the neighbor. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Sam spoke in a low, warm tone, not entirely certain he wasn't meeting someone who understood him. Figuring he might as well err on the side of caution, he was going to treat Harry with respect. In response, Harry popped up into an arch under Sam's hand as she chirped cheerfully, Mraaah-aa-aa-aah!

Bucky gasped and Sam knew that he would absolutely be bringing that up again. It didn't matter how happy Bucky sounded when he cried, "She just got cuter!" Sam wasn't a damn saint. Bucky was a surly metal-armed soldier-assassin who had just reacted to a cat the same way a six-year-old would have. This was happening.

Harry had apparently forgiven Bucky's earlier rude manners as, chirping the whole way, she trotted over to him to let him pet her. With a happily surprised laugh, he stroked her from her head to the tip of her tail as she arched into his hand with happy growling chirps and chitters. When she spun to go back under his hand with flirty chirps and big soulful eyes, Bucky laughed a little. "Are you sure this is a cat?" he asked, his voice giving away that he was only half-kidding.

“Not really." Sam was watching the little cat with narrowed eyes. She was adorable, and weird, and both exactly like a cat and yet nothing like a cat, very much like what he imagined an intelligent cat would be. Just because she couldn't talk didn't mean she couldn't communicate, but Sam wasn't sure he wasn't simply anthropomorphizing because she was a weirdly vocal cat.

His head snapped up when he heard your voice calling Harry's name. Bucky pushed himself over to the window at the same moment to shove it all the way open and lean out.

"Hey! Sam's neighbor!" he shouted, making Sam hiss in irritation behind him.

You pushed your own window all the way open to lean out and look at the shockingly pretty man waving at you from your hot neighbor's window. "Hi, I’m Sam’s friend, Bucky," the gorgeous brunet said with a smile. You weren’t that surprised to find that not only was your neighbor smoking hot, so too were his friends. "What’s up with your cat?"

You smiled slowly, warmly. He was too pretty to not smile at. "Hi Bucky. I’m y/n. Nice to meet you." You opted to assume he meant her legs. You could explain that. The rest of Harry's oddness you had no explanation for. "She’s a munchkin cat. It’s a mutation that makes her legs short."

Bucky's face fell at the word mutation, too aware of the double edge mutation often possessed. "Does it hurt her?"

You decided you liked Bucky when you saw how concerned he was about a cat he'd just met. You knew others who would never have thought to even ask the question. You sat on the edge of the window and gave Bucky your real smile. Behind Bucky, Sam leaned out at the same moment, going into an immediate mental meltdown at how pretty you were when you really smiled. "She’s okay," you replied, "but some munchkin cats have issues with their joints and spines." You gave Bucky a sad half-smile. "It’s not a mutation that comes without risks. Were you thinking about getting one?"

Bucky shook his head, his face sad as he looked at the cat that had hopped up onto the windowsill next to him to purr and chirp. With gentle fingers, he scratched the top of her little head. "Not anymore," he said softly. With a sad smile back at you, he shrugged a little sheepishly. "Cute doesn’t seem a good enough reason to cause pain."

Your face spread in a bright, friendly smile that included Sam when you glanced at him where he was smiling at you from behind Bucky. "I agree," you replied, grinning at Harry's purring sashay under Bucky's long fingers. "She’s a rescue. The folks that run it are friends." You took one last considering look, though something about him told you Bucky could be trusted, at least with animals. "I can put you in touch if you want."

"Something tells me this cat is unique."

You laughed out loud at the suspicious look he was giving the innocent-looking cat. "Bucky, you have no idea. Harry's an odd creature."

When she chirruped at him, he grinned and crooned, "How'd this little doll get a name like Harry, anyway?"

Your eyes lifted to Sam's, whose were dancing in delight. He was filing everything away, saving it for the perfect moment. He didn't know when the moment would come, but he would be holding this ammunition back until it did. He could hardly wait.

Your eyes danced back at him, enjoying his enjoyment of his friend. You liked the warmth in Sam's eyes as he smiled at you, friendly and appreciative. Something hot passed between you as you grinned at each other over the head of his muscle mountain friend turning to mush over your cat. "She’s a little escape artist," you explained with a wry grin at the tiny cat charming the big, beautiful man, "so she’s named after Houdini."

"Why do you leave your window open if she’ll escape?" Sam asked, the sound of his voice low and warm, like summer honey. You found you loved the sound, wanted him to keep talking.

You shrugged, a little sheepish. You knew Harry was odd; it was your acceptance of her oddness that had led to her living with you. "It’s not escape if you’re allowed to leave. I’m her roommate, not her warden." Harry made her chirp-chirp noise that you interpreted as agreement and you grinned wryly at both men, since they wore matching looks of suspicion. "She stays because she wants to, not because I make her."

Bucky couldn't stop himself; he grinned back at you. For a man who'd spent much of his life in captivity, stripped of his free will, he couldn't help but appreciate your willingness to respect a cat's freedom. Charmed, he laughed a little, "That’s kinda weird, but I like it."

You laughed back, including Sam, who'd laughed as well. "She’s a weird cat. I’m a weird person." With a wink for Sam, you shrugged, "Maybe that’s why she sticks around."

Sam's smile was slow and beautiful and made you feel an insistent tug of attraction. His eyes were dark and warm on your face as he spoke again in that low, smooth voice. "Would you prefer I close my window so she’ll go home?"

You surprised yourself by shaking your head. You were very protective of Harry, but something about these two men told you neither of them would hurt your cat for any reason. And Harry looked like she'd found her new best friend as she closed her eyes and let Bucky scratch the top of her little head, bliss all over her. Based on the look of astonished delight on the pretty brunet's face, Bucky was equally enchanted.

You smiled at Sam, happy that your new neighbor was not only hot, but sweet and polite, too. "Not unless you want her gone." Knowing that you didn't have to worry should Harry get it into her head to go visit was a weight off your mind. You grinned again at Harry and Bucky falling in love. "She’ll come home when she’s done hanging out. Nice to meet you, Bucky." You gave Sam a sparkling smile, the warmth in his dark eyes turning that tug of attraction into a slow burning. "Sam."

Once you'd pulled back inside, you leaned against the wall next to the window with your hand over your heart. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about the way Sam looked at you made you think he was attracted, too. You didn't know if it was a good idea to get involved, even casually, with your neighbor, but the man was gorgeous enough to make you wonder if it'd be worth it.

Because you were still next to the window, you heard Bucky say quietly, "The neighbor is as cute as her cat." You grinned and stifled a surprised laugh, flattered if a bit bemused. "If you didn’t already have your eye there, I’d be all over that."

 "Who said I have my eye there?" You couldn't quite place the tone in Sam's voice, but it sounded a little self-conscious, like he knew, or was at least afraid that you were listening. It made you wonder how much he'd heard from your apartment since you always left the window open enough for Harry to leave if she felt like it.

The cat in question yowled and the sound was so ripe with skepticism you couldn't help but snort a little. The sound was in unison with Bucky's snort of derision, so you were pretty sure you hadn't been heard. However, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing aloud when Bucky scoffed.

"What Harry said."

A couple weeks later, you realized Harry was gone again. You left the window open because it had always had a weird reverse psychology effect on Harry. If she had no escape, she found one. If you left a window open, she didn't bother to leave. Except since she'd met Bucky, she'd disappeared three times to go visit him when he was at Sam's.

You had been planning on giving Bucky the number of your friends with the cat rescue, but you almost felt like you'd be getting in the way of his friendship with Harry. She was unique, and you couldn't be sure she didn't have a jealous streak. You felt like she wouldn't thank you for it, but you didn't know if that was just because you over-anthropomorphized her because of her unusual behavior.

That said, you also weren’t certain if you were just telling yourself that because she wasn't really a cat and you didn't want to deal with it because that brought way too many complications into your life. She ate cat food and went in the litter box. She was a cat. She had to be.

Since you didn't want to deal with that, you thought instead of your hot neighbor, Sam. On one of those visits, while sitting on your couch, you'd listened and discovered that in the silence, you could clearly hear what they were saying, not just the murmur of voices. Sam and Bucky teased and ribbed each other almost constantly, their friendship obviously one of adversarial good humor.

You hadn't heard Bucky today, however. Instead, you'd heard the chirps and chirrups that made up Harry's language and realized Sam was talking to Harry the same way you did. Frankly, you'd started listening so hard because it was lonely in your apartment without your odd little cat chattering at you.

To tell the truth, you'd also listened because you'd been wondering about Sam since he sent you that long, hot smile out of eyes like melted chocolate. How could you not, when he was that pretty, when he looked at you like that, all warm appreciation? How could you not listen when he had that voice? Slow and deep and golden like honey, it made you think of cool sheets on humid summer nights, when the storms rolled in.

"Bucky made me promise to tell you he'd be over tomorrow," Sam was saying in that lovely voice, "and I don't know what's weirder: my friend is falling in love with a cat, or that I'm not sure you're a cat."

You smiled, hearing only amusement in his tone, happy to hear the same sort of benign suspicion with which you regarded Harry. You could hear Harry's laugh and smiled to hear Sam's low chuckle in response.

"But he's a hundred-year-old former brainwashed assassin, so he might be weirder than you."

You relaxed into the couch as your cat scoffed and chirped. You'd worried a little when you'd realized who your neighbor was. Avengers tended to draw trouble, after all. Sam was so quiet, however, and Bucky so soft over your cat, you'd nearly forgotten that side of their lives. At the reminder, you had to stifle your laughter at the thought of Bucky’s enemies hearing him talk to your cat. Now that you’d overheard Sam and Bucky’s rapport, you understood the mischievous smile that you’d seen take over Sam’s face in response to that tender croon.

“Or you might be perfect for each other.” Sam was laughing and you found yourself smiling at the sound. He sounded rusty, like he didn't laugh as much as he should. You were surprised to discover that you wanted to fix that.

“If only you could tell me how to get a chance at a conversation with your pretty roommate," he said next and you were clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the gasp of surprise that tried to escape.

You hadn't really thought about it, but you had, for the most part, avoided Sam since he'd moved in. He was tall and broad and beautiful, and his eyes looked deep and dark enough to drown in. You figured you'd just end up embarrassing yourself if you tried to talk to him, so you'd kept out of his way.

You’d ignored Bucky’s teasing about you when you and Harry had met him. After hearing the way they ragged on each other, you couldn't take it personally. To hear Sam say such things in that honey gold voice was entirely different, however, and made your heart leap in excitement. What if you leaned out of your window and started that conversation?

You hopped off your couch and ran into your bathroom to take a look at yourself. You had the day off, so you hadn't dolled up by any stretch, but you'd also gone to the grocery store, so you weren't a total slob, either. You touched up the little bit of makeup you'd put on that morning and put your hair back into some semblance of order. If the delicious Sam Wilson wanted a conversation, you could make that happen.

Back in your living room, you took two deep, but carefully silent breaths before you pushed your window all the way open and leaned out. “Sam?”

On the other side of the wall, Sam was laying on his couch, a book in his hand as he scratched the purring cat on his chest. At the sound of your voice, he jolted, dropping the book. He scooped Harry up and placed her on the floor before shoving his own window open.

When Sam leaned out to see you, sitting on your wide windowsill, the curve of your lips was as sweet to his eye as your voice to his ear. His face spread in a slow, warm smile, his long dark eyes warming as they crinkled at the corners.

"Did you call my name?" he asked, and the honey of his voice lifted lightly in hope sent a shiver over your skin. Your heart had started to skip and dance when his beautiful face lit up with a slow, sweet smile. His voice only made it race that much faster.

A little breathless, you replied, "Yes, I did." Now that you’d begun, you weren’t sure how to proceed. Then Harry’s big green eyes were peering around the corner at you. Relieved, you smiled at the little cat that had hopped onto Sam’s windowsill to chirp at you. “I was going to ask if Harry is at your place, but…”

Sam laughed a little and scratched the top of Harry’s head, making her eyes close in bliss. “Do you want me to send her home?”

Watching your sweet little cat bask in the affection, and the sweet big man smiling down at her, you wouldn’t dream of breaking them up. You didn’t know what it was about a hot, muscular man gone soft over a tiny animal, but it had made you melt. “No,” you answered, your voice giving you away, so you cleared your throat discreetly and went on, “no, it's fine.”

Unsure what else to say, and feeling a little shy and embarrassed now that you’d started this, you ducked your head and started to pull back inside. You were already cursing yourself for being so awkward when Sam spoke.

Sam saw you getting ready to go back inside and, desperate, he said the first thing that came to mind to stop you. He had the chance he’d asked for and he was not the sort to let it go to waste. “She's so talkative,” he said quickly. When you looked up and smiled at him, he continued, "It must get lonely without her."

You grinned, a little sheepishly. "It really does. Is that silly?"

For the first time, Sam showed his teeth as he smiled and replied, “Not at all.” You’d never noticed the slight gap between his front teeth and found yourself completely charmed by it.

“Why don't you come over?” he asked, hoping he was reading your signals correctly. Busy with the internal meltdown you were experiencing, it took you a moment to understand the question. When it sank in, your eyes snapped to his. Another of those slow, warm smiles. “She can talk to both of us. And I can find out everything about you.”

You huffed out a little laugh, and the smile on your face took on a touch of shy that made Sam want to cuddle you. “That shouldn’t take long,” you flirted, lightly. “I'm pretty boring.”

Sam winked, happy to see that he wasn’t misreading signals, that you were willing to let him get a little closer. “I doubt that, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Sam's couch was long and plush, in a chocolate brown that matched his warm, velvet eyes. It also sat against the wall he shared with you, the arm you leaned on next to the open window. He sat against the other arm, Harry purring happily in his lap as she punctuated your conversation with meows, chirps, and purrs of her own.

No matter how it started, the conversation soon flowed. Sam was a wonderful listener, asking questions that showed he was genuinely interested in you, but he didn’t force you to carry the conversation, either. Rather, it felt more like a dance, each of you picking up on the rhythm of the other. Back and forth, it stayed a cheerful sway that nevertheless made your heart race.

After only a short time in his company, you couldn’t continue to feel awkward, no matter how beautiful he was. Being with him was both easy and exciting, as his eyes stayed warm and friendly, but with a heat that thrilled as they rested on you with appreciation.

Somehow, Sam was able, even when he was telling you stories about famous heroes, daring rescues, narrow escapes, to make it seem as normal as a day at the office. Maybe it was because he was a normal human, no matter how extraordinary, surrounded by the unusual and astounding, but his stories always focused on the funny and the weird. You never got the feeling that he was trying to impress you with the cool shit he did or the famous people he knew. You felt like he was trying to share with you the truly interesting part of who he was when he wasn't being normal.

He didn't dominate the conversation, however, encouraging you to share with him as much about yourself and your life as he did. Nor did he focus on his work, instead telling you about his family, his friends, his real life, drawing from you the same. The two of you talked and talked, and the time flew.

"I have a confession to make," he said, hours after you'd sat down, when the sun was low in the sky. His smile was sheepish, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Mm-hmm?" you replied with a raised eyebrow that hid the fact that he'd utterly charmed you over the course of the afternoon. You only hoped that he’d been charmed as well.

"Where you're sitting, next to the window, I can hear you talking to Harry sometimes. I try to avoid it, but I've listened to a couple of your conversations."

You weren’t surprised that he’d heard you from time to time; once you’d overheard him and Bucky you’d suspected he could hear you as well. The chagrin covering Sam made you think that he'd overheard something embarrassing, however, and your stomach dropped. "I see."

Sam's face fell into serious lines at the tone of your voice. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I knew it was rude when I did it." He took a deep breath and told the truth, no matter how vulnerable it made him feel. "To be honest, I like the sound of your voice, and I like your stories."

Your heart racing at his admission, you searched his face for any hint of laughter or irony and found none. Sam only had apology and sincerity over him, and you relaxed a little. "Which stories did you hear?"

Sam smiled a little, relieved that you didn't seem angry. "The quacking idiot. And the date from hell. That’s it, I promise."

You threw your head back and laughed. Both interactions were your weirdest lately, so you knew immediately to what he was referring. You were a little embarrassed that he'd heard you talking to Harry about the date since you'd gotten a little wistful and sad at the end, but the warm look in Sam's eyes made you feel like there was no need.

"A grown-ass adult fucking quacked at me," you said, wonder in your voice all over again at the reminder of that maniac.

Sam laughed, happy that his confession had gone well enough that you were laughing again. He was only more interested now that he'd seen you sparkle and shine. This afternoon had not alleviated the hunger he'd developed for you. The hours together had only whet his appetite.

"I had a couple of bruised ribs that day. Laughing hurt, if that makes you feel a little better about the violation to your privacy." His grin was slow and flirtatious, and you found yourself smiling back. It was hard to stay mad when his apology was so quick and sincere, and his smile was so charming.

"It does, actually," you winked. "Were you hurting on the night of the date-from-hell, too, 'cause I sure was."

"Actually, I was pissed." Sam's face fell back into those serious lines, and his dark eyes were intense on your face. "Some asshole had the chance I wanted and ruined it? What a waste."

Your breath caught, your skin going hot at the look of pure sensual interest that overtook his features, drawing them tight. Unable to think of what else to say, you sighed. "Oh."

Harry, who’d remained mostly silent, ostensibly napping, took this opportunity to purr-chirp at you, the sound indescribable without the word ‘smug.’ If a cat could say, ‘I told you so,’ Harry just did.

Sam grinned down at the little cat in your lap, his face softening, though the heat remained when he met your eyes once more. "I want to be honest,” he said, closing his hand around yours, the heat of his palm spreading through you in a gentle wave, “thought you should know where I stand, before I ask you if you want to get dinner with me.”

Harry chirped at you again, this time the sound encouraging and cheerful. You glared suspiciously down at her for a second, then looked back at Sam, whose eyebrows had climbed up at Harry's little meow.

With a half-smile, and less breath than you were used to, you answered, "When?”

When Sam's face lit up with excitement and he squeezed your hand, his smile made your heart race. "Now?" he asked, and you couldn't deny him if you wanted to.

You laughed, still a little breathless, but liking it. Shrugging, you flirted a little. "I could eat."

Instead of going out, the two of you agreed that you were more comfortable staying on Sam’s couch. Over the course of the afternoon, the two of you had moved closer. Rather than each of you on opposite ends, you were now sitting in the center, turned to face each other, knees touching.

As you laughed and talked your way through watching him demolish a truly astonishing amount of Chinese delivery, you only got closer, leaning forward to snag a potsticker or reaching over the other for the rice. He was so casual and relaxed, you couldn’t help but follow his lead. By the time you'd finished dinner, after-dinner coffee, and a glass of wine, his arm lay along the back of the couch where you rested your head and he had your hand in his, playing with your fingers. The next thing to in his arms, you had whiled away hours in a state of breathless anticipation.

When you, long after you should and deeply reluctantly, took your leave, Sam kept your hand in his as he walked you the few feet to your door.

"Thank you for inviting me over," you said with a smile as you turned to say good night. Your voice was soft, a little shy, but your eyes were warm with invitation. "I had a great time."

Sam saw no reason not to accept. This afternoon with you had been exhilarating, and he had no intention of letting this be the end of it, as long as you were amenable. You were even more appealing, more interesting than he'd thought, and the things he'd learned today had only made him want more. You let him draw you close with a gentle tug on your hand as his free hand came up to place a calloused palm against your throat.

His lips were a velvet counterpoint against that powerful hand, softly teasing, coaxing yours apart with a generous persuasion you didn't want to resist. When his tongue swept between your lips, yours was there to meet it, eager to taste him. You sighed at the flavor, spicy under the tart wine you'd shared.

Sam's knees, always steady under fire, went weak at the sweetness of that sigh. Tenderly, his thumb brushing over the line of your jaw, he reluctantly broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. With a low chuckle, he rasped, "You are always welcome."

You flashed the smile he'd discovered today, inspiring it his new favorite activity, and he was kissing you again, quick and hot. When this kiss broke, you were both breathing faster, and you wondered if it was as hard for him to keep his hands off you as it was for you to not invite it.

The growl that reverberated in his voice answered your question, the affirmative only making it that much harder to go slow. You wanted to take your time with this, however, make sure you did it right. Sam was so much more, so much better than you'd dared hope, you couldn't risk letting your libido overwhelm your common sense. The words he was speaking made your heart speed faster even as your fingers curled with desire. "I want to see you again," he said, dark eyes hot and intense on your face.

You didn't step away, unable to move away from the heat of his body, the heat you made between you, but not ready yet to walk into the flames. Instead, you kept your eyes on his, not bothering to hide the desire that kept you near him, the corner of your mouth quirking up, and flirted, "I think that's probable. We live awfully close to each other."

Sam's face melted into his big, gorgeous grin, showing you the gap in his teeth on which you'd developed a heart-eyed crush over the course of the afternoon. "You know what I mean." He brushed his thumb over your cheek, relishing the softness of your skin, aching to touch you more but not wanting to push. "Let me take you out for real, sweep you off your feet."

"I'll allow it," you smirked and laughed a little, lifting your arm to slide it around his neck and bring your body flush with his. He responded by dropping his hand from your face to slip his arm around your waist, finally taking you in burly arms, enfolding you against his wide chest. The laugh on his lips as yours met them tasted like the golden honey of his voice and you sank back in with a hum of pleasure.

You had taken about as much as you could without giving in completely and dragging him inside your apartment when his hands started to press and grip with a fervor that told you he was close to his limits as well. Reluctantly, with racing hearts and shaking hands, you pulled away and Sam didn't try to hold on.

Your breath still coming quickly, a sparkling smile trembling on your mouth, you opened your door and stepped inside. "The window will stay open," you rasped. "Call me tomorrow." With a final wink, you closed the door on Sam's cheerful grin. Turning, you took several long, deep breaths, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand.

Harry drew your attention to where she was curving around the edge of the window frame with a distinctly smug purring chirrup. When she hopped down and made a questioning no-need-to-thank-me mrr-oww, you snorted. "Shut up, Harry."

The sound of Sam's laugh coming through the window made you want to fan yourself again.

The next day, after you'd gotten home from work, you changed into casual clothes and flopped onto your couch. You hadn't been there more than three minutes before you heard Sam's voice calling your name.

You were mostly asleep when you heard Harry chirrup in excitement and jump off the bed to trot out to the front room. You assumed she was on her way to Sam's apartment to see Bucky.

A couple of months after you'd met them, Bucky had discovered that if he slept on Sam's couch, Harry would come sleep with him. Not long after, he realized that he slept deepest and easiest with Harry curled up on his chest. When sleep eluded, Bucky crashed at Sam's. Since Sam spent most nights in your bed these days, it wasn't a problem. Besides, it warmed your heart to see the soft-hearted soldier and the odd little cat take comfort in one another.

"Babe," you said softly when Sam's big, warm arm slid around your waist to snug you into the curve of his body, nuzzling the back of your neck, "is Bucky staying at your place tonight?"

Sam breathed deep, taking in the smell of you, warm and soft and drowsy, loving the intimate sound of your voice, rough and raspy with sleep. "Yeah, he could be." His answer was a low grumble that sent shivers down your spine and you snuggled back into him, still amazed that he was yours. "Harry?" he asked, the humor audible.

"Mmm-hmm." His lips were brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck and you were getting distracted, losing interest in the Mystery of Harry. You tilted your head forward to give him better access.

Sam smiled against your skin, pulling you close to whisper in your ear. "Are you sure that's a cat, and not someone pretending to be a cat?"

As his lips began to travel from under your ear over your neck and shoulders, you answered, a chuckle coloring your voice. "Sam, we've talked about this." You reluctantly leaned out of Sam's arms to push the bedroom door closed. Rolling over, you slipped your arms around him to brush your mouth over his strong jawbone. "No," you murmured. "I'm not." You gently closed your teeth around that gorgeous line and huffed out a laugh when he growled and pulled you in tight. "But she's such a good wingman we're gonna let it slide."

Sam lifted his head to smile sweetly at you. He loved the sound of your voice in the dark, the feel of your breath on his skin, the reality of this: his own spectacular normal. "Can't argue that."

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[rinusagitora]

The gray comes with you.

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Rangiku Matsumoto

Pairings: HitsuKarin

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Alternate Universe. Ghost!AU. Chapter 1/?, updated on Sundays. WARNINGS- explicit violence;  Toushirou Hitsugaya hasn't lived an easy life. High school is no easier, as Toushirou is being hunted by violent bullies.

AO3

The screech of his alarm clock would open his funeral.

He groaned as he blindly ran a hand over his nightstand in search of his cell. As soon as he was upright, he felt the charge accumulated over his nine hour slumber slough off like water down the drain. It never ceased to amaze him how he stayed on his feet every morning when he was overcome by such a spell.

He opened his music app, played an upbeat pop album to hopefully wake him and cure the dread he woke with every morning with its contagious energy, and then bravely exited the confines of his bedroom.

His home was eerily empty. Momo began to leave earlier and earlier over the course of the last few weeks. She wasn’t home much, but when she was, she locked herself in her room until she left again in the early hours of the morning. His grandmother was a busy editor despite her age. That was alright, of course, but the house was made of early birds and it was surreal when not a thing stirred, like he didn’t belong.

He brushed his teeth, combed his air, quickly tired of his stupid music and tried to find something with more interesting sound, and he left home with a warm Hot Pocket in hand and a creepy podcast in his earbuds. His podcasts were like his friends, the only ones who spoke to him outside of what school required. And he didn’t mind it. Podcasts were only corny, they never made him limp.

The same couldn’t be said for his classmates.

Every morning, when the clock on the face of his school’s exterior appeared over the houses, he felt nauseous. His head turned side to side to scan for company.

The reason he lived most of his academic experience alone was his appearance. His hair was pale, his eyes were unearthly blue-green. The only thing that looked normal about him was his tan. Otherwise, he looked like a wraith. His classmates were unanimously suspicious of him. When he wasn’t ostracized, he wasn’t just picked on, he was often left injured.

He wondered if the omen was the misery it would cause his childhood, or something more sinister he was blind to.

“Hey, Freak-tsugaya!”

His concern was in the present.

He broke into a run for the school entrance. Bazzard and Cang Du, though meatheads, were expert predators. And he was prey, he had little option aside from running.

He rushed through the open front doors and ran head-first into Cang Du’s elbow. He heard the collision, he dropped like a brick to the floor, and stars exploded in his vision as his head landed on the hard tile. 

“Don’t you know to answer when I’m trynna talk to you, freak?” Bazzard asked as he writhed. “Where’ve your manners gone? Do we needa teach you some?”

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Bazzard raised his fist. He rolled onto his hands and pushed himself up. Cang Du grabbed him by his neck. He was slammed into the shoe lockers four times. Pain did not capture how it felt: like he was beat against a curb corner instead of thin metal. He spat in Cang Du's eye and kicked him in the groin. Cang Du doubled over with a quiet grunt. When he turned to run, Bazzard grabbed him by his white hair and yanked him to the ground again. His face was stomped on. Blood flooded his mouth, he turned onto his side and spat out his front teeth and blood and mucus.

“What the hell are you sons of bitches doing!?”

Laughter followed in the wake of Bazzard and Cang Du. He cracked his eyes open to meet Rangiku’s grimace.

“Oh geez, they did quite a number on you,” Rangiku winced. She pulled him onto his feet and held him up by his waist. “Kotetsu-san is in today. Let’s get you patched up, kid. You poor bastard.”

He grasped Rangiku’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he told her.

“Me too,” Rangiku replied. “I think you lost some teeth.”

“They’re back there,” he said. “Those two are getting ballsier. I haven’t had any teeth knocked out before.” His tongue ran over the holes in his gums and the cut over his lip. He hoped he didn’t need stitches. He knew better than to hold his breath, though.

“Hitsugaya-kun, we should go to the police. They’re getting out of hand. I won’t be able to swoop in to save you someday, and that may be the day they end up maiming you. Or worse,” Rangiku warned him.

He would have frowned if his face didn’t ache so. He was already such a lonesome boy, Momo and his grandmother knew that. They had their own lives to grapple with and he knew his tribulations only put more stress on them. He couldn’t continue to tax them anymore. “Investigations are lengthy,” he lied, “I understand what you’re telling me, but I can’t do that to my family, Matsumoto.”

Rangiku frowned but said nothing more. He sat on a plastic chair upon entrance into the nurse’s office. The head nurse cursed as she turned around to greet them. He was passed a washrag to catch the blood that poured off his chin onto his top. His uniform was beyond salvaging by that time.

“Can I get a new shirt? I can’t go to class like this,” he asked. 

“You want a new shirt? Hitsugaya-kun, you should be going to the hospital. You need stitches!” Isane scoffed.

“I know you’re trained to handle minor injuries, Kotetsu. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. I just tripped.”

“And got cut that bad?” Isane retorted.

“Shit, I’m not exactly a tumbler.”

Isane’s eyes rolled. “Watch your language. I’ll wash your mouth out with chili peppers.”

“Now you’re only giving me incentive to act even more improper. Momo used to make the best stuffed chili peppers.” He missed his sister’s cooking…. “A-anyways, I would appreciate it if you stitched me up. I’ve got a quiz this morning I can’t miss.” 

“Alright, but I won’t like it.” Isane said. He watched as she prepped topical sanitation and sutures. Rangiku returned with a new shirt for him. He unbuttoned his soiled top and handed it to Rangiku in a bunch. He still oozed blood from the cut across his lips, so he chose to remain topless until he was sewn shut. At least his uniform slacks were a void for stains.

“I hope your sister’s doing well,” Isane said. “The last we met she was acting strangely. She was skittish, and she kept giving me different explanations for her black eye. Do you know anything, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t figure out why Isane tried to carry on a conversation when he couldn’t move his face, but he would just be thankful someone took notice of his sister’s behavior too.

Isane made quick work of his face. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional.

“Take an ibuprofen as prescribed on the bottle, clean the seams with isopropyl alcohol. See me again in about a month and a half so I can take those out. And don’t pick at them,” Isane instructed as he licked up the seam on the inside of his lip.

He thanked Isane and then he buttoned up his borrowed shirt. It was enormous on his tiny frame, but it was worn and comfortable so he supposed it didn’t matter.

“There’s an assembly this morning, Hitsugaya,” Rangiku told him as they left the nurse’s office. “Take a wild guess what it’s about.”

“Bullying again?”

“Bullseye,” she replied. The irony didn’t escape him. “You can crash in the faculty room until classes start.”

“I’m surprised the headmaster thinks it’ll do anything,” he snorted. “Who am I kidding? I’m totally unsurprised by bureaucracy’s naive belief that team spirit and making victims shake hands with their victimizers will fix everything. What a bunch of soft bastards.”

Rangiku smiled sympathetically. “My thoughts exactly. You poor thing.”

He sat on the couch in the staff lounge alone. Rangiku had to supervise the hallways, and that was fine by him. He only realized how exhausted he was when he sunk into the gaudy-patterned cushions. He was too tired to occupy his time with mobile games or homework or even his thoughts. He was sore, he felt like he decayed in that place, like his flesh melted off his bones and his juices seeped into the floor. High school was built to enable the strong and murder the weak. He couldn’t tell who he hated more: the entire establishment, or his feeble self.

Later he peeled himself from the couch and made it to class without any fuss from his schoolmates. He lamely stared at the zigzagged hairline of the girl in front of him until homeroom began. He hoped his lumps wouldn’t interfere with his notes….

[lyssismagical]

we all need love, that simple love that makes us whole again

Whumptober Day Twenty-Six. Abandonment 

Read on AO3

There was a very distinct line in Tony’s life.

Before Peter and After Peter.

Before Peter consists of booze and hangovers, of women he can’t remember and ibuprofen every morning, of isolation and heaps of bad emotions drowned in alcohol. Before Peter is guilt and grief and anger and repression. Before Peter is everything Howard was, everything Tony swore he would never be.

After Peter consists of everything else. Of life and smiles and laughter. It’s Dr Seuss books and stuffed animals and toys left all over the living room. It’s baby proofing his lab and having Ice Cream Sundays. It’s good mornings and good nights. It’s learning how to do all the things he never thought he’d learn how to do like cook and bake and clean and care for someone. It’s love, so much love he doesn’t even know what to do with it.

And of course it’s fear and new things and anxiety and the worry that becomes like his shadow, but it’s not bad. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

*

The Line that splits his life in two wasn’t a good line. It was hard and confusing and the scariest experience Tony had ever had.

He’d been thirty, nearly thirty-one. And Peter was barely a year old. Small and young, and left on the front porch of his mansion in Malibu with nothing but the clothes on his back and short handwritten letter explaining the situation.

Tony had, to say the least, panicked.

A child. He had a literal child. Young and crying in the fall breeze outside, chubby cheeks red and soaked in tears, and looking at Tony like he could fix everything.

No car seat, no bottle, no bag, no diapers, nothing. Absolutely abandoned on the front steps of the Malibu Mansion.

He vaguely remembered Mary Fitzpatrick. A smart, quick-witted woman with so many intricate thoughts in her head. She was a dreamer and he supposes she couldn’t have a baby in the way of her dreams.

And something in him ignited in his chest when he had scooped the little toddler into his arms, and he knew he couldn’t let this baby go.

* It wasn’t easy to get rid of all his booze, to pour the bottles down the drain, to get rid of the bar in the living room. It wasn’t easy.

But whenever he needed a drink, he’d go to Peter’s nursery, with pale yellow walls and a little Star Wars mobile, and he’d watch his baby sleep. Snuffling and rolling and sucking on his little red pacifier, legs and fists kicking clumsily, and he’d remember why he stopped drinking.

Somedays were harder than others. Abandonment can affect even a baby, especially since he lost his mother.

Somedays Peter would cry and scream and couldn’t be soothed. Somedays he’d refuse to eat, bottom lip trembling and bambi eyes filled with shiny tears. Somedays he’d hang onto Tony’s fingers and wouldn’t let go.

Whatever it was, Tony would be there. He’d sit through all the crying, all the wailing, all the screaming. He’d sit with Peter and try to convince him to eat no matter how long it took. He’d read as many books as it took, with as many voices as he could to get Peter to give him one of his toothless smiles. He’d stay up for as many nights as it took to make sure Peter slept soundly.

* Very quickly, his life flips upside down.

Parenting books are piled high in his lab, replacing all of the dangerous tools. Dr Seuss books fill the shelf in the lounge instead of Stark Industries technology. The bar’s been converted into a playhouse, stuffed animals replacing all of the alcohol.

Peter filling the hole in his chest that had been empty since his parents’ accident.

And he does his damn best to fill whatever gap Peter had after being left with Tony.

* “Come on, bubba, don’t pull that today. You’re supposed to be meeting your Uncle Rhodey today,” Tony said, gently tugging the little bear onesie onto Peter who looked like he was about to start crying.

Peter pouted, bambi eyes filling with tears.

“I know, kiddo, I know, life’s tough. But Uncle Rhodey’s supposed to be here soon,” Tony continued. Little socks with fish are pulled on next, and then Tony finally scooped Peter up into his arms. “I don’t want Rhodey to think I’m a bad parent because you’re being fussy.”

Peter sniffled, little fist wrapping into his t-shirt.

“Okay, Bambi, okay. I’ve got you. You wanna read some Seuss? It’s been a few days since I’ve heard Green Eggs and Ham.”

Tony settled down in the comfy armchair, resting Peter comfortably in his lap, before he started reading.

“I am Sam, Sam I am…”

Tony postponed Rhodey visiting for a few days, not wanting to stress out his toddler. He knew how hard it can be to have sudden change in your life, so he lets Peter have the time he needs, and when he’s happy again, Rhodey comes to visit with bags of gifts and the softest smile Tony’s ever seen on him.

*

Is it selfish?

He’s rejoicing in a situation that came from pain and abandonment.

He tells himself he’s only finding the good in a bad situation. He tells himself that it’s okay for him to love Peter and love that he’s been given a chance at redemption. He tells himself that he’s not being selfish for simply enjoying what he’s been given.

But, there’s a lot on the other hand. Mary, for whatever reason, had to abandon her child. After a year, technically twenty and a half months, she had to leave Peter on Tony’s doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Something must’ve happened. If she really didn’t want the kid, she wouldn’t have had him in the first place. She wouldn’t have kept him for the entire year. She wouldn’t have waited so long to give him to Tony.

Something bad must’ve happened. Whether it was financial issues or if something happened to Mary. He knows how hard it can be in this profession.

And Tony’s here, reaping the benefits of the bad situation.

It’s selfish, he thinks. It’s unfair.

Even to Peter, who’s obviously been negatively affected by the abandonment, it’s unfair for Tony to disregard all the bad and enjoy what he’s been giving.

But he loves Peter. More than he’s ever loved anyone. Ever. He loves his kid to the moon and back, more than his parents ever loved him, more than anything. And that’s the thing isn’t it? That’s the thing that matters?

He loves Peter. His perfect little angel. His Bambi. His bubba. His kid.

*

It’s on the news nearly six months later.

Peter’s development has been slow according to his pediatrician. He should’ve been speaking at eighteen months, but he still hasn’t said his first word.

Tony doesn’t mind, but he hates that the bad situation has caused some sort of mental block for his kid.

But Peter’s laying on Tony’s chest, sucking his thumb quietly, making little snuffling noises. His eyes are drooping, but he’s mostly focused on the television where Tony’s boredly flipping through the channels.

And then-

Mary’s picture.

Tony recognizes her vaguely from the one night they spent together. Short auburn hair, tied half-up in a little bun, round-framed glasses, the same sprinkling of freckles over her nose.

“Momma!” Peter shouts suddenly, pulling his thumb from his mouth.

Tony freezes, remote nearly slipping from his grip as he scrambles to turn on the volume.

“Mary Fitzpatrick has officially been found dead after disappearing six months ago among the wreckage of a plane crash. As of yesterday, there were no other remains found at the site of the crash. Fitzpatrick’s coworker, Richard Parker tipped the LAPD into searching the area for the then-missing woman. Police don’t suspect foul-play. Over to you, Amy,” the news reporter says.

The screen switches to the weather report, so Tony mutes it.

“Momma!” Peter cries out, little fists hitting Tony’s chest in his desperation. Tears streak down his flushed cheeks. “Momma! No! Momma!”

Tony’s too frozen in shock to stop Peter, staring at the TV screen.

He only knew Mary for one night, but they had a kid together. And now Mary’s dead? She’s just-

“No!” Peter wails. He’s just a baby, just a little baby, and yet-

He knows. He somehow knows that this is bad, that this is wrong. His kid-

Tony moves quickly to stand up, keeping Peter cradled tightly against his chest, running through all the techniques to get Peter to calm down, bouncing and rocking and shushing his cries, but he doesn’t stop. He wails and sobs and hiccups until he falls asleep, head tucked against Tony’s neck.

Peter’s first word was calling out for his mom, scared and confused and upset.

It’s not fair.

Not to Mary, not to Tony, not to Peter.

None of it was ever fair.

But Tony will do everything in his power to be everything Mary was to Peter, to keep his kid as happy as he can, to honor Mary’s memory.

He’ll do everything he can.

* Peter’s four-years-old when the question comes up.

“Everyone at school has a mom and a dad,” he starts, confusion etched across his forehead. “Where’s my mom?”

It’s much too delicate of a conversation to have without any preparation, but Tony had been hoping for at least a couple more years of peace before having to break this to Peter.

He crosses around the table into the living room, Peter in tow, settling him down on the couch and sitting on the coffee table across from him. His kid already looks nervous, Bambi eyes wide and expecting.

Tony really doesn’t want to tell him. Doesn’t want to break it to him that his mom abandoned him, disappeared, and died, but he doesn’t really have a choice. The last thing he wants to do is lie to his kid about something this serious.

“To be honest, kiddo, I don’t know why it happened the way it did, but I didn’t get to meet you until you were a year old,” Tony begins, trying to keep his head from spinning. Moments like these, the urge to drink sparks a little bit inside of him, but he’s learned from past mistakes.

“That’s…” Peter counts on his fingers. “Three years ago.”

Tony smiles. “Yeah, that’s good, buddy. But yeah, me and your mom didn’t know each other very well, I only got to see her for one night, and she left. I had no idea you even existed.”

He tells the story like how he used to tell the Dr Seuss stories.

“But then, one day, I woke up and there you were, right outside my door. All by yourself.”

“Where’d momma go?” he asks, little forehead creasing in confusion.

Tony hates this part. “She didn’t tell anybody. I like to think she wanted you to be safe, and that meant being away from her.”

“But where is she now?”

He wishes he had the option to preserve Peter’s beautiful innocence and optimism towards the world around him. He wishes he could keep his boy away from the traumas the world casts upon the best people. He wishes he could close the book on this conversation and distract him with snacks and a movie.

But he can’t.

He can’t, with good conscience, lie to his kid forever about what happened to his mom. He can’t pretend that everything in sunshine and rainbows in life. He can’t pretend that he’s Peter’s only parent.

“She’s gone, bubba,” Tony responds softly, gently taking the kid’s tiny hand in his. “She got in an accident a little while after I got you.”

Peter’s face scrunches up. “All gone? Like bye-bye gone?”

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

“Like when Miss Pepper went to… to the not-party and was wearing all dark?”

He tries to smile at his kid’s purity, but it’s all backwards. “Yeah, kid. Just like that. Except your mom didn’t have a not-party, she was just gone.”

It’s almost a little too much guilt for him to harbor, but he had been a new parent, and he didn’t actually know Mary enough to give her a funeral. He didn’t feel worthy of that. He assumed Richard Parker, the coworker from the news, but he found out a little while later that there hadn’t been anything for her.

Peter nods, like he understands everything just fine. “Okay. But you’re not going to be gone?”

“No, bubba, I’m not going anywhere.”

* Some days every year are hard on them.

Mother’s Day comes and goes every year with a sad silence passing over them, until one year, Peter’s bold enough to give a handmade Mother’s Day Card to Pepper who accepts it with tears in her eyes when Peter’s seven.

The Anniversary of Mary’s Death only becomes significant when Peter’s older. And when he’s eleven, he asks to visit Mary’s grave for the first time, and Tony tells the story of how they met. It’s not a particularly long story, and one that’s blurred with alcohol, but it’s the only one he knows.

The holidays are always tension-filled. It’s never easy to have constant reminders that they’re a ‘broken’ family. They don’t have the families everybody in the movies and on the cards have. It’s just Tony and Peter, that’s it. No Mary, no siblings, no extended family. Just them.

For Tony, the day Peter was dropped off at his house, is a hard day. Not because he regrets any of it, but because he can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for her and for Peter. He can’t even imagine. All he can think about is Peter’s flushed chubby cheeks, crying and begging for his mom to come back.

It hurts.

But they manage.

They always manage.

Because they have each other and that’s all that matters.

  *

There was a very distinct line in Tony’s life.

Before Peter and After Peter.

Before Peter is bad. It’s the worst years Tony’s life will ever have.

After Peter is everything else. It’s hope and joy and laughter and tears, but good tears because they’ll always have a shoulder to cry on.

Peter’s abandonment on Tony’s front steps may have been one of the worst days for Mary, but it was the first good day of Tony’s that would lead to a lifetime of happy memories. He’s just making the best of a bad situation.

And at the end of it all, they were both only doing what was best for Peter.

Because that’s what Peter deserved, and he’d make sure that’s all Peter got.

[goldenhemmings]

When You Love Someone | Streetfighter!Shawn (Part Two)

Hi, friends! First of all, thank you SO much for all the love on the previous part of this (which you can read in my masterlist). I was not expecting such kind and supportive feedback, and I love and appreciate all of it! Secondly, thanks for sticking with me through how long it took to get this part posted. I had finals and a two-day drive home from college, so I had a lot of other stuff on my plate. But, with that being said, I did finally manage to finish this part. So, without further ado, please enjoy 6.7k more words of Streetfighter!Shawn. I’d love to hear your feedback, and I hope you enjoy!!

“Y/N, is that you? Come in here!”

She sighed as she followed her roommates’ voices to Jade’s bathroom, where Jade was hunched over the toilet and Brooklyn was sitting on the edge of the bathtub rubbing her back. “Hey,” Y/N muttered, trying to focus on anything but the stench of vomit that filled the small room. She stepped over Jade’s floor-ridden body to the small window at the top of the shower, pulling it open in the hopes that it would help to air out the room.

“Who’s the guy Brooklyn said you were with?” Jade hiccupped the second she registered Y/N’s presence in the room.

Y/N let out an exhale of breath as she stared down at her roommate who had her head halfway inside the toilet. “Glad to see you’ve sobered up.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Brooklyn pressed, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “Who was that?” Y/N, however, was not in the mood for her roommates’ antics. They had convinced her to go out when they knew how tired she was, and while Y/N understood that it was her own fault for going, she definitely blamed her friends for leaving her at the bar to fend for herself. She wasn’t very happy with them, to say the least.

Y/N simply scoffed, reaching up to pull her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. “What, were you spying on me or something?”

“No, I just heard voices in the driveway and I went to the window to see who it was,” Brooklyn defended. Y/N could see in her eyes that she was definitely still tipsy. “Then I saw you standing with some hot-ass guy and I obviously freaked out a little.”

“No need to freak out,” Y/N answered dryly. “He just felt bad that my friends left me alone at a bar at one in the morning and offered to walk me home.”

Brooklyn sighed, and the quiet in the air was soon interrupted by Jade once again beginning to heave into the toilet. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I know that was shitty. Jade was just really sick, and--”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s over with.” A pause. “And the guy is no one, so don’t keep asking.”

“Doesn’t sound like no one,” Jade finally spoke from the floor, slurring her words and wiggling her eyebrows much to Y/N’s chagrin. “Did you get his number?”

Y/N didn’t have the energy to argue. “No, I didn’t, and I’m going to bed.” She reached to grab the phone charger someone had left plugged in at the sink and took a step back towards the door.

“Already?” Jade asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout.

“I’m exhausted,” Y/N snapped as she desperately tried not to lose her patience. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She turned to walk out the door, making a note to find a sweatshirt as she felt the house’s air conditioning kick in. She stopped into the kitchen and reached into the cabinet where she and her roommates kept their medicine, retrieving two ibuprofen pills and a bottle of water from the fridge before going to set them by Jade’s bed; she knew Brooklyn would forget to think of it.

She trudged into her bedroom, which was thankfully isolated enough from the rest of the house that she could attain some semblance of a tranquil environment. She shrugged out of her clothes and into an oversized hoodie before crawling into bed, missing the chance to reflect on the events of the night as she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Y/N woke to sunlight filtering through her shuttered eyelids, and she stretched her stiff limbs before rolling over to check the time displayed on the clock on her nightstand. She blinked a few times, convinced the sleep in her eyes had made her read the clock wrong, but the red numbers glared back at her just the same; she’d slept past one in the afternoon. She noticed a McDonald’s bag keeping her alarm clock company on the nightstand, with a note attached to the bag written in such messy handwriting it could only be Brooklyn’s. I got you your favorite! I also took your dirty clothes to the laundromat, they’re all clean and in a basket by your closet. I love you and I’m sorry that I was a crap friend last night.

Y/N smiled to herself as she slowly sat up and moved to rest her back against the headboard of her bed. If there was one thing Brooklyn had never been able to handle, it was having someone be upset with her. Y/N reached for the drive-thru bag and pulled out her fast-food breakfast of choice, unwrapping it with a fervor as the smell hit her nose and she immediately realized how hungry she was.

As she finished off the meal and reached for the ice water Brooklyn had also left her, Y/N heard her phone vibrate from the surface of the nightstand where it was plugged in to charge. She rolled to retrieve it, an undeniable flip in her stomach as she saw the unsaved number and message that simply read Hey, It’s Shawn.

Y/N rolled her eyes; typical boy. How was she supposed to respond to a message that gave her virtually nothing to work with? Her immediate instinct told her to consult Brooklyn and Jade, but then she remembered how insistent she had been last night that the guy who’d walked her home was just that: a guy. She’d left out the part where she’d witnessed a fully-fledged fight in the women’s bathroom of a bar, the (brief) part where he’d held her hand, and especially the part where he had asked her out. She laughed out loud imagining how a conversation like that with her roommates would go: a How’d you two meet? followed by He beat the shit out of a guy right in front of me. Sweet, I know.

After several minutes of back-and-forth in her head, Y/N finally settled on a simple response: Still up for coffee?

She tossed her phone down next to her and leaned her head against her bed’s headboard, letting out a heavy exhale of breath as she stared up at the ceiling. It had been almost a year since she’d broken up with her ex-boyfriend, and even longer since she’d been on a real date. Would this even be a date? Should it be? What if he doesn’t even want to go anymore? Y/N ran her hands over her face with a deep sigh. She hadn’t been nervous until she started overthinking things; something she had a habit of doing.

On the other side of town, Shawn was sitting on his couch feeling like an idiot for how absorbed he was in waiting for his phone to light up. He tried to focus on some MMA fight he’d found on TV, but was too wrapped up in his thoughts about Y/N. When his phone finally did buzz he almost jumped out of his skin, then scolded himself for his lame dependency on hearing the familiar text tone. He clicked the button to illuminate the screen, revealing a message from the woman of the hour.

Still up for coffee?

Was he ever. He still scrunched his nose at the thought of actual coffee, as it was a taste he’d yet to acquire, but it was what Y/N had agreed to and Shawn was still more excited than he would ever admit. Of course, he typed back, thinking of a plan in his head. Does three work?

Y/N looked over at her clock again as though she’d expected it to display a more dramatic time change than there actually had been. It was 1:30; she could easily get ready in an hour and a half. Sure :)

I’ll pick you up, came Shawn’s almost instant reply. See you soon.

That was enough to have Y/N scrambling out of bed and into the shower to start getting ready. When she was done she slipped on a pair of jeans and her favorite sweater, opting to let her hair air-dry. When she was done applying the makeup that she wanted, she pulled the front half of her hair back with a white ribbon and gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Satisfied, she reached for her phone and her purse, heading into the living room to wait for Shawn’s arrival.

The second Y/N emerged from her room, Brooklyn’s head turned back to look at her from her spot on the couch. “You look nice,” she remarked, grabbing Y/N’s attention. “Going out?”

“Just, uh, meeting a friend to study,” Y/N lied. “I have a Political Theory exam in a week.”

Brooklyn laughed, eliciting an amused yet questioning expression from Y/N. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Brooklyn stated, and she waved Y/N off with her hand. Y/N didn’t buy it.

“Brook,” she pressed, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest.

“Well, first of all, I find it adorable that you start studying for exams a week in advance,” she explained, and Y/N giggled.

“Guess I’m not as brave as some people who like to wait until the night before,” she shrugged, teasing. Brooklyn smiled, but Y/N could tell she had more to say. She stared at her friend expectantly.

“I dunno,” Brooklyn started, and her eyes raked over Y/N. “You spend half your life studying, and I’ve never seen you look like this to do it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“Don’t know,” Brooklyn repeated. “I guess you’re either meeting someone special to study, or you’re not actually studying. Just a prediction.”

Before Y/N had the chance to defend herself (though Brooklyn was one-hundred-percent correct), the doorbell rang. Brooklyn raised her eyebrows suggestively, which Y/N pretended not to see as she made her way to the door. Before she could even get her hand on the knob, Brooklyn’s voice came from behind her.

“You gonna bring your backpack?”

“Why would I--” Y/N started, but then caught herself. Brooklyn laughed.

“Have fun studying. I expect details when you’re home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t fight the tiny smile that was threatening to take over. “Check on Jade while I’m gone. No more ibuprofen until she eats something substantial.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

With that Y/N turned to once again face the door, taking a deep, stabilizing breath as she pulled it open to reveal Shawn standing in black jeans and a worn band t-shirt, his curly hair falling in his face and making him look much softer than she knew he was.

“I texted you, but you didn’t answer. Figured I should probably have come to the door anyway.”

Y/N smiled, suddenly more nervous than she had been all day. “That’s okay,” she answered, staring down at her shoes. Shawn backed up to allow her space to get through the doorway, the giddy smile remaining plastered on her face as she stepped outside after him.

“Bye kids, have fun!” Brooklyn teasingly called out before Y/N could tug the door closed. Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friend’s antics.

Shawn let out a little laugh. “Who was that?”

“Just one of my roommates,” Y/N shrugged, walking alongside him as he led her to the sleek black Jeep parked on the street. “She can be a lot sometimes, but she means well.”

Shawn took two long strides to get in front of Y/N so that he could open the passenger side door for her. “Thank you,” she said softly, stepping on the little ledge to hoist herself onto the car’s leather seats. She watched him make his way around the front of the car to the driver’s side, and for the first time, she admitted to herself how attractive she found him. He smiled at her as he climbed into the car, and Y/N immediately felt the butterflies in her stomach kick in.  

“Okay,” he began, reaching to shut the door before turning to look at her. “Where to? It’s your pick.”

She raised her eyebrows playfully. “That’s so much pressure.”

“I trust you,” Shawn replied, still smiling in a way that made it hard for her to focus.

Y/N hummed as she stared out the windshield, thinking, and all-too-aware of Shawn’s eyes resting on the side of her face. “There’s a little cafe on the corner of Shea and 19th that I really like. I go there to study sometimes.”

“Works for me,” Shawn answered, his tattooed hand shifting the car into drive before reaching up to lazily rest on top of the steering wheel.

When they arrived, Shawn ordered for both himself and Y/N while she claimed a booth in the corner by a window. She laughed when he winked at her from where he stood at the counter awaiting their drinks, and she didn’t miss the grin that crossed his face as well. He carried the mugs with their steaming coffee in it over to the table, handing Y/N her cup before sliding into the booth across from her.

“So, your fighting,” Y/N started with a curious smile, wasting no time. “You promised to tell me about it.”

“I did, didn’t I? That was fast,” Shawn smiled, but he was immediately nervous. She probably expected him to say that he was a boxer, or that he wrestled; any other sport that was less brutal than what he actually did. Her bright eyes stared at him, awaiting his answer. “It’s called streetfighting,” he finally explained, carefully watching her face for any expression that could help him gauge how she was feeling. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. We preschedule matches, a bunch of people come to bet on us and watch, and then we just, uh, fight until the rules say we have to stop.”

“How do you fight?”

“Our fists, mostly,” Shawn answered, reaching up to scrub at the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

So it was that kind of fighting. Y/N inhaled, making sure to choose her next words carefully. “Isn’t that...illegal?”

“No, actually,” Shawn replied, not failing to notice how comically wide Y/N’s eyes had instantly gone. “As long as we’re not hurting bystanders or causing property damage, there’s technically no law here against mutual combat.”

Y/N looked down, letting out a little puff of air as she absentmindedly traced the rim of her coffee mug with her pointer finger. “What?” Shawn asked, unable to read her reaction. He was nervous about how Y/N would receive everything that he was saying, and the fact that he cared so much scared him.

She flicked her eyes up to find his staring right back at her. “I don’t know, you just sound like a lawyer, or something. Mutual combat makes it seem so formal. So...not scary.”

Shawn held his breath, his eyes still carefully fixated on her. “Does it? Scare you, I mean.”

“Um,” she started with a nervous laugh. “I’m not really sure how I feel about it. Didn’t realize it was something that existed beyond movies until today.”

“Fair.” He paused, hesitating before asking the question he wanted to. “Does it scare you that I’m a part of it?” he pushed, suddenly painfully aware of how his heart had begun to race with anticipation. He was past the stage of trying to deny that he cared what Y/N thought of him; he’d simply just accepted the fact that he did.

“No,” she answered softly, but with conviction. “I mean, you definitely intimidated me at first,” she continued, eliciting a bashful smile from Shawn. “But you’re not scary.”

He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. The frown Y/N wore silently asked what he was thinking. “Really thought you’d say yes,” Shawn admitted. “It’s more violent than most people are willing to deal with.”

“I don’t think it makes you a violent person, though,” she replied, without even having to think about it. “Football players don’t go around tackling people in their everyday lives just like you don’t go around picking fights outside of Dynamite.”

“What makes you think I don’t do that?”

She shrugged, looking down at her coffee. “I just don’t.”

Shawn simply hummed in acknowledgment, drawing Y/N’s focus back up to his face. She met his honey-brown eyes and her gaze flicked down to the small scar on his cheek that she hadn’t noticed until then, illuminated by the natural light streaming through the window next to them. “Your scar,” she mused, eyes still locked on it as Shawn’s inked hand came up instinctively to touch it. “How’d you get that?”

He sighed, turning his head to the side to stare out the window. “Fight. Some guy didn’t take his rings off.”

She nodded slightly. “So they made him stop and get rid of them?”

“Oh, no,” Shawn answered nonchalantly, and Y/N’s brow furrowed.

“He kept fighting you with rings on?”

Shawn laughed, but Y/N didn’t understand why. “He only got one punch in, sweetheart. Fight didn’t last very long.”

Her stomach swirled. Okay then. “But you still got the scar.”

He shrugged his shoulders, watching as Y/N leaned her chin to rest in her hand. “Yeah, but I kind of like it. Think it’s cool.”

Y/N grinned, causing the corners of Shawn’s mouth to turn up as well. “Of course you do.”

“What, you don’t think it’s badass?” he teased, pretending not to feel his chest do a stupid little flutter as Y/N tilted her chin back and laughed.

“I didn’t say that,” she giggled, and he joined in until their laughter naturally died out. Y/N studied his face, unsure of whether or not she really dared to ask the question she most wanted to. But as he looked back at her with a warm expression, the words came before she could think about it any longer.

“If streetfighting were illegal, would you stop?”

“Probably not,” he answered, straightforward and immediate.

She nodded, leaning her back against the seat. At least he was honest. She had a million more questions, but she didn't know if they were ones she should be asking. But her silence was telling, and Shawn seemed to read her mind.

“Whatever you want to ask me, you can. You don’t have to hold back.”

That was good enough for her. “Okay,” she conceded, leaning forward over the table. His eyes never left her. “So, you told me why you were hiding last night...said it was because of those guys chasing you. But why were they after you in the first place?”

“Fair question,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands as he formulated an answer. “They’re all streetfighters. The guy from last night, Damon, hangs around with another guy named Rocco, and they follow this third guy like he’s their alpha wolf, or some shit. I beat him in a fight a few weeks ago, and none of them liked that very much because he wasn’t expecting to lose. Now he’s all hot and bothered about revenge.” He couldn’t contain the smug smile that had spread its way onto his face; he still felt pretty damn good about having beat Axel.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but pick up on how little Shawn seemed to be affected by the fact that he apparently had three men out for his head. “That would scare me half to death,” she whispered, taking a sip of her coffee so that she had a little bit of time to think of something to say. She placed the cup down, feeling the table shaking slightly from Shawn’s knee, which had started bouncing nervously.

“How often do you fight?”

“About once every month or two. Just until I’m healed enough from the last fight well enough to take on a new one.”

She felt her chest tighten. “It takes you two months to heal?”

“Depends,” he answered, and he could immediately see in her eyes that all of it was beginning to register in her mind. She almost asked what it depended on in the hopes that it would prove her assumption wrong, but she knew she was right; that the time between fights was determined by how severe of a condition he was left in from the previous one. She hadn’t realized until that moment how serious of a style of fighting this really was.

Shawn’s leg kept bouncing as he waited for her to say something. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, but she remained silent as she tried to process. It wasn’t long before Shawn couldn’t handle the quiet. “What are you thinking?”

Y/N looked up to find his face laced with an unreadable emotion; somewhere between concern and discomfort. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s a lot to take in. This all just seems so…The Outsiders, or something.”

He laughed in relief; it was an answer milder than he had expected. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’ve never actually read that book,” he admitted. “Just seen bits and pieces of the movie.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide and a smile came over her mouth; a sight for which Shawn was both grateful and relieved. A smile was a good sign. A smile meant that, even after everything he had told her, Y/N was still comfortable. “I can’t believe you’ve never read that book!” she pressed, bright-eyed. “It’s a classic.”

Shawn playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I had a rough childhood, I wasn’t reading the fucking Outsiders.”

Y/N’s light expression wavered, and her shoulders fell as though she were deflating. Shawn immediately wished he could take his words back. He wasn’t used to people that weren’t accustomed to his brash sense of humor, and the longer he sat in silence staring at Y/N’s face as she obviously struggled to come up with something to say, the stupider he felt for his lack of a filter.

“Sorry,” he muttered, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “That was...yeah. Probably too soon to be making jokes like that.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N reassured with a smile, swallowing hard as she pushed past it. “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it, then.”

“Guess so,” he replied with a strained smile, still mentally kicking himself for being so careless.

He took a sip from his cup of coffee, immediately trying--but failing--to conceal how his face contorted as the bitter taste reached his tongue. Y/N giggled, watching him curiously.

“Still too hot?”

“No,” he grunted, setting the cup down on the table. “I just don’t actually like coffee.”

“Then why’d you suggest we get coffee?” she laughed, and Shawn swore he’d drink all the bitter, black coffee in the world if it was what it took to hear that sound.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, unsuccessfully fighting a smile, “it wasn’t my brightest idea.”

“Try putting cream and sugar in it,” she suggested as she reached to the edge of the table to grab a sugar packet. “Should make it more bearable.”

“Why didn’t you put this stuff in yours?” Shawn questioned, watching Y/N’s face as she focused on stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Sugar, you mean?” Y/N questioned, her eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawn nodded. “I’m a full-time college student,” she explained with a shrug. “I’m immune to the taste. I’m surprised I haven’t resorted to just eating actual coffee beans by now.”

“College sounds fun,” he teased, grinning. “I’m obviously missing out.”

It was Y/N’s turn to smile. “It’s not so bad.” She slid the cup of coffee across the table to him; a tacit request for him to try it.

He looked at her challengingly, raising his eyebrows. “I trust that this is gonna be better and not worse.”

She laughed breathily, leaning back to fold her arms over her chest. “No promises.”

He took a sip from the mug, quirking his head to the side thoughtfully. “Not bad,” he approved.

“Told you!”

Shawn shook his head teasingly. “Actually, I believe what you said was ‘no promises.’” Y/N laughed, taking a drink from her own cup.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked as she placed her coffee back on the table, phrasing it like she was simply making conversation but secretly hoping he’d say he wasn’t busy so that she could extend their day together.

“I’m going to Dynamite tonight,” he answered, and Y/N pretended not to be disappointed. “Not to fight, but there’s a match so I’m kind of expected to be there.”

“What about those guys that were after you?”

Shawn cocked his head to the side. “What about them?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Y/N stumbled, trying to find the right words. “What if they...show up? Find you?”

But Shawn just shrugged, unbothered. “Not sure. I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”

“You’re not worried about it?”

“Not really,” Shawn admitted, and as disconcerting as his nonchalance was, Y/N managed to push past it.

“What’s it like where you fight?”

“Well,” Shawn started, taking a deep breath. Where to even begin? “It’s called Dynamite, because it’s through an alleyway off Dynamite Road in midtown. There’s really not much to it other than a square slab of concrete surrounded by a chain-link fence. If you maybe, uh, want to come tonight, I can show it to you.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Y/N dismissed, staring down at her empty coffee mug. “Thank you, though. I just think I need a little more time to process before I see everything in action.” Shawn nodded. He’d expected her to say no, but it still disappointed him. “What time do you have to be there?”

“Fights usually start around seven, so I get there a little earlier,” he answered, and Y/N checked her phone. 5:30.

“Damn,” she mumbled, unaware that she was saying it out loud.

“What?”

She looked up at Shawn, showing him her phone screen. “We’ve been here for a long time.”

He grinned. “Time flies.”

“I don’t want to make you late to the fight,” Y/N continued, tucking her phone into her purse. “We can leave, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he sighed, and Y/N’s stomach flipped. “But you’re probably right that we should.”

He stood up, Y/N following suit, and led the way out of the small coffee shop. From behind him he heard Y/N thank the barista standing at the counter, and he smiled to himself as they walked to his car in the parking lot. A part of him was convinced that she was too good for him, that he would never deserve her time or her kindness, but a bigger part of him didn’t care. His cheeks got hot from just thinking about her, and the effect her presence had on him was even greater. The way he felt about her was terrifying because it was something he’d never experienced with anyone else, and how quickly it had happened only scared him even further; he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

He opened the passenger door for her again once they reached the car, and she thanked him quietly when he extended his hand to help her up. They spent the entire drive home talking and laughing as though part of their conversation hadn’t been so heavy, and Shawn even pretended to accidentally make a few wrong turns so that he could extend their time together. It was obvious that he was getting lost on purpose, but Y/N didn’t care. She’d probably be doing the same thing.

When he pulled up in front of her house he dashed around the side of the car to help her out, and Y/N smiled; she’d not gotten a door for herself the entire day. She slid out of the car, adjusting the strap of her purse so that it sat where she wanted it on her shoulder. She looked up at Shawn, who was leaning against the side of his Jeep studying everything from the way she looked to the way she moved. She killed him.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N started, suddenly shy. “I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shawn answered, trailing off like he had more to say. Y/N picked up on it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, attempting to reassure her with a smile.

She watched him, amused eyes trained on his face. “No, you were gonna say something.”

Shawn sighed; she was right. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, confused as to why his demeanor had suddenly shifted.

“Okay.” He tugged a hand through his hair and let out a heavy breath. What are you doing, what are you doing? “I don’t really, um, date.”

Y/N felt a weight hit her chest. Of fucking course he’s too good to be true. “Oh.”

“No, wait, hang on. Just let me explain where I’m going with this,” he pushed, and Y/N’s eyes fixated on him, rightfully perplexed. “I hate talking about how I feel so, bear with me.” He paused to take another breath, looking off to the side as he continued. “I don’t date, ever, so I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t usually say or do the right thing and that’s probably not gonna change. I can’t make any promises to you about anything other than the fact that I like you a lot, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“Okay,” Y/N acknowledged, her heart in her throat as she tried to follow him. She couldn’t tell if this was taking a good or a bad turn. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I want to try,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “This. With you.”

“‘This?’” she quipped. “Like dating, or…?”

“Yeah, I guess. Even though I don’t really know what that entails.”

Y/N laughed softly, tentatively taking a step closer to him. “You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just go at your own pace.”

“It’s because I don’t get attached to people,” he continued, his jaw clenched in a way that made it seem like he was being forced to talk against his will. “I close myself off, I guess, because it only ever ends up badly for me. But I’m attached to you already and I don’t know why. I just am.”

She nodded, trying to put the pieces together. “So what do you want from me?”

“Be patient with me. Assuming that you even want this,” he laughed, looking up at the sky like it held the words he wanted to say. “Sort of forgot to verify that before I said all this embarrassing shit.”

“Hey,” Y/N cut in, reaching for his hand before either of them knew what was happening. “It’s not embarrassing. If you want to try then I do, too.”

Shawn wrapped his fingers around hers, feeling himself calm down. Having her hand in his anchored him, somehow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And there’s no rush. We can just see what happens.”

Without even thinking about it, he brought her hand up to place a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling. “Be safe tonight, alright?”

“I will,” he nodded, grinning even though her words weighed on him. No one ever cared whether or not he was safe. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” she replied, a teasing look making its way into her eyes. “Are you gonna let go of my hand so I can go inside or am I just stuck here?”

Shawn laughed, a looseness that came with getting his feelings off of his chest taking over. “If you insist,” he teased, dropping her hand but not dropping his eyes from her face. She looked up at him, and for a split second she swore he was going to kiss her. Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched the soft smile on his face, his brown eyes equally as tender.

Shawn stared back at Y/N, simply taking in everything about her. He never wanted to forget the way she looked in that moment, with her lips parted and her hair slightly messy but still perfect, or the way the golden light from the setting sun seemed to outline her figure in an ethereal glow. He so badly wanted to kiss her, but he was determined to be careful with her; to take things slowly and to not force anything. He finally let out the air from his chest, effectively severing the tension that had been in the air between them.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he simply said, reaching into his pocket for his car keys.

“Okay,” Y/N affirmed, biting the inside of her cheek. “Bye, Shawn.”

“Bye.” He sent her one last dizzying smile before climbing into his Jeep, and Y/N stepped back onto her driveway as she watched him start the car and pull away. As soon as he was out of sight, a heavy breath left her lungs and an unrestrained, childish smile took over her face. She half-walked, half-skipped up to her front door, pushing it open and immediately running to find her roommates. She hadn’t been excited about a guy in over a year, and she was no longer able to keep it from them.

Her roommates must have heard the door shut, as they both emerged from Jade’s bedroom with intrigued looks on their faces. “How was it?” Brooklyn burst out, pulling Y/N over to the couch in the small living room. “I already filled Jade in.”

Y/N laughed. “Of course you did.”

“Spill,” Jade commanded, plopping herself at Y/N’s right side as an elated smile took over her features.

Y/N hid her grin with her shoulder, her roommates squealing with excitement in response to Y/N’s infectious giddiness. “I don’t even know where to start.”

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

Shawn had just parked his car on the side-street outside Dynamite when he felt his phone vibrate from where it sat in the console. His heart started to pound in the hopes of it being from Y/N, but his face fell upon actually reading the message.

Hi Sugar. Coming to the fight tonight?

Shawn’s eyes rolled as he contemplated even responding. What’s it to you? he finally fired back. He’d had too good of a day with Y/N to ruin it by dealing with Raven’s overbearing devotion to him, so he slid his phone back into his pocket, hopping out of the car and locking it behind him. Raven would not ruin his high or sour his mood; he refused to allow it.

He walked through the alleyway to Dynamite like he’d done so many times before, but this time he had a certain lightness in his step that hadn’t previously been there. He tucked his hands into the front pocket of the black sweatshirt he’d slid on after finding it in the backseat of his car, nodding in greeting to the people he recognized, ready to inquire about their thoughts on that night’s matchup. Before he had the chance, however, he felt a light punch in his shoulder and turned around to be met with Mateo; the person he’d been scheduled to fight the previous night before Axel came and made a scene.

“Who ya got tonight, Mendes?” Mateo asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Who’s fighting?”

“Adam and Maverick.”

Shawn exhaled, smiling smugly as he reached into his pocket for cash as though the choice was obvious. “I’ll put a hundred on Mav, easy.”

Mateo raised his brows. “Bold,” he remarked. “They’re about as evenly matched as it comes.”

This elicited a scoff from Shawn. “You’ve never fought Mav. That son of a bitch is strong.”

“I’ve never fought you, though,” Mateo retorted. “Maybe you’re just weak.”

“You’re fucking full of it,” Shawn grinned, and Mateo laughed. Mateo was an arrogant little shit, but Shawn had never actually possessed any reason to dislike him or harbor any animosity towards him.

“Let’s rematch then.”

Shawn sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, feigning concern. “You sure, buddy? You got lucky the other night when I had to leave before our fight. You know I’d have beat your punk ass up.”

“You seem to forget that I’ve got a few years’ experience on you. Let’s settle it.”

Shawn laughed, ready to agree to a rematch when he heard a sharp, feminine voice cut through the air behind him. “What the hell, Mendes?”

Shawn’s stomach dropped. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Raven was stalking towards him, ready to interrogate him within an inch of his sanity. Mateo shot Shawn an apologetic expression before backing away quickly; he knew when he wasn’t wanted. Raven stepped around Shawn so that she was face to face with him, and she popped her hip out as she folded her arms over her chest.

Shawn scowled, rolling his eyes at her display. “What?” he demanded, but it came out flat.

Raven scoffed. “What do you mean ‘what?’ You’ve been dodgy lately, and it’s pissing me off.”

It was Shawn’s turn to scoff, taking a step back as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t exist to keep you happy, Raven.”

He knew she would never admit it, but that had hurt her; Shawn could see it in her eyes. Unfortunately for him, she was able to push through it and keep the argument going. “No, you obviously only exist to come over late at night, get laid, and then sneak out of my apartment while I’m sleeping, because you’re an asshole.”

“Well if it pisses you off so much, then maybe stop begging for me all the time,” Shawn responded, his tone laced with bitter sarcasm. “Or, no, I’ll do you one better—I’ll just cut this off completely. It’s a win-win.”

Raven’s tough expression faltered, and her folded arms fell to her sides. “T-That’s not what I meant, Shawn.”

“No? Well it’s what I meant,” he bit back, relishing in the way he could visibly see Raven coming undone. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, alright? But this—whatever it was—needed to end a long time ago.”

She laughed dryly, shaking her head in incredulity as she turned to the side to hide the hurt on her face. “Sugar, you can’t stay away from me and we both know it. You’re gonna regret this.”

“I only regret that I didn’t do it sooner,” he replied, less harshly, and he meant it. He knew he should have ended things with Raven a long time ago, but he just never could seem to get himself to do it. It was obvious that meeting Y/N had been the push he needed; he suddenly couldn’t think about anyone or anything other than her, even if he wanted to.

Raven stared back at him, her name suddenly fitting as her dark eyes narrowed, beady and bird-like as they held his gaze. Shawn kept standing there because he was sure she was about to say something, but all she did was stare with a look that could definitely kill.

“Raven!” Adam called, snapping her from her infuriated reverie and cutting the tension between her and Shawn. She turned to the side in search of the source of the voice. “We starting or not?”

She glared back at Shawn one last time, and it took all the strength he had to just stand there and keep quiet. He wanted so badly to shut her down, to insist that there was not a single reason why she should be this affected, but he didn’t. He just stood there and let her stab him with the piercing stare of her eyes. Maybe he owed her that much. Maybe she at least deserved his restraint.

“Yeah,” Raven finally shouted back, turning to the crowd. Shawn didn’t miss the waver in her voice. “Last chance to place your bets. Fight starts on my count.”

“Fuck you,” she spat to Shawn over her shoulder, turning around with a dramatic flip of her hair. “You’re nothing but a waste of time.”

“Actually, Raven, wait,” he called, feigning reluctance, and she whipped around so quickly it was as though she were being pulled by a string. She stared up at him, doe-eyed and hopeful even though she laughably tried to maintain her hard expression. Shawn smirked, extending a fistful of cash towards her.

“Do me a favor. Put me down for a hundred on Maverick.”

Feedback is so appreciated, and let me know if you want me to add another part!

Taglist: @joyfullyswimmingface @fourtristattoos @goldiean @justmesadgirl @shawns-curls @iam-a-painted-whore 

[moved-to-anthotnio]

thorns and roses.

Commission for @starksnack | Chapter: 1 - ? | Rhodey/Tony | 4.4k words | mit era, college shenanigans, tony needs a hug, rhodey is amazing at giving hugs and cuddles, first impressions, past abusive relationship, underage drinking/alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort, falling in love, hanahaki au, fluff and cuteness, rhodey is amazing let’s be honest, latine tony, latine rhodey

•••

MIT, 1985

James Rupert Rhodes is, to say the least, an absolute dumbass. He’s not stupid, or, Dios lo prohiba, dense. He’s just a dumbass with a heart too big for his own good. Or that’s what his mamá tells him over the phone when he calls her at three in the morning, very, very scared, and with no idea how to deal with the kid currently heaving up his stomach in the bathroom of James’ dorm room.

The kid has been holed up in the bathroom for almost two hours straight now, looking scarily pale and sick. Something at the back of James’ mind keeps telling him to take the poor dude to the doctor, but knowing that it’ll probably just get the kid in trouble, he decides to take the matter into his own hands. Rhodey calls his mamá, knowing that she’s dealt with James’ brother’s tequila and mezcal hangovers more often than not, and is far more experienced in this area than himself.

Mamá Rhodes walks him through it, gracias a Dios. James does what she says and gets what she asks for – juice of any kind, ibuprofen, a warm bath, a set of fresh clothes, some Vicks Vaporub because every Latine knows that shit’s magical - hoping that the kid doesn’t decide to escape from the room when he isn’t looking. It makes James’ heart clench to just think about it. The kid looked pretty scared when James found him and carried him to his room - his eyes were unfocused and he was crying, but James made no comment, knowing that he could make things worse, and just took him to the bathroom and helped him as he emptied his stomach. Now, two hours later, the kid’s still inside the bathroom, but thankfully James does know what to do.

He starts the bath, going over everything his mamá told him to do over the phone in his mind, repeating it like a mantra, and making sure that the water’s warm enough to lessen the kid’s incredibly visible pain instead of worsening it. He’s kneeling on the floor next to the kid, who’s gripping the toilet seat as if his life depends on it, when the water starts running, slowly filling the tub. James turns around on his knees to help the kid undress and put him inside the tub. The process is slow, mostly because the kid won’t stop shaking on his feet. James tries his best to undress him down to his boxers, holding him up with one arm so he doesn’t fall, and then helps him into the bathtub. The kid sits down heavily, his legs clearly giving up underneath him once they make contact with the warm water. His eyes look empty and tired, and James resists the urge to join him inside just to hold him close and try to ease his pain.

Instead, he tries his best to wash the kid’s hair, rinsing the sweat and smell of alcohol and the bit of blood that somehow ended up in his hair from his bleeding nose. He gently rinses the kid’s body, going over his arms, back and chest first, avoiding adding too much pressure on the nasty bruises spread across his skin. Then he goes over the kid’s legs and feet, then back to his face. The boy doesn’t move at all through it, and keeps silent, his eyes look gone and unsettlingly empty, like he’s in a completely different place. It worries James, but he hopes that once the boy gets some rest, he’ll feel better.

When it’s time to dress the kid up, James decides that it’s something the kid should do on his own. He leaves the fresh set of pajamas on the counter of the bathroom, and waits outside as the kid dries and dresses himself up. He hears a knock on the door, and supposes that the kid has finished. He opens the door carefully, and yeah, there he is, dressed up with his hair still dripping. James takes the towel - the fluffiest he has - from the bathroom lid and gently dries the kid’s hair.

He helps the boy walk over to James’ bed, and carefully sits him there. The kid doesn’t look up, just stares down at his shaking hands, trying to stop them from trembling by pressing them against his thighs. James takes the orange juice and the pills and hands them over to the kid, who takes them bashfully and downs them together in one go, before looking up and giving James a strained smile.

“So,” the boy starts, his voice rough, a weird spark in his eyes as he looks at him, “What’s it gonna be? Do you want a handjob? A blowjob? I’m pretty good at those, not gonna lie. Or will you sell the story of how you rescued me from my antics to the press?”

James stares blankly at him for a second, his brain trying to process the kid’s words. He stares at him, almost sure his mouth is hanging wide open - okay, completely sure, if the kid’s expression is anything to go by. But hey, you can’t blame him really; this is a lot to process, because honestly? Qué verga esta diciendo este niño.

James clears his throat, which has gone dry. “What are you talking about?”

This time, the kid’s expression grows more confused. He raises an eyebrow. “What am I talking about? I’m talking about what you want from me. What everyone always wants from me.” The pitch of his voice went up at the end of the last sentence, making it sound like a question.

James feels his blood run cold. He looks at the kid, who is sitting as straight as he can on the bed. It’s probably to make himself look older but James is no fool. He knows the kid can’t be older than sixteen.

“How old are you?” He asks, voice slightly choked.

Dios, this is too much for him. He should have just used the Pomada De La Campana for the kid’s bruises and let him go an hour ago, instead of going through an entire range of disturbing emotions in a split second.

The boy looks at him, his warm brown eyes looking puzzled, and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

The boy stares at him, his eyebrows knitted together, obviously looking for something in James’ expression. Whatever it is, he must have found it, because his face relaxes, his hands stop gripping his pajama bottoms hard enough to turn his knuckles white, and his shoulders hunch. He looks very small and incredibly tired, the lines around his eyes obscuring his expression. James wants to do nothing but wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him, and promise that everything’s gonna be okay in the morning. He can’t do that, though. Not after the kid’s offer earlier.

A couple minutes pass before the kid talks again. “I’m fifteen.”

Oh, Dios mío, Santismo.

“And why the hell would I want to have sex with you?” He blurts out, horrified.

It should be impossible, but the kid looks even smaller after that, and something in his face seems to break. James wants to kick himself in the balls.

“No- That’s not what I- Fuck- I mean,” He takes a deep breath, pressing his hands on each side of his temple. Oh Dios, he’s gonna have a headache soon. He can feel it coming. “I mean. You’re a, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t be offering anything sexual to anyone in the first place, and no one should be asking that from you, either. That’s just- No.”

He must have found James’ explanation better, because his face shifts from wounded to surprised and then amused, even though James’ pretty sure there’s absolutely nothing mildly amusing happening right now, if anything, this is stressful and infinitely tiring.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” The kid asks, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

James frowns and huffs, “Well, let’s say that your messy look and your vomit on my bathroom floor sure aren’t helping me solve my doubts at all.”

“Fair,” the kid shrugs, and then he takes the covers from James’ bed and shifts until he’s comfortably lying under them, his back turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired?”

“No, not that. Why are you sleeping in my bed?”

“Because I’ve decided you’re my best friend now.”

“That isn’t bizarre at all.”

“I’m sure your whole night has been bizarre already, why does this surprise you?” The kid asks, amusement clear on his voice. “Actually, don’t answer that, your life will just keep getting weirder from now on and there’s no point in asking any questions.”

James rolls his eyes. “What should I call you, though? Kid, niño, mijo, idiota, brat?”

“Cállate, I’m sleeping.”

“Y el enano es latino! Aleluya!”

The kid groans loudly, pulling a pillow over his head.

James laughs, and starts getting ready for bed. He makes sure the kid really is turned to the other side before he starts taking his clothes off, which are gross and sticky with the kid’s vomit and, wow, that’s disgusting, ugh, ugh, ugh. He should probably take a bath, but Dios, he’s terribly exhausted. Once he has changed into the set of fresh pajamas, he gets into the empty bed on the other side of the room. At times like this he really is thankful he accidentally wasn’t assigned a roommate, because Santo Dios.

Later, when he can feel himself drifting off, he can hear the faint sound of the kid’s voice. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

“Mi nombre es, uh, Tony. Tony Stark. You can call me Tony.”

He smiles, “James Rhodes, call me Jim.”

Tony turns, just to raise an eyebrow at him. “Jim? Yeah no.”

James rolls his eyes, “Night Tony.”

“Sure thing, Rhodey.”

Damn, this kid.

•••

Tony moves into James’ dorm room over the course of the week. Suddenly his dirty clothes are lying on the floor, his books and papers are scattered over the previously empty desk, and the bed starts looking like someone is finally using it. It’s kind of annoying for James, but very amusing too.

They never talk about the night James found Tony, and sometimes it feels like it never happened. Ignoring its existence is like a silent pact they made the moment they both fell asleep that night. And who knows? Maybe it’s for the best. That night…it was awful, finding Tony like that, James’ heart breaks a little more every time his mind conjures up Tony’s scarily empty face. So, no, they don’t talk about it. And James doesn’t ask.

They talk about other things instead. Slowly, they start learning a lot about each other. Talking with Tony, at first, feels like a game of 20 questions, except it’s one they started and never stop playing during the first two weeks since that night. James talks about his family; tells Tony about his brother and sister, about his mamá and his papá. He tells stories from his childhood, how he never learned to do anything besides cleaning his room and how to make coffee because his mamá wouldn’t let him do anything else. He asks Tony once or twice about his family in return, but with time, he learns not to bring Tony’s family up unprompted, and instead waits for Tony to tell him about them when he feels comfortable. Slowly, he learns that Tony’s mother is mexican, like James’ parents, and she, along with Jarvis, their butler, has taught Tony most of the things he knows.

James knows there’s more to her, and that Tony really loves her, just by the soft smile he gets everytime he mentions her. It makes something warm blossom in James’ chest everytime he sees that smile. Seeing Tony happy makes him happy.

On the other hand, James starts hating Howard all on his own, just by the way Tony stiffens and his eyes tighten around the corners whenever he mentions him. It’s a cold, unwavering hatred that pools at the bottom of his stomach; that he tries to ignore because he’s kinda afraid he’s maybe letting his feelings toward Tony run hot.

And well, isn’t that quite something.

Tony isn’t like anything James ever imagined Tony Stark would be. He doesn’t party much, nor does he go out with girls as much as everyone believes he does. He’s a genius, an absolute genius, and the expanse of his knowledge never ceases to amaze James. Tony works on personal projects a lot, as well as various projects for Stark Industries that James isn’t allowed to know about but still does because Tony never shuts up. Watching Tony work is mesmerizing, to say the least. His eyes light up with an unwavering wonder and energy, and once he starts it seems like he can’t stop. His hands moving in big expressions along with his words, and it feels like his entire body lights up with his love for science.

James’ pretty sure that Tony’s brain is above everyone else’s, but underneath all that, he’s just a normal kid. As much as someone like Tony Stark can be described as normal. And an absolute dumbass, just like James himself. Just like any other kid, Tony stays up late, sometimes doesn’t go to classes, eats a lot of junk food - which makes James sick, to be honest - lives off coffee, and doesn’t know how to do laundry.

And that’s exactly what they’re doing right now. Learning to do laundry. Because there’s only so much time you can go without washing your clothes and get away with it.

Mamá Rhodes is on the phone with them, talking them through it. James is close to giving up, if he’s being honest. But Tony is certain they can beat the washing machine if they try hard enough. So they’re still there.

By the end of the day, they start getting the hang of it, much to mamá Rhodes’ delight, who hangs up as soon as she hears the washing machine working in the background. Tony and James, on the other hand, feel like crying with relief. Then they laugh and laugh, until their bellies hurt and there are tears at the corners of their eyes.

They decide to get lunch afterwards. Tony, of course, decides on getting pizza, but James takes his phone away from him before the call goes through.

“What are you doing? Honeybear, this isn’t fair, give me my phone back!” Tony pouts, trying his best to reach the phone where James is holding it up over Tony’s head.

“First of all, stop calling me that. And second, no, we’re going to eat something healthy. You weigh fourteen pounds soaking wet, and are way too small for your age.”

“How dare you! I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much!”

“C’mon Tones, we both know our bodies deserve a break.”

Tony crosses his arms, glaring at him, “Pizza is perfect for a break.”

“Sorry, dude. It’s a hard no from me.”

They end up getting pizza anyway. And if anyone asks, James is immune to Tony’s puppy eyes, okay?

•••

In the nights that follow since Rhodey found him, Tony dreams of him.

Dreams of his hands running along his body; cold, long fingers pressing on his hips, his chest, holding him down, painting his skin purple and green. And Tony wakes up every single night with the taste of bile and salty tears on his tongue. So it’s easy, very easy, to just slide into Rhodey’s bed and hold onto him until the memories go, until the pain in his mind goes away. And he holds onto Rhodey, that first night when he startled him awake with his uncontrollable sobs that made him cry even harder in embarrassment, and the nights that follow, where the tears stream down, but Rhodey holds him back and whispers words of comfort in his ear. Because he cares. He cares about Tony. So it’s easy. Very easy to hold on and not let him go.

He never tells Rhodey about him. About Ty. About his hands and his lips, about his words and lies. About how he used him, only to get some money from him. About how Howard screamed himself hoarse over the phone when Ty threatened him about making his relationship with Tony and the details about it public, blaming it all on Tony. About how Tony was stupid enough to almost fall in love with Tiberius Stone. He never tells Rhodey any of it, nor how he ended up drunk off his ass at that party, a death wish almost crawling in the depths of his heart. And thankfully, Rhodey never asks.

And it’s good, this thing he has with Rhodey. It’s nice, easy.

Until it’s not.

Months pass and they become inseparable. Best friends, Rhodey says one time, and when Tony says it back, the words feel weird in his mouth, entirely too good to be true. But that’s what they are. Best friends. And Tony would never ask the universe for more, truly and irrevocably happy with what he has already, except when he does.

It’s funny, really. How people seem to know more about him than himself. Tony supposedly knows himself, though, and it’s quite obvious that he should have known something like this would happen.

You’re greedy, you’re never satisfied, are you? Always seeking more, like a needy little bitch, don’t you?

And it’s true. Those words Ty spat to him when Tony found out it was all a lie. Tony wanted their relationship to be true, to be real. He loved Ty, and he thought Ty loved him back, but it wasn’t the case. And that’s when he realized: he always asked for more. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s selfish, and wants to receive from everyone around him. Wants to be liked, wants to be cared for, wants to be loved.

So really, it shouldn’t be a surprise when his heart starts swooping in his chest every time Rhodey looks at him, but it is. It is. And it’s awful. His heart dances under his best friend’s gaze, but his stomach plummets, filling with cold, unforgiving dread. And he hates himself, he does, because it all comes down to this, doesn’t it? He always wants more, it’s never enough. And what’s worse, he is never enough. Not for Howard, not for Ty. And if he asks Rhodey for more, and for some magnificent reason he gets it, he would never be enough for Rhodey. Because Rhodey deserves more, far more than Tony can give. And it wouldn’t be fair to keep him, it would be selfish. And yet, Tony wants.

Months pass, and almost too soon, a year goes by. The feelings carefully hidden in his chest grow with time, and he wants and wants and wants, and has nothing but himself to give back. But Tony’s broken; a mess of scattered tiny, useless pieces, and he’s not enough, never will be. Why would he?

•••

Winter Break, 1986

Just like last year, they go their separate ways during winter break. Tony couldn’t bear the thought of intruding on the Rhodes’ celebrations, even after Rhodey insisted that his mamá would be pleased to meet Tony after a year of them being friends.  He would love to go and finally meet the Rhodes family, of course, he knows that mamá Rhodes is a sweetheart and would welcome him with open arms, but everytime he thinks about it, he feels uneasy, so he decides to stay at school during break.

He occupies himself with new projects, and ignores the fact that he would really love to go see his mamá. It also makes it easier to forget that Rhodey is gone, slightly more bearable. The first couple days are torture though; missing Rhodey feels like missing a part of himself. And no matter how many times they go their separate ways, it’s always the same pain the first couple days. He can’t help but feel absolutely ridiculous at the thought. He’s known the guy for, what, a year and a couple of months? Tony has always known he’s clingy, but this definitely has to take the cake.

It’s okay, though, he doesn’t need Rhodey. Tony can take care of himself and do the stuff he has to do. He doesn’t need Rhodey’s help, or hugs, or cuddles, or - or anything.

He’s gonna be okay.

Who is he kidding? He misses Rhodey too much, to the point where he can’t sleep at night. It’s absolutely, and he can’t stress this enough, ridiculous. Honestly. And yet, it doesn’t erase the fact that he misses Rhodey’s warmth beside him, his awful snores, and his grunts when Tony moves even slightly when he’s trapped between James’ arms while they sleep on his bed. It’s become like a lullaby for Tony; makes him feel safe, and cared for.

See? Ridiculous. Besides, if you asked Tony, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he started being so needy for his…best friend.

Okay, that’s a lie. Well, half lie. He doesn’t remember when, but he does remember how.

Once they got comfortable enough with each other, Tony latched onto Rhodey with a pathetic need that still unsettles him to this day, but can’t avoid as much as he tries. It’s just that, well, Rhodey gives lovely cuddles. And since that first night when Tony crawled into his bed sobbing his eyes out, well, it seems like Tony just can’t get enough. He is almost always touching Rhodey in some sort of way, be it a hand on his shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, midnight cuddles, everything he can get his hands on. Tony would say it’s a need, if it didn’t make him feel extremely dumb. Rhodey, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind, eagerly returning the kisses and words and hugs and everything Tony gives him.

It settles down a need inside Tony that he didn’t even know existed.

So really, it’s not surprising that he can’t sleep without him in the room anymore. Just like it’s not surprising when he notices he’s got a crush on Rhodey. If anything, it’s just disappointing. He’s not disappointed that he can’t sleep without Rhodey - although, yes, he very much is, he would like a couple of hours of rest when he’s gone, thanks -, but he is disappointed that he’s got a crush on Rhodey. Not because James isn’t crush material, on the contrary, Tony is firmly convinced that James Rhodes is an absolute catch and anyone dating him would be the luckiest motherfucker in the whole universe.  But sadly, Tony knows the feelings aren’t reciprocated, and never will be. So there’s no use in hoarding those feelings towards his best and olny friend.

Plus, not even Rhodey would want Tony, right?

That’s another reason why he didn’t want to go to the Rhodes’; he needs to get rid of his feelings, because otherwise, they’ll just grow more and more, and will slowly kill him. Although it is a very tempting ending to his life, he really, really doesn’t want to die. Not yet, at least.

Tony has been elbow deep in grease and mechanical parts for hours now, probably days even, when his phone finally rings. He looks at the screen and panics when he recognizes Rhodey’s ID. What if his feelings are so obvious that the universe noticed and wants to fuck with him? Tony’s been through some stuff, and he wouldn’t pass this as a coincidence at all, knowing what has happened ion his life so far. He looks for something to dry his hands with, his eyes settling on one of his shirts, and mourns its loss as soon as his dirty hands touch the fabric.

Tony grabs the phone with trembling hands, it’s been a while since he’s heard Rhodey’s soft voice, and thankfully, he’s fast enough to answer the call before it disconnects. He’s greeted with the sound of Los Peces En El Río blaring in the background, and the faint sound of conversation and laughter. “Honeybear, how’s it going?”

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Rhodey says, his words soft and slightly slurred, and Tony is fairly convinced that he drank way too much ponche and wine.

He ignores the pet name and the pang of hurt in his chest, “Ya es Navidad?”

“Si, since two hours ago, dumbass.”

“Bueno, pues Feliz Navidad para ti también, sourpatch.”

Rhodey laughs on the other side of the line, and Tony can’t help that little smile that spreads over his face. He tells Tony that his hermanos say hi, along with mamá Rhodes and Mr. Rhodes; he even hands the phone to his mamá so Tony can talk to her. She tells Tony that she would like to meet him someday in person and that he’s welcome to comego go visit whenever he pleases. Tony smiles through it all, and agrees to go during spring break. Eventually, after a long talk with Roberta Rhodes, the phone gets handed back to James, who laughs and apologizes if it was too much. Tony assures it wasn’t, everything was really sweet. It reminds Tony of his mamá, who’ll probably call him later.

“And how are you hanging on?”, Rhodey asks, unable to keep the concern away from his voice, making Tony roll his eyes fondly. “Everything okay? You haven’t destroyed anything, have you?”

“Everything’s peachy keen, sugar,” Tony says, looking around their room. There are papers and metal pieces scattered around the room; it’s an absolute mess, but nothing’s broken. “Nothing broken. Right now science is at work and I’m very close to cracking this formula, like, really close, Rhodey.”

“That’s amazing, Tony.” Rhodey’s voice softens even more, and Tony feels like he’s melting. “I’m very proud of you.”

He can feel himself blush, and is extremely grateful that Rhodey isn’t here to witness Tony completely embarrass himself.

“S’not ready yet, so there’s nothing to be proud of, platypus. I’m more likely to make this place explode than to actually figure this out.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Rhodey says, but the words are fond and laced with amusement. The line goes silent for a moment, then, “Wait, are you in our room?”

Tony doesn’t answer.

“I thought you were in the lab, oh Dios, Tony Stark, I swear, if you blow up our room you’ll be sleeping in the hallway, don’t you dare-”

Tony laughs, loud and heartfelt, and he feels like he’s hasn’t laughed like this in days. Who would’ve thought that Rhodey’s voice would make Tony’s world brighter. So really, he can’t help it, the words come out of his mouth all on their own. “Yeah, yeah, honeybear, I love you too.”

Oh shit.

Tony hangs up.

[panic-and-procrastinate-writing]

Chapter 9: Pipe Dreams

Warnings: Vomit, Scars, Self Harm Mention, Eating Disorders

You called him immediately after you finished your newest monstrosity.

You were crumpled up on the floor, your back against the far wall and your cheeks stained with tears.

You had worked on it the whole day, from yesterday night to then, 11 pm. A whole 24 hours.

Your chest felt so heavy, and your eyes were so tired, but the thought of closing them so soon after a nightmare like that…

You would rather gouge your eyes out than see what you saw again.

“Hello?” The vigilantes mechanical voice called out from the window, echoing through out your dark apartment.

You had turned the lights off so you wouldn’t have to see the painting again.

“In here.” You croaked; your throat was raw from another panic attack that you had earlier.

You heard him land in your apartment through the window, and then his heavy footsteps coming closer.

When he stood next to you, he flicked on the light switch above you, and stared in horrific confusion.

Okay, so, maybe you also turned the lights off because you didn’t want him to see the state you were in.

You had vomit on your clothes, a lot of it. You had been trying to hold back from throwing up and had been trying to keep painting, but the urge was too powerful and you ended up not making it to your toilet.

Your eyes were bloodshot, and the bags underneath were heavy and dark. Your nose was red and still running, and your lips were broken and split from where you had been biting them in anxiety.

And you were still crying. That fact over powered all the others as the vigilante crouched to steadily stroke your cheeks and wipe away the newest falling tears.

You didn’t flinch away from his touch this time.

He didn’t ask what happened, and instead just stood up to get you some fresh clothes, and a glass of water.

When he held the glass of water out in front of you, you gladly took it and chugged it, taking a deep breath after.

He held your hands and steadily helped to pull you up, and when you struggled to hold your own weight, the Red Hood put his arm around your waist and supported you as you stumbled to the bathroom.

He sat you down on the edge of the bathtub, as the toilet was covered in bile.

It made you want to throw up again.

But instead, you watched as the vigilante took out some cleaning supplies from under the tub, and began to wipe away the sick.

If you had any energy, you would have blushed from all his care, but you didn’t, so you just settled for a half dead/half shocked look instead.

After he finished cleaning, he sat you on the toilet, and left you to get changed.

Or at least he tried to, but you didn’t let him.

You don’t know why you reached out, maybe because you were being smart and knew you didn’t have the energy to do it yourself, or maybe because you desperately didn’t want to be alone right then.

Either way, you didn’t let him leave, and he stayed to help.

It was awful and humiliating. Nobody had ever seen you in that amount of undress before, and all you could think was how ugly you must look to him.

But he didn’t say a word.

Not about the uncovered legs with thousands of overlapping scars.

Not about the extremely visible ribs and bones you had.

Not about how pale and sick you very clearly were.

He didn’t say anything, and instead, just helped.

You wanted to start crying again.

When you were done getting dressed, he picked up a cloth from the side of the sink, wet it with cold water, and cleaned your face. Firmly, but with care.

You felt a bit better.

But you didn’t feel as fresh as you wanted to, so using what little energy you had, you stood up to get your tooth brush. You were still shaky, but the Red Hood held you the entire time, and by the end of it, you felt… okay.

Your mouth was clean, your face was clean, and you were wearing fresh clothes. It felt, nice.

He wordlessly helped you out of your bathroom, and sat you in the kitchen at the dining table. You crossed your arms and laid your head down on the table feeling so utterly drained.

But you felt cared for. And it was good.

The vigilante was doing something in your kitchen, looking for something, opening cupboards and draws, and when he found it you could hear the sound of jam jar lid popping off.

He was… making you food.

Did you want to eat?

You still felt partially sick, but you were so drained, so shaky. You needed to eat something, but was she going to get mad?

She didn’t tend to speak when other people were around.

Maybe… you could eat? Just this once?

Besides, if he was making it for you, then it would be rude to deny it.

Yeah, you would eat.

The vigilante placed the plate in front of you, and you looked up to see he had made a jam sandwich, and filled the glass of water back up.

You ate slowly as he sat down and watched, carefully making sure you were going to be okay.

It was good, the sandwich. Your sandwiches always tasted like arse. You weren’t sure how you could fuck up a sandwich, but you always did.

He didn’t, and he was still watching. But when you got to the second half, you couldn’t eat anymore, as your stomach was already feeling full.

You weren’t used to this much food, and you didn’t want to insult him, so you put the second half down in favour of more water.

When you finished, you both sat in complete silence, just existing in each other’s company. What could you say anyway? You didn’t really have the energy for words.

It felt… weird. You weren’t used to this. All this care and comfort. Neveah didn’t do shit like this. Mainly because you would never let her see you like this, but still.

Why did he care so damn much?

“You’re not going to eat the rest?” He asked gently, finally filling the dead silence.

“Feel sick.” Was all you said.

A beat of silence, then:

“Was the vision that bad?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. It was, kinda. It was an awful vision, but there were other factors that made you feel this way, yesterday’s incident for one.

Sighing, you put your head in your hands and made a whimper like noise, not really having any energy to explain.

You heard him sigh as well, and suddenly felt really bad that he put all this effort into you and you couldn’t even explain something so simple.

“It was clearer.” You began, hating how much your throat ached and how croaky it sounded. “It was more vibrant. Like someone turned the saturation and brightness up. I have a headache from it.”

He hummed as he nodded his head, still watching you like a hawk.

“Have you taken anything? Paracetamol? Ibuprofen?”

“No, but I have paracetamol in the corner cupboard.” You explained, hoping he would get it for you. He did, as well as refill your glass so you didn’t need to take the tablet dry.

Once you took it you put your head in your arms and waited for it to kick in.

“Do you know why your vision was clearer?” He asked whilst wrapping up your sandwich to put it away in the fridge.

“I meditated yesterday. Burned some incense. Cleared out my psychic filter, if you will.”

He hummed and nodded along, understanding.

“Your throat sounds bad, how many panic attacks have you had?” He asked as gently as he could, whilst walking around to your side of the table and leaning on it.

“I’ve only had one today, but I had a really bad one yesterday.” You explained, turning your head in your arms so you could see him better.

“You had the vision yesterday?”

“Yesterday night. I had the panic attack in the morning.” You explained begrudgingly, not sure how to tell him about the goddamn stupid voice in your head that sometimes told you to breathe, and sometimes told you to starve.

“What caused the panic attack yesterday?” He questioned, still trying to be ever so gentle. It made you warm again.

“Stuff… Family issues. Mental issues. Bad combo.”

He nodded his head as he listened, only trying to help.

Your head was getting a bit better, it wasn’t as dizzy, and you had some energy again.

He really was good friend.

He patted your head gently before walking into the living room to actually take a look at the painting, and your face flushed with warmth.

You tried to stand up to follow him, and stumbled a bit, but managed okay. You really didn’t want to look at the painting, but you also didn’t want to leave his side, so you walked up to him and rested your head on his arm.

You still didn’t have the right amount of energy to do this, but you figured you would be okay if you were with him.

“It’s still wet.” You chastised when he tried to touch it.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t dare to open your eyes, and instead just revelled in the comfort of him letting you lean on him.

But you could tell that the Red Hood was affected by the painting, and was frowning, deep in thought of what to do.

You decided you would comfort him too.

“Don’t worry, we have a couple days to save the guy.”

“You know when it’s going to happen?” He asked, a little shock coming off of him.

“Not exactly, it just feels like it’s going to be in few days. Maybe more? We don’t have that long, but we have long enough.” You said, standing up straight, even though all you really wanted to do was bury yourself further into his arms.

“Hmm. That doesn’t give us a lot to work with, but we have the face of the next victim, so we can run facial recognition, find him, and protect him.”

“Yep. Or, you know, I could just tell you the street the victim lives on.” You smiled tiredly but smugly at the vigilante as he looked at you with surprise.

“You know where the victim lives?” He asked as you walked around him to sit on the sofa, your legs already getting tired from standing.

“I know a lot now. Remember, the vision was clearer, longer. My first vision was short and vague, snippets of what happened, mostly of the murderer stabbing her to the pavement. This vision detailed all the way back to when he gets taken.” You explained.

“So, you know… everything?” the Red Hood asked, staring at you with mild awe.

“Mm, I don’t know the guy’s name.” You pondered. “The murderer kept thinking of him as a pig, so I think it’s a cop. And he kept thinking about how greedy he was? That he turned a ‘blind eye’?” You explained with air quotes, and mild curiosity.

The vigilante hummed as he turned back to the painting in thought.

“He has given the guy a pig nose, so you’re probably right. And most of the cops are corrupt and bought easily, so he could have been bribed to look the other way.” The Vigilante theorised, still staring at the painting.

“That would explain his gouged-out eyes and leaving them on the floor.” You said, picking up a pillow and hugging it your chest.

“Is there anything else?” The Red Hood asked, turning back to you.

You thought about it for a bit, struggling to remember. After 24 hours the vision tended to get fuzzy and wasn’t that helpful.

But then you did remember something.

“Yeah, actually. He went to a… warehouse? It was broken down, old, abandoned. I… can’t remember where, car rides are always so fuzzy in dreams, but… it wasn’t empty. It had, uh, boxes? Big, massive, metal boxes! Yeah!” You exclaimed, looking up at the vigilante with pride.

“A warehouse, huh? And it was abandoned?” He inquired

You nodded you head yes.

“Good, alright, that really helps. Thanks.” He said, a proud smile of his own directed at you.

You smiled back at him, energy and warmth starting to consume you.

However, your throat was still sore, so you got up and walked into to the kitchen to make some tea.

You suddenly had this strange, overwhelming urge to get better.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you didn’t think about it and just continued preparing your tea. You were going to ask the vigilante if he wanted one, but when you turned around you saw he was holding his hand up to his helmet, and sounded as if he was talking to somebody.

Oh well. He didn’t like taking off his helmet anyway.

 When you finished making your tea, peppermint for your throat this time, you grabbed your laptop and the USB before walking over to the living room and sitting on the sofa.

It was finally time to read through those notes that Oracle had made, and it was time to update them.

The Red Hood was apparently done talking to whoever he was talking to, and was currently taking pictures of your work. It seemed you weren’t the only one who wanted to break down the message.

The notes Oracle had made where pretty detailed, had lots of evidence and were very concrete, so you were happy to read through them, but you desperately wanted to get on with breaking down this new message that the murderer had put on display.

You already knew what thyme meant, so you opened a new note on your laptop, and wrote in that the second murder would take place at 2 in the morning.

The third murder, if the bad guy actually managed to get away, would be placed at 6? It seemed pretty early for the murderer to place it, whether it was the morning or the afternoon, too many people would be out.

But who could know what goes on in a psychopath’s mind, he was obviously doing it for attention, so maybe he was challenging himself?

You made a new bullet point, and wrote about how you thought that the victim could be a cop. You wrote about the thoughts and feelings of the murderer, constantly calling him a pig and making him look like one, etcetera, etcetera.

And you worked your way down the body, explaining and theorising each wound and flower, like why the murderer gouged out the eyes, because of how he turned a blind eye.

Turns.

He turns a blind eye.

He wasn’t dead yet.

In the painting, he had buttercups in his mouth, steadily falling out. Was he eating buttercups? According to Wikipedia, buttercups meant riches.

He was eating the rich?

That couldn’t be right.

That expression was used to show hatred for the upper-class, and to support communism. This guy was a capitalist born and bred.

But then again…

You didn’t know what he turned a blind eye for, what he ignored. Maybe… maybe the rich hurt somebody? But he just took their money instead of doing anything to help people?

Stuffing his belly and getting greedy like the murderer thought he was.

No, the murderer knew. The murderer stalked his victims, so he was sure of what he was doing.

And the murderer knew that he was eating the rich. He was eating out of their hands so they could keep getting away with whatever the hell they wanted to.

Yes, it was right, you knew it. So, you wrote it down.

You moved down the body, and found your fingers frozen.

This was the part that made you throw up so much earlier.

The gaping hole in his chest.

You took a deep breath, and strained against your anxiety to keep your cool, so you could crack the message.

You made a bullet point with shaky fingers, typing how the gaping hole in his chest was supposed to show the message came from his soul.

It was difficult, trying to write and ignore all the pain and suffering you remembered the victim went through. Remembering the gruesome and gory details of the murderer slicing him open and cutting and digging into his chest, all the way through…

You took another deep breath as you look up to the ceiling, trying to restrain the tears.

You had already had a mental break down, you wouldn’t have another.

No, you would focus on the message.

And the message was white heather, almond branches, and yellow carnations.

White heather meant protection, almonds meant promise, and yellow carnations meant disappointment.

But it was supposed to be backwards. You could feel it, as you feel everything.

He disappointed a promise to protect, because he was a cop taking bribes from the rich. Bribes for what? You didn’t know. But you had a clearer idea of who the victim was.

The motive was still shady, but there had to be something that linked the victims, and you knew he left it in the flowers.

You looked up when you heard the vigilante talking again, but it still wasn’t to you. You don’t know why you felt disappointed by that.

When the Red Hood stopped talking to whoever was on the other end of his coms, he turned to you, walked over and sat next you.

He was looking over your notes, and you could feel the surprise coming off of him.

“You already cracked the message?” He asked with awe.

“It’s really not that difficult. The murderer uses Wikipedia to find out the meanings, all you gotta do is find out what the flowers are and then link their meanings.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“How would I know that the murderer uses Wikipedia?”

Oh.

Yeah.

He wouldn’t.

“Sorry, I guess that’s a psychic thing huh?” You stated bashfully. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between your psychic abilities and your natural senses.

“Uhuh. So, what do you have? Oracle wants the details.”

So that’s who he was talking to. Figured, he hadn’t mentioned anyone else anyway.

“Uh, well I’ve gotten a lot. There’s not as many details as the last murder, he made this one pretty quick and simple. But it was basically just stating what we already guessed. That he broke his oath to serve and protect for his own selfish gain.”

He hummed and nodded his head understanding. “Send it to her, she’ll want to look over it herself.”

“Um okay, how do I do that?” You asked, staring at your screen with confusion. He said there was link, but you couldn’t see anything…

“Here.” He took the laptop out of your hands and started typing, pressing a bunch of keys.

Oh no, it was code and programming, wasn’t it?

You sucked at that.

You were starting to miss your paper case files.

“There you go, all you gotta to do is insert the file and press enter and she should get it.” He said, handing the laptop back to you, the code and stuff still on the screen.

“Um, how am I supposed to get into this again? Like isn’t there a simple way to just, email her or something?” You asked, still staring at the screen with horrific confusion.

You hated computers.

“What do you mean, it is simple.”

You gave him a look that said ‘really?’

“Okay, give it back, I’ll make it easier.”

He took the laptop back and you saw him type more code, enter it, and then handed it back to you when it disappeared.

“Now if you want to talk to her, all you gotta do is type Oracle_1, with a capital O, Okay? It should immediately come up with a chat.”

You sighed in relief, that being ten times easier than writing millions of codes.

“Thanks, I kinda suck at computers.” You chuckled with a blush, feeling a little bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He grinned at you while you stared at him with shock. The cheeky bastard!

You playfully pushed him with your shoulder in return, but he only grinned harder. The little bitch.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you… were good at computers. You give off idiot vibes.” You retorted, not your best comeback, but it felt good enough.

“I do not!” He exclaimed in shock, pushing back with his shoulder, harder.

“Sure you do, that big old helmet echoes, makes your head sound empty.” You said with a cheeky grin, starting to enjoy riling him up.

“Ah!” He mock-gasped and held his hand over his heart, dramatically acting like you had actually wounded him. Figured, he was a thespian after all.

“I’m not an idiot.” He said seriously, making sure you knew that he was actually smart.

“I know.” You said, turning back to the computer. “But you look like one.” You gave him a cheeky smirk and side eye, and exclaimed when he pushed you off the sofa.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to push you that hard, I only meant to nudge you.” He shouted with worry, staring at you on the floor as you gave him a death glare.

“I don’t weigh anything! A nudge could throw me into outer space!” You shouted back, throwing a pillow at him.

The little bitch was gonna kill you one day.

But you couldn’t complain though, he was fun to be around.

[dreams0601]

Smoke Break

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN FAIRYTAIL HIRO DOES.

*fluffy natsu on a smoke break* NALU

PG13 a little adult conduct

Working late nights at the convenience store had its perks. I could have as many smoke breaks as I wanted this late. Now was one of those slow times and I mean very slow. I’m sure I wouldn’t see anyone for hours with it being two a.m. I rounded the long counter smirking to myself while I pulled my cigarettes out of my back pocket. Going out through the front door, knowing that was the only way in or out for customers. Sitting on the windowsill right by the door putting the menthol to my lips cupping my hands around the lighter lighting it quickly. I watched my surrounding closely with store not being in the best area. The streets were empty, and everything was quiet. I took a long drag of the cigarette pushing my hair out of my face. The hair gel was losing it mojo after all day. My salmon locks just kept falling in to my eyes and with a huff a gave up with pushing it up.

           A sudden shout of help broke me out of my thoughts. Looking up to see a blonde woman get snatched by the hair and thrown up against the brick wall that was across the parking lot of the store. I ran towards them not even giving a shit about my job at that moment. Throwing cigarette to the ground in my haste. Only half way across the parking lot the unknown assailant had grabbed her by the face and started to shout.  I ran faster noticing his free hand sliding up her shirt. I didn’t even bother shouting at him to stop. I reached them, my fist coming up to just deck him in the face. With the force he was ripped from her and on the ground. On instinct my foot came out kicking him in the ribs to get the point across. He choked out a breath and cursing under his breath.

“Get the hell out of here you nasty scum bag.” I growled standing in front of the woman so he didn’t get any ideas about grabbing her again. With that the man scrabbled up as fast he could manage and ran off as fast as his legs could take him disappearing in to the dark alley across the street.

           I turned to look at the woman behind me. Her arms wrapped around her chest and tears in her eyes that had yet to fall. Her long blonde hair that fell to her waist was ruffled from the abuse. She wore a thin pink tank top that was tight around her big bust and black legging with the words pink on the side in big chunky white letters. She was beautiful a blush coming to my cheeks with embarrassment when I figured that I just checked her out after I just saved her from getting molested.

“Thank you.” She whispered with her head down.

“No problem, I’m sorry for staring your just very beautiful” I slapped my hand over my mouth at blurting out those words like that without thinking. My face reddening in even more embarrassment. Her giggles bringing me out of my internal turmoil. I looked up quickly to see her hand over her mouth in a fit full of giggles. I rubbed the back of my neck and smirked at her laugh as it was beautiful too.

“Do you tell every woman you save she is beautiful? Or are you just a weirdo” she giggled more. My face reddening, I growled lightly.

“Coming from the woman who is walking in a bad neighborhood at two a.m wearing nothing but a tank top and leggings. Who is the real weirdo here” I looked her smirking as her face reddened in what looked like rage? Her face only causing me to throw my head back and laugh. After I composed myself, I figured interdictions were in order.

“I’m Natsu Dragneel. Its nice to meet you and I’m glad I was able to help. Just be more careful next time.”

She sighed. “I’m Lucy Heartfilia. It’s nice to meet you too. I was just coming to the convenience store to get some ibuprofen and something quick to eat.” She said shyly playing with her hair.

“Oh my god the convenience store” I shouted turning around and ran back to the store. I threw open the door and ran around the counter to open the cash register to see everything was in order. I breath deeply in relief as Lucy came rushing into the store to check on my panic.

“Oh god you scared me. Is everything good in here? I’m sorry to pull you from your job to save me.” She bowed to me in apology.

I waved my hand in the air. “No no no I’m glad I saved you and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I think gramps would be madder if I worried about his store more than a woman in trouble.”

“Well I’m glad you at least won’t lose your job. Is it normal for you to work late nights like this?” she sighed.

“No, I picked up a shift for a friend and I’m just here until the university starts its new semester.”

“Mhm that makes sense I’ve never seen you here before. What university do you go to I’m about to start college myself?” She tilted her head to the side in wonder her hair falling in her face.

I smirked at her cuteness. “Magnolia University actually it will be my second year.”

After that the conversation never quieted and the time flew by in what felt like minutes. I did everything I could to keep her laughing. I smiled so much cheeks started to hurt. By the time we realized the sun came up and the six a.m guy came in for the shift change.

“Can I walk you home?” I watched her carefully as she put her finger to her chin in thought.

“should I let some man I just met and talked to for four hours none stop walk me home? Hmmmm I guess sense you saved me it the least I could to put you mind at ease.” She smirked

“Well someone is cheeky.” I laughed again for the millionth time in the last couple hours.

We walked slowly hoping to drag out the time, but her apartment came up to soon for my taste.

“So, I guess I’ll see you around school?” I half smiled sad to think I may never see her again. At that question a small fist grabbed the front of my shirt pulling me down meet sweet warm lips. Why eyes widen in surprised, but I quickly wrapped my arms around her slender waist pulling her to my chest. She kept hold of my shirt to walk us back to her door. She only pulled away from me slightly our lips only slightly parted.

“Would you like to come in and let me thank you properly?” she whispered softly. My hands slid down her waist grabbing her round ass.

“If you only let me do this right. An be my girlfriend?” I growled softly at her.

“Mmmmm I thought you would never ask.” She purred softly.

           She quickly unlocked her door just for me to lock our lips together in a feverish make out. I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I kicked the door closed and press her against the wall. I may have just met this woman today, but I felt like my whole life was about to change for the better. The thought of it just got me even more fired up to get to know this woman. But right now, I need to know her more on a physical level because she was pulling feeling out of me, I’ve never felt before.