#like darkest time of my life trying to keep that store from falling apart until eventually I was like fuck this

[dwemers]

I’m so excited I’m like literally shaking

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

--

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

[please-buckme]

The View From The Fire Escape. (3/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/n: WOW, keeping this gn!reader was so hard, especially when he talks to his therapist! :/ I hope you guys enjoyed it and I’d love your feed back on it! I also wrote this with a headache, so if it sucks im so sorry. Love you guys <3 thank you for the support.

Part 1 // Part 2

The days dragged on, your body aching from head to toe. Mostly from your job, you’d been working doubles to avoid any sort of interaction with Bucky. Only your lower back was sore from the ‘incident’, physically. Mentally you were hurt and confused.

Hurt because you didn’t understand. Why would he do such a thing? If there was something wrong, why didn’t he tell you before it got too far? And if he didn’t want you in that way, why lead you on like a fool? Some many questions ran through your mind that you wanted answers to. The problem was, you were sort of scared of Bucky now.

And you were confused because he never really made an effort to apologize. He said it on his way out of your apartment, but since then.. nothing. No call or a text, even though a text would’ve set you off; how cowardly. You find yourself daydreaming of him coming to your door, getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. He hadn’t though. He smiles at you through his window kind of like he’s asking you to come to the fire escape, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You liked Bucky, you really did. After it happened, though, you realized you knew nothing about him. Sure, you know little things like his favorite beer and how self conscious he is sometimes, or how he changes the subject when you two start reminiscing on old times. The only thing you knew about his past is, he was a momma's boy, outgoing and he loved his best friend; he talked about him all the time.

That was it though. You felt like an open book to him and got nothing in return. You still didn’t know what happened to his arm; he wasn’t just born with a freaking metal arm. And you still had no idea why he lashed out at you.

The more you thought about it, though, the less you wanted to speak or even seen him again. You just wanted to become strangers to each other again, as if you aren’t already.

//

“Tell me what happened.” Bucky’s therapist was calm, even with all the tension coming from Bucky.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then why are you here?” She raised an eyebrow in question.

“Because I have to be.” He answered bluntly.

“Is it the nightmares?” She asked with a sigh, getting tired of the game they play every time he has a session; it’s like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk.

“Not really. I mean, they’re part of it but no.”

His therapist leans in slowly, worry spreading across her face, “Tell me what’s going on, Bucky.”

Bucky groans, “I think- I think I’m falling for someone.” He readjusts, now feeling exposed and a little vulnerable.

“That’s good, isn't it?”

“It was.. until I fucked it all up.” He runs both hands through his hair. “That’s all I’m good at, fucking up every good thing that comes my way.”

“Breathe and tell me what happened.” She clicks her pen and settles into her chair as she waits for Bucky to speak.

“The notebook? Come on, I’m cooperating.”

“I’m just going to write down their name and anything that may come off alarming. It’s your first relationship since the 1940’s and since being the Winter Soldier. I’m hoping what you’re going to tell me isn’t as bad as I think it is.” She sighs again, flipping open the notebook now. “Did you hurt them?”

“No.. well-“

“Well?” She asks. Bucky hears her breath hitch and he hates it. She knows he’s a killer. She knows he can kill someone with his bare hands and not even flinch, because he has. He isn’t that guy anymore, though and he wants to prove it. Has to prove it. If not to her or y/n then to himself.

“We were.. ya know, well not exactly. I mean we were about to and I might have, accidentally, lashed out. It’s all a blur now. All I know is, one minute they were there on top of me and then on the floor. I guess I have a trigger when someone holds me down.”

“So you had a panic attack?” She’s now writing.

“Yeah..”

“And then what happened?”

“Could you stop writing, please. I can hear the scribbling as if you’re etching something into my skull. It’s very annoying.”

“Stay on topic. What’d you do after saying them on the floor?”

“I left, okay? I apologized and I left.” He stands from his seated position and paces the floors of her office.

“When did all this happen?”

“Two weeks ago today.” He runs his hands over his face in frustration and exhaustion. Since that day the nightmares were on overdrive. As if his mind stores special, horrible memories just to torcher him.

He sees y/n time to time through their windows but that’s it. No more friendly chats to help him through his darkest nights. No more y/n and that heavenly smile even on a long day's night.

Everything is just as it was before. Just Bucky and his thoughts, a dangerous combination. His eyes well up with tears, the feeling of loneliness taking over his entire body.

“Earth to Bucky?” The therapist shouts, snapping her fingers.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’d seen this person since that day.” She reiterated.

“Oh.. uh, no. I mean, yes. I see them but we haven’t spoken.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m scared. I don’t want them to look at me like I’m a monster. I’m not who I used to be I- I’m good now. I just want them to see that.” A tear threatens to fall before he wipes it away on the back of his gloved hand. “I want to be a good person.”

The woman sighs and stands from her chair. She walks over to Bucky, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns around.

“If you really like this person, talk to them. It’s the only way to get through this. If they really like you, they’ll be patient and understanding. You’ll never know how they truly feel until you talk to them face-to-face. Our times up. Go.”

//

It was Thursday and it just so happens to be your first day off in two weeks. You’d plan to do nothing but sleep and watch awful rom coms in between the sleeping portion of the day. It was around 5pm. The sun was setting and you were on rom com number three; ‘Definitely, maybe’. You were close to tears when the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” You holler from the couch.

“It’s.. uh, it’s me, Bucky.” He could hear your heart pounding in your chest. This was a mistake. You were already frightened and you hadn’t even opened the door yet.

“Oh, I don’t think-“

“You don’t have to let me in,” he assured you. “Just.. listen or don’t. It’s totally up to you.” He waited for a response, but when you said nothing he took that as a ‘I’m listening’ and continued, “I fucked up, y/n. I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did, but I swear to god if I could I would. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me for the rest of your life, but you gotta know something. I really like you. I’m over the moon for you. I can’t stop thinking about you and your beautiful smile or how gentle and patient you are with people and not just me.

“You’ve never asked me about my past or where I come from. You’ve always liked me for me, who I am right now. I’ll never find anyone who sees me for me the way you do and I’ll do anything. Anything. To get your trust back. Just give me another chance, please.”

You stared at the door, speechless. The desperation in his voice is tearing you apart. He hadn’t explained what actually happened, but you know in time he will. There were many things you needed to talk about, but for right now all you wanted was him.

He stood at your door leaning his forehead against it in defeat. He knows you're still there but couldn’t be sure if you were actually listening or if you were still nervous with his presents in your doorway. He bit his lip as he waited for any sort of movement or noise, other than your heart beat.

He sighs in defeat, “okay, I’ll go.”

“Bucky wait..” you say, seeing him halfway down the hall. “I hear what you’re saying and you’re right, I do like you for who you are. But I need to know about your past and why in the world you have a metal arm.” You huff out a laugh, “You can’t hide who you were just because you’re ashamed. I want to be your rock, I want to be the person you come to after every nightmare. I want all of you, including your past.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Bucky’s inches away from you now, taking your right hand into his metal one. “I want you to be my future and if that means showing you my past, so be it.”

You smile up at him and let out a sigh of relief, “god, I missed you.”

Bucky kisses you gently, running his flesh hand through your hair. “I missed you too.” He said, never leaving your lips. “I was also the Winter Soldier.”

“WHAT?”

Fin

//

Masterlist

Taglist: @haydens-moles @valkyrieofthehighfae @aurora-sweet @hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sebbystanlover-vk @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @nebulastarr @meegggoooo @skylerrae-solo @wintersoldiersthings @blondekel77 @gogolucky13 @buckysm3talarm @heavenlyseb @writersbuck @badassbuchanan @buckyownsmylife @buckysdolls @notwithoutbarnes @cherryblossomskye @ladyfallonavenger @drinkfantasy @tonystankschild @tfandtws @osterfieldshollandgirl

[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

chapter seventeen • a/n: thank the sudden burst of inspiration for these chapters coming out so fast. Feedback is appreciated! • wordcount: 1.5k+ • warnings: kids, parenthood, nothing more?

summary

going through  rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

F O U R M O N T H S L A T E R

"I'm running a little late today, so I won't be home in time but I asked Steve to be there to open up–" a heavy sigh "for the love of god, try to be nice buck, that's all I'm asking, okay? Also, can you let me know if you're staying for dinner so I can pick up something extra on my way back– thank you. Okay..bye, love you." 

love you. Bucky never expected to keep hearing those words falling from your lips but he does– after every call, every voicemail, every goodbye and see you soon. It makes him smile yet he doesn't deserve those two words. 

you had assured him that morning after that you would always love him no matter what; that he's still the father of yet another gift in your life. The best months of your life after a shit show of years prior– you'd always love Bucky even if he broke your heart in a million pieces, he seemed to be the only one to put it back together..or steve. Steve did a pretty good job of glueing shattered parts of your heart back together.

It angered bucky. Coincidentally; Steve rogers marriage came to an end not two weeks after you'd moved into your own little place with the kids and for a split second Bucky had wondered if nothing ever happened between you and Steve during the time he suspected something. But he believed you. Nothing had happened, never and though Bucky still had to get used to Steve being around more and more each day, he knew he could trust the blonde. 

You seem happy with Steve and unlike you and him, things between Steve went slow, taking time. No moving in three weeks after or by each other's side everyday and you certainly didn't let the man straight into Rosie and JJ's life.

A break..of sorts and maybe he'd gotten his hopes up and believed it actually could get better with time; get back together and be that little family again but as time passed by, it became all too clear– you really didn't plan on getting with him again and Bucky couldn't even blame you.

But you still let him into your life, let him be a part of your life. A part of Rosie's life..of JJ. You let Rosie stay with him whenever she wanted to, let her stay the night or a couple of days until the girl wanted to get back home again. Got to see his son nearly everyday and have him all weekends. 'I'd never take away your kids, buck'

Invitations to stay for dinner or spend the evening or to tag along with one of your day outs– all too eager to spend all the time he could with what once was his family,  even if it meant spending time with Steve.

You still took care of bucky, you still loved bucky because the man who broke your heart made you believe in love again, pulled you out of your shell after years of wanting to be alone. Took care of you during your darkest days, stayed by your side when you needed him the most. Gave Rosie a father figure she never had the opportunity to get, gave you another little soul to take care of. Bucky Barnes stole, bruised and broke your heart and till this day manages to glue it back together. 

It took you a while to forgive him, you're still not sure if you actually have. With the loan you got from your new part time job at the store around the corner, you managed to get yourself a small two bedroom apartment not too far away from bucky– following most classes from your new study online and still being able to be there for your babies; if you were being honest, life was good. 

The family wilson being back in your life being the icing on the cake. Sam being to eager to apologise for everything he'd said and done although 'I told you so'– first flight to Brooklyn and before you knew it the family stood in your apartment, unpacked boxes and painted rooms as if their lives depended on it; be there for you like they were after riley– family. Hailey even spent the better part of her summer in Brooklyn by your side to catch up while in all honesty, she got tired of her dad and needed some time alone.

Life was surprisingly good after everything.

"Dad?" 

Snapping out of his daydream, Bucky looks up and meets the eyes of the little girl in the rear view mirror. The braid bucky had managed to braid that morning an untangled mess, hanging from her shoulder. Left overs of a chocolate cookie still visible on the corner of her mouth. Yellow shirt covered in dirt, paint and what else she'd been playing in and with at school.

Bucky hums and types a quick text to you, telling you he'd stay over for dinner "What's up?" 

"Can alpine come with me sometime?" Rosie asks seriously, a hint of hope in her voice. 

"I wish he could sweetheart but mom's not allowed to have any pets," Bucky chuckles "He misses mommy, right?" 

"I don't know, he can't talk silly." 

"Really then why does alpine talk to me every night?" Bucky quips back "he tells me how you steal the last cookies from the cookie jar." 

"That was JJ– when are mommy, me and JJ coming back home, I want my own bedroom again." 

Bucky clears his throat and quickly gazes to the little boy fast asleep in his carpet on the backseat and back to Rosie, Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. 

You tried to explain it all but the 4 year old never seemed to be able to understand any of it; the two times Christmas, two birthdays not working.

"I don't know princess," Bucky admits "whenever mommy is ready." 

which is never

Heavy footsteps echo against the grey stone walls of the short hallway,  doors with small white numbers glued onto the wood– Steve isn't much taller or shorter, maybe a bit broader but nothing to be afraid of and yet bucky finds himself tiny next to the man, intimidated to say the least- black leather jacket over a simple grey shirt clung around his biceps, long legs...intimidating but with the softest facial features, christ bucky didn't have any reason to feel this way around someone You deemed important. 

If anything, Steve was as awkward as him.

Twirling around the hallway, her pink and purple colored bag bouncing up and down her back and her messy braid flying through the air, Rosie stills at the sight of the men walking their way 

"You're late." 

"I know, kid," Steve chuckles lowly "tried to be faster." 

"Well, you should be faster next time." Rosie simply states. 

Steve nods his head towards bucky with a slight smile which bucky returns and without another word, Steve twirls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door with the faint 9 on it. 

Rosie storms in, nearly tripping over her own feet as she pulls her backpack off and throws it in the corner with all other shoes, bags and umbrellas. 

The man nods again as Bucky pushes the stroller with JJ through the door. The familiar smell of you lingering in the air and fills his nostrils. He ignores the footsteps behind him. Bucky pushes his son further into the kitchen where he picks JJ out and sets the little man on the floor. Bucky's not even able to say another word, his son zooming off on all fours, going straight to the box filled with toys near the couch in the living room. 

"I was told to hand you the keys." Bucky's eyes shoot up to Steve, your keys dangling between his thumb and index finger– Steve clears his throat. 

Casually folding the stroller back before standing up straight, bucky nods and holds his hand out. 

Your keys, not Steve's. Great, he's not at that base yet.

"y/n asked if you wanted to bathe the kids," Steve clears his throat once again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other "so she can start with dinner when she's back." 

"Yeah, sure." Bucky mumbles almost inaudibly, calm and collected, through his stomach drops as Steve nods and strides his way to your bedroom and comes back out with a black overnight bag hanging from his shoulder; rogers printed on the fabric. 

so, he's at that base already

"So, yeah– I should head back out. Work and all." Steve breathes out a laugh. 

Placing both hands on his sides, Steve looks back to the living room where Rosie and JJ crawled and played around the coffee table. 

"Bye rosie," Steve waves awkwardly and with no answer back, he looks back at bucky with a slight smile and nervous chuckle "kids, right." 

"Yeah," Bucky deadpans, not batting an eye at the men in front of him "kids." 

Bucky doesn't have the right to feel jealous, he screwed things up and not you but he still loves you with all his heart and he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to gain back your trust and maybe even woo you back in his life– Steve stands in the way of just that.

Taglist: @farfromshawn @Nicollettemarie @wooya1224 @felicityofbakerstreet @agentmstark @sierrax023 @lilyevanswhore @qhbr2013 @buckybarnesobsessed @themaddies-obx @aloserwithoutacause @aanngie @sebby-staan @sweetth1ng @starrystarkey93 @libidinexx @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @gasly-kvyat @brown-bi-beautiful @peter-laufeyson @im-squished @meshlababy @lindseyrae20 @cb97skies @qwccrr @ssprayberrythings @yougottalovefandoms @jbcalway @realgaytrash @natyvwe @poetryazenth @winterberryfox @ahahafudge @okiegirl24 @0moondoodler0 @why-wait-4-eventually

[qianoir]

Divine Lies

���𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Guardian angel!Winwin (WayV) x human fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, stealing, cheating, family problems, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, brief mention of sex, abandonment, blasphemy, reader is an implied only child

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have worked as a guardian with the style of Lucifer. “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,” I have reversed this commandment and given it life to a body of the soul I vowed to protect. Cast upon me a punishment, for I have wandered too far from your holy grail.

Si Cheng Dong, Guardian Angel #1028

Si Cheng knew you from the day you were born. You had marks dangling from your shoulder blades like the torn wings of an angel. He had asked God about the dainty marks, but He said his eyes must be tempted by the Demon of Trickery because no marks appeared to be decorating your back as he said. When he is assigned one of His children to protect, he knows nothing of God’s plan that is unique to every one person. His plan and your decisions were lived through Si Cheng’s eyes as well.

“What is behind your back?” Si Cheng interrogated your five year old self.

“Nothing…” He yanked your hands to unclasp, forcing them to drop the chocolate you had stolen from the convenient store you and your parents had just left.

“Your mother said you could not have this, yet you took it anyway and without paying. That is wrong.” You could only look with deceptively innocent eyes as your guardian took the sweet into the store, placing it back on the shelf you had tip-toed up to.

“Come on, Y/N dear.” Your mother called for you to follow her and your father to the car. There was no sight of Si Cheng, even when you had gotten into the car. Only a couple of miles from the store did he appear in the seat next to you. He looked over to see your closed mouth moving ever so slightly.

“What is in your mouth?” You shook your head and continued to chew slowly, trying to be as unapparent as possible. He continued to stare you down in silence, watching as you finally swallowed what he felt in his heart was something else that you stole. Breaking the intense eye contact, you turned around to look out of the car window. The ride was already silent, but a darkly mixed feel swam in your spine after Si Cheng’s next comment.

“Thou shalt not steal. You will be punished for that sin.”

...

As you blossomed into adulthood, the divine morals you had been taught by your covenant Christian parents seemed to have exited your mind. You were one of the top names of your college's Dean’s list, but the your personal out-of-school extracurriculars could mistake you for a completely different person. Your academic abilities were almost God-given, yet you showed Him no gratitude.

Si Cheng had been by your side to witness each time you strayed away from God. However, it was not his place to direct you back to Him, that choice was wholly your own. Each night since you turned 18, after reading his Bible out loud to you, he left for Heaven. You always told him that you would be in bed through the night, awaiting his return.

Those nights were spent sleeping through the day and partying at different clubs, downing bottles of red wine like a Black Christian. During one night out, you had thrown an empty bottle of Giuseppe Quintarelli into the unknown while walking out of the club; an incident you had forgotten until two police officers showed up on your doorstep with pictures from the club’s security cameras, portraying your indecent act.

Not much of the confrontation could be interpreted or remembered in your hazily hungover brain, but you do remember everything after you shouted a very pathetic “That’s not me!” because your hands were cuffed behind your waist and soon anxiously gripping the bars of the chair behind you at the station.

“What happened?” Si Cheng walked out of the wall when the police left you alone to discuss your charges.

“I forgot to pay for chocolate at the store today It's not—"

“Do not lie to me, Y/N.” You gave him silence. “How could you act in such a way?”

“If you know the answers, then why do you always ask questions?” The light from the interrogation room’s light kindled your eyes when you looked up at him, but you took unusual comfort in the pain.

“I’m trying to help you to understand your sins, but you never learn.”

“You could have stopped me, you’re my guardian ang—” “Yes and I am not you.” Si Cheng gripped the bridge of his nose before speaking again, “I protect you from unrighteous harm. Your actions have consequences with which I cannot interfere.”

Suddenly feeling very nauseous, you wretched forward, your cuffed hands gliding up your spine. A mix of drunken liquids racing from your throat, onto the floor and your distressed jeans. Si Cheng took your hair up, sitting behind you, rubbing your back when you failed to vomit and fearfully gagged.

He was ready to save you when he heard you starting to choke, but took your vulnerable soul into his arms when he realized you had started sobbing.

This was a normal occurrence for you two.

Every day, you would wake up thinking the thoughtless decision you had made the night prior was just a nightmare, but would fall apart when dealing with the consequences. Si Cheng would be there to comfort you and recite something religious that would travel a non-permeable route through your two ears. When you were back to feeling yourself— or what was left of yourself— you would sin again and lie to your guardian about it. Then Si Cheng would read you a bit of The Bible to sleep every night, for when morning comes, your morning s.hit would be on the sacred book once again.

“My back hurts…” You cried out. Si Cheng kept holding you.

“You tempt me.” Si Cheng announces as he waits for you to finish your nightly routine, Bible in hand. He decided to stop sleeping at his home in Heaven and would instead be wherever you were to take away the matches you light your fire with.

“Well I mean we don’t always have to pray when we’re in the bedroom.” The sleeping shirt takes its sweet time to cover your breasts before his angelic eyes.

“Not sexually.” Si Cheng rolls his eyes and chooses his next words carefully for your innuedic mind. “When you lie to me, I want so badly to tell you off. To make certain that no such fibs should ever fall from your lips again.”

“Sounds frustrating. Are you sure you don’t want to just go have sex?”

“The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.” Your guardian recited, ignoring your offer.

“The what now?”

“Matthew 13:22. Just because I hear the lies you tell, does not mean I should engorge in them by talking back or forcing you to be something you are not.”

“And what am I not again?”

“Holy.”

“D.amn straight.” Si Cheng huffed in exasperation of his inability to get through to you, opening his Bible once you settled in bed next to him. This was the final part of your nightly routine.

…

Si Cheng ended your nightly prayers. “We send this message to You in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Amen.”

“I’m an atheist.” You say with your eyes already closed.

“How could you say that when I exist?”

“You’re not real. It’s all in my head because since the day I was born, I was not right. If God were real, he wouldn’t have made me this way.”

“You are not an atheist.” Your eyes open halfway.

“How can you decide what I am and what I am not?”

“You would not be so angry at God if you were an atheist. They are non-believers, not betrayers.”

…

The next morning, you wake up in an empty bed. Finally. There was no sign of Si Cheng along the walk from the bedroom, to the bathroom, to the hallway, down the stairs, or to the kitchen, where you sat down to enviously admire the dying rose bouquet trapped in a blue China vase.

The front door bursts open and in comes Si Cheng with two handfuls of goods you had mostly already bought. He walks to the dining table as soon as he spots you, laying out the groceries in front of you.

Angel Soft toilet paper, Angel food cake mix, a sack of Angelina plums, Victoria’s Secret Angel perfume, and a CD of Chancellor and TaeYeon’s “Angel.”

“What is all of this?”

“To remind you that angels are all around you. And we are sad that you do not wish to accept us.”

“Angels, always looking for human validation huh?” Si Cheng bites back his tongue at your passive comment.

“I also got you this.” Sicheng gingerly places a luxe Bible in your hands, with a grandiose “belonging to Y/N” engraved under “The Bible”, complimenting the gold edges of the dainty pages.

“I don’t want to read it.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can tell the quality of it catches your eye and entices you to want to read. Humans, always wanting the most or nothing at all.” Si Cheng savors the way you glare at him sideways for his mirrored comeback to your insult.

“Let us read it in the bedroom before starting our day.” And you don’t know if you are too tired or desperate or want him to shut up with this religious nonsense, but you go up to the bedroom with him anyway.

“It doesn’t make any sense, Si Cheng! Why would God make me just to torment me? After everything I have done to d.amn myself and spite Him, how could he ever take me as one of His own children?”

You sat in the bathtub, soaking in a mixture of the darkest red wine and gasoline, the color staining the tub and your skin with the darkest black, the color making the markings on your back more defined than ever.

For the past hour, you had been threatening to end it all and managed to rope the divine being into the most intense argument. His hands gripped your arms to keep you from going under, but could not even begin to think about pulling you out with the ear piercing screams you let out between comebacks.

Despite his greatest efforts, Si Cheng had to admit that he was never able to help you get back on a good path. “I am going to Hell and you can’t save me. He has failed both me and you”

“He has failed neither me nor you. How dare you speak of the Heavenly Father in such vulgar form.” His anger rose and teeth tried not to bare animalistically behind his lips. In a way, you were right and Si Cheng knew this. He had been the cause of such deathly marks to appear on your back in response to the resentment building up in his heart to have to wake and sleep with your sins.

“Then show me! Take me to God and show me that he is real. Let me hear from Him that He wants me for good and not for sport.” Your body weighted his hands down as the stinging in your back made you lightheaded.

“He has told you. Your entire life, He has told you. He speaks through me and I am one of his most trusted children.” Still desperately trying to pull you up, Si Cheng could not focus on saving you and controlling the pain he was unconsciously inflicting on your flesh.

“You are not God. You are just an angel who has disappointed Him, like me.”

“We are not alike.” Si Cheng’s grasp unravelled from your arms, letting them sink back under the black liquid.

“You are a sinful woman.”

“Where are you going?” You screeched at him, trying to fight your back from folding itself. Tears were now falling without control as you realized you had really done it this time.

“Heaven. See you there.”

The pain suddenly halted. Si Cheng left and another angel entered. Upon seeing your body partially submerged in Christ’s Blood and Devil’s fuel, he lifted you from the tub and rid you from the onyx glaze. He never spoke a word to you for the rest of your life by your side.

And you could only assume that it was because ���The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.” (Matthew 13:22)

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖. 𝟗𝟖 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

“Happy birthday, Number 1028!” A party hat was forced onto Sicheng’s head by Archangel of Love Number 6, poking through his halo like a cloudy mountain.

“Hey! It’s my birthday, too!” Archangel of Birth Number 1028 pouted at being one-upped by his Brother in Christ.

“Yes, but it’s Guardian Angel Number 1028’s birthday.” Number 6 clarifies, using his title to mockingly signify importance.

“Such social hierarchy is hellish! This is Heaven!”

“Right, it is finally the year you are no longer banned from Earth and can be a guardian again!” The angels gather around Si Cheng to "ooh" at his year of redemption.

“It is my loyal duty to serve God with the occupation he gifts me.” He dismisses their awe with words of loyalty to his creator.

“She is ready.” His Heavenly Father calls for His Guardian Angel Number 1028 to meet his valuable assignment.

When he walks into the incubation room, Si Cheng is met with the eery feeling of deja vu. A disheartening sense of nostalgia washes over him as well. Then he sees a design on the fertilized egg in the incubator.

Those marks.

The scarring on the biological sphere are like vents that send the aromas of Giuseppe Quintarelli and Diesel gasoline to his nose.

Si Cheng suddenly could no longer feel the comfort of his halo, fear zapped through him as he could feel evil beings tempting him through all four walls of the incubation room instead. Light burning aches and agonizing pains danced along his back.

His vision went black and his mind regressed to 9 months before this October day, 118 years ago. The Heavenly Father took his body, that was wrapped up in his mother’s egg and his father’s sperm, into His hands and placed him next to yours, both of your fertilized compartments looking like identical twins.

“You have much still to learn, my son.”

*Black Christian = A Christian who betrays God, like Archangel Lucifer betraying Jesus and becoming Satan.

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[astromechs]

keep whatever it is (that's compelling you on)

HERE IT IS, my matrix resurrections spec fic, completed and in under the wire before the trailer! i think i'm ready to quit fussing over this, and i'm really excited to get it out into the world!

also here on ao3!

01.

Every single morning, Thomas A. Anderson is jolted awake at approximately 8:15 AM by the shrill of the same alarm, shovels in the same shitty cereal before stumbling into one of the same five shitty suits that he has to remember to get dry-cleaned, takes the same seat on the subway on the way to work — where he sits in the same chair for eight hours straight with minimal breaks, staring at his computer screen (or, more often, out into nothing) until it’s time to take the same subway back to his shitty apartment, order from the same rotation of shitty takeout, and find some mindless, banal distraction while he ignores texts that don’t even matter anyway before he falls asleep to eventually wake up and do it all over again.

It’s nothing special — just the average life of an average mid-grade programmer at the average tech conglomerate. Comfortable, sure, and a dream many would kill to achieve; he knows this, knows this every time he passes the poor old woman who’s feeding pigeons in her ratty coat from the battered metal bench on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. He slips her whatever spare change he has on him — a $20 bill, on the days he’s lucky, but often less than that — and, without fail, she always accepts, with a warm smile and kind eyes that seem to stare right into his soul, seeing the deepest parts of it.

Like she knows him. And that’s what’s weird.

He tries not to put too much thought into it, because, honestly, he tries not to put too much thought into anything at all; he’s found that to be the most effective way to navigate the machine that systematically runs his rhythmic, mundane life.

But even so, there are things that he knows he can’t shake.

One afternoon in late February, when the cut of the wind had not remotely suggested that spring would just be a month away, he’d passed the woman on the bench as always, but he could’ve sworn that the whole flock of pigeons scattered on the sidewalk at her feet had frozen for a split second. Like they’d been… glitching. In a blink, everything had returned to normal, and he’d spent about three days (and three sleepless nights) trying to convince himself he’d been seeing things, that he’d just been spending too much time actually working on his assigned program for once and that maybe he should take some of his accumulated vacation days? And the following week, he had, but….

No time off to try to clear his head would ever change the fact that this hadn’t been an isolated incident.

Because sometimes — he swears he sees pieces of code fall through his field of vision; a blink and then they’re gone, but it happens too often not to be a pattern, and no matter how much he might want to for the sake of his own sanity, he can’t just brush that aside. Sometimes, flashes come to his mind like barely-remembered dreams, in idle moments and just on the edge of the line that separates sleep from waking consciousness, so real that he knows they’re memories. Dark tunnels that haven’t seen the sun for centuries. Cold, so cold that no amount of warmth, human or otherwise, can really combat. Running, desperately bounding up the fire escape to the third floor of a rundown motel, three men in sunglasses and perfectly-tailored suits in close pursuit, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he can barely hear the phone ring from Room 303, the place he has to get to, because everything depends on it. A barrage of bullets in his chest, one right after the other, back slumping against the wall as his heart gives out, vision fading to grey and then to black, but a voice, reaching through it all to call him, tether him….

Neo.

There are things that he knows he can’t shake, and sometimes, he thinks he had another life. Another name.

Another purpose.

He’s haunted by the ghost of it.

It’s the second of April — at least, that’s what the screen of his phone tells him, because otherwise he wouldn’t know, or care to know. A Friday, and all the faceless commuters are packed like sardines into this subway car, headed home for weekends that are sure to be as inconsequential as his own. Today, he has to stand holding the rail for the ride home; a woman trying to juggle both a baby and two bags of groceries had just barely managed to stumble onto the train before the doors had closed, and he’d sprung up, more than glad to give up his seat to someone in greater need.

She tries to thank him, profusely and repeatedly, but with where he’s standing, he would have to twist to keep facing her, so, with a nod and the barest hint of a smile, he turns away to spend the trip the way he always does: in solitude.

The route back to the station just down the block from his apartment building is never smooth, by any stretch of the imagination, but today, it’s bumpier than usual; the train car jerks and jostles, until, eventually, it sends him colliding into back of the passenger standing next to him.

He’s just about to stammer out some automatic, awkward apology, but then —

Blue eyes meet his, clear, crisp blue, and a jolt strikes him right to the core.

He thinks — no, he knows, he knows — he’s seen these eyes.

Neo. In the darkest corners of his mind, the voice whispers again.

Time freezes, glitches, around him, around him and this stranger with familiar blue eyes. He sees the light leave them, and then come right back. He sees warmth, what something is telling him had once been the only thing able to keep the cold of the real away; that warmth spreads through now, to the tips of him, and he has a sense, one he doesn’t entirely understand, that something has just clicked into place.

Behind sunglasses, another pair of eyes watches them from across the car.

“You all right?” Neo.

He sees brows knit in concern, and for the first time, he pays attention to the face that the eyes belong to. Probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in… more than one life, he’d have to guess, is now in front of him; he isn’t so detached and disconnected that he doesn’t notice that. Her short dark hair is cut into a severe bob, and she’s dressed in black from head to toe — from her coat and gloves, to her boots. It suits her, somehow.

After a beat, he finally remembers to speak. “Yeah. I — sorry.” The subway jerks to a halt; he glances up, and adds quickly, after clearing his throat, “This is… my stop. Excuse me. Sorry.”

Pushing past her, pushing past everyone in his way, he disembarks to the station, and when his feet touch solid pavement, he takes off at a sprint. Up the stairs (third floor… Room 303….), down the sidewalk (agents, just behind… he can beat them, if he just runs faster than he ever has…), not stopping until the mundane certainty of his shitty apartment building is within his sights.

Just before he makes it safely inside, he catches a glimpse of the old woman on the bench watching him, her smile wider than he’s ever seen it. Maybe, even, almost inhumanly wide.

10.

Her name is Natalie.

That’s what he learns about a week later, when he bumps into her again in front of the grocery store on the corner down from the subway station, the one he always chooses out of convenience. Quite literally; he’s distracted, disconnected, and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s collided with another body, contents of the two bags under his arms spilling out onto the sidewalk. His apologies are hurried and stammered, but her hands are gentle as she moves to help, brushing his more than once. Her smile is soft when their eyes meet.

Over the next several months, he learns a lot of other things, too.

He learns that she takes her coffee with cream and no sugar, and that she always leaves the barista a generous tip. He learns that she’s a genius with tech, better than him and his two computer science degrees and half-cushy corporate job could ever hope to be, and has his whole apartment practically rewired in an hour one day. He learns that if he’s quiet and still, her black cat has no qualms with being his friend. He learns that her lips curve up in just a certain way and her eyes crinkle when she’s just about to laugh.

And he learns that kissing her feels like coming home, as familiar and peaceful as it is new and strange. He learns that with her, coming together, becoming one with another person, is like nothing else.

For the first time in what he can remember, he knows what it feels like to be alive.

(Only it isn’t… is it? The first time. Somehow, just like he knows that he sees the same person walk past him twice, like he knows that those glitches start happening on a near-daily basis, like he knows that the old woman on the bench is smiling at him more broadly than ever….

Their lives have collided, and given each other meaning, purpose, before.)

11.

In his dreams, he sees a city entirely built from light. Spires touch the sky like fireworks, blindingly bright, and with every step, flames ripple out from his feet, making the next one all too clear.

Inevitable.

This is where his path had always led.

In his dreams, he can’t see her face. He can only hear struggling gasps for breath, and a voice that only grows shakier. He can only feel the metal that pierces her stomach, the blood that pools on her shirt. The faint heartbeat he can do nothing to restart.

Inevitable.

(You were right, Smith. You are always right.)

He wakes with a start, drenched in a cold sweat (as cold as their last kiss), gasping for breath. Next to him on the bed, Natalie stirs and shifts closer; when he reaches out a tentative hand, lets his fingers graze over her stomach, she’s warm.

His eyes scrunch tightly shut. Code falls behind his lids like the rain that patters against the windows outside.

100.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary on this day in early fall. A breeze rustles the trees as they walk hand in hand through the park, and provides the first hint that cooler weather is on the way. Children’s laughter from the nearby playground fills the air. Dogs chase each other on the grass. Natalie sips her coffee, cream with no sugar; they enjoy the contented silence that falls between them, only punctuated by her soft smile.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary — except for everything that is.

They meet each other’s eyes, her blue to his brown, and in an instant, everything changes.

It’s hard to tell who sees it first, but — the flash of recognition envelops both of them. Vague memories, the ones that have floated over him like a constant cloud, just out of reach, are in his hands, in his brain, in his heart. He’d had another life once, another name. And it’d been —

“Neo.”

She whispers it on an awed breath, tears forming in her eyes. The coffee cup slips from her grasp, long since forgotten; she lifts that hand to his face, fingers tracing the rise of his cheekbone.

Tears swim in his vision, too, tears and strands of code, falling. Falling. Nothing makes sense and yet everything makes sense, no more so than when the name falls out of his mouth, the last piece of a particularly jumbled puzzle: “Trinity.”

But a thousand words he doesn’t know how to say don’t even begin to get a chance to form. He feels the eyes watching them more than he sees them; both hands drop to his sides, and he tenses, ready to fight.

He’s barely aware that the old woman who’s usually on the bench near his apartment building approaches on the sidewalk. She looks between them, nods, and:

“They’re coming, kiddo,” she tells him, voice severe, with none of her usual warmth, as she grips his arm. “You need to run.”

101.

At sunset, a man in a white suit, tall and imposing, joins the old woman on a park bench near the playground, but says nothing; from all appearances, it looks as though he barely acknowledges her at all. They remain, just like this, as people filter out one by one under the steadily darkening sky, returning to their lives.

They always remain through every iteration, the Mother and Father of the Matrix.

Preoccupied with purpose and the inefficiency of wasting time, as is his programming, the Father is the first to break the silence.

"I informed you it was a dangerous game.”

The Oracle says nothing in response.

She merely smiles.

[spencers-dria]

Broken

Someone To Stay Ch. 22

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of physical and sexual assault/rape, depression, PTSS, trauma

Friday was a good day.

Two weeks. That’s exactly how many days Y/N had been in the hospital. That’s exactly how many nights I had spent in the hospital. Draining, that’s the best word for it, but absolutely incomparable to the recovery process she was now going through both physically and mentally.

She had absolutely refused to let me take the entire two weeks off work, so I returned on one condition. Paperwork days and local cases only. Every single night would be spent right by her side. This had only become an issue once, as the team was called to California for a few days but was quickly resolved as we all decided I could easily consult from Quantico along with Garcia. My friend had actually kept my spirits quite high with her optimism and never ending kindness. She has brought me baked goods no less than four times in the last couple weeks.

Now I sit in the dim, lamp-lit room in the latest hours of the night, watching Y/N sleep every once in awhile as I glance up from my book. It’s the most peaceful I ever see her now, when she gets a full night of rest uninterrupted by nightmares. And I’m grateful to see it.

Although I may have spoken too soon as she becomes increasingly restless, rustling around in the bedsheets. I want to soothe her, hold her, tell her everything is going to be okay, that I’m here and I’m not going to leave. But what if my waking her, my touching her, only serves to further her panic? I try gently calling her name but that calling her name but it’s no use. Any louder and it would certainly wake her in a panicked state.

We haven’t touched since that first day she woke up. And I’m fine with that. Of course I miss her touch, the feeling of her in my arms, but what was most important to me is her comfort, happiness, safety, and my touch didn’t provide that at the moment. How could I possibly blame or judge her for that after what she went through? I am more than willing to provide her with whatever comfort I can while giving her all the space she needs to heal. If she wants me to stay, I stay. When she needs me to go, I will. Luckily that time hadn’t come. Touch was the only thing keeping us apart. That and… the unspoken trauma, the giant wall that could only be cracked with words, talking about what happened. But I’m in no place to push. She is the only one who knows what she needs, what she can handle. I plan to let her determine just how fast or slow we will take the process, and I will be there every step of the way.

I can’t help but to think about the rape and sexual assault survivors we have dealt with on cases, not to mention thoughts who have been stabbed or otherwise assaulted… I have my own share of experience, naturally. I know what it’s like to be violated, to be out of control, to have an experience that wrecks you so deeply that your body and mind are forever scarred, forever reacting to triggers without your own consent. To know that she will have to endure any of it, it’s something I would go through a million times over if it would only save her from it, from the hurt, from the darkness it brings.

As I watch the woman in front of me battle her darkest demons, I finally resolve to do the only thing I can to save her from fighting through the nightmares any longer. I gently intertwine my fingers in hers, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. I am so mesmerized by the softness of her skin and just how wonderful it is to feel her hand in mine again, I completely miss the fact that she’s no longer fighting through her nightmare.

My head snaps up at the gentle whisper of my name.

“Spencer.”

I can’t help but smile at her, because she’s looking up at me with warmth and love and everything good in her. I go to withdraw my hand from her own, quickly remembering how sensitive she’s been to male touch through her recovery. Before I have the chance to pull away, she tightens her grip like she never intends on letting go.

Tears fall down her cheeks, in silence, as we feel the weight of the moment together with each squeeze of our hands. And with one glance, I know how much she needs me. What she doesn’t know is that I need her even more. Holding her hand after two weeks without her touch is like finally coming up for a breath of air when you’ve been drowning in the pain of watching the one you love suffer.

Later that evening she was discharged. It was exciting but also scary for her. The hospital was a place of comfort for her, and it’s all she’s known since the incident. Upon her request I took her to my apartment, and with my insistence she took my bed, while I slept on the couch.

When I had tucked her in, she had quickly faded, but not before smiling into my pillow, curling up with her stuffed animal and humming happily.

“Smells like you.”

That night there were no nightmares. Friday was a good day.

_________________________________

Wednesday- Wednesday was a bad day.

I was still spending time with Y/N at home. Even less at the office now, since she needed my help getting around, lifting heavy items, etc. Juneau had been a much welcome guest as well, but even bending over to grab the food or water bowl was excruciatingly painful on Y/N’s new wound.

She had resolved to let me dote on her. This included making sure she was well supplied with snacks (healthy ones as well as a few sweets for emotional well-being), lots of cozy blankets and pajamas, all of her most important stuffed animal friends, and help with anything and everything she might need. On occasion, I had to make trips to the store and such, leaving her alone, but she always assured me she was fine. She was always right, until today. Until Wednesday.

I went by the office simply to grab the paperwork necessary to continue my work from home. Now, as I enter my home I get a sickening feeling that something is distinctly wrong. The air is not full of the same joyous atmosphere we had created together in order to help her. There’s no music. None of her blankets are on the couch. My bedroom door is open and she’s nowhere to be seen. The only thing I sense is cold and silence, with something heavy weighing in the air.

As I step into my bedroom I find the bathroom door slightly ajar, giving a few gentle knocks before poking my head in. The sight in front of me wounded me so deeply, I felt tears start to build before I suddenly remembered, I have to keep it together. For her.

I slowly approach the tub, just loud enough to make my presence known, before sinking down to sit on the floor. She doesn’t move.

“Y/N” I try to call as gently as possible.

Nothing.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out, but still refusing to lift her face from its place, buried in her knees, legs against her chest, arms wrapped around them.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

A soft but discernible nod.

I feel her tense as I place my hand on her upper back, but she starts to relax and as I trace my fingers across her shoulders. She finally relaxes enough and decides to brave lifting her head to look at me. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, face stained with tears. She looks… like a ghost of herself. There’s no light in her eyes, no warmth in her gaze. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to bring her back to herself, and so I wait. After awhile I take a warm washcloth, gently running it across her back and her arms. Not pushing, not asking, simply just existing next to her.

She takes another deep breath, releasing her anxieties in the exhale.

“I feel…I am. Broken.”

I fight every instinct to pull her into me, to yell just how wrong she is. But this is her story. So I bite my tongue.

“What if I’m- what if I can’t-“

Sobs threaten to break through, stopped in their tracks as I begin running my fingers through her damp hair. The next time she speaks, it’s so quiet I barely hear the words that cut into the deepest part of my heart.

“I can’t even kiss you. What if I’m messed up for good… you don’t want- I mean, you deserve better. Especially later. You deserve to marry someone who can- who will never stop showing you how much they love you.”

As much as her words hurt, my heart leaps at her mention of love and implication of a future. Implication of her feelings-

“Hey” I whisper, resting my chin on the side of the large tub.

“You know I love you, right? Not because you kiss me. Not because I think it will lead anywhere else. I love you. I love everything that comes with you. Because you’ve loved the darkest, ugliest, most vulnerable parts of myself. And I know that’s presumptuous, I know you haven’t said it but- I knew. I feel it. You show me every day that you smile at me, laugh with me. If you think I need physical things to know that you love me, I promise that will never be the case. And I don’t ask for anything from you other than you do what’s best for you, what makes you happy, and that you try your best to accept my love for you, even when you don’t think you deserve it. I’ve known for a while I wanted my forever to be with you. And I know it’s scary, not knowing what that looks like. But I want to find out together. All your life you’ve needed someone to stay. Well I promise you now, I’m not going anywhere.”

Wednesday was a bad day- and that’s okay.

[starrybethany]

Leon Draisaitl: Glorious by Macklemore

Word count: 3004

Music video link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OrLroFa0AI

Lyrics link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSFz3NRSSc4

You know I'm back like I never left

Another sprint, another step

Another day, another breath

I take a deep breath, pushing open the door to the small building that was once my everything. Now, my company is spread across the continent in multiple stores. My heels click softly on the tile that I spent two hours picking out as I step inside the building, watching as everyone slowly turns to see who entered.

“Boss, we heard you were coming back but we just didn’t know when!” Veronica, my old assistant and closest friend here in Edmonton, pulls me into a tight hug.

I’m surprised by the kind greeting. Contact with all of the employees here in Edmonton fell apart except for being FaceBook friends when I opened the headquarters in Miami and started working out of there, so I just assumed they didn’t like me anymore.

And they aren’t the only people that I assumed didn’t want to speak to me anymore.

Been chasing dreams, but I never slept

I got a new attitude and a lease on life

And some peace of mind

“So to recap, we’re moving the headquarters from Miami back to Edmonton, keeping this store open to advertise it as our original location, and we’re opening the branch in Winnipeg to become the seventy sixth branch. Any questions?” I ask, scanning the room before ending the meeting.

The employees converse amongst each other as they exit the room and I stack my papers up, letting out a sigh of confidence. I’m very excited for this new step in my career, and I’m even more excited to be back in my home city of Edmonton.

A loud squeal snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up to see Veronica stepping forward to wrap me up in a large hug.

“You did so good, I’m so proud of you! Wow, you’ve really changed a lot in four years- but in a good way. You just look so happy and confident in what you’re doing now,” she smiles widely, leaning back against the table. “So, is there a boyfriend making you happy too?”

I chuckle. Same old Veronica. “Nope, no boyfriend. I’m too busy for a boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure you used that excuse four years ago too and someone convinced you otherwise,” she hints cheekily.

“Get back to work, Veronica.”

Seek and I find I can sleep when I die

Wanna piece of the pie, grab the keys to the ride

And shit I'm straight

“Hey boss, we’re heading out. Do you want us to lock up or anything?” One of my employees asks, sticking his head in my doorway.

“No, it’s fine. Have a good night,” I bid, not looking up from my papers.

“You too. Don’t stay here too late.”

I nod but don’t respond, trying to figure out the numbers in my head.

It’s only four hours later when I realize that it’s one o’clock in the morning and that I should probably leave to get some sleep.

I'm on my wave, I'm on my wave

Get out my wake, I'm running late, what can I say?

Well apparently I needed more sleep than what I got because I slept past my alarm and now I’m running late on my second week back. I need to work out more often because I’m out of breath just from running down the street towards my office. I figured it would be faster than trying to drive through the hecticness of Edmonton traffic.

I’m trying to avoid the deep cracks in the sidewalk and before I know it I’m running into a hard body, about to fall over until an arm reaches out and grabs my own.

“I’m so sorry!” We exclaim at the same time.

I look up at the sound of the familiar voice, eyes bulging when I see it’s the one who was once the love of my life. I watch as Leon drags his eyes up from the concrete. His eyes light up when he recognizes me and I swallow to keep my heart inside of my body.

“Y/N, you’re back.”

I heard you die twice, once when they bury you in the grave

And the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name

So when I leave here on this earth, did I take more than I gave?

Did I look out for the people or did I do it all for fame?

“Yeah, um, we’re moving back to uh, Edmonton,” I stutter through my words, just like I did when I first met Leon. He made me so nervous back then but he was so patient with me and listened carefully to every word, reassuring my many apologies. I guess he still makes me nervous.

“How is your empire?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

I laugh. He always referred to my company as my empire, knowing the potential that both it and I have. I guess he never considered that the potential would have to cause me to move.

“It’s good, uh,” I smile brightly at the memory of the other day, “I met with a manufacturer the other day and they already knew my name. Like I normally have to introduce myself, you know? But he was just like, “Hey, Y/N Y/L/N, it’s great to see you!” And it’s so cool to think that I have a legacy like that. And then he said that his daughter loved my bracelets so I had to give her the flower one that all of the preteen girls love. He said she would love it.”

I smile at the memory and snap out of my rambling, my eyes shifting back over to Leon’s. He gives me the admiring smile he always gives me when I talk about my business- he used to say it’s because I’m so passionate about it and it makes him even more attracted to me.

And from this smile, I’m assuming it still does.

Legend it's exodus searching for euphoria

Trudging through the mud to find the present, no ignoring us

Got 20,000 deep off in the street like we some warriors

My mama told me never bow your head, woo!

“So, uh, how’s hockey?” I question, trying to get the topic off of me.

“It’s good. Not as good as when you were in the stands,” he shrugs nonchantalty but my heart beats rapidly at the remark.

I can’t help but study him. His hair’s gotten longer since the last time I saw him and I have to hold back my giggle. I always used to beg him to grow his hair out but he would protest- looks like he finally complied as soon as I left. His green eyes sparkle in the sunlight and my mind flashes back to when he used to hold me in his arms, those eyes staring into my own as we would talk about our hopes and dreams.

God, all I want to do right now is pull him into me by the collar and kiss him.

I feel glorious, glorious

Got a chance to start again

I was born for this, born for this

My phone vibrates in my hand and we snap out of our little staring contest. I watch as Leon’s eyes snap to the device in distaste and I check to see that it’s Veronica wondering where I am. I send her back a quick text with a sigh and then look up to see Leon already watching me.

I can’t help but blush, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I should probably go,” I state.

“Yeah, you have an empire to run,” he says proudly, stepping to the side and motioning me past him. I smile shyly, moving past him reluctantly. Is this really it? Are we going to reunite just to leave each other so suddenly? “Oh, Y/N.” I turn around, raising my eyebrows in question. “We should go out for dinner sometime. Fully catch up and everything.”

I nod, quietly answering, “I’d like that.”

“Cool, me too. I’ll text you.”

I nod once more, turning around and doing my best not to dance until I turn the corner and I’m out of his sight. I missed Edmonton a lot- I missed my family, my friends, my employees, the city, but the thing, or person, that I missed the most was Leon.

And now I’m getting it all back, but mostly importantly, I’m getting the love of my life back.

It's who I am, how could I forget?

I made it through the darkest part of the night

“So your stocks took a sharp dip just before you moved the headquarters to Miami.” I remember that- that was the first and last time I cried in Leon’s arms. I usually hold everything in, I like to leave the stress of work at the office but I just couldn’t that night. I already wasn’t sure if I should be moving or not and that just seemed like a sign.

I can still remember the shock on Leon’s face as I fell into his grip, holding onto his sweater tighter than I’ve ever held on before.

“Why was that?”

I make eye contact with the local manufacturer. It’s very important to me to find work within the community so I can publicize that on my products.

“The stocks went down because it was in the summer when we moved the headquarters. There aren’t a lot of holidays in the summer where jewelry is wanted so our stock always tends to go down in the summer months. We’re currently working on incentives to change that,” I inform him.

And now I'll see the sunrise

Now I feel glorious, glorious

I feel glorious, glorious

I'm feeling glorious

We make small chat as we walk out of the conference room towards the lobby of the building. I glance towards Veronica at reception to see a mischievous twinkle in her eye and give her a questioning look but brush her off, returning my attention to the manufacturer.

“And we’re currently working on 100% recycable jewelry-”I cut myself off as soon as I see him. You can always tell when Leon’s in a room.

He’s sitting in one of the chairs, practically looking like a giant in the tiny piece of furniture. He’s playing with his hands and by the time we make eye contact, his eyes are already on me. The sunlight streams into the room through the window behind him, giving him a golden glow.

I clear my throat, ignoring the inquisitive look the manufacturer’s giving me to continue my sentence.

“100% recyclable jewelry that will probably come early next year.”

“That sounds great, my granddaughter loves that sort of stuff,” he responds.

“Yeah? I’ll be sure to send you a bracelet just for her,” I smile politely, bidding him goodbye as he leaves.

Before I can even greet Leon he’s at my side. “Should you just be giving stuff out for free? I don’t think that’s how empires work.”

I can’t help but snort out a laugh at his dorky joke. “What are you doing here, Leon?”

“I texted you yesterday but you didn’t respond.”

“I didn’t?” My eyes widen. I pull out my phone to show that I never pressed ‘send’ on the text I meant to send back.

The hockey player laughs. “Typical.”

I push his shoulder jokingly.

“Come on, I have something to show you,” he urges, grabbing my wrist.

“Hold all of my calls for the rest of the day, Veronica,” I call out as he pulls me out the door.

“You got it!”

The crib looking Victorian (oh yes it is)

You know that we been going in

Since we hopped out that DeLorean (DeLorean, yeah we win)

“Where did you find this house?” I gasp in disbelief, slamming the passenger’s door shut as I gape up at the beautiful house.

“You’re supposed to wait and let me open your door,” he whines, stepping out of the driver’s seat. I follow him up to the house, watching as he opens the front door.

“Look at how beautiful this hardwood is,” I gush, walking slowly throughout the house. He follows me from a few feet back, admiring me as I touch all of the unique features of the house. “Seriously, Leon, where did you find this house?”

“Called a realtor, or two.” Then he lowers his volume to a level he probably thinks I can’t hear, “Or five.” Then he raises it again. “Asked if they knew a good victorian house for sale. And it has to be victorian.”

I laugh at that. He would always make fun of me for how in awe I was at The Addams Family’s house. But I’ve wanted a large Victorian house to raise my kids and dogs in.

“Is it for sale?” I question, looking back at my former lover. He already knows why I’m asking.

“You may have some competition.”

“Oh yeah? I can probably beat them,” I state confidently, crossing my arms.

“I don’t think you can.”

“Yeah? Why not?” I raise my eyebrows.

He gives me a cheeky smile. “Because it’s me.”

En garde, things are just things

They don't make you who you are

Can't pack up a U-Haul and take it with you when you're gone

“Leon!” I whine, stomping my foot like a two year old. “Why would you show me this house if you’ve already wanted to buy it?”

“I have a plan,” he assures me, rushing forward to grab my hands. “You’ve moved back to Edmonton for good, right?”

I nod.

“And obviously there’s still romantic feelings and chemistry between us,” he starts.

I look down at the floor shyly, not knowing where he’s going with this. His fingers lift my chin up to meet his gaze again and he continues. “And the place you’re renting now, it came fully furnished, right?”

“How do you know that?” I ask.

“Please, you think Veronica would not drop hints to me while I was waiting on you for twenty minutes?”

“You were waiting for twenty minutes?”

“That’s besides the point,” he avoids my question, “This is the perfect house for us. Four bedrooms, the master bedroom on the main floor so we can get funky while the kids are in bed-”I laugh while he wiggles his eyebrows-”A nice office so that you can work from home if you want to. And have you seen the backyard?” He pulls me over to the kitchen window so we can see the luscious grass. “That’s a backyard made for an ice rink, babe. Come on, move in here with me.”

We posted on the porch, my family's glasses to the stars

My grandma smiling down on me like woo, that boy got bars

Okay, okay, yes I do

I said amen and hallelujah, let me testify too

I watch as he locks the front door, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Just think, baby, the next time you’re going to be here it’s going to be our house. With you and me.”

“You and me,” I repeat softly.

Another morning, a morning, don't let self get in my way

I got my breath, I got my faith and I remember why I came

“Good morning,” I greet, stepping into the office early like I do every morning so Veronica can fill me in on what’s going on during the day. “What’s going on, Veronica?”

“So you’re just going to be filling out forms until nine, then you have a meeting with Mr. Waterson until ten thirty-””Can that be rescheduled?” I request softly. My assistant gives me an odd look but nods. Usually I refuse to be the one rescheduling or cancelling- I think it’s rude, but today I woke up feeling less confident than normal and couldn’t bear to look myself in the mirror.

“You have a meeting with Isabelle at one thirty-”The beautiful, young, talented designer? No way I can handle that today. “Reschedule that one too. I’m going to go start on paperwork, please don’t bother me unless you absolutely need me.”

I avoid eye contact as I make my way to my office, hoping to distract myself with my work.

I feel glorious, glorious

Got a chance to start again

I was born for this, born for this

“Am I absolutely needed?” I snap, looking up as my office door is opened. My boyfriend closes the door behind him, eyes widening from my harsh tone.

I sigh, looking back down at the paperwork.

He quietly takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, leaning forward and waiting for me to say something. It’s always pissed me off yet left me in awe at how well he knows me- he knows that if he confronts me I’ll immediately get defensive. He just needs to wait for me to put my guard down more.

And he gets it when I lean back in my chair, meeting his eyes.

“Do you want to explain why I got a call from your assistant saying that you’re in a mood today?” He questions softly.

“Because she’s a snitch?”

He laughs at that but leans back in the chair, giving me a look to talk.

I look down at my desk, murmuring, “It’s just a low confidence day, I guess.”

My eyes move back up in surprise to see him pointing an accusing finger at me. “You stop being mean to my girlfriend right now!”

“Leon, what are you doing?” I giggle.

“I’m serious, if you keep telling her that she’s not beautiful and smart I will not hesitate to fuck you up!”

I laugh at that, laughing even harder when he tugs me up and out of my chair. “Now you say it with me ‘I was born to be a boss ass bitch.’”

“Leon-””Say it with me!”

“I was born to be a boss ass bitch!” We scream together.

It's who I am, how could I forget?

I made it through the darkest part of the night

And now I see the sunrise

“You created a company from the bottom, you sell bracelets and necklaces and earrings- and hell, 100% recyclable jewelry,” Leon claps like I just found the cure to cancer. “A beautiful woman who cares about the environment. You shouldn’t be here, you should be-”He grabs me by the waist, placing me gently on my desk.

“What are you doing, Leon?” I squeal.

“Stand up,” he urges.

I stand up and for the first time ever, I’m taller than him.

“You should be up there! Look at you, a magnificent woman on the pedestal that she deserves.”

Now I feel glorious, glorious

I feel glorious, glorious

We gon' be alright, put that on my life

When I open my eyes, hope I see you shine

“Do you feel better now?” My boyfriend asks once I’m safely off the desk and in his arms.

I nod, pulling him closer to me. “Thank you, Leon. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“That’s a lie,” he scoffs.

I gasp, pulling back to hit his shoulder gently. “Why would you say that?”

“You left me for several months,” he exclaims.

“But I was thinking of you the whole time,” I confess. He smiles softly, leaning in to place his lips on mine. They move against each other, a comfort that we didn’t know we needed until now.

We're planting a flag they don't understand

The world is up for grabs

We gon' be alright, put that on my life

When I open my eyes, hope I see you shine

We're planting a flag they don't understand

“My businesswoman, look at you,” Leon wolf-whistles from bed as I step out of the walk-in-closet in our beautiful, Victorian house. I roll my eyes but smile, buttoning up my blazer.

“I’ll be at your game tonight,” I remind him, leaning over to kiss his lips.

“Are we what they call a power couple?” He questions.

“I guess we are, Leon. I guess we are.”

The world is up for grabs

I feel glorious, glorious

Got a chance to start again

I was born for this, born for this

It's who I am, how could I forget?

I’ll never get used to seeing Leon’s games, and I think he’ll never get used to seeing me in my natural element designing or being in meetings. We support each other unconditionally, because that’s what good partners do.

And the love we share is undeniable and nothing like I’ve ever felt before. If this is how we are now, I wonder what we’re going to be like in a few years with more goals, more sales, and a couple of cute kids.

I made it through the darkest part of the night

And now I see the sunrise

Now I feel glorious, glorious

I feel glorious, glorious

He scores a goal for me that night. And I save a recyclable bracelet for him.

[erin-bo-berin]

Angel With A Shotgun

MASTERLIST

This is my first fic that actually involves no smut. I was inspired by Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab and the Truth or Dare hostage scene from 14x15. If you want to listen to the song beforehand or while you read it, you can here. This one happens to be written all from Spencer’s point of view as well, which was different for a change. Like the last fic I posted, lyrics from the song will be in italics in between parts of the story. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (just some drama, nothing else)

Word Count: 2,233

Get out your guns, battles begun

Are you a saint, or a sinner?

Darkness was all he could see. He heard scuffling as he was being transported. He could hear her uneven breath from behind him and he was relieved to know she was still nearby, even though this wasn’t exactly an ideal situation.

He was pushed to his knees, ordered to sit. The sound of duct tape ripping filled the silence and his wrists were bound together. He sensed movement to his right and he knew it was her turn to be bound. 

A moment later the blindfolds were ripped off.

Spencer squinted in the bright light and looked over to see her, his partner, with a stoic expression on her face. He knew her well though, she was terrified, but keeping her cool. Between the ever so slight widening of her eyes, and her frantic assessment of him, Spencer knew just how freaked out she was on the inside.

“Well, so nice of you to play the game, agents.” 

“We didn’t exactly have much of a choice did we?” she deadpanned.

Spencer looked up into the face of their captor. It had started like any normal case, just a week ago.

Victim had been killed, gunshot wounds to abdomen and chest. It was only when they started looking into the case that things got stranger, like the fact that the shooter wasn’t the actual unsub. 

The actual unsub was playing a twisted game of Truth or Dare and kidnapping the victim’s loved ones, forcing them to commit murder before they could be released, if they ever were.

The real unsub was standing in front of them. They had managed to fall right into his trap and now they had become his hostages.

They’d cornered him in a jewelry store and after he’d shot both a civilian and the worker, he’d taken their guns, blindfolded them and bound them until he was ready to play with them. Apparently that time had come.

Spencer looked around, noticing the broken glass of a jewelry case, the dead worker laying next to it. They’d been moved to another part of the large store, most likely the reason for their blindfolds, so they wouldn’t know just exactly where he was taking them. Before he could give his surroundings much more thought he whipped his head back around towards the man.

“We’re not going to play your game,” she said, “There are feds and cops crawling outside and you aren’t going to get out of this by playing games.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Before Spencer saw it coming, the unsub had hit her upside the head with the butt of his gun.

She groaned, putting a hand to her head and wincing. Already blood was escaping the cut on her forehead, that the hit had created.

“Hey, stop it!” Spencer yelled.

“That’s what she gets for not playing by the rules,” he sneered, before turning back towards her, “Now, agent, truth or dare?”

If loves a fight

Than I shall die

With my heart on the trigger 

She glared up at him, not backing down from the fight, even though she’d already taken a hit.

Spencer had to admire her. For all her fear came twice as much courage. She was the bravest person he knew.

He’d also been harboring a love for her.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what moment it happened other than one day realizing that she was the love of his life.

He would do anything to protect her. 

His eyes slid sideways to the broken glass. One shard sat just out of reach; if he could get a hold of it without making the unsub suspicious, then he could have a good chance at cutting the tape apart.

“This isn’t the way to do this,” she said, holding all of his attention.

With a slight lean to his left as if he’s just trying to wriggle into a different sitting position, his hand touched the piece of glass. His attention was still on her.

“I’m not going to prison,” he laughed, “I know how this will end. Now I’m gonna ask you one more time, truth or dare?”

The barrel of his gun is angled at her. Spencer knew he had to get the gun aimed away from her. If it’s the last thing he does in this world, he isn’t going to let her get hurt.

She’s about to speak when he answers.

“I’ll play.”

They say before you start a war

You better know what you’re fighting for 

The gun turned on him. 

Good.

“Truth or dare, pretty boy?”

“Truth.” Spencer looked him dead in the eye, letting him know he’s as serious as him.

“I want you to tell your deepest, darkest secret.”

Slowly, but surely while appeasing the unsub, Spencer kept sawing the shard against the duct tape. It was making a tiny bit of progress, he just had to keep stalling.

Spencer took a deep breath before answering.

“I was wrongly convicted and in prison for three months,” he began.

“That better not be your secret, cause if it is, I’ll shoot you right now.”

“No that’s not my secret,” Spencer said, “While I was in prison I tampered with some drugs another inmate wanted me to move and I hurt a lot of men that I didn’t intend to.”

The unsub laughed like he’d just said the funniest joke ever.

“Oh we got a badass here. Is that all you got? People do shit like that and worse all the time. I’m not gonna warn you again. I want to know something that no one else knows.”

Well baby you are all that I adore 

If love is what you need a soldier I will be 

Spencer glanced over at her before answering. 

They’re in the middle of a life or death situation, her clothes and hair are all rumpled and out of place and there’s blood sliding down her cheek and the side of her face. Even so, she’s still the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

If he had any other choice, he would never even consider saying it, but this could be their only chance out of this hostage situation. He turned to face him again; he doesn’t know if he can look at her when he says it.

“I’m in love with my partner, SSA Y/N Y/L/N. I have been for nearly a decade.”

He faced her again when he heard a slight gasp come from her direction.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner or maybe I shouldn’t have at all. I never really intended on telling you, but now it’s out there. I’ve always loved you.”

He can’t read the expression on her face. Is it a mixture of hurt? Confusion? To know her so well, this was one of the few times he had no idea what she was thinking.

Her lips are parted in surprise and she’s staring at him, slightly wide eyed, her brows pulled together. Maybe she thinks he’s lying, just saying something believable for the unsub. That might be a blessing in disguise. 

“Wow.” 

The unsub whistled above them, but Spencer doesn’t break his gaze from hers. All he wants to do is hold her and say he’s sorry, he never wanted it to happen this way, but now it has. He had basically just dropped an exploding bomb over her head all while they were being held hostage.

“Now that’s a secret. I’ll tell you what. I’m not going to kill you,” he grinned, pulling the gun away from Spencer’s direction.

“Instead, I’m going to kill your partner. It’ll be way more fun to watch you suffer.”

The next few seconds happened in a blur.

The gun swivels towards her and goes off before Spencer can even react. She shrieked as she fell backwards from her crouched position, her head hitting the floor hard. The unsub’s focus is no longer on him, it’s still on her, ready to take another shot.

The tape finally breaks apart.

I’m an angel with a shotgun

Fighting ‘til the wars won

I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back 

Gunfire rang in Spencer’s ears.

But this shot didn’t hit her nor is it from the unsub’s gun. This one came from Spencer’s own piece.

After the tape broke, he’d reached for his second gun and shot the unsub, in one swift movement. The unknown gun had been hidden in his ankle holder this entire time, it had just been a matter of getting to it. 

The unsub fell with a thud, but he can’t spare a moment of thought about him. He has to focus on the most important thing. 

The fact that she hasn’t moved since she was shot.

He’s on his feet, ignoring the blood on his hand from the glass.

He runs towards her as fast as he can.

I’ll throw away my faith babe

Just to keep you safe

Don’t you know you’re everything I have?

“Y/N, Y/N,” Spencer hovered over her, eyes trying to locate where she’d been hit.

He spots the gunshot wound in her shoulder and covered it with his fingers, attempting to stanch the bleeding. He thought she’d lost consciousness, possibly from hitting her head, but he’s so panicked, he can’t think straight. The normal process of his ever running brain has come to a halt and he can’t think straight.

“Y/N, stay with me. You’re gonna be okay.”

He shouted at the SWAT members he could hear pouring through the front door that he needs medical, as fast as possible.

He turned back to her when he heard a tiny groan and saw her coming to. Relief washes over him when he realizes she hasn’t lost consciousness. 

“Spencer?” she mumbled.

“I’m right here, you’re gonna be okay.”

Her face contorted in pain and she tried to sit up.

“No, stay still. You’ve been shot and have a possible concussion.”

“What happened?” she asked weakly.

“I managed to cut through the restraints with a piece of glass and shot him with the gun in my ankle holster.”

“My hero.” 

Her smile is faint and his heart aches, hating to see her this way. If only he’d been faster.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, this is my fault. If I’d only shot him sooner-”

“Spence,” she interrupted, “About what you said.”

“Forget about it,” he said quickly and before anything else could be said he was quickly replaced by the EMTs that surrounded her.

He was soon swept away in the chaos of the agents, paramedics and police that filled the area. He was taken outside by one of his teammates to get his own injuries checked out.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked, trying to control the frenzied feeling building inside of him.

He had seen her injured so many times before. But he truly never realized just how much he loved her until he saw her lying, bleeding on the floor today.

“I heard them say it seemed to be a flesh wound, but they need to get her to the hospital,” someone answered him, although he couldn’t say exactly who it was.

He needed her to be okay.

And I, wanna live, not just survive tonight

His hand was halfway wrapped by a paramedic when he saw her being taken toward the ambulance, one of the paramedics that was with her coming towards him.

All of his fears flooded to the front of his mind, expecting to hear the worst.

“She’s asking for you, but we need to go now.”

It didn’t take him any time to make up his mind.

“I’m going with her.”

“Agent, your hand,” the one paramedic who had been tending to his injuries said, indicating the half wrapped hand.

“It’s fine, I’m going.”

He didn’t miss the man’s exasperated look, but he didn't care about his hand at all; he cared way more about her.

They had just loaded her in the back of the ambulance when Spencer hopped in.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her restraints had been cut away and her arms laid on each side of her. Her shoulder was less bloody as they’d managed to temporarily stopped the bleeding. Her head and forehead was still bloody, some drying in the wisps of her hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. He ached to hold her, to feel her breathing against him, just to reassure himself that she was indeed alright.

“Everything hurts, but they said I’d live,” she joked.

He chuckled, not surprised that even at a moment like this she could still make him smile.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern clouding her features.

“Just a cut hand, I’ll be fine.”

He settled by her side, intending not to leave her for the foreseeable future.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Her face is serious, her gaze level on his.

“I’m not sure if you meant it or not, but I wanted you to know that I love you, too.”

Realization spread across his face as it sinks in what she just said. He looked down, noticing her hand outstretched just the slightest towards him. 

He put his hand in hers and she slowly intertwined her fingers with his.

If love is what you need

A soldier I will be

[purplerose244]

Thoughts journal Ninjago season 13!! 🖤🖤 (4/4)

Here we are, at the end of just another season of Ninjago! And I've gotta say, until now it has been very good, I think I'm liking this season better than Prime Empire and Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitzu. I liked them too, but this one feels more complete and deep, also LILLY GOT A BACKSTORY HECK YEAH 😍😍

Prime Empire had one really great ending, so I'm very curious how this season will conclude! Spinjitzu burst? Some last minute plot twist? Cole and Vania confirmed...? 🙄

Here we go!!

THE DARKEST HOUR

So I'm guessing the guys aren't doing too good at the moment 😅

I know this is kind of a tense situation, but honestly Kai looking so confused at having to lead cracks me up 😂 "Do I have to say it? Is that what being in charge means?"

Lloyd: YOU

Jay: SHALL

Kai: NOT

Zane: BE GRANTED THE PERMISSION TO TRAVERSE BEYOND THIS POINT

I have no words, that was such an obvious reference in full Zane style so in character, I have tears. Beautiful 🤣🤣

Also they all look SO COOL 💚💙❤🤍

My ninja babies fighting together screaming NINJA-GOO!! Really this season feels like we're back in the old days, so cool! And they are so in sync, Kai lifting Lloyd up and Zane pushing others away and I LOVE THE FIGHTING ANIMATIONS 🤩

Poor Skull dude, he's trying to do his big bad guy monologue and he keeps getting interrupted 😂

It was cute that both tribes immediately refused to surrender, not sure if it was for pride or they actually care about their new ninja friends, but it was nice

Aahh, near death life experiences, the best way to elicit teamwork 👍 Nice scene, nice cute scene

Nnnnnyyyggg, Lloyd, that's the sacrifice look right there 😱 At least they just turned themselves in peacefully after reuniting the tribes... aaand of course he was lying, I hate that Skull dude 👿👿

THE ASCENT

Back to team Cole! Back to the Upply! 🖤 Quick guys, we're only three episodes left!! NEED TO GO BIG!!

Heeeeeyy, Wu back in business! I kinda missed him a bit taking control of the situation, it used to be him because he was the master. It really is a jump into the past this season! 🤩🤩

Sure let's go with the explosive cart, not like Cole and the other ninja haven't been piloting a falling apart rocket back to Earth before 🤷‍♀️

A Mech on rolleskates, why not? Does Cole even know how to go on those though? He was already out of the Tournament of Elements during Chen's Thunder Blade so I don't really know...

Lolz the monster was actually waiting staring at the wall, guess you don't get much fun in this mine 😅

COOL FIGHTING SEQUENCE COOL FIGHTING SEQUENCE COOL FIGHTING SEQUENCE 🖤🖤🖤

And a poor old couple of civilians traumatized. They need to be trained by the people of Ninjago City on how to deal with weird appearances 💪

I guess we're doing this 😅 Gonna be honest, this is the first very evident sweet look I see from these two. I like Vania, a lot, but another classic love interest? Uuuuhhh, Idk, Imma see the rest of the season and see what happens 🤷‍♀️

A baby dragon on a giant spider, one of my favorite things ever on one thing I fear... I'll let it pass just because Adam is a good boy 🕷🕷🕷

GO VANIA GO GIRL LET HIM KNOW WHO IS THE BOSS HERE!!! 💛💛💛

THE UPPLY STRIKES BACK!

I really like these DnD guys, they've grown on me, let's see what they have in store! 😁

Munce and Geckles under chains, ninja in a cage, the Skull dude has the control, we're back when we started... sucks to be a ninja sometimes 😅

Omg I'm loving that this dude is trying so hard to be menacing and he keeps getting ignored 😂😂 Aww cute, you think you're the first that wants to destroy the ninja? Such a special little snowflake 😘 Evil monologue, we've been going for 13 seasons now with various specials and a movie, we heard it already 🤷‍♀️

Also the reveal, and he's all "Your friend Cole is dead" and Lloyd "That's what they all say, buddy" 👌👌

Poor Cole just wants justice for his mom HELP EMOTIONAL AGAIN

I'm all for Cole's personal team, they should do missions together, like Jay's team in Skybound!... that technically never happened, BUT STILL COOL 🖤💙🖤💙

Oh boy oh boy oh boy got the swords, confrontation ready, BRING IT!! Ninja team is all in for this!! ❤💚💙🤍🌊

REVOLUTION!!!! 💪💪💪💪

Swords aren't usually Cole's weapon of choice... BUT DANG IT HE CAN SWING THEM, HOLY GARMADON!!! THIS IS THE FIGHTING SCENES I WANT!!! 😍😍

How is this the episode prior the finale? It already feels like the finale! What else is going to happen?

SON'S OF LILY

Oh with a title like this, it's a given that I will not survive. Oh boy, here goes, the FINALE!

Chaos, chaos, beautiful dragon of death and distraction, also gently reminder that Mino is also a very good boy 💕 Are the skeletons connected to the skull? Are they gonna stop reform when Cole defeats the Skull Sorcerer?

The swords are not actually magical? Huh, first weapon in this show that turns out to be a fluke, apart maybe the Dragon Armor of the Firstborne... that one stayed intact at least 😅

HERE COMES THE VALKIRIES!!! *classic related music plays*

THIS. FIGHTING. SCENES. ARE. SO. FREAKING. GOOD 😍 Also wow sensei, full kamikaze with a dragon? I guess the sacrifice gene really runs into that family 😅

COLE NO DON'T HURT ROCK BABY 😭

"Always." KIRBY STOP MAKING ME CRY WITH YOUR AMAZING VOICE ACTING SKILLS ALSO HOLY HOOLA GANG

THAT'S LIKE A SPINJITZU WITH THE TRUE POTENTIAL OMG HECK YEAH SHINE COLE SHINE!!! 🖤🖤🖤

A bit red, could mistake it for Kai's, but it's an orange earth lava burst so I understand

Cole: okay guys, done my part

Cole: wake me up when next season is out

LOOK AT VANIA BECOMING THE QUEEN WITH THAT BEAUTIFUL ATTIRE AND USING COLE'S MOTHER QUOTE BECAUSE SHE LEARNED SO MUCH FROM COLE AWWW 💛

Okay, since there weren't evident references to Nexo Knights this season, can I pretend Fungus shooting fireworks is one? Merlok used to do that almost at every season finale... IMMA PRETEND 🙃

She is so adorable, I really love her. Wished we've seen more of her bond with her father, it felt a little easy her giving up on him. Idk, Sky and Chen didn't have that much of a bond but she struggled a lot! But she is super cool and cute, I ADORE her 💕

This sounds like a pretty good experience for Lloyd who FINALLY spent a season without being scarred for life!!! He even met a princess who didn't plan his death!!! Montgomery things are getting better 💚

Well, that surprised me, I guess Cole and Vania like each other but not heavily? Just a very light mood, like they care a lot but no other step further. I'm very happy about this choice, you can see it as a couple if you want, but you can also say they are just good friends. Nice 👍

Oh no, Wu got his midlife crisis, SOMEBODY STOPS HIM 😱

Wherever the wind will take them okay, wherever the producers will decide to torture them 😗

Overall, great finale! 😁

FINAL THOUGHTS

I think I enjoyed Prime Empire's finale more than this one, but this season with all of its episodes was absolutely AMAZING 🖤

The Skull Sorcerer wasn't necessarily a bad villain, but the story kinda went into another direction in my opinion so his part wasn't fundamental. Which isn't a bad thing for me, it's actually new and exciting see the attention to the story instead of the villain, and I did enjoy how they made fun of how cliche he was being 😂

Vania was GREAT. Wished we had more time with her father to really establish what kind of bond they had, but overall I loved her, new best girl acquired 💛💛💛

FREAKING ROCK MOM!! FREAKING LILLY!! I'm so emotional just thinking about this family, omg, THIS is the content I want for Ninjago! Impactful, that makes sense, connected to the heart that makes you so much closer to a character! Finally the Rock family is getting more complex 🖤

I think this season really gave Cole justice, we got her mom's story, we've got him leading a team again, we've got him with a cool new power! 😍😍

For the other ninja it was okay, I really liked the shenanigans with the tribes and the cultures were really fun to explore. Was kinda like a side quest and for me didn't bring that much to the main story, but it was fun and it's fair, Cole had all the attention he deserved 👌

FIGHTING ANIMATION OMG HECK FREAKING YEAH 10/NINJA-GOOOO ❤💚💙🖤🤍🌊

Beautiful designs for the characters, in particular the Shintaro citizens, and also wonderful backgrounds and sceneries, that I thought were starting to lack but here seems much nicer to look at 🤩

What can I say? Ninjago still knows how to mess with my heart, and I'm so very happy about it. I think the so wanted Cole season was definitely worth it 🖤🖤🖤

Now, I heard voices about a possible Nya season... ABSOLUTELY YES, YES TO EVERYTHING, QUEEN GETTING HER OWN SEASON YES YES YES!!! 😍😍😍🌊🌊🌊 Besides that apparently Maya will come back, which is a dream coming true, if they give Nya the same attention they gave to Cole this season, I will be happy 😊

[seungyovn]

it reminded me of you

prompt: 2/100 ways to say i love you. “It reminded me of you.”

pairing: han seungwoo x reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, lots of fluff

word count: 1768

warnings: none

The bright light of the morning's sunrise shines into your eyes, waking you up like a silent alarm. Your body tenses. The alarm or lack thereof sends your entire body into a panic. 

You had slept through your alarms.

The clock on your phone reads 6:41 in the morning. You were going to be late.

A strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you firmly in your place next to him on the mattress. Seungwoo mumbles something incoherent in his sleep.

"What?" you ask him to repeat himself, your efforts to pull his fingertips away from you side only make him hold onto you tighter.

"It's Saturday, baby." he rolls over, opening a sleep filled eye to look at your face as you process what he is telling you.

"Saturday?" you look down at your phone, pressing the button on the side of the screen until it flashes the date and time. 

Your boyfriend was right, It was Saturday.

"Come back to bed." Seungwoo mumbles, tightening his grip so your body has no other choice but to lay back down.

 As if on autopilot, you unlock your phone, refreshing you e-mail to make sure that nothing had imploded at your office during the 8 hours you were asleep. There were several memos, invoices from your suppliers and a slew of time off requests from your employees hoping to make it home in time for the upcoming holiday. You start to reply to a few, keeping your messages short as you know none of your employees would read it until Monday.

"Y/N." you can't ignore the annoyance in your boyfriend's voice.

"Hmm?" you ask, reaching out to play with his hair while you read the last couple of messages.

"Can't that wait until tomorrow?" he asks, sighing as he rolls onto his back. “Or even better, Monday when you actually have to work.”

"Just one more minute." you assure him you'll be off your phone soon.

Except Seungwoo is impatient. He takes the phone from your hands, locking the screen before tucking it under his pillow. If you wanted it back you would have to crawl over him, and with the look he was giving you through his bedhead, you knew better than to try.

"Saturday mornings are for sleeping. Not work.," he reminds you, very much not awake.

"I know, I just wanted to make sure everything is going alright."

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you think if there was an emergency someone would have called you, not sent it in an e-mail?"

You couldn't argue with his logic. "You're right."

"Now will you please just relax and cuddle with me? I can't remember the last time I got to wake up next to you."

You hate the way his words make your chest ache, especially knowing that he was right. It had been weeks or maybe even months since the last time the two of you were able to wake up in each other's arms. Most mornings started with you slipping out of bed hours before Seungwoo does. And most nights ended with you slipping into bed hours after Seungwoo does.

It was the price you paid for your dream job. The position you had been dreaming about since college was finally yours. And you loved it. It never really felt like "work". But in moments like these, where you can see how your devotion to your job affected those closest to you, almost enough for you to consider a different path.

It doesn't take long for Seungwoo to drift back to sleep, the grip he had on his waist lessens as his breathing deepens. You shift into his warmth, wrapping your arm around his large frame until your skin is pressed into his. You align your breathing with his, taking deep breaths in hopes that you will be able to slip back into your dreams for a few more hours.

Except your body betrays you, making you toss and turn for what feels like only 15 minutes before you can't take it anymore. You give up, sighing as you resign to your fate of alertness. Although technically, you had slept in for an hour, there was something so cruel about waking up before 9 AM on your day off. 

You reach out towards Seungwoo's side of the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of his body next to you but all you find is an empty space. The heat of his skin was long gone, leaving behind nothing but the shapes his left on the sheets. His absence makes you sit up, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you look for any sign of him.

He wasn't in the shower as his bathrobe was still hanging neatly on the back of your bedroom door. You didn't see him in the rest of your shared apartment as you make your way to the bathroom in hopes that your morning routine will help bring some life back into your tired frame.

But once you look in the mirror you realize that there isn't enough toner and face cream in the entire beauty industry to wash away the dark circles that clung to your eyes like shadows. Their constant presence serving as a visual representation of you devotion to your job, and everything you sacrifice in order to do it.

You take your time however, using products you saved for days like today. You even throw on a sheet mask because you actually had the time to enjoy the serum soaking into your skin for the next fifteen minutes.

Seungwoo still hadn't returned by the time you peel the mask off your skin. His keys and gym shoes were missing so he might have gone out for a run despite his words earlier this morning..

It seems like you weren't the only one having a hard time relaxing.

You wander back into your bedroom and start to make your bed, placing the pillows exactly how you like them and admire your handiwork. You remembered arguing with Seungwoo in the middle of the store over whether or not it was a smart idea to get white bed sheets. He was convinced you would spill coffee onto them while working from home but you reminded him that bleach existed. Eventually he caved with the compromise of letting him pick out the sofa and buying a desk for you to use on days you didn’t go into the office.

You hear the melodic beeping of your front door unlocking, letting you know that Seungwoo had returned from his outing. His feet quickly shuffle towards the bedroom, making your heart flutter with anticipation until you hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the room.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but you can't come out yet." there is a secretive playfulness in his voice as you hear the sound of the chair being propped up against the door handle.

You rattle it, trying to open it but the wooden chair was holding the door firmly in place.

"Seungwoo?" you call out. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" he calls out over the sound of his hands shuffling through bags quickly followed by the cabinets opening and closing.

"Then why am I being held hostage by my boyfriend?" you pout even though he can't see you through the walls.

"Just be patient!" he tells you, clearly distracted by whatever it is he's doing.

You hear his footsteps headed towards the bedroom. You try to be patient as he removes the chair from the door, freeing you from your makeshift captivity.

Seungwoo looks at you with a mischievous smile on his face. "Are you ready?"

"Why do I feel like I should be scared?" you question him, hesitantly stepping into the hallway.

You can feel his eyes staring at you as you make your way into the living room. Everything looks like how you left it until your eyes scan across the dining table.

"Wow." is all you can bring yourself to say as you walk over to admire Seungwoo's handiwork.

The table was covered in your favorite treats. The flaky pastries from the bakery on the first floor of your building. The egg sandwiches from your favorite coffee shop down the street. He even brought you your favorite coffee order, decanting it from the reuseable cups he always reminds you to bring into the coffee mugs you drank out of at home.

Your hand moves on it's own, reaching out towards the large bouquet of flowers he had placed in a glass vase in the middle of the table. The petals of your favorite flowers are soft against your fingertips, making your heart feel light as a feather.

"It reminded me of you." Seungwoo whispers into your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you into a tight back hug.

"How did you? When did you?" Your eyes widen and you quickly turn around to face your boyfriend. "Did I miss something? An anniversary? What day is it today?"

He squeezes you gently as he realizes you are about to start panicking, knowing it wouldn't be the first time you had forgotten about a special date in your relationship. He runs his fingers through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Relax, Y/N. It's just a Saturday."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down and look over your shoulder at the table and then back at your boyfriend. "Then what is all this for?"

Seungwoo smiles, placing a tender kiss to your lips. "You've been working so hard lately. Coming home late. Leaving for the office earlier and earlier. I know how difficult things have been and  I just wanted to do something nice for you."

He blushes at the way you look at him like he is made up of a million stars, illuminating even your darkest days. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

It was your turn to kiss him this time, letting your lips tell him the answer to his question.

"So you like it?" he asks after you pull away, his nervousness makes you fall for him even more (something you didn't know was possible at this point in your relationship.)

"I love it." you smile, leading him towards his usual seat at the table.

"I don't even know where to start." you tell him, trying to figure out what you wanted to eat first.

Seungwoo laughs. "We have all day."

You smile back and correct him. "We have all weekend."

[imagine-loki]

Dasher -Trigger warning Suicidal thoughts, self-harm

TITLE:  Dasher

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One shot

AUTHOR: @cre8iveovadose

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki keeping you safe after you admit to feeling suicidal. 

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: Suicidal ideation, bloody imagery, depiction of depression, references to self-harm, references to medical procedures. Written from Loki’s perspective. Title and lyrics from Gerard Way’s song “Dasher” (which I love to pieces). I’ll also cross-post on AO3! 

* * *

DASHER

“‘Cause I feel safe in your arms

And she’s got dashes in her stars

Let’s run away, fast and far…”

I had watched her mind plummet to its darkest depths over the last two months. I had been with her on the train the day she’d seen the boy with his scars and short sleeves, out in the open for everyone to see. No matter how I’d tried to distract her from the itch of want that caressed her arms, I couldn’t stop her once we were home again and she could have a locked door between us. 

Oh, how I regretted agreeing not to use my magic in the house. 

Every single night, after dinner but before bed, I watched with apprehension as she skulked off to the bathroom and shut the door. I sat on the couch trying to focus on the television or trying to read at our rickety kitchen table, perched to rush to her aid if I heard her scream or the sharp jangle of a blade falling to the tile floor. But I never heard a sound until the faucet ran, washing away whatever she’d done to herself. 

She’d stopped getting dressed in front of me even though I’d assured her I didn’t mind seeing her bandages. I could still feel them under her clothes when she hugged me and I saw the packaging for the dressings in the wastebasket when I cleaned the apartment while she went to work or visited friends. 

It fascinated me that she could still function around other people when all she did at home was curl up on the couch with me and sleep. When I’d had to return to Asgard to handle some business, she admitted to spending the entire three days in bed, something she had never done before. Even when she caught the flu she got out of bed, choosing to convalesce on the couch. 

There was something different about this episode and I was not looking forward to finding out what it would be. 

On Day 58 of her relapse, when her depression was coinciding uncomfortably with Christmas, I woke to find the bed empty beside me. Sitting up, I skated my hand over the chilly sheets. She must have gotten up an hour ago at least. I climbed out of bed and crossed to the vanity to find a tie for my hair. As I tied back the tangled mess, I saw in the reflection of the mirror that there were bloodstains on her side of the bed. 

I walked down the short hallway to the kitchen and living area but she wasn’t there. The closed bathroom door beckoned. I took a steadying breath as I walked towards it, summoning up a dram of magic in case I needed to force my way in. 

I knocked, the sound of knuckles on wood punctuated by sobs, and called her name. “Are you alright?” I asked when she didn’t respond. 

“It’s open,” she called, her voice small and fractured. 

I twisted the handle and swung the door in, braced for the worst but expecting the best. She sat on the floor in a bloody t-shirt with her knees drawn up and her arm pressed to her chest. There was no fear or urgency on her face - only resignation. 

“What happened?” I asked as I sat down across from her. A blade rested on the basin and I could see the crisp white of a new bandage tucked between the tap and the faucet. 

“I woke up and it was still bleeding,” she said, her voice muted and dull. 

“And you came in here to..?” 

She tried to meet my eyes but her face crumpled and something inside her fell apart, spilling tears down her cheeks and shaking her shoulders as she sobbed again. 

I shuffled closer and reached for her arm, feeling my stomach twist as I pulled it away from her chest to check the wounds. They’d stopped bleeding but they were numerous, beyond measure. Casting my senses out, I could see she had come within millimetres of the arteries. In multiple places. 

“It would’ve been so easy,” she said through a grimace of pain as I grabbed the bandage from the basin and wound it around her arm. “It would’ve been so easy to press down.”

My fingers fumbled as my head snapped up. “You don’t mean…”

She shook her head, fresh tears slipping down. “I don’t wanna be alive, Loki,” she cried. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

I pulled her into my arms, holding her head against my chest as she grabbed a fistful of my shirt. I rocked her back and forth as her breath hitched and tried to figure out the best course of action. 

“I wanna die,” she whispered. Again and again. 

I took a deep breath, knowing I would make or break her life with my next words. 

“We need to go to the hospital, my love. You need help.”

She shook her head against my shoulder but she didn’t pull away. “No, they’ll take it away from me. They’ll make me stop.”

“You need to stop,” I said. “You’ll die whether you mean to or not if you keep going like this.”

“I won’t. I’m in control.”

“No, your depression is in control. And I’ve let this go on far too long.”

She pulled away to look at me properly. “Don’t make me go. Please. They’ll lock me up, Loki. I’ll be gone.”

“Not as gone as you will be if I let you kill yourself.”

“I’m not ready,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to let it go.”

I reached out to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “You have to, before it destroys you.”

She looked away from me, staring down at the tiled floor. Her fingers twitched in her lap, a side effect of the damage she had done to the nerves in her arm. That single motion made me shake with fear. Could she have severed nerves, tendons, muscles? Was there more damage to be done than just blood loss from this toxic habit? 

“Let’s spend the day together,” she said quietly. “Let’s have breakfast and go to the park - see the Christmas lights or something. I’ll feel better if I’m not just sitting around here, I promise.”

“It’s not just about feeling better, my love. You’re injured, you’ve lost so much blood - going out could make you worse.” 

“Then heal me.” 

“My knowledge of human anatomy isn’t that good, I’m afraid.” 

She cupped my cheek. “Let’s just go, Loki. I’ll be fine. We’ll have fun.” 

There was an eagerness in her eyes now. She’d found her solution and she wouldn’t let up until I gave in. I knew I was being manipulated, I knew she shouldn’t treat me like this, but I also knew what could happen if I refused. 

I nodded once. “We’ll get dressed and go for a walk.” 

I reached around her for the bandage she’d tucked in beside the faucet. I grabbed a dressing from the cupboard beneath the sink, ignoring her look of surprise as I reached into the hidden stash of medical supplies I’d discovered two months ago. I gently dressed and bandaged her wounds, wincing when one of the more minor cuts pulled open and bled bright droplets through the bandage. 

“I’ll wear a jumper,” she said, “it’s fine.” 

I helped her to her feet and we went back to the bedroom to get dressed. I swiftly pulled on clean trousers and a black shirt but when I turned back to face her, she was holding her arm against her stomach and trying to unfold a t-shirt one-handed. 

“Are you alright?” I asked as I fastened the last button on my shirt. 

“My fingers, they aren’t working properly.” She looked at me sadly. “Help me?” 

I nodded as I stepped around the bed. I helped her into a clean t-shirt, jeans, and a thick hoodie. She put her left hand in the pocket but a grimace twisted her features. 

“It hurts too much,” she whispered. 

“Enough to let me take you to hospital?”

She glared. I wilted. I crossed to our dresser. From the top drawer, I took out a bandana she’d bought me to keep my hair out of my face on blustery days. I’d never worn it but knew now it would suffice as a sling. I folded it and tied it behind her neck before carefully bracing her arm among the material. 

There were tears in her eyes but when I met her gaze, she looked away. She picked up her scarf and tossed it around her neck before she headed for the door. “Let’s go.” 

It was a mild enough day outside but when the wind funnelled through the apartment buildings, it cut to our core. We huddled close as we walked along the city streets towards the main drag where shops were brightly decorated with lights and garlands and trees and reindeer. 

“Is this anything like how you celebrated Yule on Asgard?” She asked as we paused at a set of traffic lights. 

I laughed. “Not at all. The only similarities are the trees and the mass consumption of food - and you Midgardians don’t even come close to us on that last point. But I think I enjoy it.” 

“What do you enjoy about it?” She asked as we crossed the street. 

“I thoroughly enjoy the lack of a hunt. My father and Thor used to drag me along on those. We’d ride through the forests tracking bilgesnipe. I’d transform into a snake to hide from them.” I smirked. “One day I played a little trick on my brother.” 

She laughed a little but she wavered on her feet. I curled an arm around her waist until she regained equilibrium. 

“Are you alright?” I asked. 

She nodded. “Just, um, take my arm, maybe?”

I linked our arms together without question and we kept going. We wandered past a bakery where the smell of gingerbread filled the air. We passed a gaggle of carol singers singing “Silent Night”. Our meandering pace slowed to a crawl when we joined the crowds outside a department store. 

The display windows were filled with a tableau of Father Christmas and his reindeer. The figures were exquisitely made, with clockwork or animatronics, and they slowly moved in time with a Christmas carol playing through the speakers. 

“I love the reindeer,” she said as we paused in front of the window. Children nudged past us to get a better look. “They were always my favourites.” 

“They’re certainly a majestic creature.” 

“I like Dasher best,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder. “Don’t you think it would be nice to be able to fly away from all your problems? Dash away across the stars into the crisp, winter night?” 

“I tried that, remember?” I forced a laugh but felt a twinge of regret as I remembered falling from the Rainbow Bridge. “It’s not as appealing an idea as it’s made out to be.” 

“It’d be better than feeling numb all the time.” 

I held her arm a little closer. “Unless it only led to more numbness, more misery. Who’s to say your problems wouldn’t follow you?”

“True,” she breathed, still staring at the tableau. 

“Shall we keep going?”

“Mmm.” 

I stepped away but she did not follow. I turned back just in time to see her eyes roll back. Her legs gave way and our linked arms dragged me down with her. My knees crashed to the concrete and I pulled her to my chest to shield her from the fall. The crowd parted around us and I heard gasps of surprise echo around us. 

I patted her cheek and squeezed her hand but she didn’t respond. I felt for a pulse in her uninjured arm, finding it thready, barely perceptible. I quickly untied the sling, pulling away the bandana to find a wet patch on her sleeve. I only had to push it back to her wrist to realise her entire arm was drenched in blood. 

“Someone call an ambulance!” I shouted as I rolled up the bandana to tie it around her upper arm. More of the cuts must have opened or the tiny margins between the cuts and her major blood vessels must have ruptured. I tried to sense what was happening but I couldn’t concentrate. 

I pulled her scarf from around her neck. I pushed up her sleeve the rest of the way and wrapped the scarf around her arm as tightly as I could. She groaned a little and blood squelched out around the fabric but I had to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t let her die. That was one wish I would never grant the girl I loved. 

When sirens wailed in my ears, I slumped back on the footpath and watched paramedics descend upon her. The two of them checked her vital signs while someone else landed their hand on my shoulder.

“Sir, what happened? Are you alright?” 

I looked up to see a police officer crouched beside me, her red hair peeking out from beneath her cap. 

“Do you know this girl?” The officer asked. 

“Y-Yes, we live together. I tried to - she wouldn’t - she needs to go to hospital.” 

“I understand that - the EMTs are working on it. What happened, though?” 

“She hurt herself,” I gasped, finding it hard to catch my breath. “Last night. And this morning. I wanted to take her to hospital but she wouldn’t let me. She wanted to - to-”

“Breathe for me, bud. We’re gonna take care of the both of you.” She patted my shoulder and we turned back in time to see the paramedics lift her onto a stretcher. 

“She’s losing blood quickly,” one paramedic said. “We need to get her to an ER before she goes into shock.” 

I scrambled to my feet, following them to the ambulance and climbing in behind them. I heard the police officer say she’d follow us but my focus turned back to the fragile figure of my beautiful girl. The colour in her cheeks was fading and I felt sick as I tangled our fingers together, feeling how cold she was. 

“She’ll be alright,” the paramedic beside me whispered.

I didn’t believe him but I didn’t bother saying it out loud. 

At the hospital, I watched them whisk her away again, her hand falling from mine as I stood in the waiting room. The police officer joined me, trying to coax me into a chair, but I could only pace around the room. 

It was hours before anyone came out to tell us how they’d gone. A young doctor who stood a whole foot shorter than me approached with a morose expression. 

“What happened?” I ground out between gritted teeth. 

“She lost a lot of blood, almost forty percent of her total volume,” he said, sounding a little out of breath. “She’d nicked an artery - the exercise she’d gotten strained it and made it worse. Any longer and she probably would have died.” 

“Where is she now? Were you able to repair the damage?”

“We’ve done our best. She may need further attention when she’s recovered her blood volume. We’ll also need to do a psychiatric evaluation when she’s regained consciousness since the wounds were self-inflicted.” 

His words soured my stomach and I shook my head. “I should’ve just brought her here this morning. I shouldn’t have listened to her.” 

“You knew about her injuries?” 

I nodded, putting my hands on my hips. “I tried to bring her here. She admitted - admitted to feeling suicidal. I told her she needed help. She wouldn’t listen. I was going to try to convince her, warm her up to the idea. I wasn’t quick enough.” 

The doctor frowned a little. “I’m sorry. But we can get her the help she needs now. Better late than never.” 

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Can I see her?” 

“She’s sleeping but it won’t hurt for you to sit with her. Come with me.” 

I followed the doctor through the brightly lit hallways. He led me to the intensive care unit which bustled with activity and where, in a small room in the corner of the ward, I saw the love of my life again. 

She was swathed in white and had tubes and wires weaving all around her. Several IV bags hung from a pole, dripping medication and fluid and blood into her veins. Her arm was wrapped in gauze and tucked against her side. I took her other hand and felt tears slip down my cheeks as I looked to her closed eyes. 

“She can probably hear you,” the doctor said. “She won’t be able to respond but you can talk to her if you’d like. I’ll just be outside updating the nurses.” 

I dragged a chair closer to the bed and sat down, careful not to knock any of the wires or the machines crowded around her. I glanced up at the monitor that showed her heart rate, still too weak but showing improvement. 

I looked back to her face and shook my head. “We can’t do this again, my love,” I whispered. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. These doctors are going to get you the help you need and I’m going to make sure it works.” 

I shuffled to the edge of the chair and leaned in closer, stroking her hair with one hand while I rubbed a thumb over her knuckles with the other. “I need you here,” I whispered, my voice cracking a little. “You make me feel safe and I want to help you feel the same way. But I can only do so much. I need you to meet me in the middle. We can do this together, my love, and we need to. Because I love you, so much, and I can’t let this happen to you again.” 

I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Stay with me,” I whispered against her skin. 

Her eyes flickered but they did not open. I felt her fingers give the most minute of twitches. It wasn’t much but I took it as a sign that she wanted to stay. I had tried so hard to keep her safe but it was up to her now. I couldn’t keep her feet on the ground; I could only stop her from dashing away into the stars. 

“And no matter where you are

I hope you know that we can show this world

It just can’t bring us down

From these clouds, when we come

This way.”

[certain-as-the-sun]

Love Me Anyway

A/N: Companion piece to “Hey Jealousy.” INspired by the duet “Love Me Anyway” by Pink and Chris Stapleton

Love Me Anyway

Even if you see my scars, even if I break your heart

If we're a million miles apart, do you think you'd walk away?

If I get lost in all the noise, even if I lose my voice

Flirt with all the other boys, what would you say?

Could you?

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

They spent the night in each other's arms, fully clothed. Emotions were too raw to even think about more. Adam lay awake with Belle in his arms, her head resting against his chest. The slow and steadiness of her breathing was the only sound in the room. It felt so strange to him to be in the master bedroom of Belle’s house. For so long it had been her father’s room, hers now since Maurice’s passing. He still expected the older man to come in and catch them together.

It felt so good, so right for Adam to be lying here with Belle. He knew it would be slow going. Slower than even before. She wouldn’t let him cross boundaries until she was ready. They had talked until the early hours of the morning, lying together. He apologized and she listened.

“I’m never going back to what I was before,” Adam said, turning to look her in the eye.

“Never say never,” Belle warned, tucking a stray piece of his hair out of his face. “You’ve said never before. It never stuck.”

He let out a sigh and hugged her close. “I have missed you every day for the last three years.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She had missed him too, her Adam. The Adam that was kind and generous. The Adam who would take walks with her in the park. The Adam who defended her from his asshole friend. But the Adam she didn’t miss was the drunk Adam making lewd phone calls to her. The Adam who would take off for days at a time with no word. She didn’t miss wondering if he was alive or dead. She didn’t miss driving all over town checking his usual haunts to bring him home and dry him out. She didn’t miss holding his head when he threw up after a binge.

“Maybe not every day, but I did miss you,” Belle admitted. “I was very angry with you for a long time. I had no kindness towards you for nearly a year. You put me through hell, Adam. There’s no other way to describe it.”

He took a deep breath. “I deserve that,” he said, loosening his hold on her. “There are so many things I am not proud of. Betraying you, that’s at the top of the list. Has been and always will be.”

If there was one thing she could give him a great deal of credit for was that even in the darkest of times, he never cheated on her. He had never been with another girl. Adam’s definition of betrayal was breaking promises, going back on something he said. He’d nearly done it before, and swore he’d never do it again.

Adam had broken his promise to Belle was when she’d left for school and was living on campus. She was lonely. Her roommate Babette was rushing a sorority and didn’t have much interest in the academic side of university. Belle spoke to Adam on the phone nearly every night. She missed him. Worried that he wasn’t behaving himself. She had enough to worry about. Her father had a fall at home while he was alone. She called Cogsworth to go check on him when he wasn’t answering the phone. Maurice had broken his hip and was in a rehab center getting round the clock nursing care. It killed her to be away from him when he was in such bad shape. Lumiere took it upon himself to be Maurice’s cheering section. He came to visit him nearly every day.

When he got on the train to see her for the first time since she left for school, Adam had every intention of behaving himself. She needed him. Not his demons. He stepped off the train and glanced around the unfamiliar station, trying to remember where she told him to go. A flatscreen hanging from a nearby pillar said it was two-thirty. He was early. Really early. Her last class wouldn’t get out until after four. He left the station and walked towards campus, making a wrong turn and ending up on Greek Row or “Sin City” as the locals would call it. Greek Row, home to the university’s fraternity and sorority houses. Adam looked up and down the street, feeling like he had walked into a movie set. The street itself divided the houses, the frats on the even side of the street, the sororities on the odd.

Fliers for parties and other Greek events littered the sidewalk. He picked up one; a house party at Kappa Nu Delta for that night. It sounded like fun. He folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. The only reason his dads let him come to see Belle alone was because he had met his six month goal of sobriety. They trusted him. Maybe he and Belle could hit up some of the parties, for the social networking after they had dinner. Needing to kill time and not wanting to invade Belle’s dorm room too soon, Adam sat on a bench right outside the Kappa Nu house. He scrolled through his phone, looking for a good place to take the love of his life out to dinner.

A football nearly severed his head if he hadn’t ducked. A guy in board shorts and flip-flops ran up to him.

“Oh dude! Wicked save!” he said. “Can’t be all that easy to read your screen out here in the sun. We got shade and brews on the lawn if you’re interested.”

Like the Pied Piper leading the rats to the ledge, Adam walked over to the big umbrella with the guy. “Dude, I’m Clyde, president of this mighty house. Welcome to the pre-bacchanal bacchanal.”

Remembering his promise to Belle and his dads, he sat in the shade and drank only water. He enjoyed just sitting with people who don’t know his history.

“Dude, I’ve never seen you before,” Clyde said sitting in the lawn chair next to him. “And I’d totally remember your face. Gnarly scars dude.”

“Just visiting my girl,” Adam said, taking a swig from the water bottle. “She’s in class.”

“Can I get you something other than water? The face you’re making is telling me water isn’t your drink of choice.”

Stoli, straight from the bottle. His mind was turning on him. Afternoon classes were starting to wind down. More people were descending on Greek Row. He needed to leave, now, find Belle and get on with their weekend visit like he planned. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took out and stared at her photo on the screen.

“That your girl?”

“That’s my Belle,” Adam said, scrolling over his phone so he could see her face unobstructed by the apps on his phone. “She’s the best.”

“Then what the hell you doing sulking here? Go get your girl and get back here. We light the goat at dusk!”

Reading her text, his smile faded. Classes are running late. I won’t be back at my dorm until after six. I’m sorry.

“Got any vodka?” Adam asked, shoving his phone angrily deep into his pocket.

* * *

Where was he? Belle wondered. He hadn’t texted her back after she told him her classes were running behind. Maybe he was holed up at the library, thinking it the best place to find her. She started there. No Adam. The student union building? No Adam. She had that feeling. That deep her in gut feeling that he had done something stupid. She didn’t want to check but she knew that’s where he was.

Opening Instagram she clicked on the tag for her school’s Greek Row. His face popped up on twelve different posts. Six months gone. She tapped on a video of him having some blonde bimbo pouring something down his throat. They both cheered when he swallowed it all. This girl was all over Adam but he kept pushing her away. Angrily she shut the app and threw her phone on her bed. This was not how she wanted to spend her Friday night, tracking down Adam on Greek Row.  

She took her purse and loaded it up with the standard “Dry Adam out” gear. Water bottles, Advil, crackers. At least she was unknown here by most of the Greeks so she wouldn’t be so embarrassed by his actions. Making her way through campus to Greek Row she couldn’t stop herself from getting mad. Tears stung her eyes as she walked through campus. She knocked into people, not bothering to stop and apologize. She was mad at her schedule. Mad at the earliness of his train. But mostly, she was furious at him for doing this to her. It was the first time they were in the same place in so long. She had been looking forward to seeing him, and congratulating him in person on his six months of sobriety. But now she was furious that he lacked the will power to just walk away. She would never understand his addiction. She couldn’t fathom how he could keep going back to the one thing that was ruining his life.

She followed the noise and chaos to the Kappa House. There he was, King of the Bacchanal. Standing on the dais that was sure to come crashing down on him at any minute. He had a cheap party supply store crown on his head, draped in dozens of beaded necklaces.

“Belle! Baby, you made it!” he cheered. “Clyde, dude, look it’s Belle! Belle!” He jumped down and stumbled towards here. “Baby, I’ve missed you so much!”

He tried to pull her into an embrace. How he’d missed her. He leaned in for a kiss and she pushed him away.

“You’re drunk,” Belle said flatly. “You promised. You promised me!”

“Belle!” Adam shouted as she turned away from him. “Baby, baby wait!”

“NO! God damn you, Adam! You PROMISED me!” she turned and gave him a shove. “You promised me this would be a good visit. That you could handle it. Find your own way home.”

She strode away, leaving him standing in the middle of the street. She wanted to call Hatter, tattle on Adam. She was furious, betrayed. She went back to her dorm and slammed the door, thankful that Babette was out, probably at the same party Adam was. Since her night was ruined, she might as well study. And when that proved impossible she opened her laptop and turned to Amazon Prime and took solace in the lives of the beautiful, yet tragic lives of the Crawley sisters.

In the early hours of the morning Belle was woken by the loud giggling of someone or someones entering her dorm. Rolling over and turning on the lamp she was greeted to the sight of Adam and her roommate. She wasn’t sure who was holding who up.

“I do believe this is yours,” Babette said, laughing, letting go of Adam. “At least I think he’s yours, unless there’s another Belle from Molyneaux at this school.”

Adam looked worse for wear. His shirt was torn and muddy. He had the making of a black eye. “Looks like you had fun,” Belle said, with very little sympathy.

“I feel awful,” Adam said, holding his head. There was a cut in his hairline.

“I bet you do. There’s waters in the fridge and Advil on my desk. And don’t even think about climbing in this bed. You can sleep on the floor.” She flipped off her lamp and buried herself in her blankets.

“Belle? Baby?” Adam whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry Adam.”

* * *

Rolling over in her bed she hit something, someone hard. She was in her room at home. Looking at the sleeping face of Adam reminded her of his return to her. It took her a moment to remember that the night before hadn’t been a dream. He was really there and they had really talked all night. He wanted to do more, she knew but she wouldn’t take that step with him until her faith in him was restored. She slid out of his embrace and padded into her bathroom. Turning on the water, she splashed it on her face. Her heart wanted Adam. Wanted him in ways she would never admit out loud. She undid the braid she usually slept in and started to brush out her hair. The door opened and Adam stepped in coming right to her and wrapping her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. It was easy to see how different they were when looking at their reflections. Belle, at her tallest was five foot four and Adam was well over six feet. From what his dads had mentioned, he had taken to running and weights as a distraction and it had done him a world of good. He was a massive figure.

“God, I’ve dreamt of this nearly every night,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin light on top of her head. “Waking up next to you, starting our days together.”

His words overwhelmed Belle, so she extricated herself from his embrace. “Adam, please understand. I want you, yes. But there’s a lot that has to happen before we get to your version of us being together.”

“I know that,” Adam said, stepping back from her, giving her space. “It’s going to take more than just words and a bronze coin in my pocket. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I will do whatever it takes to make this”—he gestured between them—“work. And last. Because you’re it Belle. You are my forever. I knew it when I was seventeen. I love you.”

Is it for better or for worse, or am I just your good time girl?

Can you still hold me when it hurts, or would you walk away?

Even if I scandalize you, cut you down and criticize you

Tell a million lies about you, what would you say?

Could you?

Could you?

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Aw, could you?)

Could you? (Could you?)

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

Could you?

They sat together at the counselor Hatter recommended they see. Dr. Jane Porter dealt mainly with recovering addicts and their loved ones. Belle agreed at once. There was a lot that they needed to work out before she could entertain the idea of letting Adam in more than she already had. The space between them on the couch was wide.

“Belle, what is something about Adam that makes you blissfully happy?” Dr. Porter asked.

“When he takes my hand when we walk together. Or the way he used to run his fingers through my hair,” Belle answered, looking over at him.

“Adam, same question.”

Adam stared at Belle. There were so many things about Belle that made him happy that he couldn’t name just one. “It’s a lot of little things. She gets this crinkle between her eyebrows when she’s reading something funny. She can’t sit in a chair like a normal person.”

Dr. Porter wrote in her notes. “Adam, what is something that Belle does to make you angry or upset?”

Adam was quiet. He had to think for a moment. “When she changes plans at the last moment. I don’t do well with change. When we plan for one thing and then it changes. It upsets me.”

“Are you talking about when you came to see me at school?” Belle asked. “Because that was not in my control. My professor was late and class ran late. You chose to stay on Greek Row instead of going to my dorm like we had discussed. I told you not to get there until after four. If you had followed the plan, that weekend would have gone very differently.”

“You left me there,” Adam countered. “If your roommate hadn’t found me, I could have ended up anywhere.”

“Yes, I left you there,” Belle said. “But you broke your promise. You promised me that it would be a good weekend. You always do that.”

“What do I always do Belle? Be human? Make mistakes? You’re not perfect either.”

“I know that.”

“Then why? Why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m always in the wrong? You’re not always right, Belle.”

Belle sat quiet for a moment. But Adam kept going. “Yes I’m an addict. I have accepted that. But that’s all you see. You only see Adam the alcoholic. And there’s so much more to me than that.”

“I don’t just see you as an alcoholic, Adam.”

“Yes you do. You love me despite my addiction. It’s a part of me, Belle.”

“I know it’s a part of you. That it will always be there, gnawing at the back of your mind. What I want, is for you to find a way to cope that isn’t me. I can’t be the one who keeps you in check. It’s not a healthy way to have a relationship.”

“What makes you say that, Belle?” Dr. Porter asked.

“He has to want to stay sober for himself. Not for me or Cogsworth or Lumiere or Hatter. He has to want it for himself. Not to make those around him happy.”

“Is that what you really think? That I don’t want to stay clean for myself?” Adam snapped, his temper starting to rise. “If it's not for me, then who?”

“If you had gotten clean for yourself, Adam, it wouldn’t have taken five years since the accident for us to be here! You would have done it after Kevin died.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Adam roared. He stood up sharply, pulling his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t driving that night! Gaston was. Gaston killed Kevin, not me.”

“Baby, we know that,” Belle said, her voice soft, gentle. “We’ll never know if the accident would have happened if you hadn’t been there. But you were.”

“Stop doing that,” Adam said, his back still to her.

“Doing what?”

“The way you talk to me when I get angry,” he said, turning back to face Belle and Dr. Porter. “You get all soft and mild. You talk to me like I’m a child who needs scolding. I have parents. I don’t need you to mother me. You’re my girlfriend. Yell at me! Tell me I’m being an unreasonable jackass.”

“You are an unreasonable jackass! On top of being a stubborn, selfish, self-destructive—” She stumbled over the immense vocabulary she possessed. “You-- You-- rotten, misbegotten, foolhardy--Jackass!”

“Four years spent in the English department and the worst thing you can call me is jackass?”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “There are a lot of things I can call you Adam.”

“Don’t let me stop you." Mumbling under his breath, he added, "Judgemental bookworm.”

“Spoiled, ill-bred, bumbling, useless fuckwit!”

“Okay guys, let’s all take a breath,” Dr. Porter interjected. “Sounds like there is a lot of unresolved tension between you. It’s going to take a lot of time and work to bring you to a point where the past is the past and moving towards looking to the future.”

She gave them homework. For Belle, she recommended books for her to read and to journal. For Adam, he needed to keep with the recovery plan he had made with his own therapists during his rehab. The pair needed to find a way to let go of the past and move forward.

* * *

Dates were important to Belle. She kept important ones, birthdays, anniversaries on her calendar so she wouldn’t miss them. Without fail she sent a card to Kevin’s mother on his birthday and the anniversary of his death. She didn’t have to but she did it anyway. He deserved to be remembered. The next session she had with Adam and Dr. Porter happened to fall on a day she wished she could forget. The day she miscarried.

“Adam, we’ve talked about your ups and downs over the last few weeks,” Dr. Porter said. “Tell me about the day you saw Gaston’s mother at the grocery store you were working at.”

Not that day. Not today. Belle thought. Does he even know that it’s today?

“It had been almost two years since the accident,” Adam answered. “Gaston, as I’ve said before, suffered massive head trauma in the accident, and it  left him a living vegetable. I’ve heard that he’s regained some functions but he’ll never be the same.” He clenched his fists, needing a moment to recompose himself. To keep his anger about that day in check. For Belle. “I had recently celebrated a year of sobriety. I was in a really good place.” He reached across the sofa to take Belle’s hand. “We were in a good place. I was able to start wanting to make plans, future plans.”

“I was-- I was pregnant,” Belle said, squeezing Adam’s hand. “I had known for awhile and told Adam and his dads when I was around twelve maybe thirteen weeks along.”

“We were happy. Looking to make plans to raise the baby together, talking about getting married,” Adam said. “Everything we had talked about before the accident.” He took a breath. “I was bagging groceries at the market in town. I was smiling, happy because I was going to be a father. I wanted so badly to be one. I saw it as my chance to undo the past, to be the dad I needed when I was younger. And there she was. Standing in front of me at the checkstand. It took me a moment to remember her. Gaston’s mother had always been that woman who wouldn’t leave the house until she looked her absolute best. You know the type. She didn’t look like herself. It’s like someone zapped all the color from her.” Adam looked down. “‘How dare you smile.’ That’s the first thing she said to me in almost two years. ‘How can you dare to be happy when my son is forever ruined because of you.?’”

Adam wasn’t sure how he should react to such an accusation. He knew things were hard for their family. Because Kevin’s mother couldn’t get real justice for her son’s death because of Gaston’s condition she sued his parents for wrongful death. They had lost a lot of their wealth fighting and finally settling with her. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

“I’m really sorry about Gaston, Mrs. LeDoux. The accident wasn’t my fault. He was driving,” Adam apologized. She had a lot of groceries on the belt. This was going to be a long transaction.

“I don’t believe it! My son would never have driven drunk! You were the one driving and blamed it on my son.”

Adam would run out of fingers and toes for the amount of times he had ridden shotgun next to Gaston while he was drunk, stoned, and high as a kite. It was a common thing. But he didn’t dare say that. He kept sorting her groceries as she spoke to him. Berated him.

“What could you possibly be happy about? You should be in jail. If my son had never gotten involved with a drunk like you, he’d still be whole.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop harassing my employee,” Adam’s supervisor said, coming up to the register.

“It should have been you!” she screamed.

Adam had enough. He took off his apron, dropped it on the floor and walked away. He took a bottle of his poison from the shelves with him and vanished.

“Where did you go?” Dr. Porter asked.

“I went up to the woods. I had a cave area up there that I would run off to when I needed space. I think I was up there for three days before Hatter found me.”

“Adam,” Belle said, tears stinging her eyes. “Do you know what today is?”

“No, baby I don’t,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Belle?”

“Today, three years ago is when--”

“When we lost the baby,” Adam finished for her. He slid off the sofa and knelt in front of Belle. “I will never stop making up for that. Never.”

Dr. Porter watched the two young people in front of her. “What happened?”

Belle clung to Adam’s hands, their foreheads resting against each other. “I was at school. I just took my last final for the winter semester. While I was taking my test it had started to snow. I wasn’t wearing the right shoes and I slipped on a patch of ice. I was stupid. I came out a back entrance that hadn’t gotten de-iced yet. I couldn’t get up. The snow was still falling and I think I cried out enough that one of the groundskeepers saw me. He managed to help me up and guided me to the other side of the building where he radioed for assistance. Everything hurt and I got a sharp sudden pain in my belly. A few minutes later I realized I was bleeding.”

“Baby, you never told me this,” Adam said, trying his best to be a comfort. When Hatter finally found him after running into Mrs. LaDoux all Hatter had said in the matter was that Belle lost the baby. “No one told me what really happened.”

“I was about twenty weeks along when it happened,” Belle said. “A few more weeks and they might have been able to save--to save. To save her. They said my fall caused a placental abruption. At that point there wasn’t much they could do to stop it.”

Her. We would have had a daughter. “A girl?” Adam tried to smile. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong to smile.

“A girl. She was perfect,” Belle cried, emotion cracking her normally steady voice. “And I was alone. You weren’t there. You weren't answering your phone, I couldn't reach you. I needed you. By the time your dads got there, she was gone.” Gripping his hands tight she kept going. “You showed up eventually. But by then, I was done. I was too broken to  care what you had to say, where you were, what you were doing or who you were doing it with. I even reached a point where I didn’t care if you were dead in a ditch.”

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there,” Adam said, lifting Belle’s chin to look at him. “It is unforgivable that I reacted like that. Her words hurt but I shouldn’t have let them get to me.”

"It was horrible what she said to you. It wasn't your fault. But in the moment when I needed you the most…" her voice broke and tears streamed down her face. "You weren't there. I had to say goodbye to our daughter alone, with no one but apathetic nursing staff around me. I've never felt more abandoned or hopeless in my life." She wiped away a tear. “I named her Caroline. Caroline Rose Benson. She’s resting in her grandfather’s rose garden.”

“Caroline?” Adam asked, his voice breathless.

“What’s the significance to that name?” Dr. Porter asked.

“It was my mother’s name,” Adam answered. “You remembered. Even when you felt nothing for me, you honored me in that way. Belle, that means more than anything.”

"She was still your daughter, and it just felt right. Just because I wanted nothing to do with you didn't mean I could pretend you didn't exist."

Bringing the session back on track, Dr. Porter asked, “Belle, you say you wanted nothing to do with him then. What do you want now?”

“I want a future. And if you want to be a part of it, Adam, you have to stay clean. Not just for me, but for you.”

“Belle, losing the baby, you telling me that you never wanted to see me again, that was my rock bottom. I wanted, longed to trade places with our child. Every time I got clean before, you’re right it wasn’t for me. It was for you, it was for Dad and Pop and for Hatter. But this last time, this time, it's for me. I need you to know that. And I will work every day to prove it.” He leaned up and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Belle said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever told me,” Adam said. “I knew you did, but you’ve never said it.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Belle said. “But I do. I love you, Adam Benson.”

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you? (Pick up the pieces of me?)

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Ooh, could you still love me?)

Could you? (Pick up the pieces of me?)

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Could you catch me when I fall?)

Could you? (And we rise above it all)

Could you? (And hold me when it hurts)

I can't stay here in the world, could you?

Could you? Could you? Could you?

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Me

Link to song : Me by the 1975

Synopsis: Time jump, pre-wedding jitters. 

TW: depictions of violence (flashbacks)

Ao3 Link

Chapter 9: Me

“Please,” moaned the young man on his knees, “you can’t. Please.”

The metal rattled between my fingers. Sweat coated my palms, and I had to force a breath out through my mouth. To my ears, it sounded like a sob.

“Shut up you little shit,” barked the older man beside him. Both of their hands were bound. Beads of sweat poured down Isaac’s face, yet James was indifferent beside him. It was as though the older man could see right through me. “She won’t do it.”

Nonetheless, Isaac continued to murmur, “Please, please, please.”

Each uttering of the word pierced my heart. It only added to the blood already covering my chest. The storage room walls were closing in on me, and the smell of coffee grounds and blood met my nose, only adding to the pungent smell of death that lingered just around the corner.

“What are you waiting for, then?” James yelled. An animalistic, unearthly madness danced in the brown irises.

Butcher. Killer. Murderer of innocence.

Please.

Suddenly, James’s hands came unbound, and there was a gun staring me right in the face. I didn’t hesitate this time as I raised my hands and fire twice. James slumped over.

I shifted my grip to Isaac, who only let out a moaning scream as I fired twice more, right through his forehead. Isaac slumped forehead into the pool of James’s blood that was already collecting densely between the two of them. They were bleeding. Profusely.

“Help!” I shouted as I dove to my knees, applying pressure over James’s wound. I knew in my heart he was already dead, but I had to try something. “Help!” I screamed louder, but I knew nobody could hear me.

Blood began to fill the storage room. Hot, repulsive and noxious, it covered both men’s bodies and continued rising until it was up to my hips. I couldn’t move, lest I be splashed with it all over my torso.

“HELP!” I pleaded at the top of my lungs.“Please,” I whispered, my voice finally breaking. Only something had grabbed me by the leg: a hand. One, then another.

I did the only thing I thought of. I reached into the waistband of my pants within the sea of blood and brought the barrel of the gun to my head.

I didn’t hesitate this time when I pulled the trigger.

Over and over again, I puked what little dinner I’d eaten that night. Tamlin had come home late an so I only had left-over stew Alis had made yesterday. Each bite had been a struggle, but I’d managed to get a bowl down. All for nothing, though, as most of it found itself in the porcelain toilet.

I blinked, and three months had gone by.

It’s like reality is warped. Some days there was a film over my eyes. Some days it was clouds and fog, like dirty glasses.

I spent the first week laying in bed, unable to do anything but eat and sleep and try not to think. My chest had been killing me anyways, and Tamlin had taken time off to take care of me with Alis. There was no mention of what’d happened in the shop. No mention of the people I’d killed or the injuries I’d sustained because of it, only care and affection and attention. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed Tamlin and I being just… Tamlin and I, not fiancees, not CEO and barista. Just us.

Inevitably, Tamlin had to go back to work. And I was alone in the apartment, once again. I couldn’t go back to work. I just couldn’t.

Fall had quickly receded for winter to hit full force. My birthday had come and gone—with minimal celebration due to the suffocating apathy that’d swallowed me whole—and Christmas seemed like a joke at this point. There were a few office parties here and there I’d forced myself to attend for Tamlin’s sake, but they seemed to pass by in a haze of smoke. Ever since the incident, Tamlin had tried to keep work separate from our lives, as it was before. Yet it still ate away at me that I was no longer informed on the ins and outs of the operations going on under my nose.

Since Tamlin and Hybern had fired Rhysand, I hadn’t heard a word of the man since, and he was one of my sole informants. I hadn’t heard from either dark-haired men—Cassian had gone radio silent as well. At first, I understood: we’d fought. There were dangerous hanging precariously between us (matters that would get catch me in an utter shit storm if others were to find out) and I was too injured to touch my toes, never mind boxing together.

I’d find myself missing them. Too much. Because no matter what had surpassed between us, Rhys and Cassian were there for me when there was no one else. In some ways, I considered them friends. Cassian definitely.

Rhys…he was a creature of his own, with a force and darkness that constantly awed me. Friend was a loose term, but yes, I guess that’s what I’d call him. Well, not anymore, anyways.

After what I’d done, it was a relief to still have people in my life that cared. Now that I was a butcherer, no more than slaughterer of innocents…

The feeling of swimming in that pool of blood hit me, and I clutched the porcelain as I heaved once more.

Once the sleeplessness had receded, the nightmares kicked in again. Full force. Most nights I’d find myself racing to the washroom, hands shaking with the phantom blood that dripped from them. The first time it’d happened, Tamlin rushed in and held my hair back, then gently tried to coax me back to sleep. That stopped shortly after the third time. Now I wondered if it even disturbed him in sleep whenever I was stooped over the toilet sick to my stomach.

I laid there, slumped over against the shower door looking out the window. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, surrounded by the pockets of starlight illuminating the darkness beyond. Something about the image calmed me, and I closed my eyes, curled up on the cold bathroom tile. Rhys had said that the pain would fade eventually, but all I felt everyday was the constant, aching bite of the memories that’d tattooed themselves onto my mind.

In two days, I was to be married, bound to him for life.

How could I live the rest of my life, constantly falling apart? How could Tamlin continually put up with me once he realized that this wasn’t temporary, but events that’d poisoned my soul forevermore?

All the preparations we’d been trying to settle for months were finally coming into fruition, yet I still couldn’t even sleep through the night. Not when I had James and Isaac’s faces haunting me every day. Whenever I stepped out of the apartment, went to the grocery store—the only outings I could withstand, always accompanied by Alis or Lucien—I saw them and stopped dead in my tracks. Only it was just another man with pale skin and brown, sandy hair, and not the men in which my bullets buried themselves in.

No missing persons reports had been filed. No inquiry into their sudden disappearances, no cries of outrage from sorrowed family members. At least, not to my knowledge—Tamlin hadn’t spoken a word of what’d surpassed since it had all gone down. And for the life of me, I couldn’t voice the turmoil within me that I’d been facing since the incident. Not to him anyways.

Not to anyone. Besides…

As his name came to mind, I heard my phone buzz from back inside our room. Quietly, I closed the door to the bathroom behind me than crept back into bed, pulling my phone along with me. My breath caught in my throat as I read the name on the screen.

Rhysand.

I told myself my fingers were shaking from the sickness, not the well of anxiety that’d bubbled within me upon seeing his name. I opened the message and held my breath.

We need to talk. 11 am at the gym tomorrow.

+

The one good thing to have happened to me since the incident was the fact that people left me alone.

There was nobody to question my whereabouts as I left the empty apartment the next morning. Alis was only coming two days out of five now, spending the rest of the time at the office to work reception. Which meant I was free to go wherever I pleased—mostly because Tamlin assumed I wouldn’t go anywhere at all, as I’d done for the last six months.

As I approached the gym, nervousness bubbled within me each passing step. I couldn’t stand the anticipation as I traipsed up to the front door and heaved it open. Rhys was already there, leaning over the front counter and speaking quietly with the receptionist, who let out an airy laugh. At the sound of the door hinges squeaking, Rhys turned around. I swallowed hard as I took in appearance.

He looked exactly as I’d last seen him—dark hair carefully combed to look perfectly messy, sharp jaw free of any facial hair to enhance his sharp features. His eyes, though…

They lacked their usual lustre. Like somebody had found the night sky’s options menu and dimmed the brightness of the stars.

As he looked me up and down, something changed in his expression. Like disappointment. Or sorrow. I couldn’t tell.

“Feyre, darling,” he said smoothly. He waltzed towards me, almost as though he were gliding. The air bent around hi, as he stood before me, his signature smirk replacing his down-turned lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I’ve been busy.” I had to be curt, keep this short. I knew Tamlin would be seething if he’d found out that the two of us had been in contact once again, and I honestly couldn’t blame him. Last time we’d been together was one of the darkest moments in both of our lives. I didn’t want a repeater.

“Yes, the wedding preparations. When is it now? Next week?”

“Tomorrow.”

Rhys took a sharp breath through his nose and slowly nodded his head. “So it’s your bachelorette party tonight.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Gods, no.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not celebrating your last night as a free woman.”

“Not enough party spirit within me, unfortunately.”

“Really? I pegged you as a tequila kind of girl.” He raised one plucked eyebrow. “If you needed my services, I could’ve been your nightly entertainment.”

“Nightly entertainment,” I scoffed skeptically.

“You know. Policeman who shows up to the party. Well, ex-policeman. Partially clothed. I make a great stripper, darling.”

“Gods, now I know why we haven’t spoken in months.”

“Yes, darling, the silence between us really has offended me.”

“And who’s fault is that?” I said, crossing my arms in front of me.

His brows lifted, pleasantly surprised. “You blame me?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m very hard to find.” He must’ve known that I wouldn’t have moved from that dreaded place.

He slid his hands into his pockets. “A phone works both ways, you know. And I didn’t know you were so aching to see me.”

“And I didn’t know that Hybern firing you meant radio silence on your behalf.”

Rhys swallowed hard. “I had to take a step back from the operation. He would’ve been very angered if I kept around, with the information I knew.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways. Why did you want to see me?”

At that, Rhys’s eyes hardened, and he cocked his head towards the back of the building. “Let’s go talk in Cass’s office.”

+

“Is he here today?”

“No. Which is why I wanted to meet here. I couldn’t think of anywhere else that would’ve been safe.”

A bubble of nervousness arose in my stomach as we walked through the familiar hallways leading back to Cassian’s office. “What do you mean, safe?”

A sigh heaved from the man as we took a seat in the two chairs before Cassian’s desk. We turned them so we could face each other, and I kicked my boots off so I could curl myself into the plush chair. For a few silent moments, all we did was stare.

“Somebody’s targeting you.”

The words were enough to send a bolt of panic into my chest. I choked, “What? Who?”

“We’re not sure yet. All we know is that there’ve been multiple occurrences of hackers trying to break into both the security footage from the storage room and the override panel for the elevator in your building. One of my men has been trying to trace the IP address but so far they’ve been able to cover their tracks seamlessly.”

I closed my eyes. Here I was, thinking that everything had blown over so perfectly and I’d never have to face what I’d done again. But this time wasn’t a car accident. Lies couldn’t be twisted so easily when it came to guns and bodies. Cars and mangled metal, maybe. I’d gotten away with it. But this time…

“You said you were fired. That you had to stay away.”

“From the operation. Not from you.” He stared at me then, his mouth set in a firm, determined line. “After I left, Hybern and Tamlin never replaced me. Your fiancée has been trying to handle everything on his own, and it’s worked for him so far—but not anymore. Because somebody is deliberately seeking you out and trying to dig up what happened in the storage room. For revenge, to bring Tamlin or Hybern down, I don’t know. But that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Why?” The word was defiant and quiet.

Rhys didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “Feyre, the second I stepped into that storage room and saw the pure fear you felt, the moment we sat in my house together and I saw the guilt eating away at you, I knew I couldn’t walk away. So this is me. Not walking away.”

Something about the way he said it or the expression in his face made my heart bleed. Here he was, a friend—possibly one of my only, true and good friends, who cared about me, cared about me safety—and yet all I could think about was Tamlin’s voice at the back of my head, warning me to stay away from him. That I couldn’t trust him.

Once again, caught between the person I loved, and my own safety.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Rhys. I really do.” I pushed off the stool and pulled my boots back on, then quickly zipped my coat up. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Feyre,” he begged, rising himself, “don’t do this. Listen to me for once. This is your life at stake.”

I shrugged my shoulders and felt my lips tilt into a small, sad smile. “I know.”

[xiubaek-13]

Falling Away From You

Prompt: Yoongi + “Hold on, you died” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick.”

Setting/AU: Fallen Angel

Warnings: Angst, character death, blood, angelic justice, dark themes, substance abuse, attempted assault, torture.

Word Count: 1,265

Nothing could erase the pain you felt about that day. That day that you never spoke about, no one would believe you even if you told them anyway. What kind of normal self respecting person would believe that everyone had a guardian angel? And on top of that, even if you got them to believe that, who would believe that you had witnessed three other angels murder your guardian angel while an archangel watched? No one, that’s who.

So you compartmentalised in order to function day to day. You tried to keep those horrific images at the back of your mind but no matter how well you pushed them aside during the day, the nights were always hell. You glanced over at your bedside table, reaching for the sleeping pills and vodka - not the best mixture but it was the only thing that worked to put you into dreamless sleep. One or the other put you to sleep but you would be trapped in the nightmare of reliving the agonising screams as he was torn apart piece by piece.

You’d tried therapy but that only resulted in you narrowly avoiding being committed to a facility. Shrinks pretty much just ticked the delusional and crazy boxes if you mentioned seeing angels, let alone speaking to them.

***

Traditionally they weren’t meant to interact with humans. They were meant to watch over them and try to ensure their safety through subtle influence, never direct approach. Trust Yoongi to get paired with a girl who did not grasp the concept of subtle. He’d leave small hints towards ways to improve her health or direct her on the right path but she was so oblivious it made him scream.

“You were sent to test me, like some cruel punishment for excelling at my job for so many years.” He muttered as you walked past a whole block of health food stores to buy donuts. “I’m sure that concept…what do humans call it? Ah yes, Darwinism, I’m sure you are an example of that. A poor example but still an example.”

He would watch you every day as you made your way through life. You would have died 11 times before your 21st birthday if he hadn’t been on constant alert. You were clumsy, oblivious to traffic, unassuming and so gullible that really his only down time was when you were asleep. He had to admit though, that despite all of your faults and apparent death wish, you were quite charming.

You had an allure about you that made him gradually overstep the clearly defined boundaries between a guardian angel and their charge. Years passed and he came to know the feeling as infatuation. He knew he should report this to his superiors and be re-assigned but he didn’t want to mar his perfect record and he didn’t want to actually admit out loud that he was developing feelings for a human.

If only that man hadn’t tried to take what he had no right to. Yoongi watched as you didn’t see the mugger, you didn’t notice him following you until his knife was against your throat. Yoongi tensed, using every bit of inner strength that his ancient being had to not intervene. You threw your bag to the ground and kicked it away from you in the hopes that the mugger would take it and run but he pushed you against the wall, keeping the knife pressed at your throat as he tried to pull your pants down. Yoongi just could not stand idly by and watch you get violated by this lowlife.

In a burst of light he appeared, the shadow of his wings rising ominously up the brick walls of the alley. He slammed his palm into the man’s forehead and yelled at you to close your eyes. Terrified, you followed his order and shielded your eyes from the blinding light that emanated from the muggers eyes and mouth. Only when the light faded and his body slumped to the ground did you dare open your eyes.

Staring back at you with soft chocolate brown eyes was Yoongi. That was the start of his downfall. The first step towards falling for a human.

***

You’d had a shitty day. Your boss had yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault, a customer had spat at you, you’d broken a nail and you’d missed your train. You couldn’t afford a cab so you had to walk all the way home in the rain so, of course, you didn’t have an umbrella.

Drenched and grumpy, you cracked open the vodka before you got home. You stumbled through the front door, tripping over your feet. As you fell your only thought was to not spill the vodka because you knew you were fucked up enough to lick it off the floor and even drunk you knew that was a new low for you.

The collision with the floor didn’t happen. Instead a pair of hands caught you. It took a moment for you to register that you hadn’t hit the floor and that you should be alone before you tried to scream. A hand quickly covered your mouth and you heard a voice trying to talk to you.

“Hey, calm down. Please, it’s me. It’s Yoongi. Will you just look at me.”

You froze. That name, you hadn’t uttered that name in months and no one, not even your shrink knew the name. Slowly you tried to focus your eyes on the figure. Dark hair came into focus, then pale skin and deep, intense eyes. It looked like him but it couldn’t be him. He was gone, taken from you forever.

A single tear slid down your face as you stared at him. He looked so much like your Yoongi and it hurt. You cursed your mind for making you see him and you shook your head. He slowly dropped his hand. “You’re not him.” You choked out.

He wiped your tear and held your face in his hands. “It is me. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long but I’m here and I promise you I’m not leaving again. It just took me a bit longer than planned to get back to you.” His deep voice flowed through you, warming the darkest parts of your soul and mending the wound that had refused to heal since he’d been taken from you.

Maybe you’d finally gone crazy or maybe he was actually here. Maybe after all these months Yoongi had somehow cheated death and returned to you. If being crazy meant you got to feel his touch and hear his words again then you would happily be crazy. What you needed though was an explanation. “Hold on, you died.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t stick.” He rasped.

“But how are you here now?”

“I barely survived what they did to me. After you passed out they lost interest in me and left me to die of my wounds. Only you could see me so passers by took you to hospital but I was left there. I dragged myself for blocks until I found somewhere to hole up and heal. I was so used to angelic healing power that I didn’t know how to treat myself. An old priest happened upon me and could see me - he helped nurse me back to health and taught me how to live as a human. I couldn’t come back to you as the broken being I was. I promised myself that as soon as I was healed and could protect us, I’d find you.”

[spamela-hamderson]

10 signs you’ve become a crazy cat lady

Happy Birthday @illgetmerope!!!! This story might be a little sad, but we know how it really ends. So it’s ok, yes? Love you loads, enjoy the rest of your birthday weekend!!!

She slinks into the tight space in-between the coloured bins, praying she’s moved fast enough for The Children to have missed her. She feels the weight of their footsteps getting closer, rubber souls thumping down on hot asphalt, uncoordinated, and it makes her ears twitch in tense response. Her heart pounds quick against her ribs. Her breathing shallows.

“Did you see where it went? KITTY!”

She jumps at the shout, body hitting the side of a bin, but the children don’t notice. The thumps get louder and her body grows warmer, half from anxiety and half from the heat rising off the ground. She waits. If they get any closer, she’ll have to run again, and she’s getting sick of it. All she’s done these past days, it feels like, is run. From handsy children, from the tomcat in the carpark, from that crow that’d swooped down way too close for comfort when she was trying to find a quiet spot to scoff down the small mouse she’d managed to hunt down. 

And the large man. The one with the furry chin who’d tried to put her in the wire cage. She’d run from him for so long, too scared to stop and look back.

She hasn’t had a moment of pause since that man, and she’s tired. 

So she waits. 

She waits, until The Children leave, tired from the heat and frustrated by their failed hunt. And then she waits some more, because she doesn’t know where to go from here. She’s spent days running from everything, and she doesn’t have a place to run to. Not anymore. 

So she settles into the space in-between the coloured bins that’s started to cool now that the sun is going down. She’s tired after all, and a little nap while she waits can’t hurt.

:::

She snaps back awake and the sky is black. It’s the shouting that’s woken her up, two men yelling and posturing and so close to shoving, she can see it. She’s seen this in territorial cats, seen the way they jump and bite and scream, and she knows she needs a new waiting place.

She runs again. Run, runs, runs, over grass, up sidewalks, until she spots the slowly closing door to an apartment building. It looks so familiar, and she wants it to be. Wants to go home even if it’s not hers anymore now that Mama’s not there. The shrinking opening of the door makes her decision for her. 

She runs in. 

And then she stops.

No, it’s all wrong. The smell is all wrong, and the ground too rough and she has a moment of loss again, until she hears someone scream. She turns, but the door’s already shut, and The One Who Screamed is staring at her, eyes wide and nose scrunched. She recognises that look in humans. Bad things can happen when they look at you like that. She turns and runs up the stairs until she sees another door, opening this time, and runs through again.

:::

Robert rushes to close the door, though it’s too late. A giant rat’s just run into the apartment, and now he’s got a giant rat in the apartment. 

He grew up on a farm; the occasional rodent shouldn’t be such an alarming thought to him. But that was a long time ago and farm rats aren’t quite the same as city rats, are they? And this one’s about the size of his foot, from the glimpse he caught before it’d run off into the bedroom.

He considers his options, a way to prolong the inevitable, more than anything. Between the language barrier and the total aversion to neighbourliness, there is no one here he can ask for help. No one who will even answer the door if he knocks. 

Usually, that’s just how Robert likes it. He can’t answer questions if no one can understand him, and no one here has any interest in those answers anyway. Not when they were running from questions themselves. But right now, he misses having someone, even if just to share in this ridiculousness with him. A memory of exasperated blue eyes sneaks in, and he abruptly turns away from it and towards the bedroom. 

If there’s one thing Robert is good at, it’s running from himself. He hadn’t had to, for a while there. Himself hadn’t seemed as terrifying a concept when he had Aaron and Liv and Seb to share it with. His family. His own. Now though, he’s back to running, getting good at slipping away from memories that threaten to bring with them a sweeping sense of guilt. The kind that makes him wake up in cold sweat. 

It makes him wonder what it means that he can slip back into this place so easily, the one where he avoids looking his reflection in the eye and shamefully skids his gaze over the corner of the room where he’s arranged the few mementos he’s kept of his past life: the first shoes he bought Seb, the black hoodie Aaron had worn the day before Robert’d left, and an early draft of Liv’s wedding speech that Robert had found peeking out from under the sofa after coming back from their honeymoon. 

(On his darkest days, it makes him wonder if it’d all been a sham. If he was never actually meant for normal.)

He stops outside the room, turns the light on, and takes a cautious step in when he doesn’t immediately spot the rat.

The room is sparsely furnished, just a dresser next to the window and a rickety, metal-framed bed against a wall. It doesn’t leave many options for a good, giant rat-sized hiding spot. He looks under the bed from where he’s standing. Nothing. Which means it’s behind the door. He takes a breath, and another one. He can do this. He’s not losing to a rat. He peers around the edge of the door, slowly, not wanting to alarm the animal into running straight at him. 

Round, reflective eyes peer back. Not ones belonging to a rat. Well, that’s something at least. A fairly small-sized cat isn’t as intimidating as a giant rat. Feeling more confident, he walks fully into the room and inches the door away from the wall. 

It looks so little, crouched close to the ground like that, staring up at his hands with dilated pupils and ears flat against its head. The cat — black, except for a spot of white on its chin and one of its paws — shifts back against the wall, desperate to put more space between them.

“Here, come on. Out,” He says, gentle but just a touch firm, hoping the tone he used on Seb and Liv will do enough to communicate his authority. 

He jumps back at the force of the resulting hiss, and feels embarrassed at his own skittishness around such a small, clearly terrified animal. Robert reaches a hand out towards it, slowly, giving it the chance to get used to his presence. 

:::

She sees the giant hand coming down towards her, fear striking in her heart, and she’s sick of it all. She’s sick of running. She launches herself forward, teeth bared, snarling, and hooks her claws into pink flesh. Tall Man yells out, falling back on his bum to get away from her. It fills her with pride that he has to shake her off.

“What’s wrong with you, ya little–!” 

Oh, he’s angry now. She slinks back towards the wall, wide eyes staring up at him. He watches her, something in him softening as his face loses its severity. 

“I get it, you know.”

She doubts it.

“Must be scary, being on your own,” he says, so quiet. It makes her ears perk up just a little, fear taking a back seat to curiosity for a second.

He watches her some more, before getting back off the ground. 

“Right. Wait here.”

As if.

She waits for him to leave the room, then runs over to the dresser, hops onto it, and tries to sneak out through the window. Except the bars on the grill are too narrow for her to fit through. 

Well, shit. 

She turns back towards the room. Tall Man was probably off to call Wire Cage Man. And then she will be carted off in the back of the van to the place cats are brought to when they lose their Mamas. 

She looks at the bed. Mama had a bed too. She’d let her sleep on it, curled around her cold feet, even though she had her own smaller bed on the floor. 

Suddenly she’s tired again. She doesn’t know if this mysterious place has beds, so she jumps off the dresser, deciding to take advantage of this one. 

:::

“That’s my bed, you know.”

She’d been too nervous to nap, wondering what was taking Tall Man so long, and had stayed watching the door the entire time he was gone. She watches him step into the room now, a small bowl in hand. Was Wire Cage Man not here yet?

“If you’re staying,—just until I figure out what to do with you—there will have to be rules.”

She knows what’s in the bowl. Can smell it from here. But can she trust it? 

“No getting on my bed.”

Wait. What? Staying?

“Definitely no scratching.”

She’ll be the judge of that, thanks.

“Now. I bought you some cat food. Hope you like chicken and carrots.”

He places the bowl down next to the door, and stares at her. She stares back. He rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

She waits until she hears the quiet snick of the door closing, waits a little longer just in case, and then slinks over to the bowl, ears tipped towards the door the whole time. She hasn’t had chicken in a week. She loves chicken. 

:::

Robert checks back in two hours later, having returned from his ‘So You (Temporarily) Have A Feline Roommate’ shopping trip. He’d bought three different cans of food from the shop downstairs earlier (in case the cat was picky), but he knew he’d need a couple more supplies from an actual pet store, if only to avoid any unwanted toilet accidents. Now that he’s back and the litter box has been set up, he walks over to the bedroom and carefully opens the door. 

The bowl was completely cleared off any food, but there were little bits of chicken on the floor around it. A messy eater, then. 

He looks up at the bed. There, right in the middle, lay a small dark form, curled into a tight ball. He wants to take a picture and send it to Aaron. Wants to share in Seb’s excited little squeal as he watches its paw twitch in its sleep. Knows Liv will ask if they can keep the cat, please Robert, as Aaron laughs at him like he already knows the answer. 

He feels something inside him break at not being able to do any of this with his family. But he feels his heart sigh too, at being allowed to finally think of them like this. 

He perches himself on the edge of the bed as the cat wakes up and blinks at him. 

“What did I say about the bed?”

The cat blinks again.

He tries reaching out. This time, he waits as the cat stares his hand down for a few seconds, hyper-alert, before relenting and laying its head back down. He takes that as permission to stroke a finger down between its eyes. 

It doesn’t react. 

That’s a good sign, isn’t it? 

He moves the finger back up to the soft spot behind the cat’s ears. He starts to scratch, but almost stops in shock as the cat unfurls in front of him, stretching its arms out and turning its head back so its chin points up towards him. 

Robert snorts. Finally.

“I’m not keeping you, you know.”

The cat shamelessly pushes its head up against his hand.

It brings up another memory, one he first pushes away on instinct, before allowing back in.

“You remind me of someone,” he tests it out. He hasn’t talked about Aaron since he’d left (not that he has anyone who would care to listen), and Robert feels like what they have– what they had was so big, so unparalleled, so precious, that he can’t allow it to exist in this life. But even that feels like a betrayal of sorts now. What if he pushes and pushes at the memories until they leave him for good?

“Aaron, he–” he stops and starts, words stilted, unpracticed. “You meet him and you think he’s a grump down to his bones, with his mardy face, always yelling at everyone.” He slips into a helpless smile, even as his chin wobbles and his voice cracks open a little at the end. “But he’s a marshmallow, really.” 

It’s a relief, talking about him like that, but it’s edging on too much now. He’s not ready yet to find out what will happen when he unleashes all of Aaron onto this makeshift life of his.

He looks back down at the cat to see it’s fallen back asleep, blissed out on head scratches. 

He smirks. Just like him.

:::

Tall Man keeps saying she can only stay “for a bit, till I figure out how to get rid of you,” but she’s seen him stock the kitchen cabinet with more cat food, and he brought home a rubber ball last night. She knows a lost cause when she sees one.

Apparently, he is having some difficulty finding a no-kill shelter nearby that isn’t already at full capacity. She has no idea what any of that means, but she dutifully listens because Tall Man is also Provider Of Food. 

She hops off the lone chair at the dining table when she hears keys jingle at the front door. She slips between his feet as he walks through the door, rubbing up against his calves and meowing up at him.

“Ff–! Oi! Who’s going to find you a home if I crack my head open, tripping over you?”

Tall Man is also An Idiot.

She flops over on the floor and waits. He steps out of his shoes, and rubs a socked foot down her back as she stretches against the floor. He walks away just as it starts to get good.

“I’ve put up some flyers in the surrounding buildings. Hopefully, someone either recognises you or wants to adopt you.”

They were back to that then. She sulks, walks over to the chair and hops back on, warily observing him read something off his phone. He’s been reading up on cat care—in addition to looking up shelters—and just two days ago, had come up behind her, held her tail up, and stared at her butt, muttering “colon for a boy, semicolon for a girl” to himself. She shudders just thinking about it. 

Tall Man goes to wash her food bowl, complaining about the mess she’s made around it.

“You’re worse than my toddler, you are.”

He talks about his family sometimes. He didn’t really, at the beginning, but it’s happening more often now. He still sounds all choked up when he does, like his voice has forgotten how to work around their names, but he seems determined to get better at it, she thinks. There are moments, though, if he goes on for a little too long about them, where he’ll stop suddenly, looking lost. When that happens, he gets so quiet. Won’t even nag about her tracking litter around. 

She doesn’t know what happened, why he can’t see them, but she now knows about his son, who is “objectively better than other babies I’ve met”, his two little sisters who gave him so much grief, and his Aaron. 

She’d been half asleep the first time he’d mentioned him, but she remembers. She reminded him of this– this Aaron, he’d said. 

Well obviously this was his old cat. And not a very good one, given how saying his name alone could bring him close to tears. He said his name tentatively, quietly, like he’s afraid someone will hear it and take it away from him. And then he’ll go quiet for hours after that. Returning with that haunted, lost look.

She doesn’t much like Aaron. She especially doesn’t like that Tall Man has decided to call her Erin. Like he wants to remember his name without actually having to say it, and she hates it. Hates being named after some other weirdo cat, one who’s ~soooo perfect~, apparently, but still makes her Tall Man cry, and she’s never going to answer to it. 

:::

“Erin?”

No.

“Erin.”

No.

“…Erin, I’ll let you sleep on the bed.”

Fuck’s sake, she hates her life.

She walks into the bedroom, head high, and jumps up onto the bed. Tall Man is laid out on his back, wearing a black hoodie, and looking quite pathetic. 

“Room felt too big.” He smoothes a hand over her head. 

Ah. It’s one of those days. She cuddles up to his side, half on his arm, and waits.

“I just miss him. I miss him so much I feel like i’ll burst from it if I breathe in too deep.” He rubs a finger between her eyes, just like he did that first day. “I thought I’d get to keep it, you now? All of it. I thought it was mine.”

His voice is starting to take on that broken quality, and she noses against his chin. 

“He’s going to hate me for it. And he should. It’ll be better for him if he does, really. But I can’t bear the thought. Not him.”

She can only rub her cheek hard against his chin and whine at the uneven sobs she can feel him bury into her forehead. She may not like Aaron much, but she wants to tell him that he probably doesn’t hate him. Aaron might feel suddenly too small in a too large world built for The Humans, the way she still feels when she remembers screaming for Mama from the back of a van and knowing she couldn’t hear her anymore. And yes, that might make him angry at Tall Man. So angry. But hate? 

She thinks about her afternoons spent watching Mama work from her cat tree, easily accepting the kisses she would press onto her forehead anytime she passed by. And then she thinks about the way Tall Man scratches the base of her tail every time she jumps up onto the kitchen countertop, even as he complains about her germs getting everywhere. 

Aaron won’t hate him. Cats aren’t built like that, she wants to tell him.

She only realises she’s started kneading his chest when she feels herself shift from the weak laugh rumbling under her.

“You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

She sinks a claw in through the hoodie. A clear warning. He laughs again. 

:::

“No,” she hears him say into the phone, long and deliberate, almost spelling out the word. She doesn’t know why he won’t just learn the language. It’s really not that hard. “No cat. No. Bye.” With that, he hangs up and goes to sweep up the litter she’s tracked all over the living room, pausing just long enough on his way, to smack a kiss onto her forehead.

He’s finally caught on, then.

She starts licking her butt, content.

“Erin.”

She looks up. 

He looks back at her, a small, wistful smile etched on. “Aaron would love you.”

She counts to ten, takes deep breaths in and out, and decides she will have to ignore that for his own good. She goes back to her butt.