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hermankopusortizorsumshite · 3 years ago

Text

Darlin'

Warnings: the Punisher themes, blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, Agent Madani (cause she's a trigger warning for me XD), sweet Frank

Word Count: 9095. This is a long one. Buckle up! MINORS DNI!

Her father looked at her with his heart in his eyes, her face bruised and marred.

“Darling, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, patting her hand. She smiles at him.

“It’s okay.” She croaks, cracking her cuts on her face when she smiles bigger. He pats her lips with a paper towel, applying a couple drops off water to her mouth. “Chapstick in my purse, dad.” She coos, giving him a chuckle.

“Of course, baby.” He smiled, kissing her forehead and digging into her purse for that little tube of chapstick. She takes it, putting some on and sighing in relief. “I hired a bodyguard. Don’t fight me this time please. A different bodyguard; one more your style. Maybe you won’t run away from this one.” He chides, giving her a half-unimpressed look.

“Pop, it’s not my fault. He was old and boring.” She whines.

“Well, you can rest assured this one is not old or boring.” He chuckles, waving someone in. This beast of man, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and a dark look walks in. Her eyes drink him in. His all black apparel, tee shirt, cargo pants, military boots.

“Wow.” She whispers, “definitely not old.”

“I thought you might enjoy his company more. Since he doesn’t talk and he can’t be persuaded to take you out onto the town at three in the morning for waffles.” Frank chuckles. “Can you be persuaded to take her to get waffles at three in the morning?” He asks, jabbing a finger at the man.

“No, sir. I just think it’s funny that a bodyguard could be, sir.”

“Great. Military.” She heaves a sigh and rolls her lips together.

“This is my daughter, Kat. She’s my baby. I need you to promise you’d give your life to keep her safe.” Her father explains, her eyes watching the gold watch on his tan wrist.

“Sir, can I speak to you in the hallway?” He asks, looking at the door.

“Sir, you know who I am right?” He asks, looking to the man with a partially confused look.

“I’m Frank Castle. I killed so many people the US government lost count and gave me a new identity. But please justs call me Frank.” He explains, and her father’s eyes widen for a moment.

“You are Frank Castle. Wow.” He whispers.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“Alright, well. My daughter, Kat, she’s my world. Do you understand that?” He asks, looking to Frank and seeing him nod.

“Yeah, I get that.” He swallows hard.

“Good, now. My daughter is my whole existence. I love her with everything I have. She’s in the hospital because some men were looking for me and she wouldn’t give me up. If you’re ever in that situation, and she’s with you, tell her to give it up. Okay? My life is not valuable if I lose her. Understood? So if she’s ever kidnapped with you, please, give them whatever information they ask you for, okay? And when she gets released today, I’m putting the two of you in a safe house so she can heal.” He offers giving her a smile through the window, waving. Something about the sweet woman laying in that hospital made Frank almost feel weak. His stomach seemed to turn.

“Okay, and who’s supposed to be posted anywhere else near it? I’ll kill on sight if I don’t know them.” He states as calmly as his own name. Her father, Gianno, grins and claps Frank on the shoulder.

“Your huge. You’re a killer. And it’s sweet.” He chuckles, leaving Frank outside for a moment as he goes to talk to his daughter.

“Honey, I need to tell you something, okay? When you’re released in a few minutes, I’m going to have you quietly placed in a safe house away from me. Okay? Until you’re healed. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad? Is Hercules going?” She giggles, pointing to the large man with his back to the door. Her father just nods and laughs. “Then I am not mad. I’ll be holed up in a one bedroom apartment with that sweet, huge man and I cannot wait.” She explains.

“Wow, you know you can’t sleep with him, right?”

“And if I did. I’d never tell you. Who’s packing my stuff?” She asks, looking at him quizzically.

“Lyla is, currently. I figured if any girl knew what to pack it’d be her.” He laughs. The door opens, Frank nodding to her father.

“Hello! I’m Doctor Haas. I’m here with the paperwork for you, dear.” The woman nods with a gleaming smile. Handing over a clipboard, Kat signs the paperwork in record time and happily changes out of the gown. “We’ll grab a wheelchair from the hall and--”

“No! No, please. No wheelchair. Between pop and Hercules I’ll be fine. Honestly. I wanna walk out on my own.” She whines, standing on quaking legs.

“Alright! No problem.” She smiles, giving her a nod and sending her on her way.

“Honeybun, maybe you should think about using the--”

“No! Pop, I’m not using it.” She gingerly steps into the hallway. Frank looks down at her for a moment, taking in the situation. Before he can say a word, she looks up with shimmering grey-blue eyes and a pleading smile. “I can’t use a wheelchair. I have to walk out of here.” She whispers, gripping his hand.

“Okay.” He whispers back. With a look at her, he tucks her under his arm, holding her up at her waist to keep her on her feet. Even when her legs start to give way at the exit door, Frank holds fast and gets her quickly to the car.

“You can do it.” He whispers as the steps get closer and closer, the car only a yard away. “Come on. If anyone can do it, you can. You didn’t take a wheelchair because you know you’re strong.” He coos, getting her to push through the last ten steps before collapsing into the SUV.

“Thank you.” She whispers, hugging his neck as he lifts her onto the seat. He climbs in next to her, buckling her in.

“Safe house.” Her father states as he gets into the passenger seat with a little smirk on his face.

“Tell me, Hercules. Where are you from?” She asks, gripping his bicep and gleaming up at him.

“Queens.” He smiles, his eyes scanning around them while he talks to her.

“You married?” She asks, looking at the necklace that hangs around his neck.

“I was.” He states, looking out the windows for suspicious cars.

“Ah sorry. Divorced?”

“Killed. My wife and two kids.” He states, looking to her with pain in his eyes.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” She coos, patting his shoulder. “God I’m tired.” She murmurs, tipping over onto his shoulder and falling asleep. He gently leans her to the other door onto the padded seat back and sits back up, eyes scanning again.

“Mister Luccianni, that silver grand am to your right, has been following us for the past two miles.” He states, grabbing for his weapon. “Gimme the go, I’ll smoke em.” He offers, narrowing his sights and putting his finger on the window button.

“Stand down. They’re your test. You passed. Good eye. Is she asleep?” Her father asks as they pull into a parking garage.

“Yeah.” He nods, the car coming to a slow stop in a parking spot.

“The silver car has her things in it. It’s the most common car in the state of New York it seems. So, Lyla, her best friend is in the car. She’s sex-crazed and will probably hit on you. She’s got Kat’s things and she can help put them in the apartment. Now. Next, I need you to carry her in, as unsuspecting as possible. It’s midday and people are out and about. Try not to give yourselves away. Lyla is dressed in a mover’s uniform. Short brunette, pencil straight hair. There will be neighbors out. You two are newly married until you get in that door.” Her father debriefs him with a smile and gives him a nod.

“Got it, sir. Is she to stay in the apartment all the time? Will she sneak out? What do the men look like who did this to her?”

“Don’t keep her cooped up the whole time, she’ll go crazy. Call a driver first. The driver confirms with you. You bring her out as your new wife. You get into the car. She will sneak out. Lyla will probably convince her to sneak out so they can go wine tasting or something. Lyla’s a good girl, but she’s crazy. The men who did this? They look dead.” He answers all the questions and he nods. Frank found her interesting. “She’s been engaged, but never married. He was killed, much like your family.” He coos, looking at his daughter with a loving, sad smile. “Alright, it’s time to go in.” He smiles, letting Frank get out first, scooping her out of the seat and starting towards the door.

“What-what’s happening?” She asks. Half awake, half asleep, the jostling is all to familiar and she kicks out, diving to the ground and waking up immediately. Frank stares down at her with wide eyes and a little smirk.

“You good now?” He gruffs, sticking out a hand. She takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” She whispers as he tucks her under his arm.

“It’s okay, hunny. Those men can’t hurt you again.” He states out loud, his big hand covering the side of her face and holding it against his chest. “We’re married when we leave this aparment.” He hushes as they walk, never missing a beat.

“Well, alright then.” She giggles loudly, letting him keep her against him. As her father lets them into the apartment, Frank almost has to peel her off of him. “Aw, c’mon hunny! I’m not done cuddling.” She whines, making grabby hands at him. “You’re so warm.” He just chuckles, heading into the room with her father and other guards to discuss what the next plan is. A knock at the door has Frank’s undivided attention. Peeking through the peephole, he sees the described woman who was bringing her things in. He waves her over, signaling to be quiet.

“Is this Lyla?” He asks, covering her mouth as she gasps. She nods violently, grabbing for the handle. Frank’s hand is faster, tugging hers away. “Go over there.” He hushes, pointing behind the couch. Huffing, she rolls her eyes and wobbles to the couch. Frank carefully opens the door and finds a petite woman with a cart full of suitcases. “Name.” He barks, hand resting on his pistol.

“Lyla. I’m here for welcome party.” She grins so widely Frank finds it odd, but when he peeks out, he sees a neighbor looking over at them.

“My wife must’ve invited you! C’mon in!” He cheers, waving her in and shutting the door. “The arsenal arrived.” He chuckles, waving Kat over.

“I’m so happy to finally see you!” She cheers, gripping her best friend in a warm, tight hug. When Kat groans at the slight throb in her ribs, Frank’s head flips back to them.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” She assures, heading into the bedroom and Lyla follows, dragging the bags along with her. Frank laughs, heading back into the room with her father and guards again. She curls up onto the couch after waving goodbye to her best friend. Frank had tossed his jacket onto the couch with his duffelbag and when she saw his coat, the only blanket-like thing near her, she draws it to her and covers up with it.

“But we’ll head out so you two can get better acquainted. The fridge and cupboards have been stocked up for you. Drinks are in the island, as well as wine in the cabinet. If Lyla tries to kidnap her, just shmooze her with wine tasting.” He chuckles, kissing his daughter atop her buised head and stepping out.

As she wakes from her nap, she sees the most glorious sight. A glass-walled shower with frosted glass and her bodyguard’s naked body in said shower. He climbs out, wrapping the towel around his waist. Combing through his hair, he feels eyes on himself and looks out the open door to see she’s awake.

“Hey, hot bodyguard.” She gives an awkward wave, jaw still on the floor.

“Hey, Kat.” He waves, dropping the towel just outside of her eyesight, returning a moment later dressed in a gray tee shirt and jeans, hearing a audible groan.

“It’s Frank, by the way.” He chuckles, offering a hand.

“It might be wise to know my newly wedded husband’s name. In case the neighbors ask.” She laughs, patting the couch with an inviting smile.

“You should shower.” He ruffs, helping her to her feet. “Doctor said first night you shower, try not to lift your arms too much. So I’m the best you got.” He smiles, a little excited to see her naked, frosted glass or not.

“Great. So you’re name is Frank, you’ve known me twelve hours, and now you’re going to see me naked? This is a fucking treat.” She rolls her eyes, but Frank just laughs.

“You didn’t think you’d be the only one to get a show, did you?” He asks.

“Hey now! I happened to wake up at the right time. That’s not my fault.” She laughs, defending herself as she gives a grin.

“It is now, c’mon, doll.” He chuckles as she digs through the suitcase for underwear, a bra, and a shirt. She’d found shorts already.

“Did you just call me doll? Should I call pops and tell him you already have a crush on me?” He just rolls his eyes as she walks to the bathroom. Tugging off her sweatpants and underwear, she feels exposed, but she can’t get her shirt off. Snapping her fingers, she hooks the t-shirt’s collar onto the towel hook and tugs the shirt off, sobbing when her arm is raised so high. Frank comes through the door.

“You okay?” He asks, looking around her to find her shirt hanging on the hook.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She nods, letting Frank’s eyes drink her in. “Actually, Frank? Can you unhook this? I can’t get it.” She whines, pushing on her bra with one hand.

“Sure.” Unhooking her bra, his knuckles brushing her smooth skin, his eyes travel down the gauze pads that pepper her back.

“Those have to come off too.” She whispers, meaning the gauze pads. He peels each one off gingerly to find a variously shaped cigarette burns on her back.

“What the hell?” He whispers, his finger running between the burns. She shivers at the intimate touch and he jerks his hand away. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay.” She whispers, putting Frank’s hand back on her shoulder and letting him trail down again.

“It looks like a constellation.” He whispers, pulling away his hand.

“Thank you.” She coos, letting the hot water start.

Frank washes her back and shoulders, gentle around her burns.

“Thank you.” He puts the loofa down and steps out of the bathroom giving her a little privacy and himself a little space. He didn’t know why he felt this way, but he wanted so badly to kiss every little mark, trailing down her back. Huffing to calm down his nerves, he heads to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Not finding any, he mixes up a couple mugs of hot chocolate.

“So, uh, no coffee. But, I found some hot chocolate.” He smiles. Offering a mug of steaming hot cocoa.

“No coffee?” She asks, looking at him like he’d just sworn at her.

“Right? No coffee.” She pulls out her phone and sets up a delivery for starbucks in the morning.

“I probably shouldn’t drink any, anyway. It’s late, ya know. I should sleep.” She groans as they finish off the hot chocolate.

“Yeah, you hit the bed. I’m on the couch.” He explains, pointing to the bedroom.

“No, no. I can’t sleep there while you--”

“It’s my job. Okay? So you get in there and go to bed.” He orders, letting her get up and walk to her room.

Almost an hour passes when he hears her voice softly muttering under her breath.

“Darlin’?” He asks, looking into the dim room to see her thrashing on the bed, a scream filling the room. He bolts to her bed, grabbing her shoulders and hugging her against him. “IT’s not real. It’s not real. You’re in a safehouse. You’re name is Kat. You have a bodyguard named Frank. Your father is a mob boss.” He whispers things that are real as she comes out of her nightmare.

“Thank you.” She sniffs, curling into herself. He sits gently on the edge of the bed and draws her against him.

“No problem. Sometimes I get ‘em too.” He ruffs, looking at her with a small smile.

“Really? How do you make them go away?” She asks.

“I killed the men responsible.” He offers a crooked smile and she laughs. “Go to sleep.” He coos, smoothing her hair as she starts to drift.

“Oh, Frank? Tomorrow morning there’s supposed to a delivery driver at the door. I ordered coffee for the morning.” She smiles, letting him hug her against him, resting his chin atop her head.

“I’ll try not to kill them.” He hushes as he hears her lightly snoring. Sleep starts to push his eyelids closed and slowly, he leans back against the headboard, exhausted. Soon, she’s climbing on him in her sleep, cuddled as close as possible under his chin and on his chest. His arms curl around her instinctively. Safety washes over her as she peeps through one sleepy eyelid to see Frank so close to her asleep. Smiling, she tucks her head back under his chin and goes back to sleep.

A knock sounds at the door, waking them both out of their comforting bubble.

“Ssh. Don’t move.” He rises, scrubbing his face and stalking silently to the door. She takes a ten from her wallet and slides it under the door. “Put the coffee down, take your tip and walk away.” He demands, never opening the door. Once the man’s out of sight, she slips out and snatches the two coffees and the small bag of coffee grounds.

“Frankie!” She calls, handing him a coffee when she finds him standing in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Yes, coffee.” He chuckles, taking the cup and sipping the hot caffeinated drink.

“Thank you for last night. Ugh, sounds weird to say like that, but you know what I mean. I didn’t have a nightmare when you slept there. Can-I just-well-sorry. It’s stupid.”

“Nah, ask.” He assures, sliding a plate across to her.

“I just wondered, you know, if maybe--if you wanted to--possibly sleep in the same bed again. It doesn’t have to get weird. I just--that was the first night in almost two weeks I didn’t have another nightmare. It was exhilarating.” She stammers, so afraid of what the big brute might say.

“That’s fine.” He nods, sitting down to eat, but not before he pats a hand to her shoulder.

“So tell me something about you.”

“I was in a special forces military ops.” He offers, finishing his plate in record time.

“Wow, that’s explains your nightmares.” She wags her brows, almost halfway done with her plate.

“No, it doesn’t. My family was shot in a park. While I was there. It was meant for me but they didn’t get me. They got my son, my daughter, and my sweet wife.” He husks, his throat starting to close. Springing from her seat, fork clattering to the plate with a glass ‘ting’ she jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and gripping tight.

“Christ, I’m so sorry. My husband was shot down while working with my father. The bullets were meant for my father, but the killer got the wrong info.” She whispers, and Frank’s arms wrap around her, hugging her tight to his hard body.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, letting her hold him for what seems like hours.

“Frank? Can you promise me something?” She asks as she leans back a little.

“Sure.”

“Promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay alive. Okay? You’re a good man, Frank, and I don’t want to be the reason you die. I--You could walk out and I’d understand. You can leave.” She assures, elbows resting on his shoulders. Frank rises to his feet, towering over her and grabs her chin in his thumb and first finger.

“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I already made a promise to your father to keep you safe if it kills me, so his negates yours. Sorry, hunny.” He hushes, grinning at her.

“Ugh, no fun.” She whines, tugging her face away from from his warm, firm grip and finding a sweatshirt to put on. It was chilly, Frank found it soothing, but his roommate not so much and she came back into the room in his black hoodie, almost drowning in it. He couldn’t hide the the small chuckle. “Hey Frank? Do you think we could go out today?” She asks, rolling the sleeves once so she could use her hands.

“No. I think we could not.” He mocks in a high pitched voice. She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. Frank huffs, not sure if he should take her out. Grabbing his phone, he dials her father. “Why do you need to go out? We have coffee now, what else do you need?” He asks.

“I want fresh veggies from the market. I’d love to make something for dinner but all we have are like--lettuce and carrots.” She complains through a hand at the fridge in exasperation.

“Lettuce and carrots, fresh veggies! By the way! And you’re complaining.” She grabs his hands and gets right up to his chest.

“C’mon sweet husband of mine. Don’t you want to go out with your new bride?” She asks, jumping a little in excitement.

“Darlin’. Listen to me-- Yeah!” He answers his phone as her father calls him back.

“Hey Frank! You rang?”

“Yeah, your daughter wants to go out to the market right down the block. She wants to buy some veggies. I’m on my A game, sir. If you’re fine with it, I’ll take her.” He offers, shushing her with his hand clasping over her mouth. She looks at him with a smile, Frank feeling his heart swell.

“If you believe you can handle it, I don’t care if you two love birds go out.” Her father chuckles. “Put her on quick.” Frank puts the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Hey baby. Listen to me. I don’t care if you two leave, but you have to stay at Frank’s side. You have to stay glued to him. You understand?” He asks into the phone, his expressions matching his words as if he were speaking to her face to face.

“Yeah, pop. Like glue. I love you!” She smiles into the phone, her father saying it back before they hang up.

“You ready?” He ruggs, offering her an elbow after letting her put on her white Gucci sneakers with her shorts and Frank’s sweatshirt. Sweater paw on his elbow, they leave arm in arm. His grips her hand as they step out. “Also, I’m Pete, your Honey.” He smiles, earning a half-upset look from her as they get into the elevator.

“Alright Pete.” She coos as they get into the car waiting for them. Driving them the two blocks, Frank gets out first, eyes scanning the perimeter. Finding nothing alarming, he nods to let her out. Her sweater paw reaches for his arm, but his hand cups high on her hip, pulling her against him as they walk through the market. “Aw hunny, over here! Some tomatoes! And some fresh basil, oregano, thyme, and ooh! Parsley!” As the two pay for their vegetables at each stand, Frank notices the man a few yards back, following them. Frank tries to hurry her along, but she’s intrigued by every stand and wants to look at everything. With two bags of veggies, a bag of chicken, and a grin as wide as Frank’s chest, he convinces her to get in the car just as the man reaches for her. Frank’s hand comes down hard and fast. When the man sees Frank’s face, his heart hits the floor and he turns, running away.

“Hunny, did that man just run the other direction?” She asks, looking to him as he shoves her into the car and they get into the apartment as fast he can. Once in the door, Frank’s hands graze over her body to be sure of no injuries, but she laughs it off.

Stepping into the kitchen, she opens the cupboard and heaves a sigh of relief.

“Thank god they brought cooking wine.” She assures, reaching but not quite grasping it. Climbing onto the counter and grabbing the wine bottle, her hand slips and she falls backwards but she and the wine bottle, never hit the floor.

“You are so clumsy.” He chuckles, righting her small frame and handing her the wine. “What are you making?” He asks, looking to her with a smirk.

“Chicken cacciatore, my nonna was the best at it, but I try my best.” She smiles shyly as she starts cooking.

As Frank takes his first bite, his eyes roll back and he moans. His reaction catches her offguard and she looks at him with a confused smile.

“It’s good. What can I say?” He shrugs, giving her a smile.

“Right, thank you.” She coughs, going back to eating her own. It didn’t taste like home but it almost did. She was happy to have it. She thinks back to earlier when the man trying to attack her saw Frank and ran away. It was remarkable yet a little unnerving. “Hey, Frank? Why did that man run away from you?” She asks as he takes a bite of dinner and looks up from his plate. His eyes are calculating, not sure what he should say. He assumed she knew about him. Since her father had found out, he assumed that she knew.

“I uh, I killed a lot of people. Bad people, but, still alot of people.” He wags his brows, holding his breath.

“How many?” She asks, taking another bite as if this were small talk.

“Thirty five.” He coughs, trying to disguise it. She looks up for a moment and a grin crosses her face.

“Wow, thirty five? My father’s record for one day is only ten.” She blabs, continuing to eat.

“It wasn’t in one day. I killed all the people responsible for my family’s deaths. Everyone.” He hushes, looking at her as she continues to eat. When she glances up, her eyes meet his and she gives an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Frank. Holy shit!” Her fork clatters to her plate and she jumps to her feet. “Frank Castle! Holy shit! Oh my god! You’re Frank Castle! Holy fuck.” She stammers over and over, staring at him with wide, loving eyes. “Sorry, most girls crush on celebrities, but not this one. I mean, you are a celebrity, a dead one. But still, wow. You are beautiful.” She coos, staring at him. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. Wow, Frank Castle. I gotta call Lyla! She’s never gonna believe this!” She crows like a teenage girl, fumbling for her phone. “We used to watch your news pieces and when you killed all those people in prison, amazing.” He plucks the phone from her hand and he laughs.

“No out calls.” He laughs, trying to compose himself.

“Oh come on! I just made the discovery of a century, and you won’t let me call my best friend?” Whining, she stamps a foot like a child and he gives her a half smirk.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“Stop calling me that.” She huffs, her playfulness gone for a moment.

“Why?” He prods. A knock sounds at the door, making both of them jump. His hand grips her wrist across the table and he creeps around, putting her against the wall. Sneaking to the door, he looks through the peephole to see Lyla standing there, but instead of her giddy self, she’s rather squeemish, shifting from foot to foot, looking around nervously. Frank carefully opens the door, but it comes blasting in on him, sending him soaring into the couch.

“I’m sorry!” Lyla sobs as three grown Russian men shove in, grabbing Frank and throwing fist after fist into his face. Looking for her, one Russian reaches over the counter to grab her, but she stabs him with a knife in the arm. The man growls, yanking his arm back. Dislodging the knife, he tosses it aside to find she’s gone. Hunting for her while they kick Frank. A gun shot echoes and one of the Russians falls to the floor. Lyla stands with the gun in her hands, tears in her eyes as another Russian jumps on her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her into the wall. Kat finds a gun in Frank’s bag and she shoots the large man beating on her best friend and just as she points the gun at the one on Frank, she sees the man’s dead body flop over onto another of the Russians. Frank rises to his feet, blowing air out his nose, blood spraying as he did so. Foot steps slow and calculated as he walks to Lyla, her scared whimpers enough to break Kat’s heart as Frank grabs the front of her shirt and drags her to her feet.

“You brought them here?” He growls low, his voice dark and feral.

“I-they were gonna kill my mom and me if I didn’t tell them.” She whimpers, tears falling down her face.

“And they almost killed you and her.” He barks, pointing to Kat, who stands in shock, quaking with a gun in her hand. Frank limps to her, slowly drawing the gun from her hands and placing it on the couch. “It’s okay.” He whispers, letting her drop her head to his shoulder. She hiccups and then sobs, gripping the back of his blood soaked shirt.

“Frank--you--you’re--” He covers her mouth with a bloody hand, shaking his head.

“I’m fine, darlin’.” She huffs and smiles, tears staining her cheeks. When her eyes lift over her shoulder, she sees the front door still wide open. Giving a shriek, she slips from his grip and slams the door, locking every deadbolt and chain before running back to Frank and gripping him tight.

“Frank, you-you’re bleeding.” She coos, carefully taking him to the couch. Appearing a moment later with a kit in her shaking hands. “Lyla, grab the bottle of rum from the cupboard. Also, it’s Frank fucking Castle!” She cheers as Lyla brings the bottle to her. When her eyes finally meet the man’s face she gasps.

“Holy shit. Your serial killer boyfriend is real.” She laughs, trying to calm her down. Taking a couple swigs from the bottle, she offers it to Frank.

“You want any?” She asks.

“Nah. Really I’m fine.” He hushes, letting his hands cover hers.

“Shut up, Frank.” She nips, swatting away his hands. Cleaning up his face, she puts a couple butterflies on the cut on his forehead, and a bandaid on the little ones on his cheek and chin.

“Darlin’ c’mon. Stop it.” He huffs, pushing her hands away. Jabbing a finger into his chest, earning a groan.

“Quit. Calling. Me. That.” She bites, clapping the kit closed and stomping to the bathroom to put it away.

“What’s her problem?” He huffs to himself, grabbing his cellphone and dialling her father.

“Yeah?”

“So the friend we thought we could trust, not so trustworthy. I need a discreet clean up crew.” He explains, when he sees her appear again. She hooks her arms under the man’s arms and drags him over to the pile of two more bodies and groans in disgust. “Hey, quit touching those.” He hushes, covering the mic on the phone.

“No! I want them gone.” She cries, tears starting to fall down her face.

“Ssh, it’s okay. Calm down.” He cuddles her against his strong body and coos in her ear.

“Clean up crew is on it’s way. Now, tell me my daughter is okay.” Her father’s voice calls to Frank.

“She’s fine, sir. She was cracking jokes earlier.” He chuckles, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Good. The clean up crew is four men. They’ll bring a laundry cart up, say they’re here for pickup. You let them in.” Her father says as someone knocks on the door. She dives for the pistol and points it at the door, quaking as Frank carefully opens it to find a two laundry bins and four men.

“Sorry, she’s still scared.” He offers, reaching out and pulling the gun from her hands.

“It’s okay, sir. We just want to remove the bed bugs and get you cleaned up.” The man informs, putting the bodies into the carts and cleaning up in less than an hour. A deep breath escapes her as she sags against Frank, relaxed. His arm closes around her shoulder and he pats her clothed back.

Two Weeks go by, fun had by the two holed up in a small New York penthouse.

“Hey doll, I’m gonna head down for coffee. Don’t let anyone in, okay?” Frank’s gravelly voice washes over her for a moment as he walks through the door. “Lock all of these. I’ll knock twice and call out to you.” He smiles, patting her arm before stepping out and shutting the door. Frank listens as the door locks click, breathing out softly. He was nervous to leave but he hadn’t heard a sound, and there were other men posted outside the room and the building.

He gets to the bakery just down the street and orders her coffee, and his, getting a strawberry turnover with a little smile. Paying for the items, Frank looks at the bag and coffee cups in his hand and he gives a chuckle. He thought to himself, for a moment that he could have this. This life could be his. Getting coffee and turnovers in the morning like some kind of domesticated husband, the kind of husband he wanted to be for Maria. He chuckles, shaking his head. As he gets up the stairs, he sees two guards knocked out, laying in a pile.

“Shit.” Sprinting into room, the coffee hitting the tiled floor and splashing out, splattering up onto the bottom of the sofa where they sat comfortable in each others silence for almost four weeks. His eyes drop to the blood on the couch and the blood on the table, smeared like fingers grasping for the edge. His breath hitches, trying to breathe, but he can’t. “Kat! Kat!” He shouts, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Frank Castle. It is Castle, right?” A voice calls, and when he turns, he finds a small woman standing before him, Agent Madani.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barks, voice low and eyes on hers like lasers.

“Saving your little girlfriend you’ve been playing house with. She’s safe. Undisclosed location. Thinks her father is in questioning. No worries, nothing incriminating. But, tell me, Frank. What would you do if I weren’t watching this place, huh? I need to make a deal with her father, but he needs to know it’s the FBI. He will go to a maximum security prison for the rest of his life, but he and his daughter will be safe. The safest she can be, which I think is a little important to you.” She informs, arms crossed over her chest, watching Frank stand there, his chest heaving.

“You have her? Is she under surveillance? Can I see her?” He barks, storming towards her like a black cloud.

“After you get me a meeting with her father, Gianno Lucciani.” She retorts, not letting up. Frank steps closer, hand gripped around Madani’s neck, ready to squeeze, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll see.” He whispers, yanking away the hand around her neck he grabs his phone, calling her father.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, Gianno. Listen to me, man. You gotta come down here to the safehouse.” Frank tries to be calm but his voice wavers slightly.

“Frank, what’s wrong?” He demands.

“There’s some FBI agents here. They’re questioning Kat. They want to cut you a deal. They said they’ll let Kat go when you’re here.” He informs.

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He barks, hanging up.

“You gotta handcuff me. When he gets here, he’s gotta think you busted in and got me down first. You’re gonna wanna bring Kat back in too.” He offers. “If his daughter isn’t here, he’ll kill everyone in here if he doesn’t see her face.” He shrugs, putting his hands behind his back and letting them cuff him. They cuff his ankles too for good measure and just as they drop him onto the ground her father comes bursting into the door.

“My daughter.” He growls, gun jammed into Madani’s head. “Unlock him. He’s just her bodyguard. Pete Castliglione. You’re name is Pete right? Why is he handcuffed?” He barks, jabbing a finger at Frank on the floor.

“Yeah, listen, Madani knows. I’m Frank fuckin’ Castle. Okay? We need to see Kat now.” He barks as they take the cuffs off.

“Bring her in.” Madani calls, waving to a couple agents as they head out, returning with his sweet Kat.

“Shit.” He whispers as she piles into him, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the middle of a raging sea.

“Frank, Frank. They broke in. They-the government. They took me to a room. Questioned me. Frank, I--”

“Ssh. Ssh. Ssh. It’s okay, darlin’.” He whispers, her father stepping out into the hallway with Madani.

“Frank I said--”

“Don’t call you that, but it’s important today. Okay?” He coos, grabbing her and kissing her forehead. Her father walks in just in time to see Frank holding her tight against him. His big arms wrapped around her, making her look small and frail.

“Kat, baby, you okay?” She twists around in Frank’s grip. As he starts to let go, her hands grip tightly to his forearms and she chokes on a sob.

“It’s okay. I’m right behind you.” He coos, tugging his arms away as she stumbles to her father.

“Baby, you’re okay. Listen, daddy’s gonna be going away for a while. Okay?” He coos calmly, as if he’s still talking to the same little girl from twenty years ago.

“Daddy, what--”

“The government woman is--”

“Quit talking to me like a child!” She shrieks, screaming at him and stamping her foot.

“I’m taking your father into custody for all the money laundering, the murders of five men, and for running a drug ring underground that we now have you admitting to.” Madani informs loudly as they cuff her father and start walking him down, out into the parking lot. “Put a vest on her, call it protection, whatever you need to do to put her into safety. We’ll shoot her. Take her as crossfire. The Russians and the Cartel will be down there. He’s safest in prison. And we’ll get him there. I need Frank removed safely. Once we’re out of here, they’ll load her into a body bag and get her somewhere safe with Frank. No one tip off Frank or the father. If they know something’s up they’ll take her, whether they think she’s alive or not.” She informs her agents as they load Frank and her father into cars. When she screams at them, the firing of pistols and semi-automatic hand guns fills the air.

“No! Daddy!” She screams, running to the car, but as the car pulls away, an agent strategically shoots her in the chest twice, Frank’s heart hitting the concrete.

“No!” He cries, shaking violently in his cuffs as he tries to get out. Slamming his head into the window, he doesn’t even crack it.

“No! My baby!” Her father screams, following Frank’s actions. They leave her lying on the concrete, tears falling down his face more and more as he fights harder. Madani draws Frank from the car and drags him kicking, into another building.

��Listen!” She shouts over Frank’s heavy, deafening breathing.

“Madani, let me outta these goddamn handcuffs or I swear on Christ I’ll kill everyone in here. You too.” He growls low and hard, his eyes dark burning into the agent as she stands her ground.

“Frank. Frank, calm down.” She coos as they roll a stretcher in with a body bag. “Frank, her father’s going to a white collar prison, he’ll be safe. Frank. Calm down. I’m gonna take these off but please--”

“The bag. What’s in the bag!?” He screams. As the cuffs come off, his hands wrap around Madani’s throat, squeezing until hse’s gripping at his hands, his knuckles white.

“Frank?” Her soft voice takes his breath from his lungs and he drops Madani on the floor, her gasping just quietly in the background. “Frank I’m right here.” She whispers, rising from her bag like a zombie.

“Darlin’. Baby girl. Holy shit.” He whispers, gripping her and holding her against him.

“Frank, my dad. My dad, he thinks I’m--”

“Your father thinks you are dead, and that’s the safest thing for him to think right now. He’s going to a good prison, where he’ll be safe, but he wanted you as safe as possible, and if he, the Russians, and the Cartel believe that his only daughter is dead you are in no danger.” Madani explains, giving her a soft smile.

“My father thinks his only daughter is dead! He’s being arrested and sent to a prison? Frank?” She looks at him with betrayal twinkling in her eyes and Frank chokes, grunting at the pain. She’d never looked at him like that before. “Did you know?”

“Yeah.” He whispers.

“You knew? You helped them?” She cries, grabbing his shirt and shaking him.

“It isn’t what it looks like. You’re father--”

“Your father needed to be safe, and taking him into a facility where the cartel and Russians can’t get him is as safe as he can be.” Madani tries to explain. Kat turns, a fire in her eyes that Frank might’ve been scared of any other day. He folds his arms around her, constricting like a boa, holding steadfast as she begins to kick and hit, screaming at the top of her lungs for Frank to let go.

“I’m gonna kill you, bitch! I’m gonna kill you!” She screams, kicking and slapping at Frank’s stony arms. “Let go of me!” She cries, pushing his arms away and running for the door.

“No! Don’t go out there!” Madani yells. “There’s a Russian mob and a mexican Cartel being arrested right now with the help of your father’s information and willingness to cooperate.” She stops in her tracks and faces Frank.

“You-you knew about this?” She whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. “I trusted you, Frank.” Shaking hands run through her hair as she stands near the door, unsure of what to do. “Frank, how could you?”

“Hun, I just-I wanted to keep you safe. You’re father asked for safety. This is the best I could offer him. I’m sorry.” He explains.

“Me too.” She grabs the handle of the warehouse and walks out into the daylight, pushing her way through the throng of curious eyes and speculating lips.

“Kathryn?” A voice calls, and when she turns, a gun is jabbed into her side she knows she’s messed up. “If you move or set off that Castle, I’ll kill ya for real this time.” The thick Russian accent gruff and low in her ear.

“Eyes on the bait! Eyes on the bait. Moving southeast with a russian, six feet five inches, short black hair, two tattoos on his hands, can’t make out what they say. Getting into a van now, license plate echo-six-bravo-nine-two-eight.” Frank listens quietly before he grabs the nearest gun and charges out the door.

Eyes scanning the vans, he sees one pull away from the curb and follows it.

“Castle is on the move.” Madani calls into the mic.

Frank sets into a sprint as he follows the van. Getting into the warehouse, he listens to hear her give a scream.

“Tell us about Frank Castle.” He growls, stabbing a small pering knife into her thigh. Crying out, she looks around and something about the empty warehouse didn’t feel empty.

“I don’t know any Frank. And that’s saying something, I’m Italian.” She giggles through harsh breaths as he slaps her. The crack across her face sends Frank into a frenzy of rage, killing every man but the man who stands between him and Kat.

“Pete!” She exclaims, rattling the chair legs on the ground. The Russian man’s eyes fall to where hers are locked he raises his brows, gulping audibly.

“Castle.” He growls, looking to Frank as his eyes narrow and he tries to put on a dangerous front. When his eyes meet Frank’s he finds something feral there, something predatory, and he steps back. Frank raises a gun, shooting the man between the shoulder and heart, dropping him on the ground. Gasp. Gasp. Frank ignores the man as he draws Kat from the chair.

“You okay?” He coos, leaving her with a giggle on her busted lips.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Punisher.” She laughs as she hugs his neck, pressing sweet little kisses to his cut face. Frank Castle, the Punisher, New York’s scariest vigilante, and yet these arms that had strangled, hands that killed were comforting her; they were carressing her body with such comfort that tears fell down her face. “Are you okay?”

“I just--I’m so mad at you, but I love you.” She whispers, sniffling. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“You mean that?” He coos as he walks her to his car. Stiffening, he looks at her rigid form and stops them, looking to her with a grin.

“I--”

“I love you too.” He assures, kissing her forehead as he meets Madani at the a roof top across town. Pulling into a parking garage, he leads her to the roof where Madani waits, a small bag in her hands.

“This is yours.” She hands the bag to Kat with a smiling nod. Skeptical and mad, she snatches the bag and hands it to Frank without a second glance.

“No, darlin’. It’s for you.” He smiles, handing it back. Glaring at the bag, she tugs it back to her and opens it. Drawing out it contents, she reads over them carefully.

‘Marriage Certificate

Katalina Jane Foster and Peter Michael Castiglione

Were married at Wilson City Courthouse

July 15th, 2010’

Among the items in the bag was a social security card with her new name, and a driver’s license, passport, and the deed to a house in Atlanta, Georgia. Frank looks at her with a smile.

“Well what if I didn’t want to marry you?” She asks with a challenging smirk.

“Then I’d have to take this back.” He pops open small, velvety red ring box, exposing a dainty piece of silver jewelry with pretty little blue sapphires in it. With a huge grin on her face, she jumps into his waiting arms and kisses his face. Madani watches on with a smile as Frank loads his new bride into a car and they drive away.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fanfiction #jon bernthal #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher frank castle #frank castle the punisher #punisher #marvel #punisher marvel #marvel punisher #punisher x reader #jon bernthal is too goddamn good at acting.#frank castle bodyguard #bodoyguard!frank

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stillgirlfrommars · 3 years ago

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you’ve got news

So, I already talked about this with @missmorwen and I know I don’t have the time to draw and make an actual comic out of it, BUT I cannot stop thinking about this SamSteve-post-engdame-fix-it story (with a dash of BuckyNat, ‘cause that’s just who I am) which is kinda crack and very rom-com (a bit you’ve got mail) inspired and doesn't make much sense, because... PLOT HOLES but * sigh * I kinda wanna share at least the idea so - bear with me:

So, instead of Nat dying, Steve sacrifices his Captain America powers on Vormir and comes back as Skinny!Steve and starts running a political blog called you’ve-got-news in secret, uncovering all kinds of shady business/corruption and becoming the bane of existence of every politician and greedy CEO - but it takes a while for his friends to figure out it's him who’s running that increasingly popular blog (which the new Captain America is actually a big fan of ;)). And the way that happens is as follows:

So, Steve almost died at the end of Endgame. The idiot (affectionate) of course still wanted to fight Thanos, but even with Thor’s Hammer, he took some serious, serious injuries which led to a tough talk with Sam, Nat and Bucky

Like I imagine, that while Steve would not have any regrets whatsoever about giving up his powers, he would still need some time to come to terms with the fact that he won’t be able to participate in the action like he used to. Even though, he actually wants and knows... it’s time to ... start something new, it’s still a process. So, there he is, trying to figure out who he is without the mantle of Captain America, re-defining the way he can and will fight against bullies in the future (cause there is no way he’s gonna stop that).

And to the surprise of everyone, Steve actually doesn’t press for participating in Avenger-style-fights anymore (he still does some of the practical mission planning and shit like that) but most importantly, he starts taking up new hobbies, like cooking or old hobbies like drawing - and he seems happier than he has in a long time, and yeah maybe it’s a bit too good to be true, if Sam starts thinking about it. But, hey, Steve finally seems to be happy so -

Meanwhile, Sam still becomes the new Captain America, and Steve is there while he is adjusting, finding himself in that role. He is there when Sam needs to talk things through, and yeah, it would still be a process like in tfatws series, but ... a little bit less alone, I guess.

So, the new Captain America fights alongside Nat and Bucky - and it’s good, they work surprisingly well together, but also: those two are stuck right in the middle of a weird assassin!flirting situation (I’m imagening a lot of veeery intense staring at the other while cleaning their weapons or beating someone up, innuendos en masse, dark humour etc.). And frankly, it’s getting on Sam's nerves because they seem to be so oblivious about the whole damn thing. Neither of them is actually admitting to anything, no, they are too busy teasing him about the ‘crush’ he has developed on that mysterious dude who is running the famous political-youve-got-news-blog that gained momentum a while ago and is currently keeping all the corrupt politicians and CEOs on their toes.

So, yeah, Sam might have been caught a couple of times reading or reciting from that blog because - it has actually turned into a pretty efficient way of mobilising people to demonstrate for change and it did give him some tip-offs in regards to who the bad guy really was and yeah. But it’s not a crush... Sam just really likes reading the blog posts, okay. That dude seems pretty cool and they share the same moral code, so... whatever.

What Nat and Bucky and Steve don't know (and he’ll never tell them), is that Sam is actually kiiiiinda already frequently talking with the guy who runs the blog. Anonymously on both ends, of course (because for good reasons both of them are pretty careful about giving away information concerning their identities). And in a way that whole anonymity-thing makes it a lot easier to talk about stuff he finds harder to admit to the people who he knows directly. So, you could say, blog-guy has kinda become Sam's internet friend, but not his crush, no.

Honestly, the crush he is more concerned about (that he also isn't planning on telling anyone about any time soon, cause Bucky would just tease him and Nat would start scheming) is, well, it’s Steve. Because, damn, he likes their get-togethers a lot, the meals Steve's cooking are honestly to die for. They watch baseball together, they do museum-trips... And the way they can talk about (almost) everything... He just feels understood and... yeah, loved (maybe not in the way that he wishes for, but still) and it’s nice to see Steve so happy and okay, maybe it’s getting a bit out of control because Sam took Steve with him to visit Sarah and his nephews and Sarah kinda saw right through his act of ‘hey, this is my best friend’ and ‘what do you mean, I don’t have feelings- okay. Yeah maybe I do’ and told him in no uncertain terms to fucking do something about it and get his shit together.

The thing is, he’s got it bad. But Sam is also torn, because this is the best fucking friendship he's ever had and he does not want to jeopardise that. So, in the end he ends up talking about this with his Internet friend... about how he kinda has this huge crush on his best friend, and his Internet friend is like, ‘TELL ME ABOUT IT, big fucking same here UGH. And I feel like I’m being SO obvious about it all. It’s honestly embarrassing. My other best friend keeps teasing me ‘bout it and tells me to just go for it, but that guy still hasn’t managed to ask out the girl he’s interested in, so, what does he know, right?’. And Sam laughs - at least he’s not alone.

So the days go by (Sam’s pining only increases, Steve took him to a wine tasting the other night and he almost... in his drunk state... almost... but he didn’t) until one day, while blog-guy and Sam are chatting, all of the sudden the blog-guy is like, ‘Shit, I think someone's breaking into my apartment’ and then like, ‘Okay, yes they are’ - and Sam's like, ‘call 911′, and blog-guy writes back ‘mmh think I can handle them’ (and Sam’s like ‘WTF... I know way too many people with zero regards for their own well-being, myself included’)

But then blog-guy is not answering anymore, so Sam frantically calls up Nat who rushes to his flat and Sam says: ‘You need to find out where that IP adress is located ASAP - the dude with that famous blog is in danger.’

And Nat does that multitasking thing where she’s working on the problem while ribbing Sam about the fact that, apparently, Captain America's Internet bestie is that famous blog dude, and- 'Are you sure it’s not a crush?'

But after another minute, Nat sighs and is like, ‘I can't find the location, this thing is encrypted af, it’s impossible.’ Suddenly, she notices something about the setup of the encryption and-, ‘Hang on a second, it was me who set this up for someone back in 2011.′ And as she slips on her jacket, she says to Sam, ‘Come on. I know where we have to go!’

So they make their way to what turns out is Steve's (!!!!) apartment and find him in the middle of a fight against over half a dozen heavily armed people, and yeah - he’s actually doing pretty okay for himself ‘cause he outsmarted a couple of them, but also- they kind of outnumber him, so Nat and Sam get to work.

And Sam doesn't even have time to fully register what that means re:blog-guy until they have successfully defeated the bad guys. After that's done, Steve is like, ‘Thanks guys, but how the hell did you know I was in trouble? Nat... you didn’t bug my apartment, did you??’

And Nat tstsk and then she just laughs because this is priceless and OF CoURSE it is Steve who is behind that blog... (she's a bit mad at herself for not figuring it out sooner, and a bit sad that Steve didn't feel like he could tell her, and that he assumes she has is flat bugged but, also,... kinda impressed.) But then she looks at him with a warm smile on her face, shaking her head, saying, ‘No, I didn’t, Steve.’ Her gaze wanders back and forth between Steve and Sam and she humms- 'That actually makes so much sense oh my god.' So, she leaves them ‘to talk’ ;) and for Sam to explain everything’ - and then it’s just the two of them.

And Sam does explain everything and is like, 'So you're that Blog dude, erm...' He's scratching the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, 'Turns out, we've been talking for months over that blog of yours. I'm (insert-Sam’s-username-here).'- and Steve's eyes go wide and you can literally see him processing that information right then and there and he's sputtering out a light laugh, and he's like 'Hang on a second... I... umm, okay, I gotta ask. So, that best friend you've got a crush on...' Well, it’s now or never -'Is you, yeah..', Sam admits and starts, 'and....' They both laugh again and Steve nods and just says- 'yeah, it’s you, too.'

And then they kiss and yaaay, happy ending!!!

And then the epilogue would be about them having a nice dinner with Bucky and Nat a couple of months later, and the whole time, Sam and Steve are being very much in loveTM. The three guys are standing in the kitchen, while Natasha is in the bathroom and Bucky's making a funny quib about how sickeningly cute Sam and Steve are together - and Sam, well, Sam just raises his eyebrows and is like, 'You know what, you're not allowed to say anything bout that, you and Romanoff have been acting waaaaay worse over the last year. At least we got our shit together in the end, what's your excuse, you are obviously absolutely in love with her!', and of course Nat chooses that exact moment to enter the room, hand on Bucky's waist, dropping a kiss on his cheek and is like, 'What do you mean, we've been dating for 6 months?' And Steve laughs and Sam groans bc .... he loves his friends, he does, but clearly, CLEARLY they ALL have to work on their communication skills!

The End.

#samsteve #buckynat #endgame fix it #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Skinny!Steve #I know it's stupid and cheesy but everything else in my life feels a bit too much at the moment so I needed something cute to think about #Seriously though if anyone wants to use this as a prompt to draw or write... please do

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buckleyy--diazz · 3 years ago

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Second untitled Sambucky fic aka Claudia sucks at title but she wants to post her fic so please enjoy some Bucky getting "accidentally" high and Sam being the best as always

(Also please note that I started writing this way before Bucky moved to Delacroix and Sam became Cap so yes they are sharing an apartment in NY, it's not relevant to the story anyway)

Now please, enjoy x

***

Sam woke up to the sound of someone breaking into the apartment he shared with Bucky. His eyes flew open when he heard a loud bang, probably the front door crashing into the wall. His first instinct was to grab the gun he kept in the drawer of his bedside table, you could never be too careful. Immediately Sam thought of Bucky, he needed to protect Bucky. Millions of scenarios were running through his head like what if a rogue HYDRA agent found Bucky and came to kidnap him?

Sam carefully opened his bedroom door and padded along the corridor as silently as possible. Their apartment was silent, too silent and whoever had broken into the apartment was probably waiting around the corner to attack. Sam’s heart was hammering in his chest. He realized Bucky had not moved from his bedroom, the door was closed and he could see the light from the night lamp filtering at the bottom of the door. It wasn’t normal, surely all the noises would have woken up Bucky, Sam knew he was a light sleeper if he slept at all. Sam was hit by a wave of nausea at the thought they already got Bucky.

Suddenly Sam heard a giggle, it seemed like it was coming from the kitchen.

What the fuck?

Sam walked in slowly and turned on the light, hoping to surprise anyone who was in the kitchen and keep the upper hand. Sam was prepared for anything, really. He was prepared to fight HYDRA agents but not the sight of Bucky sitting on the kitchen floor, eating chips and giggling for apparently no reason.

“Sam!,” Bucky yelled excitedly when he noticed him, “Why the gun? Are we in danger?” he asked, laughing.

“What the fuck, man? I thought we were being attacked, I thought someone came here to kidnap you,” Sam whispered-shout because the last thing they needed was to wake up one of their neighbors and for them to call the cops.

“I was hungry,” Bucky replied, ignoring Sam’s little rant. He patted the linoleum floor, motioning Sam to join him. Sam rolled his eyes but he locked the gun and put it away before sitting next to Bucky, his back against the cabinets. Sam winced as the cold floor touched his thighs, reminding him he was half-naked. Sam wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was but he was still half-mad at Bucky for making him worry like that.

“Chips?” Bucky offered and Sam reached for the bag. Bucky giggled again when their fingers brushed through the bag. Something was off. Bucky did not giggle. He laughed sometimes but he did not giggle like a teen girl in front of her crush.

“Buck? Are you high?” Sam questioned, “How the hell did that happen? You cannot even get drunk!”

Bucky nodded, “I didn’t know it was possible,” he explained, “so when Leah offered me a “special” brownie I thought I would not feel anything or that it would wear off as quickly as alcohol.”

Sam shook his head and sighed.

“Who is Leah and why did she offer you drugs?”

“She’s a-,” Bucky hesitated, “she’s a friend, she works at the sushi place. Sometimes we meet up after closing and we play board games and talk.”

“You never mentioned her before, and that doesn’t explain how the drug affected you,” Sam said, trying to push away the jealous feeling growing inside of him. Now was not the time.

“I have no idea, I know the serum can make my body process things like alcohol faster but it can also enhance things so I guess drug is one of the things I won’t be doing again. And Leah, she’s just a friend Sam. She doesn’t know about me, about my past. For her, I’m just James, it’s nice you know.”

Yes, Sam knew. He could relate. Sometimes he missed simply being Sam Wilson, not The Falcon, not The Avenger, just Sam.

“Okay, don’t go all emo on me because you’re high, Barnes,” Sam joked and Bucky glared but there was no heat behind it.

“You have really pretty eyes,” Bucky said, changing the subject so fast it almost gave Sam whiplash. Bucky shuffled closer to Sam, his jeans brushing against Sam’s naked thigh.

“Uh, thanks?” Sam replied.

“You’re badass,” Bucky continued, “you never hesitate when there’s a battle, you’re always ready. You barged in here thinking I was being attacked.”

Sam blushed.

“You believe in me, you believe I can be a good person and that my past does not define me and you believe it so much that I almost believe it too.”

Sam opened his mouth but Bucky cut him off.

“No, let me finish, please. I’ve wanted to tell you for a while and never had the courage. You did not hesitate to start searching for me when Steve asked. You hated me and you still did it because you’re a damn good person Sam Wilson. You saved me and I will forever be grateful for it.”

“Told you to not go all emo on me,” Sam joked, trying to not show Bucky how much his words were affecting him, “but, you’re welcome. I’m happy I saved you.”

Bucky put his hand, the metal one, on Sam’s thigh, Sam shivered unsure if it was because of the cold feeling or because Bucky was touching him and his hand was suddenly very close to his dick.

“I’m done spilling all my feelings on you,” laughed Bucky, “your skin is really soft,” Bucky continued, his fingers tracing circles on Sam’s inner thigh.

“How do you know?” Sam asked, nodding toward the vibranium hand.

“The captors in my arm make it feel almost like my regular hand.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam smirked, “you ever tried on-”

“You’re a pervert Sam Wilson, do you often think about me jerking off?”

“No, I don’t,” Sam lied, hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice and call him out. Truth was, Sam probably thought about Bucky naked and sweaty, his skin flushed and moaning with a hand wrapped tightly around his dick more than it was healthy.

“You’re a shit liar, Wilson,” Bucky whispered, his hand sliding higher on Sam’s thigh. If Sam thought Bucky’s hand was close to his dick earlier, it was nothing like now, and Sam bit the inside of his cheek, reminding himself Bucky was high.

“Look at me, Sam,” Bucky pleaded, his voice soft.

Sam swallowed loudly, he turned his head slowly and Bucky’s face was a few centimeters away.

“I really want to kiss you, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I- I can’t Buck, I’m sorry.”

In a second Bucky’s hand was off Sam’s thigh and Bucky was storming off the kitchen and despite how fast it happened, Sam had not missed the hurt look in Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s bedroom door slammed and Sam winced. He felt like an asshole.

Sam got up from the floor and put the bag of chips away. He needed to talk to Bucky, he needed to explain himself. Sam took the gun from the counter and turned off the lights behind him. Once in his room, he put it back in the bedside table drawer and searched for a pair of sweatpants.

Sam knocked gently on Bucky’s bedroom door, calling his name,

“Buck, please, we need to talk. Please, can you open our door, I know you’re not sleeping.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, everything was perfectly clear Sam.”

“No, it’s not, please let me in. I need to see you, I cannot do this through your bedroom door.”

Bucky didn’t say anything and Sam started to walk toward his bedroom, defeated when Bucky opened his door.

“You have five minutes.”

“You’re high-”

“Not so much anymore,” interrupted Bucky, “felt like someone dropped a cold bucket of water on my head ten minutes ago.”

“Let me finish, please. You’re high or were, the point is I really like you Bucky, more than you probably realize, and I really really want to kiss you too. Believe me. But doing this while your judgment is impaired, I cannot do that. Too many people took advantage of you in your life and I won’t be one of these people.”

Bucky blinked but said nothing.

“I said what I needed to say, I’ll go back to my room now.”

Sam turned around and Bucky grabbed his wrist and pulled Sam toward him.

“You’re a good man Sam, too good for me.”

“Believe me when I say it takes me everything to not jump you right now, Buck.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I told you Bucky, I can’t but if tomorrow you still feel the same…”

Bucky nodded.

“Sleep with me? Just sleeping, I swear I’ll be good,” Bucky whispered, his lips moving against the shell of Sam’s ear.

“You’re a demon, Barnes,” Sam replied but he followed Bucky inside the bedroom. He laid down and Bucky took the place next to him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. They were asleep in a second.

Sam woke up to the sound of birds singing and the sun hitting him in the face. Bucky’s body was still pressed against his and Sam felt warm and content. He could get used to waking up like that.

“You’re staring,” yawned Sam without opening his eyes. How are you feeling today?”

“Very sober,” answered Bucky leaning over Sam, his hands on each side of Sam’s head. Sam finally opened his eyes and Bucky was a few inches away, looking intensely at Sam. Bucky pushed the comforter away and straddled Sam’s hips and Sam swallowed.

“So? Do you still-”

Bucky nodded and Sam couldn’t wait any longer, he brought his hand up, placing it behind Bucky’s neck. Sam smiled softly and gently pressed his lips against Bucky. They were soft and warm and Bucky moaned when Sam slipped his tongue in his mouth. Bucky moved his hand and put it behind Sam’s head, keeping him as close as he could. Bucky's kisses were intoxicating and better than anything Sam had ever imagined. They kissed until their lips felt raw and their stomachs growled. Bucky laughed into the kiss and let himself fall next to Sam.

Sam turned on his side and kissed Bucky again, now that he was allowed to do it he never wanted to stop but their stomachs growled again and Sam sighed.

“How about we make breakfast and then come back here because I am not finished with you,” Bucky said and Sam smiled widely.

“I like the way you think.”

#Sambucky #Winterfalcon #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #TFATWS #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Ficlet #My writing

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sometimes-i-write-4-you · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! If you're still taking requests, could you write a steven hyde x reader where the group doesn't know the two of you have been dating for a while but Hyde starts giving y/n his t-shirts to wears because he loves what they look like and there's a small part of him that wants to be able to show y/n affection around everyone else. Eventually they catch on they're basically like okay makes sense but what the hell. Thanks! 😊

T-shirts - Steven Hyde x reader

trigger warnings: cursing probably, but i think that other than that it’s chill.

word count: 1476

I was sitting in Steven's room, waiting for him to return with the promised snacks. "Eric!" you heard Steven says, following by two different footsteps rushing to the basement. "shit" I thought and hurried to the couch. My hand reached to the back of the couch to help me jump over it, I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. "Hi guys" I said as the two boys came into the room. "hi (y\n)" Steven said, his voice "aloof" as usual. "when did you come in?" Eric sighed. "just now, the door was unlocked" I shrugged. "Again? Steven, I told you to lock it at night" Eric said as he took a popsicle out of the freezer. "yeah. And now it's morning" Steven replied. "whatever man" Eric agreed, sitting down by my side. Steven took the free spot next to Eric and placed his hand on the back of the couch. I did the same, sneakily intertwining fingers with my boyfriend. Eric was focused on the TV and didn't notice. "Eric!" Donna called from upstairs, and I hurried to pull my hand back and lean my head on it, pretending that nothing happened. Well. Donna won't be as easy to trick. I'm pretty surprised she's yet to understand that Steven and I are dating.

"hi Donna" Eric smiled and looked up. She rested her hands on the couch and leaned over to kiss him. "you guys are so cliché" I sighed, moving closer to the couches' arm to give donna some space next to her boyfriend. "you'll get it when you're in love" Eric smiled, pulling his girlfriend into another kiss as she giggled. "that's it, I'm gonna go to The Hub" Steven said, getting up. He opened the basement's door. "you coming?" he asked me, and I nodded. "yup".

We made our way to the El Camino and started driving toward The Hub, except Steven missed the turn. "I thought we are going to The Hub" I said, confused. "neh, Kelso might be there, or Jackie, or Fez and I wanna have a normal date with my girlfriend" he replied, taking a turn. The thing is, our relationship was a secret. The thing is, I highly doubt Kelso would be a fan of his best friend sleeping with his cousin.

Later that day, we were back at the basement. "hey guys" Eric says, breaking the silence, "my parents are going away tomorrow and they won't be back by Sunday, so I thought we can all hang out, you can sleep over". "oh! My first American sleep over!" Fez said excitedly. "Fez, you slept over a million times" Steven said. "well, yes, but there weren't any girls!" Fez corrected him. I laughed. "hey fez, will you let me do your makeup?" Jackie asked, and to no one's surprise, Fez agreed.

Saturday came along, and I arrived at the Forman's first.The basement was empty, so I went to Steven's room. "hey babe" he smiled at me, pulling me into the room and shutting the door. His lips quickly met mine, a bit desperate. "never got to kiss you goodbye yesterday" he explained, making me blush. He hardly ever got emotional, so I cherished the moment. "so, you're sleeping here?" he asked, "because you can probably sneak into my room when everyone's asleep" he wrapped his hands around my waist. "yeah, sure, I just don't have pajamas here, wasn't planning to" I said. "you can borrow my shirt to sleep in" he offered. "really?" I smiled at him. "yeah, and feel free to keep it" he answered, pulling a Led Zeppelin shirt from his closet and handing it to me. "thank you" I smiled and got on my toes to give him a small peck his lips, but he wouldn't let me pull away. "Steven, we have to be careful" I laughed, sad to break the kiss. "you know, Kelso can know, I don't mind, if he'll try anything, I'll beat him and you know it" he sighed, even though he was the one to suggest keeping it a secret in the first place. "no, I don't want to hurt my cousins'' eye" I insisted, and he sighed. He knows I'm right. "we just have to wait for bedtime" I whispered, hugging him. "yeah…".

"k, I'll go change into something to sleep in" I said, "Hyde, I'm using your room". "okay" he said. The moment you entered Fez got up, planning to move the picture that hid the hole in the wall caused by Kelso's shenanigans. "no" Steven said, pulling Fez's collar down and slamming the guy back to the couch. "but she is getting undressed, Hyde" Fez said. "dude, that's gross, she's my cousin" Kelso said. "Kelso, you tried to peep on my cousin" Donna said. "well, she was your cousin, not mine" Kelso replied, his tone suggesting it's obvious. "what…?" Donna said but gave up. I re-entered the room, laughing at the conversation I over-heard. "isn't that Hyde's shirt?" Donna asked, looking at the way too oversized shirt that covered the shorts I borrowed from Laurie's empty room. "well-" I was about to make up something, but Hyde calmly admitted it is his and that I forgot to get something, so he allowed it. "you let her wear your shirt but I'm folding it once and you hit me?" Eric says, suspicious. "well, I won't hit a girl" Steven said. "can I borrow a shirt to sleep in, I forgot to bring one" Fez said, searching through his bag. "yeah, Laurie's room had a bunch of clothes, I'm sure you'll find something" Hyde said. "what?" Eric seemed confused, and his eyes met Donna's. I looked over at Hyde. Shit.

The week went by, and Steven developed a habit of giving me one of his shirts every day. A new weekend came by, and I went to the hub to see my friends. I was looking for a shirt to wear, but with no success. I really need to do my laundry. Without any other choice, I took a shirt out of the pile of band tees I now had thanks to my boyfriend. I was wearing Hyde's shirt, this time a Rolling Stones one. Donna looked at the shirt, and I knew she knows. "again? this is Hyde's shirt, what is going on?" she asked. The rest of the gang weren't there yet, so I sat down. "Donna, you cannot tell Kelso" I whispered. "I don't have to tell him. you are wearing Hyde's shirt, that as obvious as it gets" Donna whispered back. I looked at her. "well, he'll figure it out eventually" Donna said. "Donna, let's be realistic" I said. "fine, I won't tell him" she agreed.

Eric, Fez and Steven came in. "hey, (y\n), isn't that Hyde's shirt?" Eric said, "what. are you two like, a thing?". "you two will be a cute couple" Fez complimented, "you're nice and he's angry all the time". "shut up" Hyde said, punching Fez's shoulder. "see?" Fez said, and I laughed. "look, we are dating, but don't tell Kelso" Steven says. "what?" the group and I say in unison. "I get why they are surprised, but as my girlfriend you know that" Steven said, sitting down beside me. "I'm just surprised you told them" I explained, "but look, not a word to Kelso". "not a word to Kelso about what?" Kelso asked, sitting down at the open spot beside me. "that, uh…" I said, my brain empty.

"that (y\n) and Hyde are together" Fez said, and everyone looked at him, surprised. "I know that already" Kelso said, taking one of the fries on the desk. "what?" Steven and I say at the same time. "yeah, I saw you two last week at that restaurant not too far from the hub, and besides, I'm not stupid. Come on guys. Hyde letting someone wear his shirt?" Kelso explained. "and you're not mad?" I ask. "no, that's kinda cool. Hey, Steven, maybe one day we'll be family" Kelso laughs, and Steven's eyes widen in pure fear behind his glasses. "really?" Steven asked, "cool, so now I can do this in front of you". Steven's hand reached for my chin and pulled me closer, lips softly meet mine. "hey, get off my cousin!" Kelso calls, getting up to pull us apart. "no. none of this in front of me, move" he says, looking at me. "move!" he calls once again. hinting at the chair he sat in a moment ago. He seats down where I sat a moment ago. "that's gross, god" Kelso mumbles, taking more fries.

Steven placed his hand on the back of the chair. I did the same, sneakily intertwining fingers with my boyfriend. "they are holding hands behind you right now" Eric says. "what?!" Kelso says, a bit furious, but the rest of us are laughing.

#steven hyde #steven hyde x reader #steven hyde imagines #steven hyde imagine #that 70s show #that 70s show x reader #that 70s show imagines

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Cybertron Chapter 12: That’s the Power of Love, Babeyyyyy

Thank fucking god, it’s almost over.

Our issue opens up with Ironhide deadnaming Slug, like the out-of-touch grandpa that he is. Everything is going to shit, the whole city’s covered in lasers like the world’s worst rave, and someone thought it was a good idea to let Swerve have a gun.

As the Ammonites try to murder everyone in sight, Whirl and Arcee have a little chat about how Whirl’s seemingly caused every problem ever in the last four million years.

…Whirl, you have been keeping up with your appointments with Rung, right? Like, I know he’s not the best therapist around by any stretch of the imagination, but surely something would be better than nothing in this case.

On the Lost Light, Hound, Perceptor, and Mainframe are keeping track of how many Ammonites have been killed. Everyone is extra British in this bit. Perceptor basically calls Hound a fucking idiot, because even with all the guys who’ve been taken out, there are still literally BILLIONS of these suckers running around.

Which seems a little overkill to me, but what do I know? Warcrimes aren’t my specialty.

Meanwhile, in the Mystical City of Making Science Cry, Starscream apparently knows what cosplay is, and takes a potshot at Jhiaxus for stealing his look. Metalhawk explains how the Ammonites got here in the first place, which, y’know, is cool. Love me some technobabble exposition.

I don’t actually love it.

I’m sorry for lying.

I WOULD ALSO LIKE FOR METALHAWK TO PUT A STOP TO THIS

BUT WE’VE GOT ANOTHER 19 PAGES TO GO

SO I GUESS LIFE JUST ISN’T FUCKING FAIR RATTRAP

While Metalhawk contemplates ending the comic event early, Starscream is getting his ass kicked by an old man who spent the war sitting on his butt in the Dead Universe.

Over with Team -Imus, Brainstorm’s taking a breather after getting Robertsed at the end of last issue. Ultra Magnus makes a pun, I guess to cope with the fact that he doesn’t understand anything that’s going on. Cyclonus is still dying, but this isn’t about him. Nightbeat is also dying. Oh, and Kup. Turns out, being a part of the Dead Universe is sort of an issue when you’re out of it.

Even though Galvatron was fine. And Jhiaxus. And Nova Prime, for the little bit he was out of it.

I feel like this plot point kinda just shows up when it’s convenient.

Anyway.

Brainstorm has shit in his lab that can help them not die, but he and Skids are gonna need help to get all these undead morons back to the Lost Light, which means that only two folks would be going to face Shockwave in this final confrontation.

Speaking of Shockwave, he’s gone full Burning Justice with that time drive shoved into his chest, as he makes fun of Megatron for being a dumb stupid idiot who gave him everything he needed to end the universe. He reveals himself to be a nihilist, claiming that a Cybertron which only exists for existence’s sake- and without any form of life- is the ultimate in perfection. Also, he’s a communist now. A nihilistic communist.

Just… whatever, Shockwave.

Megatron’s annoyed by all this posturing- which, same- but enough about him, it’s time for Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime drop down from… somewhere… to kick some ass. Shockwave promptly shoots Magnus, and is about to do the same to Optimus, when this starts happening:

Huh. Wonder what all that’s about.

Shockwave snaps out of his stupor and proceeds to fire on Optimus, yelling about being the only thing that exists as he does.

Over with Rodimus and friends, Cyclonus is bitching about Rodimus not leaving him behind so he could go fight Shockwave. Nightbeat, who I guess just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, tells Cyclonus to quit it, because they all know that he just misses his boyfriend. Cyclonus, though blatantly annoyed, doesn’t actually refute this claim. Brainstorm wonders aloud just how this gaggle of assholes managed to escape the Dead Universe without murdering each other.

Rodimus explains that when they heard the singing at Swerve’s, it proved they could still get out of the Dead Universe, so they desecrated Nova Prime’s corpse to make a space bridge. Brainstorm became a doorway, because he’s very nearly dead, and oh yeah, he should probably fix that when they get back to the lab, and also reconsider his lab safety protocols.

The gang reaches the outside world, and Rodimus is given a chance to spout off his personal philosophies.

Fantastic, you funky little man.

Then everyone looks up in the sky and sees some real bullshit.

Hey, Cahill? I just wanna talk, man. Just wanna talk about this boobie Windblade you’ve cursed my eyes with.

Back over with Jhiaxus and Starscream, Jhiaxus just cannot shut up. He just keeps waxing poetic about how smart Shockwave’s plan is. I couldn’t even tell you what the guy’s saying- my eyes glaze over whenever he gets a speech bubble.

Metalhawk at this point has had quite enough of all this nonsense, and decides he’s gonna throw himself into the equation that allows the Dark Cybertron prophecy to manifest.

By killing himself.

He just fuckin’… tosses himself into some heavy machinery and explodes, and that throws all the ores out of wack, since he’s got the Resurrection Ore in him. Jhiaxus is distracted by a man just straight-up dying in the same room as him, and this give Starscream the opening he needs to stab Jhiaxus in the gut.

Then the background just straight up disappears, as Rattrap lets everyone know that it’s all still going to shit, but in the opposite direction.

Really not sure about this art direction, but whatever. I’m over it.

Back outside, all the Ammonites are exploding. All of them. Billions of the little suckers, just popping off like fire crackers. The environment’s going to be ruined at this rate. Metroplex is having a great fucking time. Happy for him.

The Lost Light calls the ladies inside Metroplex’s brain room, and lets them know that they’re gonna break up Monstructor like the mediocre boy-band he is, though not without Mainframe being difficult beforehand. The ladies jump out and enter the fray, admiring Arcee’s style as they do.

Back with Rodimus and pals, Nightbeat’s being fucking cryptic, and Brainstorm gets to work making it so folks aren’t dying from being in the wrong universe, after a little prodding to his ego.

Back in Shockwave’s Super Saiyan Energy Bubble of Pure Unadulterated Logic, Shockwave says that’s he’s fucking ripped, and Optimus couldn’t beat him in a fight. Clearly, this means we’ll have to use our words to resolve this, like adults. Optimus isn’t too sure about that option, however.

I mean, do I even have to- Optimus, that’s GAY.

I have the sneaking suspicion that Roberts wrote this portion of the script. Y’know, just given his track record.

Then Megatron blasts Shockwave with his fusion cannon, and makes fun of Optimus for being a sentimental fool.

The fact that “Dark Cybertron” is telling me this makes me so mad. Like, you don’t get to talk, Exposition Central.

It’s at this point that Megatron drops a bomb on everyone present- he’s done with being a Decepticon. He’s gonna be an Autobot now.

See, ol’ Megsy here has seen the error of his ways- that by fighting the Senate, he allowed them to change him into a murderous warlord. To prove how much of a nice guy he is, he’s ripped the Autobrand off of Bumblebee’s lifeless body and duct-taped it to his chest.

Which seems a tad disrespectful, but okay.

…Megatron, you do realize that, as the leader of the Decepticons, you could just tell everyone that they need to be nice, and that would more or less be the end of it, right? You could just say “not evil anymore, I want to be loved now”, and everyone would be all “sir yes sir.” This is going to be a PR nightmare, I can already tell. Shockwave certainly seems to agree with me.

I really like this panel structure. Want to say this is the only place it happens, too. It’s just too bad it lives in “Dark Cybertron”.

Shockwave’s not having a good time right now, and he’s convinced that Optimus and Megatron have teamed up just to make him upset so he loses control of the time drive. The two spout off a little Autobot propaganda, and then Shockwave Remembers™.

Shockwave, having had his shadowplay reverse violently and abruptly, is horrified to find what he’s become. Alas, it’s too late for him- the only way to stop the time drive is for Optimus to kill him. Optimus promises to remember who Shockwave was- a callback to the line Shockwave gave him back before his empurata- and then shoots the everloving fuck out of the guy. Megatron helps.

And that’s a series wrap on Shoc-

-holy fucking shit.

The gang high-tails it outta there, IDW Optimus once again proving to be the shittiest version of everyone’s space-dad, as he leaves Bumblebee’s body to be consumed by the Shockwave Singularity. It’s looking pretty hopeless, but luckily none of these bastards can die without fucking up Season 2 of MTMTE, so the Lost Light swoops in to save the day.

Down below, Soundwave and his gaggle of small children and animals watch as the Lost Light fucks off into the distance. Soundwave’s having a time and a half, as he realizes with his balls-to-the-wall senses that Megatron’s joined the Autobots. Galvatron shows up to try to work out a deal. We won’t be seeing where this goes, because that’ll be covered later on.

The Lost Light lands in front of Metroplex, and over to the left of that are Rattrap and Starscream, climbing over the wreckage of the city. Rattrap tries to warn Starscream that things are gonna be tough, now that the Dark Cybertron prophecy has come to pass, but Starscream isn’t really having it. He’s gotten very paranoid, likely due to stress, and tells Rattrap to not play this game, because he’s the best player who’s ever lived. Then the Lost Light gang shows up and we get this face:

Sure.

Later on, Megatron and Optimus are hanging out in the Sky Roller, not-talking, until Megatron tells Optimus to get on with it, since the issue’s about to end. Megatron was totally serious about becoming an Autobot. Optimus isn’t really sure what to do with that. I don’t think anyone’s really sure what to do with that, to be honest.

Megatron, in turn, asks Optimus if he really could look past all the bullshit Shockwave pulled in the last several million years, and he gets a non-answer, because addressing your feelings is for losers, clearly. The two exit the ship, and I guess everyone else was just… standing outside waiting for them to talk it out. Weird.

...And with THAT, I am finally released from Comic Event Hell!

If you hear any distant, triumphant screeching right now, that’s likely me.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 12 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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cecilsstorycorner · 4 years ago

Text

How to Catch a Fish

The two teenagers stand on the snowy embankment of the river. The boy has an old tattered coat wrapped around him, keeping out the morning chill, turning their breath to clouds. The girl’s coat is brand new, clean and tailor fit to her small form, bought just after moving to this little town. Her gloved hands are stuffed into her pockets, and she watches the river curiously. The sky is bright and clear, the snow stretching out in a sheer white expanse.

“Do you know how to catch a fish with just your hands?”

The girl looks up from observing the winding waters. The boy looks at her expectantly, a brightness in his soft brown eyes. She shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t say it’s the kind of thing I would’ve learned.”

“It’s pretty simple really!” The boy steps down towards the river, skidding slightly on the fresh snow, and drops down to his knees just before the water. The snow falls into his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have to be very patient and careful, but it only takes a little practice! Watch-“ He shrugs off his heavy coat, rolling up his sleeve. Before the girl’s observing eyes, he sticks his arm into the rolling water. It must be freezing, and he winces slightly, but the shine in his eyes doesn’t falter. “The trick is waiting to feel a fish brush against your fingers…” He waits, looking upwards at the sky to focus all his attention on his submerged hand. He lights up. “There! There- and now you just… well, pet it!”

“Pet it?”

“Yeah! It settles the fish down. You pet it, and it gets comfortable, slows down, and once it’s settled enough…” He waits, one second, another, then with one quick movement, pulls his arm back from the water, a fish wriggling in his hand, now almost pure white from cold. “Got it!”

The girl laughs. “So you trick it? That seems rather cruel.”

The boy looks down at the fish in his hand. He nods, and throws it back into the water. The two watch it swim away.

“I never keep them,” he says. “You’re right. It seems cruel.”

They run down the cobblestone street, boots clattering on the wet stones, reflecting the lamp light back up at them. The boy leads, pulling the girl behind him, hand in hers. They’re laughing, and keep checking over their shoulder to look back behind them. In the distance, voices yell, insisting someone catch them, someone follow them. The boy pulls the girl into an alley, putting a finger to his lips and shushing her through his smile. The girl giggles, and they press against the wall, waiting for the people to run right past their hiding spot. The boy claps a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his heavy breathing, left over from their dash. The girl sees, and does the same. The voices grow louder, until in a storm of footsteps, a handful of people run past the alley, struggling to gain any speed in their clunky fishers clothing. After a few moments, they’ve passed, continuing down the road, looking for culprits they will not find.

“We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” the boy whispers.

“But did you see their faces,” the girl whispers back, holding onto his forearms as she grins up at him. “And if they get mad I’ll just say it was my idea, they can’t do anything to me.”

“We are not doing this again.”

“Oh, you always say that.”

The boy sits on his bed. The girl kneels in from of him, holding his arm.

“That man is a monster,” she hisses through her teeth as she wraps the bandage around the boys wrist.

“No, it’s my fault…” the boy says, wincing slightly as the fabrics tug at the raw skin, finger marks still clear and red. “I got in the way, and stuff got broken, I shouldn’t of-“

“That doesn't give him the right.” She holds his hand in hers, looking down at the now bandaged wrist. There’s an anger in her, bubbling just beneath the surface. It scares the boy a little. “No one should react to a mistake so small with such force, especially not against your own brother.”

“It… it happens. It’s fine.”

“It shouldn’t.” She puts her hands on each side of his face, cradling it as she looks up into his eyes. “They shouldn’t treat you like this. You know that right?”

He nods. But he doesn’t speak.

He’s long learned he can’t change it.

They sit on the girl’s bed. The light filters through the small window, catching the dust in beams that stretch past the two into the floor. The boy shows off his newest creation, a small music box. It plays it's simple song, and he’s so proud of it.

The girl takes his hand, and he looks up, pulled from his excited chatter. She looks into his eyes, more serious than he expected.

“Do you feel safe with me?” she asks.

The boy almost laughs at this. “Of course!” How could she even think otherwise? He’d never been so sure of something in his whole life.

“Good.” She reaches up, takes his face in her hands, and kisses him.

They stand behind a cart, in the dead of night. It’s cold, even with the remains of the fire still burning on the other side of town. She passes him a bag, expecting him to place it in the back with the others. He doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at nothing and more afraid then he’s ever been in his life.

“What are you waiting for?” she says, panic creeping into her voice. “We don’t have time to stall, they’ll try and stop us.”

“I didn’t… it shouldn’t have caught fire,” he says. His voice is almost inaudible, and he doesn’t move his eyes from their blank stare. “I checked it- I checked it over and over and over and it-“

She grabs his arm. “Snap out of it! It’s too late now, it burned, and they will kill you if we don’t leave now.”

He nods. And he nods again. “Right. Right, right, I’m sorry-“ He places the bag in the cart. His hands shake. The fire still burns.

The man stands in the living room of the new house. It’s small, and it’s empty. He’s not used to this. He’s used to large families, old wooden buildings, leaky roofs and creaking floorboards. This house is new. And it’s quiet.

Hands wrap around his waist, and the woman rests her head on his shoulder.

“It’s not much, I know,” she murmurs into his ear. “But it’s ours. It’s home.” She turns her head, to better see his face. “Do you like it?”

He nods. Even if it wasn’t really true yet, it would be some day. Because he was there, with her, and everything would be okay when that was the case. “I do.”

She unwound her arms from him, sighing. “The furniture it came with is so drab, don’t you think? We’ll have to find somewhere to get something better. Although I’m not sure what options we have in a town like this.” She hefted a box into the kitchen counter, and began to unload various plates and dishes. The man wasn’t sure where they’d come from. “I think I counted maybe six other residential houses? A corner store, too. Not much else though.”

“Can we afford to buy more?”

“You can get a job. Perhaps that corner store is hiring.” She glanced at his face, and softened. “Hey, puppy, it’ll be okay.” She crossed back to him, laying a hand on his arm and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We’re gonna make it work, all right? Together.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They sit on the couch. The wood stove has burned down to it's last embers. The man watches the curls of burned wood crumble, the soft glow on their outer lines fading away. The woman takes a sip of her tea as she turns the page in her book. Then, she closes it with a heavy sigh. The man turns to her, unsure what’s wrong.

“I hate it when you do this,” she says. The man doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t even know what she means. But he knows he’s done something wrong. That always feels certain.

“...I’m sorry,” he says.

“No- no you keep getting like this. All distant and weird. Sometimes it feels like you’re not even really here.”

“I… I’m sorry,” he says again. What else is there to say?

“You must know how hard this is for me, right?” She places her book down on the table. “Dealing with all your… things. I get it, things were rough for you before. But we’re not there anymore. You have no reason to be acting like this.”

“I-“

“Don’t apologize if you’re not even going to try to change.”

“...I’ll try.”

“Good.” She gets to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Clean the dishes before you join me.”

She leaves. The man sits alone. He knows he’s done something wrong.

The man is alone in their room. The door is locked, and he presses his back against it, hands gripping his hair as he struggles to breath. He’s back now, he’s not wherever he’d been when the woman had closed the door. That was good, at least. That meant when she returned he’d be allowed to leave.

He can still smell smoke. It’s not real. He knows that. But it fills his lungs and coats his mouth with the awful ashy taste of three years past. He can’t feel the hands on him anymore, though. That’s an improvement.

The woman would return, eventually. And he would apologize. After all, he really should have better control of himself by now.

The man is backed against the kitchen counter, gripping the ledge with white knuckles. The woman takes a step towards him, and there’s nowhere further for him to go.

“If you ever embrass me in public like that again-“ she’s saying, voice bladed and hand pointing inches from his face. “-I will not let you leave this house for a month, do you understand me?”

The man nods frantically. He can’t speak, the tears would come if he tried, and that would only make things so much worse.

“You cannot just started saying whatever you damn well please!” she says. “Rambling on about weird shit and making us look insane!”

“I- I’m sorry-“

Her hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, and he can’t hold back a gasp of terror. She yanks him close to her, their noses almost touching. Her fingernails dig into his skin.

“You always follow my lead, understand?” Her voice is low and poisonous, her eyes pericing into him. “I am in charge. I am who you belong to. And you can’t ever forget that again.”

He never does.

They lie in their bed. Her arms are wrapped around him and he stares up at the ceiling. The lines of the wood twist and morph as his eyes unfocus. She nestles deeper into his side with a contented sigh. Her head tilts up and she presses her face into the crook of his neck.

“You know I love you, right puppy?” she murmurs.

The man says nothing.

Of course she does.

What else could this be but love.

“We should head back, it’s getting late,” the boy says, wiping his hands dry on his coat.

“Wait, I wanna try too first.” The girl goes to the spot he had just been, and sticks her arm in the water, waiting. After a minute, she pulls it back, fish gripped in her hand. She grins. “Got it!”

“Good job!” the boy says. “Now toss the poor thing back, it looks terrified.”

The girl looks at the fish for a moment. Then she shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “I think it might make a good dinner.”

#writing #writerblr #writeblr #short story #fiction #tw abuse #this is part of the tbobs story by the way! its why ollies such a mess and why my friends want to kill april themselves #hopefully this works out??#this is the closest i can come to an excerpt for now #as the rest is in constant revamp hell #tbobs #the book of broken strings

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yourfavewriteress · 5 years ago

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jealous friends (part 2) | matthew tkachuk

part 1

Teaser: “I have to tell you something, and I’m not gonna lie, it might change things.”

Hearing that Matthew’s friends have picked up on a more-than-friends relationship between him and I brought up emotions that I have been suppressing since I met him five years ago. Matt has always been that cocky athlete that got under the skin of those around him. The reason why we got along so well was that we were the same, and I never allowed him to walk all over me.

After seeing him kiss that girl at the party, I executed the greatest duck-out known to man. I texted Matt saying that I had forgotten an assignment due that night and needed to get home to finish. He obviously didn’t argue but I could tell he was confused.

When I woke up the next morning, I was still as stumped as I was at the party. What was I feeling for Matt? We’ve been friends for so long and he’s been one of the most consistent people in my life since I met him. He’s not a player, but he’s definitely not a saint. The women he’s been around are nothing like me and I could never see him looking at me in any way other than as a friend.

Yet, here I am, sitting on my couch, watching Love Is Blind to make up for the fact that my best friend will continue to only be my best friend, nothing more.

As I began a new episode, I heard a knock at my door. Sighing slightly, I got up from where I had made a dent in my couch.

“Matt?” I furrowed my eyebrows after I opened the door.

“Hey,” He had his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” I moved aside. I closed the door behind him, turning around. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, are you busy?”

“Uhm, no, not really,” I said.

“Get dressed then.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Just get dressed,” He laughed. “Go.”

“What am I wearing?”

He rolled his eyes at me, “Anything but these pajamas, honestly.”

“Shut up,” I responded, turning on my heel to go upstairs.

“10 minutes, max,” He called behind me.

“You can’t come, order me to get dressed, and then only give me 10 minutes.”

“It’s down to 9 now.”

“You’re annoying.”

After rushing to get dressed and Matt annoyingly yelling at me from downstairs, Matt dragged me to his car, insisting that he had a surprise.

This was a normal occurence, Matt showing up when he was free to hang out. But after last night, I couldn’t help the butterflies that floated around in my stomach as I sat in the passenger seat of his car. Did he talk to James and Noah last night? Did they say anything about why I actually left?

“So, all that just so you can take me to a place that we’ve been to hundreds of times before?” I rolled my eyes as Matt parked in front of one our frequent spots.

“Well, we haven’t been in awhile, so yes,” He responded. We got out of his car, making our way in and to our regular table.

“So, what spurred this?” I asked once we received our drinks.

“How was the party last night?” He looked at me, searching my face.

“It was fine,” I responded. “Laid back.”

“Noah told me that you were upset about me talking to someone?”

“What? I wasn’t upset,” I said. “I’m going to slice his throat.”

“For what?” He laughed. “He just said that I should make sure that we’re good.”

“We are,” I mumbled, looking around. I cannot believe Noah ratted me out about feelings that I wasn’t even sure I was having.

“Y/N,” Matt started. “I have to tell you something, and I’m not gonna lie, it might change things.”

“Well, we’ve been through a lot so I assume it’ll be fine. You know that, just tell me.”

“Remember how you asked if I was seeing anyone, and I told you no?”

“Yeah,” I trailed off.

“I might have left something out,” He looked down at his hands.

“You’re being so weird right now,” I said, lightly kicking him under the table. “I fought a girl for you, you can tell me literally anything.”

“No, like, this is different, I swear.”

“Okay, just say it.”

“I’ve just been thinking about things, and the people that I spend time with and all that. It’s weird because I feel like I don’t have time for a girlfriend or something permanent. Or at least I thought. And you have to let me finish before you butt in.”

“I will.”

“I don’t have time for a girlfriend, but I have so much time for you,” He started, looking back up to me. “I realize that I would clear my whole schedule for you if you wanted me to, and I’m fine with that. I make sure we talk, and I make sure I know what’s going on in your life because I care and I want to know. I know we’ve been friends for a long time, and you’re one of the most important people in my life but I would be lying if I haven’t been thinking about you in ways friends shouldn’t be thinking about each other.”

“Uhm, like what? What do you mean?”

“Like, when I asked you if you were seeing anyone last night, I was praying that you would say no. Not because I want you single, but because I don’t want you with anyone but me. Or, the fact that I think about calling you whenever anything remotely interesting happens in my life. To be honest, I could talk to you all day. Whenever the guys ask me to bring a date for something, you’re the first person I think of. When I’m mad, you’re one of the only people that I would even consider talking to. And, every time I’m on a date, I compare the girl to you, hence why I’m single, because there’s no one like you.”

“When did you start feeling like this?” I asked, feeling my hands start to sweat.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, I can’t say. I just remember one day I wanted to be friends, and the next I wanted to be more.”

“Matt,” I sighed.

“I’m not telling you because I expect you to feel the same way. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t, I know I can be immature and I can annoy you so I get it.”

“Shut up,” I laughed. “You’re not annoying, at all. Even if I say it, I’m only kidding.”

“I tried to make the feelings go away, I swear. It’s ju-”

“-Matt, it’s okay,” I responded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Last night, when I saw you with that girl you were talking to, I got this weird feeling. I had no idea what it was or what it meant and Noah claimed it was jealousy.”

“You were jealous?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Maybe? I never really thought about it.”

“I get it.”

“You know I love you, Matt,” I said.

“But, as a friend only?”

“No, I love you as a person,” I said. “And, you’re an incredible friend to me. And, you’re also one of the most important people in my life, if not, the most important person. I just never thought that you would ever look at me like that so I didn’t let myself go there.”

He rolled his eyes. “I tell you all the time that you’re hot as shit.”

“Well, you can think that but I don’t.”

“Well, you should,” He said. “You’re fucking hot.”

“Anyway,” I sighed. “After I got home from the party, I tried to figure out what feeling I had and I don’t know if it’s because Noah said it, but it might have been jealousy.”

“That’s cute,” He smirked.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Tkachuck.”

“I’m not,” He laughed. “But, I just wanted to tell you upfront because our friendship means the world to me, and I’d rather have that than nothing.”

“How cute,” I teased, reaching over and pushing his cheeks together.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for you to ask me on a date,” I shrugged.

He smiled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Y/N, will you go out with me?”

“As what? You have to clarify now.”

“You’re still so annoying,” He laughed. “As more than friends, will you go out with me?”

“Of course, I will,” I smiled.

A Few Months Later

“How are you feeling?” Matt asked, lacing his fingers with mine as we walked down the street.

“About what?” I responded.

“Anything.”

“Uhm,” I sighed, stepping closer to him as we walked and wrapping my free arm around his. “I feel good, I guess. How about you?”

“I feel good, too,” He smiled.

“What are you not telling me?” I asked.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nothing, nothing.”

“But...” I trailed off, squeezing his arm gently.

“I talked to my dad this morning.”

“How is he?”

“He’s good. He asked about you.”

“Ooh, what did you say?”

“I told him we’re having sex now.”

“Matt!” I exclaimed, stopping completely. I slapped his arm, harshly I might add. “Why the hell would you do that?”

He laughed, moving away and rubbing his arm. “First of all, ouch, that really hurt. You know that you actually hit harder than most guys on the ice?”

“Good, I should hit you again,” I glared at him.

“Second of all,” He said, grabbing my wrists and pulling me to him. “I didn’t actually say that, but I did tell him that we’re not just friends anymore.”

“What did he say?”

He smiled down at me. “He said, and I quote, ‘Finally, but how did you convince her to go out with you out of all people?’”

“Ah, I love your dad,” I said, smiling back.

“My whole family likes you more than me.”

“Lucky you, then.”

“Very lucky me,” He smiled. He kissed me softly. “I hope it’s okay that I told my family already.”

“Of course, it is. I love your family.”

“But, you’re feeling good about us, right?”

“Yeah, are you?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

He nodded, searching my face.

“Matt, what is it?” I pouted. “I feel like you have to say something.”

“It’s nothing,” He smiled. “I’m just really happy about where we’re at. You really are my best friend.”

“And, best girlfriend, of course.”

“Of course,” He repeated.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, though?” I asked, as we began walking again.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just different.”

“How?”

“You can’t laugh,” He warned.

“I won’t,” I responded.

“Yes, you are. You’re already smiling.”

“No, I’m not,” I laughed. “I’m good, go ahead.”

“I feel like I get butterflies around you now. Like, my stomach starts to feel weird when you’re around.”

“Aww,” I hummed.

“Don’t ‘aww,’” He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t really get butterflies around anyone, but I guess sometimes you make my hands get a little sweaty.”

“A little?”

“Hey, shut up.”

He laughed, bringing my hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m happy to know I have some effect on you.”

“You do more than just make my hands sweat.”

“Don’t even start,” He laughed. “I already know.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Tkachuck.”

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luckyharbinger · 4 years ago

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I think there is a difference between Jaune who was Phyrrah's partner and teammate for a year and Qrow who was basically a temp. Also the point of the angst over the pin is to solidify the relationship and have the characters actually say out loud and describe why the relationship is so important. Plus people who are angry focus on all sorts of things. Harriet could be mad Clover is dead and have the pin be a final straw. Finally talking about the pin is great set up for a flashback.

Alright, first of all. Back off of Qrow. The teams have clearly been there for some time (RWBY doesn’t get to be as good as the grown ass Ace Ops without some significant amount of time passing; I personally would argue they’ve been there for a minimum 5 months for that type of skill increase but whatever). Qrow was not a temp. You don’t get to the point where you’re fighting without callouts, without getting in the way of a giant scythe in the middle of a small alleyway, without spending a LOT of time with a person. There’s someone in my life right now that I’ve known since August and if anything happened to them I’d lose it, especially if I witnessed it. Yknow why the Tyrian vs Birds fight of 11 was so much cleaner than RWBY vs Ace Ops? Because Clover and Qrow were in sync. They harmonized together. They meant something to each other. Qrow and Clover cannot more clearly love each other, whether you ship Fair Game or not, and having someone you love taken from you hurts. You don’t get to tell someone that they’re not allowed to feel pain or have a keepsake for someone they loved just because they haven’t known them as long as you.

Second of all, it’s clear you didn’t take the time to think about what I said. I already stated that Harriet can be pissed off about two things. But for you to expect her to be SO focused on the pin as opposed to the fact that Clover is dead not only A) actually caters to the angry black woman trope but B) doesn’t make any sense. Is she gonna mention it and be mad about it? Yeah, maybe, but the pin is a thing that plays off Clover’s death, not the other way around. The pin is more justification FOR being angry about Clover’s death, not more justification THAN Clover’s death.

FURTHERMORE you are expecting the woman who deadass said “My teammates aren’t my friends. This is a job” to act like she has any more right to Clover’s belongings than Qrow? If something happened to me, should I leave my prized possession to a dear friend of three months, or should I give it to the guy at my work who I’ve known for two years who I really don’t give a damn about? You can’t say “I want Harriet to be angry about this” and “I don’t want Harriet to be defined by her anger” at the same time in this instance. We don’t know shit about Harriet’s motivations. She had already landed face first in the “angry black woman” trope the minute she lost her shit at Ruby. And her being angry that someone died is a thousand times more realistic and subversive of the angry black woman trope than a professional huntsman losing her cool because some teenagers she claimed to not be friends with hurt her feelings.

Additionally, of what you said changes the fact that Jaune had the armor Pyrhha died in melted down, and he clearly did not ask her family if he could do that. Her mother acted like she didn’t even know who he was. Don’t you think her mom might’ve wanted to keep that? Don’t you think that woman might’ve wanted the armor her warrior-in-training child sacrificed herself in?

Now, if you think these people are just going to believe Robyn when there is blood on Harbinger, we are having two different conversations. If you think it’s going to be as easy as Robyn being like “oh he didn’t do it actually” and have everyone else go “oh okay never mind Qrow, you’re good bro” then I genuinely don’t know what to tell you. They are GOING to think that Qrow murdered him. And even if they do believe them, he’s on the way to murder James on purpose, so it won’t even matter.

And Finally.

Finally.

The problem with all these asks (and why you are so pressed in my inbox, I genuinely don’t know) and MANY OTHER takes in this fandom is that people are treating Clover like a main character. He’s not. “Important to the plot” does NOT equal a main character. This is not the Clover and Qrow show. This is RWBY. This season covers a span of 48 hours. Do you HONESTLY think this show is gonna take one of their precious 18 minute episodes in the middle of a goddamn Salem invasion to introduce us to Clover’s entirely unmentioned family? Lets think about this. How many characters have mentioned family members that don’t directly engage in combat on-screen?

Weiss and Jaune. Two main characters. That’s it. And these family members were NOT introduced in the middle of serious action arcs like a Salem invasion. This season does not have time to make us care about Clover’s family that May Or May Not Even Exist. There are a million fucking things going on. You cannot make an audience care more about Clover’s Maybe Family than Qrow right now.

Should Clover have more people in his life than just Qrow? Yeah. But guess what. This isn’t The Clover Show. Nobody has time for that shit right now and they may not ever. We don’t know shit about James’s family, we don’t know shit about any of Ozpin’s old family, we don’t know shit about Taiyang’s family or even anybody in the Branwen Tribe besides Raven, and these are characters that have been around since V3. What makes you think CRWBY is gonna dedicate that time to a dude who’s been around for 1 season, when they haven’t even had time to tell us why James is so important to him?

This isn’t a fanfic. CRWBY has 18 minutes a week to show me that somebody is fucked up and pissed about Clover and clinging to that pin and it’s gonna be Qrow. and there is NO ONE on screen, NO ONE that the audience will have ANY emotional investment in, that deserves to have it like Qrow does. You are asking a show that painted these two like soulmates to put substantial investment into Clover’s outside relationships while Qrow is on his way to kill his boss.

And the pin’s primary focus is to give Qrow something to hang on to, to think that in some small way, Clover is still with him. People asking if he deserves it a secondary narrative plot device.

If Harriet is gonna be pissed about the pin, then okay. Sure. Assuming that Qrow even lets anyone but James see that he has it. But it’s going to be presented like she is in the wrong, if only because we don’t know her like we know Qrow and we never will. The audience is not meant to care more about Harriet Bree, or any of Clover’s other relationships, than Qrow Branwen.

#rwby8 #rwby8 spoilers #qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #harriet bree #asks #my post #that friend is my fuckin bf by the way but fg hasn't kissed yet so #tw clover death

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bgn846 · 3 years ago

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Together At Last a/b/o ffxv ot4 fic

Noct was so done with this bullshit, this had to stop. Knocking loudly on the door to Gladio and Ignis’ apartment Noct waited for an answer. They were home he knew this much, it was their date night. Pushing aside his slight wave of guilt at interrupting them he twisted his face into a scowl. This was serious, their stupid actions were making Prompto feel bad, he was sure of it.

Finally, he heard noise from inside and the small light from the peephole briefly faded. The door opened immediately afterward and Ignis was there looking an equal mix of worried and confused. “Highness, is everything alright? I thought you were staying at home this evening with Prompto?”

Seeing Ignis start to fret was doing things to his inner alpha, and they weren’t even together like that. Working to stay focused Noct tried to steer his teenage brain back on track. This was about his future beta, not Ignis. “No, everything is not alright!” he spit out while crossing his arms, Gladio did this all the time it looked intimidating enough.

“What’s happened, do we need to call Cor? Is Prompto alright? Where is he?” Ignis asked rapid-fire as he moved aside to allow him entry.

“Princess, what the hell are you doin’ here?” Gladio asked as he joined them in the hallway.

Forgetting his plan Noct barged in past Ignis and got right up in Gladio’s face. “I’m here because you two are making Prompto upset!”

“Whoa, hey, no need to be all crazy!” Gladio shouted back. “We didn’t do anything wrong, what’s this all about?”

“Is he alright?” Ignis tried once more, it was clear he was worried.

Ignoring the question, Noct continued to glare daggers at both of them. “He cried today because of whatever game you two are playing!” Unfurling his arms he pointed a finger directly in Gladio’s face and then to Ignis.

“We are not playing any games, I can assure you,” Ignis responded quickly. “Please, will you tell us what’s happened?”

“You two should know! Seriously this is stupid I can’t believe you’d pull this shit. You know I love him and this is what you do?” Noct couldn’t believe his friends would have treated Prompto so badly. His best friend had been acting strangely for nearly a month and today it was the worst. His beta had cried and when Noct questioned him about it Prompto refused to say. The only hint Noct had was when he mentioned possibly talking to Gladio and Ignis, Prompto had flipped out. They’d done something to him Noct was sure of it!

“We haven’t done anything to Prompto, I swear!” Gladio exclaimed. “You need to calm down and explain yourself.”

Hearing Gladio dismiss him so easily made Noct’s alpha tendencies flare, all rational thought was rapidly beginning to lose out to his anger. Before he realized what was happening Noct was yelling at Gladio and trying to hit him. His shield deflected his attempts which only made Noct madder. Vaguely aware of hands-on him Noct growled and tried to hit Gladio once more. His focus was solely on the other alpha in front of him. Then out of nowhere a sour scent filled the air and Noct snapped back to the moment with alarming clarity.

Ignis was standing between them holding his head with one hand. The other was blindly reaching out for something stable. Gladio had already moved to grab his arm. “Babe?! Fuck, did you get hit?” he asked with worry.

“No, its – you both – it’s too much,” Ignis managed before he listed to the side and Gladio caught him. “Your scents are too strong,” he added with a whine.

“Shit, sorry, how can I help?”

“Dunno,” Ignis hissed right before his legs buckled and Gladio carefully lowered him to the floor.

“Are you in pain? What’s wrong? Talk to me please,” asked Gladio in a panic. It was obvious that he was very worried.

Without thinking, Noct kneeled down nearby and went to reach out to touch Ignis’ shoulder. Something in his brain was screaming at him to comfort Ignis. The urge to protect his friend was the strongest it had ever been. Unable to understand this new sensation he simply went along with what his inner alpha wanted. That is until Gladio hugged Ignis close and growled at him.

Noct couldn’t stop himself from growling back and leaning into Gladio’s space. How dare he display such aggressive behavior, they were friends after all. Still unsure why he was feeling so off Noct continued to counter Gladio’s growls with his own.

“Not helping, not helping, not helping,” Ignis whimpered from where he was practically sandwiched between them.

Gladio stopped his alpha display the second Ignis fell quiet. “Sorry babe, I don’t know what to do to help, do we need to go to the doctor?” he asked leaning back to give them some space.

“Six no, you two need to bloody calm down.”

“I’m fine!” Noct replied in a huff.

“Hardly!” Ignis snapped right before he reached up and grabbed a fist full of Noct’s hair and pulled, hard.

The action caused Noct to lose his balance and he fell forward only catching himself just before the floor met his face. Surprisingly, this seemed to calm him down. The hand in his hair pulled slightly to get him to sit up.

“Listen carefully highness, where is Prompto?” Ignis asked with his hand still gripping Noct’s hair.

“My apartment,” he whispered, all the fight leaving his system.

“Does he know where you are?”

“No.” The hand in his hair tugged a little harder and Noct swore he heard Ignis growl under his breath. The sight was very surreal since he was still being cradled in Gladio’s arms like a baby.

“Have you been remembering to take your suppressants?”

Noct nodded as best he could with Ignis iron grip holding his head in place. “The little blue bottle, yeah.”

Ignis let out a groan and finally released him. “Highness, the little blue bottle is your vitamin supplement. The orange bottle with the label that says monitrixan is your suppressant.”

“Since when?” Noct asked bewildered.

“Since I told you they changed it three months ago. I think you may be going into a rut.”

“No, no, no that can’t be right, I feel fine, I feel, I --.”

“Like a raging asshole?” Gladio finished.

“Oh gods, no I can’t be going into a rut, I won’t be able to hang out with Prompto. What if I try and take advantage?”

“I think we should discuss this with your boyfriend, in person!” Ignis huffed as he attempted to sit up. “He’s alone in your apartment and upset about something you’ve yet to tell us about.”

The severity of his actions came crashing down right at that moment and Noct couldn’t help but double over on the floor and cry out. He was such a jerk, oh gods, he’d left his best friend and future mate all by himself just because he wanted to yell for no good reason.

“Enough dawdling lets go there now, we can all talk together. I have a feeling I may know what’s going on.”

“You do?” Gladio and he asked in unison.

“Have you not considered how things have been changing between us all this year? How comfortable we all are together, the way Gladio tries to protect Prompto as much as me when we are out. It’s the same with you. Even just now you let me manhandle you. That’s not normal for a non-bonded pair.

“You’re my omega I’m gonna listen to you no matter what,” Noct blurted before he could think clearly. “Shit!” covering his mouth quickly Noct looked between Gladio and Ignis trying to see if they were upset or not.

Gladio barked out a laugh and relaxed slightly. “Damn kid, no wonder you were so protective of Iggy a minute ago.”

“How can I feel like this and not even realize it!” Noct wailed.

“Your emotions are a little out of it at the moment due to your unplanned rut coming. I suggest we go check on Prompto and talk more. Can you call him and see if he answers, he’s probably worried.”

“Yeah ah sure thing,” Noct tried to fish his phone out to call Prompto but he got instantly distracted when Gladio started to help Ignis stand up. Rushing over Noct grabbed Ignis to help.

“Highness, I don’t need help carrying Iggy,” Gladio chided as he fully stood with Ignis in his arms.

“I can walk,” Ignis added dryly.

“We’ll see about that,” said Gladio right before he put Ignis down on his own two feet. Noct again scrambled to keep Ignis upright as he swayed to the side.

“I won’t carry you but you cannot walk unaided,” Gladio admonished.

“Who’s driving?” Ignis asked ignoring Gladio’s comment.

“I had a car take me here, it’s still downstairs.”

“Even better, shall we?” Ignis offered as he tried to walk towards the door. Gladio was there to haul him upright when he stumbled.

“Do alpha scents really affect you that much?” Noct queried suddenly feeling very guilty for being the cause.

“I feel you both a little stronger than I would others since we are so close. Now, enough chit chat we need to go see Prompto.”

Prompto had long since abandoned his cocoon of blankets on the sofa, Noct had left nearly an hour ago and he’d still not returned. It was clear from his scent that he wasn’t mad at Prompto, but something was still off. Resigned to waiting for his friend to return Prompto tried not to worry. Things had taken an unexpected turn recently and he had no idea how to handle his feelings on the matter.

Then when Noct had asked him about it he’d flipped out and run to hide like a little kid. Noct had even offered to call Gladio and Ignis for help, oh, that had really freaked Prompto out. Those were the last two people he wanted to see. The feelings he’d been having were making him question his own relationship with Noct.

When he wouldn’t say what exactly was wrong Noct had thrown a tantrum and stormed off saying he’d fix things and that he’d be back. Unable to think of what Noct could have meant he paced the apartment and waited.

His ring tone broke the silence and Prompto snatched it off the coffee table to answer. “Hello? Noct?”

“Hey, um are you okay?”

“No, where are you? When are you coming back?” Before Noct could answer Prompto heard voices in the background. It was Ignis, shit, Noct had gone to get help despite what he’d said. “Are you bringing Ignis and Gladio over?”

“Yeah we are only a few minutes away, I’m so sorry for running out like that, we need to talk.” Again Prompto heard other voices, it seemed Ignis was saying they all needed to talk and that things would be alright. “I can go home and you guys can talk I don’t want to interrupt.”

“No!” Noct yelped, “Please don’t leave, dude we need to talk I’ve been a total asshole today and like I messed up my suppressants and shit, and I’m going into a rut, and I growled at Gladio earlier, and I tried to protect Ignis from him it’s nuts, I’m going insane. I really need you right now.”

“W-what? What do you mean you tried to protect him?”

“I think it's better if we talk in person, I’m feeling kinda flighty and Ignis helps.”

Prompto’s mind was reeling, Ignis helps? What the hell does that mean? Well, Prompto did actually know what that meant; he’d discovered this himself recently. Ignis being an omega had a really uncanny ability to calm him down with his scent. This combined with Gladio getting suddenly more clingy with him had begun to make Prompto feel things. Good things but things that he was still scared to explore.

“Prompto? Hey Prom, dude don’t bail on me now.”

“I’m here,” Prompto squeaked.

“Do I make you dizzy at all? I made Ignis get dizzy today cause I’m such a dick.” Ignis faint voice broke through telling Noct he was fine and to stop fretting. “I mean Gladio did too but he and I – shit I dunno man—gah -- Prompto I’m a fucking mess right now. I hate going into a rut without warning.”

Suddenly worried about how Noct was going to handle his unwanted rut Prompto began overthinking everything. “I should go, for real if you’re going into a rut then that’s bad for me since I’m not bonded with you yet.”

“Prompto! Don’t leave! I’m serious we are pulling into the garage right now I’ll be up in a minute,” Noct babbled and then he hung up.

Standing frozen in the middle of the living room Prompto waited for Noct and the others to arrive. He’d missed his opportunity to run; now he had to face them all. However, when the sound of keys in the door signaled their arrival he was wholly unprepared for what came in. Noct burst in first looking crazed. The moment he spotted Prompto he ran over and hugged him fiercely. Next Gladio came in with Ignis’ arm draped over his shoulder.

“I assure you I’m fine will you let me go!” The advisor requested trying to pull away.

“No, you’re gonna fall over like you almost did in the garage, and in the elevator, and in the damn hallway,” accused Gladio.

Ignis sighed loudly and steered Gladio closer, once he was within reach Prompto could only brace for the impact of Ignis grabbing his arm for support instead. “Are you alright? Noct refuses to tell us what has happened and I’m very worried.”

Looking at Ignis up close, the man seemed almost drunk. He was flushed in the face and holding him tightly. Forgetting his own issues for a second Prompto began questioning Ignis, he had a very strong desire to make sure Ignis was alright before they did anything else. “Are you hurt?”

“What? No, no, I’m – uh – I think, what did you say in the car dear?” Ignis asked over his shoulder as Gladio wandered away.

“You’re high on pheromones right now.”

“Yes! That!”

“But why? What happened?”

“Noct and Gladio began behaving like little miscreants and caused me to get dizzy.”

“Miscre—what? Please someone tell me what’s going on?!” Prompto cried.

“We were growling at each other and Specs got dizzy and then since we both felt really bad we tried to make him feel better with like a good scent, ya know? And now he’s sorta loopy because of it.”

“Loopy indeed!” Ignis huffed. “Prompto, we need to sit and talk, preferably on the couch so I don’t have to walk.”

Prompto stared idly at the little orange pill bottle on the coffee table, the label still fresh from where it had been ignored in the medicine cabinet for three months. Ignis had just finished explaining what he thought was happening and had gone quiet. If it weren’t for the fact that Noct was holding his right hand and Ignis his left, he may have tried to run away. Thank the six he was a beta, Prompto knew that if he was an omega he’d have had a heart attack long ago. Already having anxiety about certain things would only get amplified being an omega.

Taking a big breath Prompto decided to voice his thoughts, it was what they were all waiting for after all. “Soooo, you’re telling me that little bottle right there triggered this whole thing, right?”

Ignis hummed in agreement but didn’t say anything more.

“Just to double-check, I’m not the only one who feels this way, like we’ve all been feeling it? I know you said Noct called you his omega and he’s already calling me his beta even though we aren’t bonded yet.” Prompto paused to gather courage for what he was about to say. “Um, so, like, you’re saying we could be a – a pack?”

Ignis nodded and squeezed his hand, Gladio smiled and nodded as well. That only left Noct, who wasn’t really in his right mind, but he had to get an answer from him too. Turning to his future alpha he smiled hoping Noct would admit his feelings.

“What? Why –why are you looking at me like that?” He sputtered. “I’m working really hard to not be a total jerk right now, what’d I do now?”

“You’re a lost cause buddy, I know you are acting oddly because of your rut coming but like do you want to be a pack?” Prompto asked hopefully.

“Yes! I mean yeah, sure, I think so,” correct Noct as he looked around at them and blushed.

“I still can’t believe we were all crushing on each other for the past few months and didn’t realize it!” lamented Prompto.

“Yes, well I didn’t exactly pick up on what was happening either; it seems we were all in the dark about our feelings. I do wish we’d noticed sooner though, I hate to think of you feeling upset just because you couldn’t categorize the new feelings you were experiencing.” Ignis sighed as he calmly rubbed his thumb across Prompto’s hand.

“And to think, we’d have still been in the dark if princess over there didn’t screw up his meds and turn into a total dickhead.”

“We’d have found out eventually,” Ignis added quickly. “We simply have a dramatic how we got together story now.”

“Dramatic? More like dimwitted,” joked Gladio.

“Hey! I didn’t mean to mess up stuff I just wanted Prompto to be happy and he was sad and I didn’t know it was because he liked you two and was afraid to tell me and like I didn’t know I felt the same way and I’m sorry!” Noct blabbered.

Prompto was starting to enjoy Noct’s loose-lipped nature but he knew other things came with a rut besides odd behavior patterns. “So ah, what are you going to do about your um, you know, needs?”

“Huh?” Noct asked with a blank look.

“What he always does, watch TV, whine at me for food, and go off to his bedroom to handle things, literally,” Ignis chimed in.

“Can’t Prompto come with me this time though?” Noct pleaded.

“Oh, no highness, you’re not bonded yet so that’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly ready for that either yet, sorry buddy.” He and Noct hadn’t really gotten that intimate and Prompto definitely wanted to save it for when he wasn’t in a rut.

Noct started to whine but gave up and pouted instead.

“I can always help you out if you need,” Gladio teased from his spot in the armchair. “Iggy always says I’m the best, you can find out for yourself.”

“Gahhhhh no, not yet, not ready for that! I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Suit yourself.”

Prompto felt Ignis shift beside him and he turned to see the man watching him intently. “I suppose we will have a few new things to figure out now that we are to be together as a pack. Keeping Noct from going insane during a rut wasn’t what I hoped would be our first activity together but we must start somewhere.”

“I still can’t believe this is happening, we’re gonna be a pack!”

“I’m so happy we all feel the same way,” Ignis added.

“Well at least now we’ll all be mindful to not let Noct skip his suppressant medication,” Prompto replied.

“Yeah, he’s a right little asshole when he’s not in control of his alpha side,” Gladio cut in as he stood and came over to ruffle Prompto’s hair. “I’m gonna go make sure princess’ man cave is ready for later. I know what he’ll need. You two can handle him for now?”

Prompto nodded and looked over to Noct who’d remained silent and was leaning heavily into his shoulder. Maybe the day’s events had finally worn him out. “We’re all in this together now Noct, don’t worry we’ll all take care of you.” https://archiveofourown.org/works/32335489

#ffxv #fanfic #a/b/o dynamics

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diavolodigitale · 3 years ago

Text

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Andromeda Galaxy - pt.4 Voeld

And, finally, this is the last existing part of this pathetic piece of writing. It is even more awkward than the previous ones since here you can witness attempts at “plot”. Anyway, there is no continuation to this and never will be unless someone manages to convince me otherwise (I don’t think it’s possible though).

Genres: comedy, romance (vaguely), friendship maybe.

Pairing: m!Ryder/Evfra

Characters: Ryder, Evfra, Jaal, others occasionally

Rating: PG

Warnings: cringe alert!

Size: this atrocity is around 17 PAGES LONG so, yeah, keep that in mind

All chapters: Pt.1 - Pt.2 - Pt.3 - Pt.4 ----- All chapters in PDF

“Pathfinder, you have a new email,” rang out SAM’s lifeless voice on the bridge.

“Thanks, SAM,” replied Ryder even though he didn’t really have to.

He approached the terminal, wondering who the email might be from.

“I bet it’s Peebee,” presumed Kalo when Ryder approached the terminal, “you know how she likes sending emails instead of just coming up to you and communicating directly.”

“I can hear you!” yelled Peebee from the escape pod and loudly dropped something on the floor.

Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I received information according to which colonists from Taerve Uni attacked the Resistance Base. I do not know any details yet. The shuttle of the colonists is now being examined by my specialists.

I advise you not to spread the word on the Nexus. Come to Voeld as soon as possible. I will meet you at the Base.

“Shit,” mumbled Ryder, dismayed by the news. “Kalo, we’re changing the course. The new destination point is Voeld.”

On their way James was sweating profusely. He felt flustered and didn’t know what to expect from the situation. He was afraid that the moment they stepped onto the icy surface of Voeld, the Resistance soldiers would raise their weapons and no negotiations would be held. Ever.

“You okay?” Vetra closed the door to the airlock section where he was sitting and approached him.

“Could be better,” he answered without even raising his head.

“Who else knows?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.

“Jaal, obviously.”

“Yeah, not telling him would be stupid. If things go south, he’s the only one who can help us out.”

“I just hope everything isn’t how we think it is,” said Ryder quietly and sighed. “We cannot allow any mistakes. With angara, there are no second chances.”

“Don’t think about it yet, we’ll draw a conclusion when we see everything with our own eyes.”

“Thank you,” James exhaled loudly as if their conversation helped him to calm down a bit and looked at Vetra. “I mean it,” he said and forced himself to smile a bit.

“Stop it. I’m so used to your dumb jokes that seeing you being sincere seems freaky.”

“I knew my sense of humor isn’t that bad,” said Ryder more gaily and lightly bumped Vetra’s shoulder with his fist. “You should appreciate it while I’m here with you all, ‘cause something tells me Evfra is going to beat the crap outta me. Then I won’t be able to come up with such ingenious jokes anymore.”

“You’re overexaggerating. I think you’ll still be able to talk, hon,” retorted Vetra and returned him the whack.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

They set together until the Tempest landed. Following Evfra’s advice, Ryder decided not to tell anybody on the Nexus or aboard the ship about the reason for their coming to Voeld. He didn’t want to make the crew agitated before confirming or disproving the information he got. This didn’t include Vetra because he knew he could trust her with such matters: she was the pillar of strength in every difficult situation, always able to think clearly in spite of unfavorable circumstances. Jaal was the second one to be let in on this secret since keeping him in the dark when it came to his people was simply mean. He was the member of the Resistance after all.

“Are you going to tell us what’s all the fuss about?” asked Suvi when Ryder was hastily leaving the ship. The tension aboard the Tempest was practically palpable at this point.

“Nope,” he answered without hesitation.

“All the emails are supposedly checked by the Nexus, so if something’s up, we’ll know sooner or later,” stated Kalo, remotely closing the lock after the Pathfinder left.

“Should’ve known that…” hissed Peebee in her escape pod, rummaging in her observer.

“Wait, Kalo, open the lock!” Vetra rushed onto the bridge in full gear. Jaal followed her swiftly.

“Guys, could you have made up your minds sooner?” asked Kalo irritably.

“Hurry up and open the lock or he’ll leave without us!” Vetra was clearly pissed and couldn’t see any reason for Kalo’s incompliance.

“If you exploit mechanical parts of the ship too much, they break faster and—”

“Kalo!”

“There is really no need to be so rude…” Kalo felt like complaining, but still did what he was asked to.

Using her jump-jet, Vetra made it to James in a couple long jumps.

“Hey, Ryder! What about us?” She caught up with him and stopped on his way.

“I think it’s best if you stay on the Tempest. I’ll deal with it on my own, nobody has to get in trouble. I’m the Pathfinder and it’s my responsibility,” he said dejectedly.

Vetra clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

“Ryder, let me come with you,” almost pleaded Jaal in a hoarse voice; he was obviously anxious. “I may be able to change Evfra’s mind. I have known him for a long time now, you won’t handle him alone.”

James had already decided to go into the beast’s lair on his own so now he was just thinking over the plausible excuses to make everybody stay aboard the ship.

Vetra knocked on his helmet with her index finger.

“Hello? Anybody in there?”

Pathfinder loudly coughed and, trying to calm himself down a bit, started his impromptu speech.

“You know, I am really grateful to you all, but there are moments in life when you just have to accept some things and be ready to sacrifice…”

“Boy oh boy, he really thinks this nonsense will work,” said Vetra in a monotonous voice.

It seemed to Ryder that she even rolled her eyes under her helmet.

“Just take Jaal and go. But I want a full report after,” she conceded, “since you’ve decided that I should know about all this. See you later, I guess.”

Ryder and Jaal exchanged quick glances as she returned to the ship.

“Fair enough.” Pathfinder wiped the screen of his helmet with his left hand. The snow was clogging it, making it impossible to see.

The Tempest had landed right near the Resistance Base. Ryder didn’t want to go to the human colony until he saw what really happened and decided what to think of it.

Evfra was waiting for him inside the construction hunched over the reports lying on the table. It was dead cold, as always, but, because James was so uneasy, he felt as if he was on Elaaden with its scorching sun and torrid sands.

“Pathfinder,” sharply said Evfra, still towering over the pile of datapads on the table. That startled Ryder who was at the moment thinking of how to initialize the conversation.

“Evfra… I already forgot how cold it is on Voeld on days like this…” James was nervously rubbing the holster of a pistol attached to his leg. Jaal tried to encourage him with a light pat on the back, letting him know that he was still there.

“I’ve inspected everything. No casualties from our side. A few angara are mildly injured, but nothing serious,” went on Evfra. Surprisingly to Ryder, he did not even sound particularly mad.

“Meaning… you are not going to beat me?” asked the Pathfinder cautiously.

“I was thinking about that,”—Evfra finally turned around and faced Ryder—“but no. Not today, at least.” He nodded to Jaal, recognizing his presence.

“What about those who attempted an attack?” asked Jaal who obviously had more control of himself than Ryder.

“Little is known for sure. They were wearing colonists’ outfits. The shuttle also belonged to the colony. Nobody survived the attack, so we couldn’t interrogate them. At the moment we have a crashed shuttle and five unidentified bodies,” emotionlessly reported Evfra.

Jaal addressed Ryder, who looked like he was awaiting further intelligence still.

“Ryder, we should take a look at the shuttle.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s go,” agreed the Pathfinder almost immediately.

Evfra led Ryder and Jaal to the crash site. A few angaran soldiers were guarding it.

“Quite far from the Base itself,” noticed Jaal.

“Yes, and only one shuttle. It doesn’t look like a well-planned intrusion to me.” Evfra dismissed the soldiers and invited the Pathfinder to examine the site.

With estranged look and blank mind, Ryder began scanning. Even though Evfra didn’t seem mad and the other angara weren’t hostile towards him, the situations worried him. He couldn’t understand why somebody would do something like this. The colony on Voeld symbolized the union of two races and served the needs of both. People who agreed to live there knew what they signed up for when they came to the planet shared with the angara.

“Pathfinder, I cannot identify these people. They are not on the list of Voeld inhabitants,” reported SAM using public channel.

“What about the Nexus?” asked Ryder, confused. “We are the only people who came to Andromeda. There is no way they are not from the Nexus.”

“At the moment I have no access to full census. You can request that the next time you’re on the station,” responded SAM.

Ryder continued to scan, desperate to find at least some useful clues, while Evfra and Jaal were examining the bodies and the equipment of the intruders.

“The clothes as well as some of their supplies indeed come from Taerve Uni. They were listed as missing a week ago,” continued SAM after Ryder scanned the leftovers of a few containers.

“Why didn’t we receive any reports about that?” he asked. It seemed as quite an important piece of information to not share with the leadership of the Nexus.

“Perhaps, the governor of the colony considered it to be too insignificant to inform the Pathfinder,” assumed Jaal.

“What about their weapons?” asked Ryder the AI, agitated.

“The colonists do not use these models. They come from elsewhere.”

Evfra was looking through the possession of one of the attackers when he found an almost undamaged datapad. He shook the snow and ashes off of it and held it out to the Pathfinder.

“Ryder, take a look at this.”

“Is it… kett?” Ryder scanned the datapad just to be sure, although he could already recognize those scribbles. “It’s encrypted. SAM, can you decode it?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. I would need a few minutes to do that.”

Ryder’s worries grew bigger and bigger starting from the minute he read Evfra’s email on his terminal on the Tempest. Worse than human colonists attacking the Resistance Base could be only human colonists affiliated with the kett.

“Hey, human,” Evfra addressed James after watching him struggling with himself for a minute or so, “do not lose hope yet. The attempt was too disorganized. I don’t think your people are planning a conspiracy against angara. Although, if we presumed that you were the one responsible for it, then all the sloppiness would be justified, and we should lock you up.”

Jaal chuckled softly. For somebody whose people have recently been attacked, both Jaal and Evfra seemed a little bit too carefree.

Soon SAM’s voice distracted Ryder from his thoughts and brought back to the real world.

“Pathfinder, I have decrypted the data. This datapad appears to hold the plans regarding the attack. It also includes the navpoints as well as the layouts of the angaran Resistance Base on Voeld as well as for the human colony Taerve Uni.”

The details SAM discovered didn’t quite fit into the picture in general, so Jaal said aloud what, perhaps, most of those who gathered there were concerned about.

“I do not understand why the colonists would need the navpoints for these locations. If they live on Voeld, they should know where the Base is situated since they cooperate tightly with the Resistance.”

Ryder was barely listening. He couldn’t apprehend that somebody on his side would commit such a treachery so he decided to get to know the truth, whatever the cost. He used his omni-tool to get in touch with the Tempest.

“Suvi, contact Priya Blake and ask her about the missing clothes and supplies. I want to know everything. Also check where one can find these weapons. I’m sending the scans.”

“Will do,” calmly answered Suvi without asking any additional questions.

“Let’s get back inside. I’ve heard humans don’t perform very well in the cold,” rather stated than offered Evfra and headed back into the building.

James silently agreed and followed. On their way inside, Jaal approached him, worried about his reaction to the events.

“Evfra is right. You should not lose hope, Ryder. Anything is possible, especially if the kett are involved. And you shouldn’t forget that he also will not abandon attempts to establish beneficial cooperation between our species that easily. Even though he tries to pretend that he will.”

Ryder simply nodded in response.

“Do all humans value our alliance as much as you do, Pathfinder?” asked Evfra inside the hideout, already nestling beside a specially constructed heater. His voice gave in his genuine interest.

“Frankly speaking, I have no idea. I just try to believe they do,” answered Ryder. He had not given it much thought previously.

“So, at the moment everything holds only on your initiative? In that case, I would really like to know about your motivation. Besides survival of the species.”

Ryder took some time to reflect on his own viewpoint. There weren’t any other species in the Andromeda galaxy with which his people could build an alliance, but it seemed to him that something made him feel a special kind of sympathy towards angara.

“You know, while on Aya, I met your chief astronomer, Maariko,” he said, confusing everybody as to how it related to Evfra’s questions. “He asked me to find several missing anagaran satellites. To cut the long story short, we found out that they were scavenged and taken to pieces by exiles from Kadara, and the team he sent to locate those satellites was vanquished. I wasn’t responsible for that, exiles aren’t part of the Nexus anymore, but still… When I told him what happened, he was so… disappointed. He was so enthusiastic about our people working together, but this news made him change so drastically. Seeing him like that made me feel the worst I have ever felt in my life,” he summed up. He sounded tired and upset having to recall this story.

Evfra wistfully hemmed. He took a seat on the chair at his desk and turned to face Ryder and Jaal.

“Is regret your driving force then? Do you do this only because you’re ashamed and want to prove that humans aren’t that bad?”

“I—”

“Evfra,” almost exclaimed Jaal, interrupting James with no remorse. “Ryder must not feel ashamed of what other humans do, the same way we are not ashamed of the deeds of Akksul and his kind. Every individual is responsible only for his own actions.”

“I see you two grew to understand each other quite well…” said Evfra and nodded to himself. “But it doesn’t matter. Your worries are groundless. I am not trying to offend the Pathfinder, Jaal. I just wanted to know what he thinks of the situation we’re in.”

Jaal’s courage and support inspired Ryder to be more confident and not to yield to Evfra’s provocations. No matter the obstacles he had to overcome, his purpose was true and he would stick to it till the end, even if everybody doubted him.

“I think that this newly established bond between our species is beneficial for everybody. It is not perfect, we still have lots of stuff to work on, sure. And this is why I will do my best. If we really are the ones to blame in this incident, I’ll pay the price and earn your forgiveness. That’s what I think,” he said, somehow making it sound as though he prepared this speech long ago.

“I can respect such an answer,” said Evfra approvingly.

Ryder’s omni-tool made a beeping sound letting him know that somebody was on the line.

“It’s Suvi,” stated James to inform everybody else in the room before turning on the public channel.

“Ryder, the supplies from Taerve Uni appear to have been stolen. The security footage shows a group of people entering the warehouse and taking some of the stuff. Presumably at that time one shuttle was stolen as well. Priya Blake says one of the colonists had to be helping the intruders since they weren’t able to find any other clues and all other footage appears to be corrupted.”

“Got it. What about the rifles?”

“They seem to implement some of non-Initiative technologies. Our best bet would be to say that they come from Kadara.”

“Exiles then,” said Jaal quietly to himself.

“Thanks for your help, Suvi,” said Ryder and turned off the communication device, not letting Suvi ask any questions about what was happening.

“I suggest we go to Kadara right away. We shouldn’t waste any time,” said Jaal.

“Yeah, I would also like to get things sorted out as soon as possible,” agreed James.

He tried to take this incident in all its seriousness. Even if it meant running from one planet to another in search of any bits of useful data. Besides, the possibility of exiles being responsible for the offense gave him courage. Believing that the colonists had barely anything to do with the incident was all that kept him going.

“There is no need to do that. I will reach out to my agents in the port immediately and let you know once they discover anything important,” suggested Evfra.

His proposal looked like a real gesture of goodwill. Even though it was a little suspicious of him to make the life of the Pathfinder easier instead of complicating it, Ryder didn’t feel like refusing.

“That would be really convenient. We will stay on the Voeld’s orbit for now then. Are you going to come back to Aya?”

“No, not now. I’ll stay here until we clarify everything. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else. Do you have a minute?” asked Evfra mysteriously. Ryder could not even imagine what else he would want to discuss after the matter with the colonists was settled for the time being.

“I’ll return to the Tempest, you can take your time. Goodbye, Evfra,” said Jaal, retreating before he was asked to. He felt that he shouldn’t stay. Since Evfra wasn’t really mad, his job there was done, so he decided to return to the ship and give them some privacy.

After Jaal disappeared out of their sight, Evfra offered Ryder a seat. The surface of a chair was quite cold to the touch.

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk about Jaal,” began Evfra. “I’m glad he left without me having to ask him to do so.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Not bothering, no. I am wondering how he’s doing on the Tempest.”

Evfra was not the type that would talk much and especially not the type that would uncover that he worried about someone. Seeing him being open about what he cared about made Ryder feel more at ease in his presence.

“Jaal has become a valuable member of our team. He always provides us with helpful insights in situations otherwise obscure to us as newcomers. And he’s a skillful fighter, what more could I ask for,” he replied happily. There really couldn’t be too much praise for Jaal after what he did to help them.

“Good. I want to make sure he doesn’t feel left out. After our experience with kett, it was very risky to let him go with an outsider.”

The moment James met Jaal, he immediately understood that this angara is one of the most adventurous and decisive aliens he had ever seen. Nonetheless, only weeks after did he realize how big of a step had his new teammate made in terms of changing angaran foreign policy. The kett were the only aliens they had met before and that contact certainly didn’t have any positive outcome.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Ryder, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I mean, cultural clashes are unavoidable, but nothing we cannot handle so far. The Tempest crew is as diverse as it can be, so he fits like a puzzle piece.”

“Keep it that way. Or I will be forced to retrieve him. He is still an important agent of the Resistance,” said Evfra in a serious tone, although not threatening. He admired Jaal as one of the best assets in his movement and, understandably, didn’t want to lose him.

“I don’t think you will be able to do that. He seems to enjoy being on the Tempest. And, at this point, I won’t let him go,” said the Pathfinder laughingly.

“Do you like him that much?” asked Evfra. From the tone of his voice or the look on his face it was difficult to determine if it was a serious question or not.

“Well, he is a great interlocutor,” began Ryder, not really knowing what exactly Evfra expected to hear. “Considering the fact that he doesn’t know much about our customs and habits, he holds himself pretty well. Also, the female part of the crew seems to be fond of him. Especially the female part. And Liam. For some reason.”

The expression on Evfra’s face was one of confusion and incomprehension mixed together. Hearing this was definitely not something he anticipated.

“Are you saying that they are attracted to him?” he inquired in an attempt to define what Ryder meant.

“Kind of. Nothing serious, I’m sure, but he knows what to say and not say. Albeit I start doubting that when he opens a discussion about how asari reproduce. That is uncomfortable.” Ryder bit his lip looking blankly at the snowy floor beneath him and thinking of how to continue the conversation. “Anywa-a-ay,” he began in a sing-song voice, seemingly having come up with something else worth noting, “coming back to his positive sides, he smells really nice. You also smell nice, by the way. I mean… not that I’m sniffing,”—he rubbed his neck like he usually did when he was nervous—“probably, it’s because of the lotion. Or something else. Jaal told that angara use lots of different self-care thingies, a-and I probably should stop talking about that already, shouldn’t I..?”

Evfra did his best not to bury his face in his palms because of how uncomfortable he was. There was always this moment during his conversations with Ryder when he just didn’t know how to react. He thought that if all humans were so perplexing and held so little control over their emotions, communicating with them on a daily basis must have been a real pain.

“You say your crewmates are discussing ways of reproduction,”—he tried to skip the embarrassing bits of the conversation and get to what really interested him—“I recon Milky Way settlers don’t know much about angara. We are not used to affairs with other species. Isn’t it too early to talk about such matters?”

“Humans discovered the intergalactic community less than 30 years ago and… well, plus 600 years we spent to get here, but let’s disregard that for now. All I’m saying is it didn’t take us long to fully adapt. Even though previously we too thought we were alone in the world. And, dare I add, our first contact with an alien race developed into a 3-month war. At least you’re not willing to fight us just ‘cause you don’t like us,” said Ryder without giving it much thought. Evfra was quite surprised at how confident the Pathfinder was in his words, almost as if he had previously considered this problem.

“Then that is your standpoint. I see,” replied Evfra and crossed his legs. For James it looked a bit weird considering angaran anatomy, but he tried not to stare. It was already awkward enough.

“Back at the Milky Way there were some species not compatible with human physiology at all,” began Ryder again. “Having all kinds of strange tentacles and rows of sharp teeth. And the batarians… Just imagine something staring at you with four eyes”—James twitched sharply—“I still have chills. So, yeah, angara don’t seem as such a bad option to me.”

“But isn’t survival of your race a priority now? There is no future for you if you don’t create great families and develop a new community,” objected Evfra. However persuasive the Pathfinder was, some of his opinions just did not sound practical to Evfra.

“I look at how angara cherish every member of their huge families and I aspire for us to live that way. But you just cannot force yourself if you strive for something else. Or somebody else,” said James without prevaricating.

Evfra narrowed his eyes and started drumming his fingers on the desk.

“That’s an interesting thought to hear from a person holding a position like yours. I don’t think your superiors would like it.”

“Well, I’m my own person.” Ryder leaned on the back of his chair. It didn’t seem so cold anymore. “And I still don’t get paid for the job so the least they could do is letting me date who I want to.”

“Be careful, Ryder. Now you make it sound as if it never was about the choice of others but rather about your own decision regarding this issue,” warned him Evfra. Despite his serious tone, he had no intention of revealing what Ryder told him to anybody else.

“Even if it is, what’s then?”—James tilted his head to the left a little—“unions between separate individuals of our species would have a great influence on our affiliation in general. If we can feel sympathy towards each other, then we are not so different after all. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something to have something else instead.” He sighed and slightly disappointedly added, “and my genes aren’t special or anything, so the humanity won’t lose much.”

Evfra checked the time on the terminal on his desk. He then stood up, implicating that it was probably time to wrap up the talks.

“It’s already quite late so I won’t hold you here any longer, Pathfinder. Your crew has waited more than enough.”

“Guess you’re right.”

Ryder stood up as well and quickly adjusted weapons hanging on his leg and back.

“I’ll accompany you to the Tempest if you don’t mind,” said Evfra.

“Not at all. Sometimes I get lost in your caves here so it’s always nice to have somebody show me the way around.”

They exited the room and set off into the network of icy caves, filled with equipment and appliances belonging to Resistance as well as a great number of soldiers and researchers occupied with their individual tasks.

“When we first came to Voeld,” said Evfra, observing his people at work, “we didn’t bring much resources. It was difficult to operate here, so we thought using these caverns would be a good start. Later we were able to equip everything with necessary facilities and make life here more comfortable. It indeed goes to show how far the ability to use surroundings to your own benefit can bring you.”

“I think you did a really good job surviving here. Can’t imagine how difficult it had been before we activated the vault,” commented Ryder, sincerely amazed by the job that the Resistance did on Voeld.

“It was extremely cold. We couldn’t make ten steps from the heaters unless we had special equipment. But, perhaps, even worse than that was what the planet looked like. Deserted and dead-white. The kett were there somewhere, we knew it, but through blizzards and snowstorms it was impossible to see anything. Lots of soldiers couldn’t handle such desolation for long.”

Evfra looked thoughtful for a few moments. The topic of colonization of Voeld brought back some memories about how it used to be. One look at his scarred face was enough to understand that it was anything but simple.

“The cold here is still unbearable, but… I don’t think it looks that bad. The beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,” mused Ryder.

“Is that another human saying?” asked Evfra curiously.

“Yes.” They’ve finally reached the exit from the cave. Ryder dreamily stared at the white sky almost melting together with white mountains and slopes. “It means that nothing is really objectively beautiful or hideous, it depends on your perspective. You just need to learn to see good in everything. Even if there isn’t much of it.”

“My dislike for Voeld mostly came from the fact that it was so different from my home. But now it is better. Now that you are here,” said Evfra casually.

Ryder abruptly turned his head, shifting his gaze from the sky to Evfra’s rigid face. He felt that he was blushing under his helmet because of how astonished he was. The words sounded dubious, not like something Evfra would say.

“I mean the human colony,” added Evfra calmly. “We are not alone on this planet anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” nodded Ryder and coughed awkwardly.

Barely noticeable notes of discontent in Ryder’s voice didn’t escape Evfra’s ears. It was strange to hear that, but he tried not to overthink. After all, it was impossible to know what humans had on their mind.

After a moment of puzzlement Ryder went on, “I’m also glad we’re not alone on Voeld. It would be a hell to maintain an outpost on such a secluded planet.”

“Yes, it would.”

They walked the trail to the landing area in silence. Frozen snow was creaking under their feet and dim lights that defined the way flickered through blizzard, hardly noticeable. Guards were on their duty, constantly checking the perimeter for potential intruders. Even though it wasn’t so cold anymore, they tried to keep close to the heaters and stayed mostly in pairs.

Approaching the Tempest, Ryder made the last attempt to heat up the conversation. He hated to leave things the way they were.

“So-o-o, do you want to know a strange fact about humans?” he asked, pretending like it was a perfectly normal thing to ask after not talking for five minutes.

“Why would I want to know that?” Evfra turned around and faced Ryder, baffled by the question.

“Jaal once asked Liam and I thought�� It’s okay if you don’t, really.”

“Go ahead then,” said the angara. At the moment he did not really care much about knowing more about humans, but rather wished to hear what Ryder wanted to tell him so eagerly.

“When humans are on the last stages of freezing, they get naked.”

This time Evfra couldn’t keep himself from closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead for a few seconds, feeling weary and jaded. Communication with humans really did make him think harder than usually. His brain just couldn’t handle such pressure every time he tried to analyze what was really going on in their heads. Particularly it applied to Ryder.

“Well, anyway, I’m looking forward to hearing from you,” said the Pathfinder and got aboard the Tempest. Evfra stood outside for some time, thinking, before returning to the Base.

Surprisingly enough, nobody aboard the Tempest was mad at Ryder for not sharing the reason for their come. Kalo tried to complain about the Pathfinder not trusting his team, but it didn’t take long for him to accept the fact that Ryder just didn’t want them to worry about the whole case. They stayed on the orbit of Voeld in order to be able to get back to the planet as soon as possible in case the situation needed them to.

James talked to Vetra and Jaal, convincing them that Evfra really didn’t say anything offensive and really didn’t threaten him. Hardly did they believe him when Ryder said, that the leader of the Resistance just inquired about the whole air aboard his ship. Realizing he would probably not say much else, they left Ryder alone.

The day went on with nothing noteworthy. Drowning in different reports from colonies and the Nexus, Ryder didn’t pay attention to the passing of time and soon found himself the only one staying awake. He was exhausted because of all the anxiety and jitters he had to experience today, so calling it a day didn’t seem to be a bad option. Although it took him some time to fall asleep because of all his spinning and turning in bed, he slept quite calmly and didn’t see any dreams.

He was woken up by SAM early in the morning.

“Pathfinder, you have new emails at your terminal.”

“Are they from Evfra?” asked Ryder, yawning.

“One of them,” answered SAM without getting into details.

James used to the terminal in his quarters to check the emails.

Some info for the captain

To: Ryder

From: Reyes Vidal

Yesterday I got a task from Evfra (don’t worry, it’s not classified, I wouldn’t write you otherwise). As soon as I heard the details, I immediately knew it had something to do with you, so now you’re reading this.

It happened so, that a friend of mine wanted to take part in a shady venture. I, being a kindly person I am, told him not to. Some of his other friends weren’t as smart as him and didn’t listen to my advice, so they ended up dead in a stolen shuttle near the Resistance Base on Voeld. Do you follow me? I hope so, because it seems like if it hadn’t been for me, more exiles would have attacked the angara pretending to be your people. And we all know where that could lead.

Now I hope you’ll acknowledge my assistance in this matter and pay me back for being this good of a friend and taking care of your image so professionally.

Let me know when you have a free minute to chat.

Reyes

Ryder blinked a few times. His eyes hurt from starring at the terminal screen right after waking up.

“I think I’m now more confused than I was before if that makes sense,” he said rather to himself than to SAM. “Okay, let’s see what the second one has for us.”

Update on Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I have some intel we were looking for. I recon Reyes is now writing an email to you as well. I couldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing that, but you can never be sure of what he is going to tell and what he isn’t, so I’m writing as promised.

People who attacked our Base were indeed exiles from the Kadara port. They managed to get in contact with kett who saw a great opportunity to use them and had promised them power and resources in return for undertaking this offense. My assumption is that they wanted to disrupt the alliance between humans and angara by making it look like your people attacked mine. However, I think their commandos didn’t know about this plan. It looks too irresponsible and lacks elaboration.

Someone in Taerve Uni helped exiles get in and steal what they needed. Reyes mentioned one of them having a relative in the colony, so it’s best if you investigated this further.

Angara do not blame you for what happened. Some of them feel for you and send their support.

In case you need me, I’ll be on Aya. I am flying back today.

I am glad there is no reason for us to be at war.

“Somehow, imagining his face while he writes it makes it sound even better,” mumbled Ryder to himself and closed the email. He was too sleepy to be able to answer it properly right now.

#Mass Effect #Mass Effect Andromeda #Andromeda #Fiction #Fanfiction #Evfra #Ryder #Ryder/Evfra #Ryder x Evfra #Vetra #Jaa #Kalo #Suvi #Peebee #HGTAG

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rhysismydaddy · 5 years ago

Text

My Little Brawler - Feysand Headcannon 2

I’ll just go ahead and preface this by saying it’s long as SHIT. I went a little crazy. But here’s the second headcannon for Feysand. Thank you for the love on the last one! Next one out tomorrow.

Synopsis: Feyre Archeron is a 31 year old researcher who has devoted her entire life to her work. Her dating history is a mess, from an ex-husband to one night stands. A serious relationship? Hell no.

Rhysand Turner is a Virginia-born quarterback living it up in a football-crazy city. He doesn’t date and sticks to dumb blondes who look good on his arm and think how far he can throw a football is better than sex. Marriage? Not in a million years.

________________________________________________________________

Feyre swung the lab door closed, locked it behind her, and headed toward the hospital exit.

“Calling it a night?” Howie, the night-shift security guard asked from behind his desk.

She glanced at her watch and winced. “More like a morning now, but yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He laughed and went back to his crossword puzzle. Nothing interesting happened in the hospital this late at night outside of the ER, so Howie was basically only there for her. Feyre frequently was the last staff member to leave the place, something her coworkers never understood.

She came in early, left late, and worked holidays. To say she was married to her job would be an understatement.

Grabbing her keys and walking out to her car, she had to admit they had a point. She’d given up her entire life for her work, but she had no regrets.

She’d made countless breakthroughs in nuclear medicine and had changed the face of chemotherapy and radiation. It payed off every day when she heard from the oncologists that one of their patients was cancer free.

As she drove to her townhouse--only four minutes from the hospital--she wondered if it was strange she preferred to be alone.

Then she remembered how she’d ended up when she committed herself to a relationship and shook her head. If you can’t trust the man you’re married to, who can you trust? No one.

She didn’t miss being married. At all. She didn’t miss having to come home from a long day at work and muster up the energy to talk about whatever was bothering him.

She did miss sex, though. She never went out, never invited anyone over. It’d been so long since she’d been with a man, she was pretty sure she had cobwebs down there.

Ignoring that thought, Feyre walked through her front door, threw her keys on the kitchen table, and went to bed. She had to be in the hospital in four hours if she wanted to get ahead of her schedule.

_________________________________

Rhysand jogged off the field, grinning at the look on his coach’s face.

“If you’re in love with me, I don’t want to know,” he joked.

Coach Matthews was at least five inches shorter than Rhys, but he reached up and smacked the back of his head anyway. He wasn’t actually mad, though. There were about three people in the world who could get away with talking trash to Adrian Matthews, and Rhys happened to be one of them.

“Shut up, smartass. I’m just excited. If you play like this tomorrow, we’ll wi-”

Rhys cut him off. “Don’t jinx me.”

A raised eyebrow. “After all this time, you’re superstitious?”

“It could be my last game,” he said, ignoring the look on the man’s face. “I don’t need any bad luck.”

He’d never admit it, but losing tomorrow’s game was easily the scariest thing in Rhys’s life.

Talent wise, there was no one better than him. He wasn’t cocky, but he knew it. He had better stats, better knowledge of the game, better everything.

But, according to sports, Rhys was old as dirt.

No matter how good you are, football isn’t a lifetime sport. Even though thirty-eight would be young to almost anyone’s standards, network channels and reporters were all wondering how long he would push on.

The guys he was competing against were all in their twenties, young and fresh and without back pain. And knee pain. And-

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, idiot. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve had the most impressive career as a NFL quarterback in history. So get your head out of your old ass and play the game you know how to play.”

Rhys just laughed. “My old ass? What about you? When did you even sneak out of the retirement home?”

Before Matthews could attempt to kick his ass, a beefy hand smacked into Rhys’s back and Cassian--the other person allowed to talk shit to coach--said, “Oh, I see. You made a few good passes out there and now you’re over here drinking water and gossiping with coach like a couple old ladies. Cute.”

“Both of you, get your asses home and in bed,” the coach ordered, rolling his eyes. “I cannot believe I let myself draft two hard-headed, pain in the ass hillbillies,” he muttered, walking toward the other players.

“He’s just mad because he’s in love with you,” Cassian said, throwing a thick arm around Rhysand’s shoulders, and dragging him to the locker room.

Rhys pushed him off and laughed. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“So about tomorrow-”

“I swear to god if you mention the game one more time, I’ll tell everyone you wear women’s underwear when you play,” Rhys threatened, then ducked to avoid the helmet flying towards his head.

“Shut the fuck up, man! That was one time! And I wouldn’t have done it, but you made me watch Bull Durham and it seemed like a decent idea at the time. And I wasn’t even gonna talk about the game.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. If Cassian wasn’t talking about football, he was droning on about women, booze, or hunting. Sometimes a mixture. Before he could continue, Rhys made a bet it was women on his best friend’s mind this time.

“Anyway, me and Az were thinking we could go somewhere new tomorrow night. Regardless of how the score turns out.”

That caught his attention. The three of them had been friends since high school and had all played together till Azriel blew his knee out two years ago. They all lived in the same apartment complex still and got together almost every weekend. In all their time of friendship, they’d maybe gone to five bars. Once Cassian found a place and racked up enough of a tab, he stayed until they wouldn’t let him through the door anymore.

“Where?”

“There’s bar about twenty minutes from here. Az apparently knows the owner or something.” It made sense. After his injury, Azriel had gone into broadcasting and had made a ton of connections in the PR world.

“I don’t want to go anywhere crow-”

Cass cut him off. “He said it’s a small bar. No crowds.”

The one negative aspect of his life was the never-leaving pack of fans and paparazzi following him around. After the game tomorrow, it’d be hectic. He didn’t want to deal with that if they won, let alone if they lost.

Rhys shrugged. “Fine by me. Either way, I’ll be needing a lot of booze.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic man,” Cassian laughed. “It’s just a game.”

Rolling his eyes, “It’s the Super Bowl, idiot. It’s not just a game.”

“Okay,” his best friend and defensive tight end said lightly. “It’s a big game.”

As he thought about how a loss tomorrow could be the end of his career, Rhys could only nod and agree.

________________________________

Feyre walked through the front doors of the cancer wing and halted. John Weatherly, the Chief of Staff of the hospital--and not to mention a huge pain in her ass--stood at the threshold.

“You look annoyed,” she stated, ready for whatever lecture he was about to give her.

After all the time she’d worked for him, she’d never really gotten past her dislike of her boss. Or his misogynistic rants. Or the fact that he smelled like cigarettes. They worked in the cancer wing of the hospital, for crying out loud. And he had the nerve to smoke a cigarette every chance he got.

“I am,” he said, equally as blunt. “Are you aware you’ve worked at least 120 hours a week for the past two months?”

“Considering I log my own hours, yes.”

“That is a huge waste-”

“Are you aware that I’ve published three research articles during the past two months? Generating publicity, not to mention patients, for the hospital?”

“Considering I’m not an idiot, yes,” John snapped sourly. “But this isn’t about me. The board is implementing a new rule this week. No more work weeks over 100 hours.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he held up a hand in annoyance. “Don’t bother. I already tried to tell them you practically live here. It’s not flexible for anyone.”

Feyre allowed herself to steam for a few moments before muttering, “Fine.” She tried to walk around him to the lab, but he stepped in her path.

“Since you’ve already worked over the limit, you’ll have to go home. Come back Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?!” she practically shouted. “Why not tomorrow? The time cards reset every week.”

“You’ve worked 115 hours this week. They told me to tell you specifically that if you want to continue to receive a paycheck from them, you will come back Tuesday.”

“This is so-”

“Have a nice two days off, Dr. Archeron.”

She couldn’t not work for two days. “What am I supposed to do all day? Just let me go get my paperwork, and I’ll work from home.”

“Feyre, I have specific orders from the hospital’s board to have the security guard escort you out if you try to go in the lab.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could tell him how ridiculous this was, he said, “Go home. Sleep. Watch the game.”

“Game? What game?”

It was his John’s turn to look shocked. “The Super Bowl is tonight. Did you really not know?”

“No, of course not. I don’t care about football.”

Her boss was silent, stuttered a few words, then said, “How do you not like football? You live in Boston! Rhysand Turner is practically a celebrity around here.”

She didn’t know why any medical professional would encourage grown men to smash into each other for sport, but kept that to herself. “Who is Rhysand Turner, exactly?”

“For a genius, you’re such an idiot,” he said bitterly. “He’s the quarterback about to win us the Super Bowl tonight. You should watch the game in your time off. Speaking of, leave. Now.”

“But-”

“Nope. Now.”

The urge to call him a jackass was so strong, she left before it slipped out. How ridiculous was this? She worked her ass off every day researching nuclear chemistry and the effects of chemotherapy in the body. It was important. Her work changed lives.

And they were telling her to go home and twiddle her thumbs. Or watch football.

She drove home angrily, wondering what on earth she would do with 48 hours of uninterrupted free time.

After finishing two loads of laundry, scrubbing her entire bathroom and kitchen, and grocery shopping, Feyre was bored. She tried to sit down and watch TV, but there was nothing on that interested her.

She flipped to the news, thinking she’d distract herself with politics. But no, everyone was talking about the game. Apparently, John was right. No one cared about anything except football today.

An idea popped in her head, and she smiled and picked up the phone.

“Finally!” her best friend shouted happily as she answered on the first ring. “I’ve been waiting for you to call; I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Hi, Mor,” she laughed. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Work is-”

“-crazy, I know,” she finished her sentence. “What’s up?”

Trying not to sound bitter, Feyre said, “Well, I actually have today and tomorrow off, so I was wondering what you were doing tonight.”

A pause.

“You know I own a bar, right?” Mor asked, as if Feyre were dense.

“Yes, of course.”

Another pause, then, “And you know it’s Super Bowl Sunday, right? It’s a busy night for us. Well, as busy as a tiny ass bar in the suburbs can be.”

Feyre laughed. “Oh, no worries, I’ll see you some other-”

“Wait! Why don’t you come?”

“Oh... uh...” How could she get out of this? Fake illness?

A knowing town crept into Mor’s voice as she said, “Don’t even think about telling me you’re sick, bitch. You already said you don’t have anything to do tonight. Or tomorrow. Which means you can get drunk! Ooh, or laid!”

Feyre sighed. “Mor, I don’t want to watch a football game. And I definitely don’t want to get drunk.”

She could tell her friend was smiling as she said, “Just laid, then.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and stayed silent, trying not to think about how true that statement was.

“Fine. Come at like 11. It’ll be pretty empty by then. But you’re definitely drinking.”

She debated arguing, but Mor would likely show up and drag her out herself if she tried. “Fine. One drink.”

____________________________________________

Rhys couldn’t stop smiling as he drove himself and Cassian through the city in his truck.

“You know you’re a millionaire, right, Rhysie?” his best friend asked with a laugh.

He just rolled his eyes, having heard this argument at least 20 times. “Don’t hate on the truck. I’ve had her since senior year.”

“It’s rusting. You’re a millionaire. Buy a new one.”

“Nope.”

Cassian groaned. “Why not?”

“She’s been with me through every win, every loss, everything. You know I lost my-”

“Stop! You already told me, and I almost throw up every time I get in this ass-mobile.”

Rhys laughed and punched his shoulder, then said thoughtfully, “You know, I think it was right where you’re sitting.”

Cassian swore and scooted as close as he could get to the door.

“Don’t worry, you can get out. We’re here.”

As soon as he put the truck in park, Cassian jumped out of the cab and wiped the seat of his jeans off with his hand, making Rhys laugh.

He climbed out of the truck, his body still lined with adrenaline. He’d played his ass off, crushed the opponent, and carried his team to victory.

He supposed he had Cassian to thank, too, considering he’d also played his ass off and kept Rhys from getting pummeled.

Their success was echoing through the city on excited whispers. Both of them had already turned their phones off they were getting so many calls from team managers.

They walked into the wonderfully slow bar, nodded to the few people still around who luckily didn’t ask for pictures, and went to find Azriel.

He was sitting at the bar, chatting to the bartender. Even though the bartender was hands-down one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen, it was the woman near Azriel that gave Rhys pause.

Cassian saw the look on his face, smirked, and nodded toward the empty chair between Az and the girl.

A good end to a good night.

He winked, then slid in the chair, nodded to Az--who rolled his eyes--, and turned to the woman.

She had clear blue-gray eyes, dark blonde hair, and full lips. She was... exotic. Different.

He smiled confidently and said, “Hey. How you doing?”

It was a simple line, but one that worked countless times when paired with a southern accent.

He couldn’t tell if the look on her face was amusement or shock. “Where the hell are you from?”

That reaction was one he was used to, so he grinned and said, “Virginia.”

“What are you doing in Boston, then?”

He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from pulling together. She was in a sports bar, where his face had just been plastered on every TV for four hours, but she didn’t know who he was? “Work,” he said simply.

Rhys could feel his best friends’ eyes on him, but he ignored them. “So, what’s your-”

The girl turned to the bartender, ignoring him completely, and said, “Mor, I’m going to make a call.” She cut her eyes toward the men around her and murmured, “Watch my drink.”

Every single one of their eyebrows shot up. Did they look that much like criminals? Sure, they wore a lot of black, but every one of them were multi-millionaires. Did he come off like a date-raper or something?

The bartender, Mor apparently, rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t take it personally. Even balls to the wall drunk, she’s cautious.”

Rhys could tell there was more to that story but shrugged and asked for a beer.

Mor slid it across the counter and smiled knowingly. “She’s pretty, right?”

He just turned to Azriel and asked, “How have you been, man? Did you report the game?”

“Yeah, they had me follow your stats the whole time. Boring shit,” he replied, laughing.

“I bet you could hardly talk fast enough.”

“Cocky bastard,” Cassian muttered.

Azriel nodded to the bartender and said, “This is Mor, by the way. I’ve known her since I left the NFL. Mor, this--as I’m sure you know--is Rhysand and Cassian, although I call them Dumbass 1 and 2.”

“You’re a funny, funny man,” Rhys muttered.

Mor’s friend came back and slid into her seat. Mor put another drink on the counter. The woman raised an eyebrow. “I said one drink, Morrigan.”

“Morrigan? Jesus, you’re already drunk aren’t you?”

Before she could respond, Az said, “Mor, perhaps you’d like to introduce the guys to your friend?”

She smiled and said, “Guys, this is Feyre Archeron, my very best friend who loves me so much she’ll stay and have another drink.”

“Since you’re buying,” Feyre said sweetly, picking the drink up. “And because I know you’ll make me feel bad about leaving so soon.”

Cassian asked, his accent even thicker than Rhys’s, “Why the bad mood, gorgeous?”

She turned and leveled a look at him. “I’d rather be doing something else.”

Rhys rolled his eyes as his best friend leaned down towards the woman and smiled slowly. “Well, you should’ve told me sooner. I’d be glad to do something else with you, baby.”

Azriel and Rhys both looked at each other and shook their heads. Cassian flirted with everyone. It drove them insane, but it was at least predictable.

The woman unlucky enough to have his current affections set her drink down with a little too much aggression, making Rhys chuckle. “What’s your name?”

“Cassian,” he replied confidently.

“Cassian, believe me when I tell you I have absolutely no interest in having sex with you. Leave me alone and go shook a chicken or something.”

The look on Cassian’s face was priceless, and Rhys bit his lip to keep his laugh in. Like Rhys, he was used to women being very... open to his suggestions.

Before Cass could even retort, the woman looked to her friend and asked, “Who the hell are these guys? Your friends?”

Mor pointed to Azriel and responded, “He is my friend. Those two rednecks,” she jerked her head toward Rhys and Cassian, “I don’t vouch for.”

Rhys put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “We’re Azriel’s friends, which makes us pre-vouched.” He turned to Feyre and smiled. “You single?”

________________________________________

“No,” Feyre said at the exact same time Mor yelled, “Yes!”

The man next to her smiled smugly. “Since you’re single, let me buy you another drink.” She opened her mouth, but he said quickly, “Say yes. It’s just one drink, darling.”

His accent was so ridiculous, it sounded like he should be riding on the back of a horse in cowboy boots and a hat.

“I said I’d have one drink,” she stated to Mor. “I’ve had two. I’m going home.”

“Of course you are.” Her best friend sighed dramatically. “You don’t care about me at all, do you? I haven’t seen you in a month, and you come to my bar and stay for all of ten minutes-”

“Mor-”

“Then try to leave, and I probably won’t see you for another-”

Feyre gave in with a huff. “Oh, my god, fine! I’ll stay. You’re so damn dramatic.”

Her best friend jumped up and down like a toddler, clapping her hands stupidly.

“Now I don’t have an excuse, do I?” She tried not to roll her eyes at how big Rhysand’s smile grin grew.

“Don’t get so excited. I’m just using you for liquor.”

“Fine by me,” he replied smoothly. “I’m trying to get you drunk.”

Despite herself, she laughed. She wasn’t used to such honesty. She definitely wasn’t going home with the guy, but she couldn’t deny how insanely attractive he was to her. The kind of attractive that drove women crazy.

He was so tall, he towered over her even sitting down. He had dark hair, tan skin, and the most unique shade of eye color. They seemed almost purple and practically glowed as they raked over her.

She turned to Mor and gestured for another drink. “You associate yourself with the strangest people.”

Mor just shrugged.

“So, what do all do for work?” she asked the men around her, trying to make conversation.

Rhys quickly said, “We’re- uh- in sports.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn’t give her a chance to ask any more questions. “What about you?”

She saw Mor roll her eyes, but she kept it simple as she said, “I’m a scientist.”

“That explains it,” Cassian said with a laugh.

This man had a special talent for pushing peoples’ buttons, it seemed.

She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that you ‘being in sports’ means you’re a football player, since everyone in this city is so obsessed with the sport. And you know what? Between the constant head trauma and the accent...” She looked him up and down with narrowed eyes, then said sweetly, “It explains a lot.”

Rhysand launched into a coughing fit. She saw Azriel glance towards Mor, but her best friend just shrugged and said, “Not a big football fan.”

“We can tell,” Cassian muttered.

“What kind of scientist are you?” Rhys asked, ignoring his friend.

Mor sighed, but Feyre said, “It’s complicated, but I’m basically a nuclear chemistry-”

“It is boring as hell, I assure you all,” Mor cut in.

Feyre rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.

Mor got a strange look on her face, bent down, and grabbed a bottle of tequila. “Who wants a shot?”

All three men at the bar raised their hand. Feyre just rolled her eyes. Looks like it was going to be a long night.

_____________________________________

As Feyre got up to use the bathroom, ignoring all of their taunts about having a small bladder, the bartender looked at Rhys and waggled her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Oh, we’re going to act like you weren’t just eyeing my best-friend’s ass?” She laughed, then said, “Feyre.”

“What about Feyre?” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

He liked her, sure. Over the past couple hours, she’d loosened up around him. She was... funny. And smart. And sarcastic.

And yeah, she was beautiful as all hell. He’d love to take her home, but... he wasn’t a relationship guy. Football took all of his time, and he traveled practically every weekend. The women he slept with were all young and didn’t care about anything other than his latest game.

Feyre was different.

“You like her, don’t you?” The bartender was nosy, that was for sure.

“She’s... serious.”

Mor raised her eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to continue, so he said, “I don’t date. And Feyre is... serious. She probably wants a relationship and marriage and all sorts of shit-”

“You know,” Mor interrupted, “I thought people were crazy for saying a southern accent makes people stupid. But you have got to be one of the biggest idiots I’ve ever met if you think that girl wants a relationship.”

“What?”

“She works over fifteen hours a day. Spends all her time in a hospital with nerds looking in a microscope. She wants nothing to do with a relationship, let alone marriage. Trust me.”

“Oh.”

The woman rolled her eyes and nodded to where Feyre was walking back to them.

Before she made it to the bar, he turned to Cassian and said quietly, “Get a ride back with Az.”

“Gladly. I hate that truck.”

He glanced toward Feyre and muttered, “Now, idiot.”

Cassian, brilliant actor he was, yawned obnoxiously and said, “Well. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He winked at Feyre. “It was nice meeting you, honey. Call me if you ever need some southern hospitality.”

She shook her head but a smile ghosted on her lips.

“I’ll refrain from the innuendo, but it was nice meeting you, too,” Azriel said to Feyre.

Mor followed the two of them toward the exit to say goodbye.

“You’ve had too much to drink to drive home,” Rhys stated as soon as they were alone. Feyre laughed, clearly onto his game.

He rose and extended a hand. “Come on. I’ll drive you back. I only had one drink.”

“Is this your version of southern hospitality?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

She seemed to consider this, then murmured, “It’s very different from Cassian’s.”

Rhys smiled. “I’d be happy to show you that version. Let me drive you home.”

“I live close to here,” she laughed. “I’m walking.”

He tried not to be too disappointed. The odds of her taking him home were slim anyway-

She slid off the stool and put a hand on his arm. “But Boston can be a dangerous city. Come with?”

_____________________________________________________

Rhysand got up from his seat and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Lead the way, darling.”

“You really have to stop calling me that. You sound ridiculous.”

She didn’t really mean it, though. His accent was... different. Sexy. He was sexy. Something he was most definitely aware of, but Feyre currently didn’t care.

Cobwebs.

He was funny and seemed nice enough and...

She ignored Mor’s knowing smile as they left, telling her she’d call her later.

“I have a feeling you’ll be busy,” she said knowingly.

She ignored that, too.

As they started the short walk toward Feyre’s townhouse, his arm still slung across her shoulders, she asked, “So, did you win tonight?”

She could feel his chest rumble as he laughed. “Yeah, we won.”

“And you played the...”

“Steelers.”

“Right. Congratulations, then.”

He seemed to think her lack of football-knowledge was amusing. “Why the hell do you live in Boston?” he asked with a smile.

She froze.

“What do you mean?” she said, trying to be casual.

She led them around a corner that led to her block.

“You hate football. You don’t like crowds. You could probably work anywhere. Why not live somewhere else?”

They walked up to her house, and she answered simply, “I moved here to do my PhD at Harvard, and they offered me a job. Made sense.”

“And do you like it here?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She smiled, unlocked her door, and replied, “Ask me in an hour.”

He mirrored her grin, then pushed her by the shoulders through the door. “Give me two, and it’ll be your favorite place in the world.”

Feyre laughed, locked the door, then turned to him. Leaning against the door, she looked him up and down and muttered, “Clocks ticking, Rhysand.”

________________________________________________________

As Rhys opened his eyes, he was wonderfully aware of the weight atop him.

The naked weight.

Blowing Feyre’s hair out of his face, he smiled as she murmured something in her sleep. She was probably tired.

They hadn’t gotten much sleep.

Given how cautious she was when they’d first met, he’d half expected her to kick him out pretty early. Needless to say, he’d been pleasantly surprised.

When the feeling of her on top of him grew to be too tempting, he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured her name.

She shook her head, making him grin.

His fingers drifted over her back and he loved the way she felt in his arms. After a minute, she turned her head, chin resting on his chest, and looked up at him.

“Good morning,” she said simply.

He just pulled her up to him, pressing his lips to hers. She smiled against him, legs coming up to straddle his waist.

Rhys took in their position and smiled, leaning up to kiss his way up her neck. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Cowgirl’s your favorite position isn’t it? And you say I’m country.”

He snickered, proud of his joke, then practically choked on the sound as she slid herself onto him. “Shit, Feyre.”

"No more jokes, Rhysand?” she murmured, rocking her hips slowly.

“Just Rhys,” he panted. He leaned forward to take one of her breasts into his mouth, and she gasped, the sound music to his ears.

“Rhys,” she moaned, fingers digging into his back.

“Yes, Feyre?” He gripped her hips to keep her still as he asked, “Do you need something?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he tried not to grin.

“I said ‘Good morning.’ Don’t make me liar.”

This woman would be the death of him. He laughed and released her hips, reveling in how she responded to every movement, every touch.

She picked up the pace, and Rhys just sat there with his teeth gritted and tried not to ruin the moment for both of them.

He could tell when she was close, her legs tightening around him, voice shaking as she called out his name. He pulled her hair, kissing up her exposed neck and across her jaw to her ear.

“Come for me, Feyre darling,” he whispered, pulling on the shell with his teeth.

She moaned, falling apart in his arms, and Rhys had to use sheer will to wait until she was done to finish.

This woman... was the definition of seduction. Even after a whole night together, he couldn’t get enough.

As they came down together, he looked at her and smirked. “Good morning.”

She smiled and kissed him, biting his lips gently. Even though he’d just had her, his body was ready for more.

He was about to flip them over when she ruined the moment and said, “You have to leave.”

She climbed off him, and he watched with amusement as she sprung from the bed, ripped the sheet off of him, and started pacing around the room.

She found his pants at him and threw them at him. “I’m serious, Rhys. I have to... do stuff.”

He ignored the clothes on his chest. They were both completely naked, and if he had anything to say about it, they’d stay that way for a while. “Like what? You told Mor you have the day off.”

“I do, but-”

“Then come here.”

She crossed her arms. “Rhysand.”

He sat up and extended a hand. “Just shut up and come here. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

_________________________________________________________

Oh, I’m sure you will, Feyre thought as she rolled her eyes and took his hand.

Then gasped as he used the other hand to rip the sheet off her and throw her on her bed.

She barely had time to process before he was on top of her, pressing kisses across her chest, down her stomach. Further.

Sweet Jesus, she thought. The man hadn’t let her sleep more than two hours last night. Not that she was complaining. The cobwebs were completely gone, that was for sure.

A moan escaped her lips as his teeth scraped her thigh, and he chuckled. She was about to flick his shoulder, but then his lips slid higher, and every thought emptied our of her head.

She couldn’t keep herself still as he kissed her, so he held her hips with both hands.

Hers found themselves in his hair and she pulled as he ran his tongue up her center.

“Rhys, baby,” she panted. She didn’t care how she sounded. Didn’t care about anything but the sight of his head buried between her legs.

She didn’t know if it was because she was out of practice or because he was some sort of sex god, but she was already close. Again.

By the time she came, her entire body was limp with pleasure and she was close to seeing stars.

When she opened her eyes, he was above her, smirking like a cat.

He leaned down to kiss her, but she flicked his nose in annoyance.

“If you try and fuck me again before I get some food, I’ll strangle you.”

Ignoring the warning, he buried his head in her neck and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Feyre darling.”

She laughed against her better judgement, but pushed his shoulders until he let her up. If she didn’t eat something, she might pass out when they went again.

She grabbed his t-shirt from last night and threw it on as she walked to her kitchen. It came down to practically her knees, making her look ridiculous, but she didn’t care. It was soft and big and smelled like him.

“Pancakes?” she asked, turning around to catch him looking at her in amusement. At what she was wearing.

She raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something.

“Pancakes would be great.”

Feyre ignored the look in his eyes and started cooking. And kept ignoring it as he watched.

Every time she looked at him, he looked like he was five seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her back to bed.

The idea of messing with him a little more was too tempting to ignore.

“Close your eyes,” she ordered secretively, reaching into her fridge.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but gave in when she raised her eyebrows.

She used a finger to tip his head backward, then whispered, “Open your mouth.”

His lips curved into a smile, then opened. She took the can of Ready Whip and sprayed some whip cream in his mouth, laughing as his purple eyes shot open, full of amusement.

“Cute,” he muttered, swallowing the whip cream.

She leaned in and licked some of the remainder off his bottom lip. He froze, then reached for her. Before he could get those arms around her, she walked to the stove and took the pancakes off.

Sliding an unhealthy amount toward him, she said, “Eat your breakfast, dear.”

Rhys gave her an annoyingly perfect smile and devoured the food. She looked at him as he ate, wondering how he looked like a Greek god when he ate like... that.

He looked up as he finished and laughed at the look on her face. “Baby, don’t invite a football player over if you don’t expect him to eat all your food.”

She took their plates and stuck them in the sink. When she turned around, he immediately strode over and grabbed her face, pulling her lips to his.

He kissed her thoroughly, then pulled back far enough to say, “Meet me in your bedroom.” Another kiss. “And Feyre? Bring that whip cream.”

__________________________________________________________

By the time Rhysand left, Feyre could hardly stand up. She had no idea how she was going to make it through her shift tomorrow, given that she was so exhausted she could sleep probably for a day straight.

That’s when she realized that for the first time in her career, she didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to call Rhysand and tell him to come back.

That’s not an option.

A relationship was out of the question. It’d be cruel to him to invite him back, knowing it would never go anywhere. For all she knew, he was trying to settle down. With a nice girl who’d give up her life to have his babies and be a football wife.

Hell no.

As she got out of the shower, giggling at how shaky her legs were, she told herself to forget him.

But when the phone rang, she was surprisingly disappointed when she looked at the caller id and saw it wasn’t him.

As soon as she picked up, Mor practically yelled, “How was it?!”

“How was what, Mor?”

“The sex last night, idiot. Was it good? I bet it was good. You don’t look like that and not have a seriously huge-”

“Mor! Calm down.”

She could tell her best friend was enjoying this way too much. “I’ll calm down when you tell me. Everything.”

Feyre laughed, then gave in and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“How long did he stay? Oh, you made him walk back to his truck in the middle of the night, didn’t you? Mean woman.”

When she didn’t respond, Mor pushed, “Unless you didn’t. When did he leave, Feyre? Hm?”

“An hour ago,” she admitted.

The howl that Mor let out was practically inhuman. “Oh my god! You nasty bitch! Or, wait. Is he the nasty bitch?”

Feyre laughed. “You have no idea.”

“I cannot believe you let him stay all day. He must be good. He’s good isn’t he?”

She didn’t have to think back to remember the answer to that question. “You have no idea,” she repeated.

Mor laughed. “I’m so happy for you. Are you seeing him again?”

“No, probably not.”

She stopped laughing. “And why the hell not?”

“I don’t date. It wouldn’t be fair to him to keep sleeping with him and lead him on-”

“You’re both idiots.”

That stopped her. “What?”

Mor sighed on the other end of the call. “He doesn’t date. At all. He’s seen with 20 year old blondes who probably don’t know their head from their ass. You don’t have to worry about him trying to tie you down.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly.

Of course he wasn’t the dating type. He was a professional athlete. Women probably threw themselves at him.

“For someone so smart, you really are an idiot.”

“You have a point. Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” It was only eight PM, but she could hardly keep her eyes open.

“Worn out, aren’t you?” Mor asked in a knowing voice.

“Good night, Morrigan.”

____________________________________________________________

Rhys wasn’t surprised to see Azriel and Cassian in his apartment when he got back the next day.

“You dirty dog,” Cassian said smugly, throwing a pillow at his head.

Rhys smiled and told him to shut his fat mouth. “What are you idiots doing here? Get evicted?”

“Waiting on your ass,” Azriel said. “We’re going out.”

“Not everyone got laid last night,” Cassian said sourly. “Ruined a good win.”

Az and Rhys both ignored him. “Wanna come?”

“I’m gonna crash, actually. I have an early meeting tomorrow with coach.” It was an excuse; he’d barely made it home without falling asleep at the wheel.

“Mmhm, an early meeting with coach,” Cassian said knowingly. “More like a late night with a pretty blonde.”

Rhysand just winked and said, “We made sure to avoid your seat in the truck.”

“Disgusting,” his best friend said bitterly as the pair walked toward the door. “I hate that truck.”

As soon as the door swung close behind them, Rhys showered and passed out.

_______________________________________________________

Three days later, Rhys was watching highlights from the game when his phone rang. He smiled as he saw the caller ID.

“Unless the hospital is calling to tell me I’m dying,” he said as he picked up, “I’m going to assume this is Miss Feyre Archeron.”

“Wow, an athlete with a brain,” the sarcasm flowed through the line clearly.

“I’m a package deal, baby. So, what’s up?” If this was a booty call, he’d make her say it. He’d definitely give in, but he’d make her ask first.

“I don’t date,” she blurted suddenly.

He paused, then said, “Me either.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he just mimicked, “Okay.”

“Then come over.”

Rhysand smiled, looking at his watch. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

_____________________________________________________

Two months later, they’d spent practically every night together. Either he’d stay at her house and get kicked out at the ass crack of dawn when she left for work, or she’d stay with him and he’d wake up alone.

On the rare days her boss forbade her from working, they’d spend all day together, running errands, cooking, fooling around. Hell, she’d even come to one of his football practices. “Out of pure boredom,” she’d claimed.

He’d never tell her, but seeing her had become the best part of his day.

Sure, he’d resigned his contract for the next year to keep his dream job, but even that paled in comparison to her coming over. He’d started to depend on her. He’d started to care about her.

Only Cassian--who gave him shit about it daily--knew. And had been told to keep his mouth shut about it.

Because he knew that as soon as he told Feyre, she’d bolt. He just had no idea why.

Sure, he’d said he didn’t date. He was thirty-eight and had a terrible relationship track record, having only had a handful of serious ones. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try, right?

He’d never felt like this before... never been so desperate to spend time with someone. And it wasn’t just the sex like he’d thought for the first few weeks.

Because even when they weren’t having sex, he wanted to be around her. Wanted to hear her laugh, the one she let out when he surprised her or she made fun of his accent. Wanted to see her smile. Wanted to see her asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt.

He wanted her.

Ridiculous.

The first woman to openly not want a relationship with him, he can’t get out of his mind.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed her staring up at him. “What?” he asked, worried everything he’d been thinking was written on his face.

“Nothing,” she said for the fifth time, stifling a giggle.

He rolled his eyes. “Just say it.”

“I cannot believe Dirty Dancing is your favorite movie!” She exploded, gesturing to the screen as if he were blind. “You’re a football player.”

“Which means I can’t have a good taste in movies?”

She shrugged. “It’s just not what I was expecting when you suggested we watch a movie. I figured you just wanted to come out here and have sex again.”

He grinned. “I did that for your sake. I figured if we stayed in bed any longer, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

With her head on a pillow in his lap, she looked completely adorable as she looked up and stuck her tongue out at him. “How considerate.”

“Southern hospitality knows no limits.”

As they watched the movie, Rhys couldn’t help but sneak glances at her. She was... distracting. The ocean eyes, full mouth, and delicate features were pretty much a constant distraction for him.

When the final scene started playing out, Rhys grinned like an idiot and said, “Dance with me, Feyre Archeron.”

“What?”

“Come on. I wanna show you something.” He took her hand, hauled her off the couch, and took her to the biggest open space in his apartment.

He put his hands on her shoulders and told her to stay put, then walked to the other side of the room.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said immediately, realizing what he had planned. “Absolutely not.”

Rhysand laughed and said, “Run and jump.”

“Hell no! You’ll drop me.” She crossed her arms and stayed put.

He rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t drop you. You’re about a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

“No.”

“Chicken.”

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously. “You seriously think that’s going to work on me?”

“Yep.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, barely giving him any time to prepare as she ran toward him, yelped, and jumped.

His hands wrapped around her waist as he lifted her up above his shoulders. She hollered like a wounded cat, but she stayed in the air and lifted her legs as he spun her around slowly.

She giggled as he held her up, and the sound was so adorable that as he let her down, he slowly dipped her. Her hair brushed the floor as he held her, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

He could tell she was surprised when she froze, but then she melted into him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and opened her mouth for him. It was like it was the first time they’d kissed, and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her like his life depended on it, and she responded to every movement. She sighed into his mouth and he drank the sound in.

When he finally brought her back up and pulled away, she had tears in her eyes.

“What?” he asked, concerned.

Feyre’s brow was creased as she brought a hand to her mouth. “I have to go,” she whispered.

“Feyre.”

She paced around his apartment, picking up her clothes and throwing them on as she went. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You always have an early morning. What’s wrong?”

She pulled her boots on, zipped her jacket, and smiled tightly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll... see you later.”

He didn’t have time to say anything before she sped out the door.

Shit.

______________________________________________________

“He kissed me,” she said as soon as Mor answered the phone.

A pause. “He hasn’t kissed you before?”

Feyre sped down the road to her house, explaining, “Of course he’s kissed me. But this was different. He dipped me, Mor. Like actual dipping. And he kissed me. Not to get in my pants, but just because. Like he couldn’t stop himself.”

“Oh. You think he has feelings for you?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” This was the last thing she needed. The past month had been good. So good.

But it had to end. She didn’t want a relationship... even if the idea of never seeing him again hurt so much she couldn’t breathe.

He’d become someone to her in the two months they’d spent together. And even though it’d hurt like hell, she had to cut it off. Before it got worse.

“Feyre-”

“Don’t ‘Feyre’ me. I’m fine.”

Her best friend didn’t let up. “No, you’re not. Ever since Tamlin, ever since that night, you haven’t been fine.”

“Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Mor-”

“He hurt you, and now you don’t trust men. You got freaked out tonight because this thing with Rhysand could be real, and you’re scared. You’re scared if you let yourself love him, he’ll hurt you.”

Feyre suddenly yelled, “Wouldn’t you be?”

The line went silent, so she continued, “Yeah, I’m fucked up because of my marriage. It’s pretty easy to figure out. But wouldn’t you be? I was with Tamlin for eight years! Did you know that after hearing your worthless and pathetic and that you deserve what happens to you for so long, you start to believe it? So unless you’ve dealt with that for eight years and been trapped in a marriage to someone like that for eight years, don’t you dare bring it up to me. I have to go.”

She didn’t give Mor a chance to respond as she hung up.

She pulled into her driveway, took a deep breath and told herself the tears flowing down her cheeks were from her fight with Mor.

_______________________________________________________

“We’re closed,” Mor yelled as Rhys walked in the bar, then looked up and froze. “Oh.”

“Tell me, Mor. Tell me what happened to her.” He knew there was a reason she’d been freaked out after he kissed her. He just didn’t know what it was.

“To who?”

He came and sat in one of the bar stools, leveling a look at her. “To Feyre. Why did me kissing her send her running for the hills? I know she told you. She hasn’t answered my calls in six days.”

She shrugged, trying to make herself look casual. “Maybe she’s just not into you.”

“She’s into me.”

Mor snapped, “Maybe she’s not.”

His eyes softened, and she knew he saw it for the lie it was. “What happened to her?”

He could tell she was struggling with not telling him. She might not. But he wanted to fight for her. Wanted to make her happy. He just had to know how.

She took a deep breath and said, “Feyre and I used to live in New York, you know. That’s where we’re from. And Feyre was married.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“They got married young, and he... changed. He... just.. he was so angry. All the time.” She took a shaky breath.

“At first, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t see that anything was wrong. But one night, about five years into their marriage, I went to their apartment for dinner, and I saw that she had makeup on her cheek. Not a lot, but... like she was covering something up.” A tear that rolled down her cheek.

“And he saw. That bastard saw me notice it.” She wiped her cheeks, trying to compose herself. “And I didn’t see her for three years. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere besides work. And he hardly let that happen.”

Rhys closed his eyes sadly, but she continued. “I didn’t see my best friend for three years. Until she showed up in the emergency room.”

His eyes snapped open.

“I’m her emergency contact. I don’t know why she never changed it when she got married, but she didn’t. So I got the call, and drove to the hospital, and she was-”

She swallowed a sob. “She was in a coma for two days.”

Mor cleared her throat. “When she woke up, I don’t know how to describe it. She was... different. I helped her divorce him and get a restraining order, but it wasn’t easy. He controlled all her shit. Bank accounts, everything. She was never the same. We left, packed up, and moved to Boston together. She didn’t want him to know where she lived. I think... sometime I think she’s still scared he’ll track her down.”

“It took her three years to even go on a date. Another to have sex. She says she’s fine, but ever since that night, she won’t let herself actually let anyone in her life. She’s always been a workaholic, but after what happened... I don’t know. It’s like moving on, having a life, makes her remember her life before.”

Mor sobbed, “And I don’t know how to help her. Because he’s a cop, you know. That’s why it was so hard for her to leave him. We had to go to the freaking governor to get the restraining order.”

A sob wracked her body, so Rhys leaned across the bar and pulled her into a hug. It made sense. Why him showing any sort of feelings freaked her out. Why she’d been cautious around him, Cassian, and Az when they’d first met. Why she didn’t want a relationship with him.

But it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight for her. That he couldn’t tell her that he’d never hurt her.

“Mor,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Well, now you do.”

“I want to be with her.”

She nodded, and smiled sadly. “I know.”

“And she wants to be with me, too.”

Mor nodded again. “Go get your girl, Rhysand. But, just be careful. And I swear to God, if you’re anything like him-”

“I’m not,” he interjected.

“-I’ll shoot you. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“I’m never going to hurt her. You can count on that. Do you think she’s still at the hospital? If she’s not going to answer the phone, I’m gonna track her ass down.”

________________________________________________________

Feyre scribbled down her note, then peered back into the microscope. She knew it was late, but it’s not like she had anywhere to be. The thought sent a pang through her chest, but she ignored it.

She was so distracted thinking about how big of a mess she was that she didn’t hear him come in the lab.

“Feyre,” a familiar male voice said from behind her.

She spun around and opened her mouth to scream, but he was faster. She cried out as his fist connected with her ribs, but he stifled the noise when he slapped a hand over her mouth and shoved her against the door.

She tried to swing a fist toward him, but he pinned her arms against the door.

“It’s been a long time,” Tamlin said, smiling. “It took me a long time to track you down. You know how I found you? Paparazzi posted a picture of you leaving some football player’s apartment at three in the morning. Little whore.”

She whimpered as he squeezed her jaw.

“So I came to see you. At first, I wanted to punish you. You were my wife. Mine. And then you go and divorce me. For no reason. I wanted to know why.”

Howie, she thought desperately. If she could signal Howie, he’d come and save her.

She ignored what he was saying, blocked it out, and bit his hand as hard as she could.

Tamlin jumped back with a surprised yelp and she barely had a chance to scream before his fist connected with her eye. She fell to the ground and he kicked her in the side, making her curl into a ball.

“You bitch! Why are you screaming? If you’re trying to get that fat security guard, he can’t hear you.”

No one’s coming. A tear ran down her cheek onto the floor.

“Now, as I was saying,” he continued as if nothing had happened. “At first, I wanted to punish you. I had it all planned out.”

He knelt on the floor, brushing the hair off her cheek.

“But then I realized something. I realized you ruined my life. You told everyone I worked with, hell you told the governor, that I abused you. You got me kicked off the force.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?”

Please leave please leave me alone-

“I want you to suffer for what you did-”

“I do-”

Her cheek stung as a palm connected with it, making her cry out.

“Do not interrupt me again.” His voice was so cold, so calculating. “I want you to suffer. I want you to lose everything, like I did. But the only thing you ever cared about is work. And I couldn’t get you fired. No, you’re too good at your job.”

She shook with fear as he smiled down at her.

“But then I thought, if the job won’t lose you, you can lose the job.”

He ran a thumb over her lip, and she was paralyzed with fear when she realized the bitter taste in her mouth was gas.

“What did you do?” she asked softly.

His fist closed around her throat. She clawed at his hand, kicked at him, tried everything, but she was stuck. It had never mattered how hard she fought.

When her vision started to fade, he let go.

“Don’t question me,” he snapped as Feyre hauled oxygen into her burning lungs.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a lighter, grinning down at her.

Feyre’s stomach bottomed out.

She had to think, had to do something. Or else she was going to die in here.

“You were so consumed by your work, you didn’t even smell the gas I lined this fucking room with. Always so distracted by your work.”

He laughed softly, “And now you’ll burn with it.”

He flicked the lighter open, and time seemed to stand still. Feyre didn’t let herself hesitate as she reached onto the counter, grabbed the beaker she knew was sitting there, and broke it over Tamlin’s head.

He swore and closed the lighter, then swung at her. She rolled away from him, placing a kick in between his legs that had him gasping for air.

She got up and sprinted for the door. Her fingers were closing around the handle when he caught up to her, grabbing her head and slamming her face into the metal door frame.

Feyre sank to the floor, and Tamlin knelt in front of her. She tasted blood, felt it running down her face, and knew from experience her nose was broken.

As he punched her in the stomach, she could tell she’d have a ruptured spleen.

He was still dripping wet from the beaker, but he leaned close and laughed.

He opened the lighter close to her face, the heat warming her skin.

“You always were a fighter.”

This is it. If she didn’t fight now, it was over. He’d drop that lighter, and they’d both go up in flames. Together at last.

Gritting her teeth, she told herself she wasn’t going to die here tonight. She was going to live.

She was going to kill her ex-husband.

Bringing her knees close, she rallied her strength and kicked his chest as hard as she could. As he fell backward, she jumped to her feet.

Before he could react, she grabbed the lighter out of his hand, threw it on his chest, and rushed out the door.

What Tamlin hadn’t realized when he’d lined the room with gas was that there were more chemicals in there than anywhere else in the hospital. He didn’t even have to use gasoline. But now that he had, one open flame, and the whole place was going to blow.

She ignored the growing flames on the other side of the glass as she engaged the door’s security lock. Ignored Tamlin’s screams as the petrol from the beaker reacted with the oxygen in the air and the present flame, erupting in flames twenty times hotter than usual.

She ignored everything happening around her except Rhysand.

Rhysand, who was running toward her, a confused and terrified look on his face.

She had no idea what he was doing here, but she sprinted full force at him, also ignoring the fact that he was a professional football player. She wrapped her arms around him and tackled him to the ground as the room behind her erupted.

Glass and debris and pieces of paper still on fire rained down on them as she looked down at him.

She laid on top of him, shielding him as best she could, and grabbed his face. Please be alive, please be alive.

His eyes shot open, arms coming around her to brush debris off her back.

“Feyre, are you all right? What the hell happened?” His voice was fuzzy, like she was underwater.

She probably had a concussion from where Tamlin had slammed her against the door.

Tamlin.

Tamlin was dead. She’d killed Tamlin.

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”

Rhys was shaking her, telling her to stay awake. Alarms were going off, the sprinkler system sensing the fire and raining a flood down on them.

He was screaming her name.

She just looked at him and smiled softly. “I love you, by the way,” she whispered. Like it was the easiest thing she’d ever said. Like she’d been waiting to say it.

“I love you,” she whispered again.

Then passed out.

_______________________________________________________

There was something warm and heavy on her lap. And it had hair.

She opened her eyes and looked down at Rhys, peacefully sleeping with his head resting on her legs.

Gently, she ran a hand through his hair.

She was in a hospital bed, that much was obvious. There were probably police men outside waiting for a statement from her about why her much-beloved lab had been blown to pieces under her watch.

She knew from experience that as soon as she officially woke up, she’d be surrounded be nurses and police officers and doctors asking how she felt and...

She ran a finger down Rhys’s cheek.

She knew he was awake when his mouth twisted into a smile and he murmured, “Do that again.”

She did.

His eyes opened to meet hers, full of worry and passion and anger.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.” He picked his head up and put a hand on her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. This gown suits you.”

She knew he said it to distract her, and smile tugged at her lips, even as tears sprung to her eyes.

She was in the hospital. Again. Because of her ex-husband. And Rhys was here. He’d probably never look at her the same after this. Would probably pity her now.

He leaned in, and she thought he was about to kiss her, but his mouth landed on her cheek instead. As he licked her tear off her face.

“That’s disgusting,” she murmured, not pushing him away as he moved to the other cheek.

He pulled back and grinned.

“Mor told me about your ex-husband,” he said softly.

Before she could reply, he surprised her by murmuring, “And I honestly don’t know why you say you don’t have any country in you.”

Had he hit his head when she’d tackled him?

“What?”

“Considering you barbecued his ass,” he finished with a laugh.

Despite how awful and wrong that was, a giggle escaped her. And another. And another, until she was laughing along with him.

“That’s so fucked up,” she said, still smiling.

“Yeah, it is, but it’s all I’ve been able to think for the past four hours.”

Then his smile faded and his eyes grew serious. He put both hands on her face and pulled her close to him. “Feyre.”

“Rhysand.”

“It’s over now. He’s never going to hurt you again. No ones ever going to hurt you again. I’m so proud of you.” He said it all in the softest tone possible, and it made her chest hurt with how much she needed those words.

“I killed him,” she whispered, the reality of it crashing into her.

He shook his head. “You defended yourself. He was going to kill you. You fought like hell, and you won.”

Feyre nodded, pulling him closer until his weight was on top of her and his arms were around her.

“You kicked his ass,” he murmured through her hair. “My little brawler.”

She smiled, running her hands over his back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.

She pulled back far enough to say, “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster and I didn’t protect you-”

“Rhysand.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head and flicked his nose. “Shut up.”

“Okay.”

He hugged her again. “You should know,” he said a moment later, pulling back to give her a smile, “that Mor is outside with Azriel and Cassian.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah. I think they had to give Mor a sedative to calm her down. I’ll go get her if you want.”

Feyre shook her head, deciding to give herself another moment before dealing with that brand of crazy.

“Do you remember what you said to me? After you tackled me? Which, by the way, was insanely sexy.”

She knew under the humor was a twinge of anxiety, so she said, “I could talk about the homo-eroticism of what you just said, but I’ll give you a break. You’re under a lot of stress.”

Rhysand grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“I love you,” she murmured. “You know I do.”

“I do,” he replied smugly, smirking like a cat. “I love you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, ignoring the probably nasty black eye and bruised jaw. He kissed her, and she didn’t care about anything in the world.

Until the door banged open.

“You’re awake and you didn’t tell me!” Mor screeched, running in the room and throwing herself on Feyre, bruises be dammed. “Of course you didn’t because you wanted a chance to make out with your boyfriend before you did. Selfish, Feyre! Selfish!”

“Mor,” she muttered, hugging her back tightly. “I’m awake.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he best friend laughed.

“I love you, too.”

Rhys laughed and got out of his chair, probably going to talk to his friends and update them.

For the first time in years, everything felt right. It felt good. She was excited for tomorrow, not because of work, but because for the first time in a long time, she had people in her life she was going to fight to keep there.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid.

_____________________________________________________

FUCK sorry this is so long! I literally had no intention of taking this route when I started writing it, but shit happens when it’s 2 am and you’ve had a long week.

As always, feel free to send me requests/asks/whatever. I love hearing from yall.

@bamchickawowow

#feysand #feysand fanfiction #rhysand #feyre #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of dreams #a court of starlight and frost #feyreandrhysand #feyre darling #feyre x rhysand

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years ago

Text

respice finem

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced violence and abuse

part one link

obligatory irl inspo link

Max keeps pacing up and down the diameter of the room. She stretches her hands over her head and Billy thinks her protective hovering is starting to bug the nurses. They both stayed overnight but Billy’s at least taken a couple breaks. He got himself some Doritos from the vending machine. Borrowed and smoked a cigarette even though he virtually quit a couple years back. Took a short drive to a Kmart up the road and bought Max a change of clothes, supposing he wouldn’t able to get her anything of her own if her home was wrapped in caution tape.

“You wanna go down to the cafeteria, maybe? Get something to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“Okay…did you know they have a gift shop? Wanna go check it out?”

“No.”

“Do you—“

“I’m not leaving, Billy.” Max’s eyes glitter in a stubborn glower.

“Oh, but maybe you should, sweetheart,” Susan says softly. “You’re getting restless.”

“I’m fine.”

“You should get out of this stuffy room. Go for a stroll, stretch your legs. I would if I could.”

Pure heartbreak flashes across Max’s face and Billy feels his own lurch.

“Oh dear, bad joke.” Susan frowns and flaps her hand, the tube connecting it to the IV pouch swaying gently in the air. “That was in poor taste, I apologize. But I do think you need to get some fresh air, Max. I’ll be fine.”

Max pauses. Her hands come together and she taps her thumbs together as she mulls it over.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here.” Max shifts her gaze to Billy.

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere,” he says honestly. Max is obviously wired and getting more antsy by the minute but Billy is the opposite. He’s wiped out after driving for several hours straight and aching from head to toe after scrapping with his dad.

“…alright,” Max relents after a very long moment. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

She gently swipes the back of her hand over her mother’s cheek. Susan blinks contentedly and hums in approval as Max trudges off to the door. She leaves. Susan's gaze flickers to Billy and then down. She frowns at the guardrail of the bed and uncertainly pushes at it with her palm.

“What’re you doing, Sue?”

“I don’t need this. I’m not going to roll out of bed.” She continues pushing at the guardrail but her efforts are weak and uncoordinated. Even if she had more power and precision behind her pushes, Billy’s pretty sure these things aren’t designed to be collapsed from the patient’s position.

“It’s fine, just leave it alone.”

“No,” she refuses, eyes narrowing. “It’s in my way, Billy. It’s separating us.”

Something knocks loose inside his chest. Billy hasn’t seen her in three months. He hadn’t been particularly sure he’d ever see her again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a go. Here.” He sighs out and messes with the thing and after a couple tries and a few silent shrieks from his very sore shoulders, he finally figures out how to get the damn rail lowered, adjusting it accordingly.

“Thank you so much,” Susan breathes. “Now it's easier to do this.”

She stretches out her slender fingers and rests her hand upon his knee. She gives it a couple dulcet pats. Her pinky pokes inside the fraying tear in the denim, soft pad of her fingertip cool against his skin. Billy swallows, wonders how much he is allowed to touch. She wouldn’t be this affectionate with him if she knew.

“It’s my fault Neil found you and Max,” Billy admits, heart pumping guilt like sludge in his veins. “It’s my fault he almost killed you.”

“What?” Susan stares at with owlish eyes.

“I wanted to send Max a gift in the mail,” Billy explains, speaking slowly and plainly. “I hid it under my bed. My dad saw it when he raided my room looking for some shit he thought I stole from him. That’s how he got your address. I tried to stop him, Susan. But I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Billy.” Susan signs, rubbing her lips together. Her hand travels from his knee to his wrist and she gently pushes up his jacket cuff. Billy doesn’t stop her. He watches her eyes darken at the sight of the bruises.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“You said it was a gift for Max?”

“Yeah…new skateboard.”

“I wish you would’ve just driven over to drop it off. Because if you came over, you would’ve seen how nicely we decorated our little duplex…you could’ve seen my darling little gnomes sipping tea and these delightfully clever novelty magnets Max found for the refrigerator. You could’ve sat on our couch and while it’s a bit worn— we got it secondhand —it’s very comfy. Maybe if you saw how nice everything was and sat in our cushy, comfy couch, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

Billy gapes at her, noncomprehending. He just confessed he’s the reason she almost got killed. That it's his fault his dad literally broke into her home to beat her to death with a wrench. And Susan doesn’t seem angry at all. He knows she's on the good shit, but still. She's not out of it. She heard what he said. Ahd she is frowning but it’s a more fretful expression than anything, dimple between her eyebrows, forehead crinkled in concern.

“I waited for you, Billy.”

Oh.

“We talked about this before you left, Susan,” Billy gently reminds her. “I told you why I chose to stay. Remember?”

“You wanted to protect us,” she murmurs, thumb chary as she rolls it over his bruised wrist. “Me and Max.”

Billy solemnly nods his head.

“Mm…” Susan’s eyes rove the room and then settle back on him as her lips curl into a doleful smile. “How well do you suppose that turned out?”

Billy’s eyes travel along the chest tube to the rectangular drainage unit on the floor, the printed numbers and increments he doesn’t really understand. Glances to her legs elevated on the pillows. The right one was more badly broken. Not badly enough to require surgery, but still too swollen for a hard cast. The swelling in her left went down and Susan got fitted for a cast just a couple hours ago. The dark purple color she picked matches the massive bruise that currently blooms across most of Billy’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He bows again even though it hurts, it hurts, he’s goddamn sore but not as sore as he is sorry. Billy feels the knot tremble in his throat and he is possibly more sorry than he’s ever been anything else in his life. There is a beast in his belly with a thousand guilty eyes and shame in every one of its silent, miserable cries.

“No, no, raise your head. Don’t— it’s not your fault, Billy.” He feels Susan’s hand sweep the fringe from his face in a few quick motions, delicate and deft. “Won’t you look at me?”

Warily, he glances up. Susan’s eyes are misting up as he feels his own stinging again. Shit. Max is going to kill him if he makes her mother cry.

“I am the one who needs to apologize," Susan declares. "For the life of me, I couldn’t convince you to come with us. I failed you.”

“What?” Billy scoffs in disbelief. “No, that’s not on you. I’m stubborn, I’m—“

“I am the adult,” Susan cuts him off, voice sharp even as her hand rests against his cheek lamb gentle. “The real adult, you're barely twenty. You did what you thought was best but I’m older and I knew better, and I couldn’t make you see it. I let you stay, I left you in the lion’s den.”

Billy doesn't really see it that way. He doesn't feel like a child, doesn't want to be treated as one. And he's no longer Neil's legally, albeit he's been nowhere near financially independent. Couldn't work for a long time after that gruesome nightmare turned reality that was the worst fucking Fourth of July ever. Had to fork over all his paychecks to Neil even after he could go back to work— supposedly put toward residual medical bills insurance didn't cover, but hell if Billy truly trusted any excuse Neil could and would hold over his head. In any case, that's not entirely why he stayed with Neil. And staying with Neil wasn't even exactly the same thing as not going with Susan and Max, but abandonment wasn't a factor in the equation at all. He doesn't feel that way, how could Susan think that?

“You left me the address,” Billy pointedly reminds her and he does not let himself crane his face into her touch even though it’s cool and soft and he feels his stomach loosen with this, this featherlight clemency so careful and sweet.

Because of course he knows why he was left the address and it was never so he could mail packages.

“I should’ve grabbed you and dragged you to the car.” Susan doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.

“You could’ve,” Billy breathes and he’s not kidding either. “You’ve seen me get grabbed, Susan. I don’t fight it. Not in the house. Never did…not until he found that address.”

Susan’s thumb brushes away the tear that spills over, unbidden. Billy reaches out and does the same for hers.

“I’m not mad,” he promises in earnest.

“Neither am I. In fact, I’m…” Susan trails off, exhaling heavily as she draws her hand back from his cheek. “I don’t know, Billy. He was going to kill me. Maybe both of us and I could never say that I’m glad that happened because I am not. I am not glad Max had to see and do what she saw and did. I am not glad that at present, I cannot even stand without assistance. But…you’re here. You’re here because of what happened. Because of what happened, Neil…I never have to worry about Neil again. I never, ever have to look over my shoulder worrying about when he will find me because he already did.”

“That’s one way of looking on the bright side, I guess,” Billy mutters, voice hollow.

“Your father has done all the harm he will ever be able to do, to any of us, and now we’re together again. Isn’t there something to be said for that, Billy?”

He swallows thickly, nodding his head as he places his hand on the bed. Susan’s fingers slide over his and that’s how Max finds them when she returns.

“There you are,” Susan welcomes, smiling warmly. “That was a bit longer than fifteen minutes.”

Max freezes. “Did you need me?”

“No, honey, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just happy that you took a good break.”

Max visibly relaxes and shuffles over, lightly squeezing her mother’s upper arm. “I saw Neil.”

Billy exchanges a look of shock with Susan.

“Yeah, he had a new guard today and we talked for a couple minutes. Cool lady with a cool name, like some Greek Goddess name. She gave me a dollar for the vending machine and let me in his room.”

“Are you okay?” Susan frowns, worry crossing her features as her lashes flutter.

“Yeah, Mom. Neil doesn’t scare me anymore.” Max leans in and presses another kiss to the crown of her Susan’s head. Billy’s never seen her more affectionate than this, so doting and tender with her injured mother. “It was actually good. To see Neil like that…to know I did that. It confirms it, I guess? I mean not that I didn’t know, because obviously I know I didn't dream or hallucinate what happened, but…”

“Seeing is believing, perhaps?” Susan tilts her head, mussy red tresses shifting over the pillowcase.

“Yeah, like that. Seeing is believing, I guess. I saw the neck brace and the handcuffs and now I’m…well I’m not gonna turn into a badger every time you want me to take a break.” Max’s mouth quirks, expression sobering when she glances to Billy. “Are you gonna see him?”

“I don’t know,” Billy answers. He keeps thinking about it.

Maybe he’d feel better like Max does. Maybe he’d feel worse. He thinks he’d hate himself if he wound up having some scrap of sympathy. He thinks maybe he’d rip the pillow out from under his father’s head and smother the rest of the life out of him. He thinks he would have the opportunity to say everything he’s ever wanted to say but worries that he would not have the words, worries they may dissolve on his tongue with that stern, steely stare that’s shackled him all his life.

“Not yet,” Billy decides at least.

“You look weird,” Max bluntly blurts, scrunching her nose.

“That’s not nice,” Susan protests in mild reproach.

“It’s not mean,” Max counters, shrugs a shoulder as she looks back to Billy. “You okay? Is it hard being in a hospital again?”

Susan too raises a brow.

Billy reflexively lifts a hand to his chest, curls his jacket in his fist until the button presses uncomfortably into his palm. Few things in his life had been more challenging than his hospital stay and it wasn’t even being in pain or sick or weak, then weaker, then stronger and still in pain— it was sterility. It was being cooped up. It was no privacy whatsoever and never the right noises. It was everything being terrible except Max and Susan even if Max and Susan being around constantly was sometimes terrible but never, ever because they were terrible because they genuinely weren’t and— and now they’re all here again with some of the details rearranged.

Billy realizes that’s the hardest part, maybe, that the details are rearranged. Discovers that maybe it is worse to see someone you care about hurt than hurt yourself. He cannot speak but maybe they know, maybe they can read it in his face because then Susan’s reaching up again, brushing gentle fingertips over his scabbed up knuckles until he relaxes the death grip on the jacket balled into his fist.

“If you decide you want to see Neil, I’ll walk you to the door,” Max offers.

“Thanks,” he manages, terse but sincere.

“And if you want to see him, Mom, I’ll—“

“I don’t,” Susan breaks in, vehement and almost nervous, hand retracting from Billy’s and clasping fast to the opposite above her chest, IV tube swinging again. “I don’t, Max, I really, really don’t.”

“Okay,” Max promises her immediately, gingerly draping an arm around her in a reassuring embrace. The closest to a hug she can manage. “You don’t have to. You never, ever have to see him again, Mom. If you don't want to, you don't have to and that's that. I won't let anyone make you.”

Susan’s eyes dart back and forth as she leans into Max as much as she can, releasing a shaky exhale. Billy’s taken his breaks. They finally got Max to take her break. He thinks maybe Susan needs a break too.

“You wanna see what’s on tv, Sue?” he suggests.

‘No news,’ Max mouths at him above her head. Billy blinks knowingly.

“Sure,” Susan agrees, relaxing and shifting a bit as Max lowers her arm. “Um...maybe the animal channel?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see what nature is up to.”

#billy hargrove #susan hargrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #my fic tag

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loudsuitlover · 4 years ago

Text

Doctor Harry X. Corto

A/N: This is just for those who care about The Golden Girls’ story too :) Thank you to everyone who reads and for the feedback. I really appreciate it!

J hangs the towel I let him on the line I set on my balcony. I set it myself because there’s something so comforting and relaxing for me about watching clothes hanging from the line. I think it reminds me of my Nana because she always seems to have something on the line. That’s crazy, really, because there was just my Nana and my Papa so it’s technically impossible that they had washing every day but that’s what I remember. It’s just costumbrist and I like it.

With his short blond hair still wet he takes a seat in front of Coco and me. He told us both the story between sobs and fits of crying on the way home. The bastard of David had dumped him forty minutes away by car from Grad because Jason told him he had gotten an acceptance letter from a hospital in New York. It’s for an internship in the summer, two months in New York learning Medicine. And the bastard, instead of being happy and proud, threw him out of the car. I’ve tried to keep it together and not tell him I’ve planned nine different ways of killing David and get away with it. He probably doesn’t need to hear that now. His green eyes are still bloodshot from all the crying but his breathing is back to normal. The warm shower did him good. He smiles when his eyes finally set on us.

“Thank you, guys, really. I don’t know what would have been of me without you girls.”

“Marie would have gone pick you up.” I tell him.

He smiles and nods but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Coco asks.

Jason gives her a look before he sighs and shrugs.

“Embarrassed.” He confesses. “And silly and humiliated.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to break up with him, obviously.” He raises his eyebrows at my question. “I mean I’m not even sure we’re still together. I should have told him about the internship sooner.”

“What?” I can’t believe him. “That has nothing- absolutely nothing to do with what he did. What he did was wrong and he’s sick. I mean, even if you had told him something wrong, which you didn’t, but even if you had told him- I don’t know that you had cheated on him- it doesn’t justify that he fucking dumped you in the middle of the highway, J!”

“I know. I’m not saying that.”

“You’re justifying him! Again!”

“I’m not!” He yells.

I know Coco is uncomfortable by the way she’s sunk down on her chair but I don’t care. Jason needs to hear this.

“Yes, you are! You keep trying to turn him into this guy he’s not!”

“You don’t know him, Indie!”

“That’s right! He doesn’t let us! He keeps trying to take you away from us! I mean what kind of boyfriend doesn’t try to get involved into his partner’s life! He’s never even tried to talk to me.”

“Well he knows you have an opinion.”

“Of course I have an opinion! He’s a violent abuser!”

“He suffered a lot when he was a child! Do you know what it’s like to be abandoned by your dad? No, you don’t!” He cuts me off when I’m about to talk. “And he’s good, he just has a bad temper and anger issues but he’s trying to get better, okay?”

“Is he? Is he even going to therapy?”

“He doesn’t believe in therapy…”

I chuckle a mad laugh of crazy woman.

“That’s what they all say, J. Abusers justify their abuse with a dark past and they made you feel sorry for them so they can still hurt you over and over. He’s manipulating you, can’t you see it? You have to take that idea of your mind that you’re going to fix him because you won’t! He needs help, professional help, and you can’t give him that. I’ll tell you more, you’re perpetuating his toxic behaviour by allowing it.”

“That’s rich coming from you. You’re just projecting Javier on him, but David is not Javier, Indie.”

“Yes, he is! And I know because you’re doing all the things I used to do! Don’t you remember? You told me to break up with him a thousand times and I didn’t because I loved him and I also thought he was good deep down because he could be sweet too but that was only him being manipulative too… And I thought he would change for me too, that he loved me… But… It’s not your responsibility to try to help someone who keeps hurting you. Moreover, you can’t even do it. This is dangerous for you and for him.”

“Don’t even try to pretend like you care about him.”

“Of course I don’t. I care about you. And I’m not happy with what happened to you today, Jason” I start seeing him blurry until I can’t see him anymore and so I wipe my tears away with my hands. “But you need to break up with him, he’s no good for you or for anyone and he needs to get his shit together. What he did to you today was sick, J. You cannot forgive that.”

I feel his arms wrapping around me before I take my hands away from my eyes. And he rests his chin on top of my head like he had done so many times before. JJ’s always been there for me. He was there when Dylan died and he was there during his funeral and during all the months that follow that seemed to be my own slow, never-ending funeral; and then he was there for me every time Javier would do something twisted and when I left him too. I wrap my smaller arms around his broad back and rest my ear against where his heart is, feeling that old familiar heartbeat.

“I love you, Indie.”

“I love you too.”

“Aww.”

Jason laughs and tilts his neck to see a teary Coco. My sister is so emotional all the time, just like my Mum. I feel his chest rumbling when he laughs.

“Get in here, Coconut.”

She smashes her face against mine and from the corner of my eye I can see her smiling with her eyes closed. She loves a hug, too.

We hear my Mum’s laughter before we hear our friends coming. She walked with them towards my wing.

“Baby, the girls are here.” She says on the door. “Coco and I are going out but order something for dinner for you guys.”

It’s not strange for me that my mum speaks English to me. Usually we speak Spanish but she always says she remembers how she felt when her English wasn’t that good and she would hear my dad’s family speak English and laugh but wouldn’t understand much. She says she doesn’t want our friends to feel like that.

“What time is it?”

I haven’t checked my phone all day.

“It’s 4 pm, honey.” She smiles. “Are you high?”

I roll my eyes at her and she giggles. She knows I’m not. Coco kisses Jason’s cheek before she gives a quick hug to Ollie and Marie and follow my mum outside.

“Hasta luego, Blue.”

“Bye, doofus.” My sister grins as she leaves.

Despite being twenty years old, sometimes she acts like she’s twelve. Marie and Ollie fight like a married couple about who locked the door when they went out before Ollie deploys an army of candy and junk food on the table. Jason looks at them amused.

“We brought the break up kit.” Olivia smiles.

“Because we’re breaking up with David Dick, aren’t we?”

My eyes widen at Marie and Olivia kicks her feet “discreetly”. Marie’s lips part and her eyes widen in horror of her realization too.

“Is that how you guys call him?” Jason tries to keep a straight face but the three of us see his hidden smile.

“You did say he had a big dick.” Ollie shrugs.

“And he’s a dick.” Marie adds.

Jason finally bursts out laughing. And the three of us join him before Olivia motions for us to hug him and the three of us surround him like he was an oak tree and we were trying to get positive energy.

Then the four of us sit on the table and eat chocolates and lollies without even realizing Jason and I haven’t even had lunch. Jason tells Ollie and Marie the full story and the two of them tell him David’s such a jerk and that not him neither anyone deserves that kind of treatment.

“Anyway what happened last night with Mario?” Jason asks Ollie.

I tilt my neck slowly so I’m facing my friend and she avoids my eyes looking down at the liquorice she’s eating. The last time we talked Mario was Mario who? and had clumsy hands. I suck my lips inside my mouth trying to hide my smile.

“So?”

“We didn’t have sex.” Ollie blushes.

“What?” The three of us ask in unison.

“It didn’t go well?” Jason asks.

“Wait, I need some context!”

“Right, you weren’t there.” Jason’s eyes widen.

“Mario came with Harry. Apparently they were together in O’Clock so when Harry said he was going Mario asked if he was going to see you and he said yes because apparently Harry’s got verbosity” Marie tells me and I chuckle. He really does sometimes. “And so he tagged alone in case you were with Ollie. Isn’t that romantic?” Marie looks at me like the heart eyed emoji and I smirk.

“But you were talking to that guy.” I interrupt.

“Well, we stopped talking.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what’s going on with your lips, Indie.” She points out all my hidden smiles. “But yeah then he came, we were drinking we danced, we kissed and I went home with him.”

Maybe he really does have clumsy hands and that’s why they didn’t have sex but then why is she leading him on?

“It didn’t go well after you left?”

“It was perfect.”

“Then?”

“It didn’t happen.” She shrugs.

There’s something going on with Mario for Ollie to act this way. I’ll ask Harry. Mario and Harry are friends and Harry’s nosy beyond believe. He’ll tell me.

“And you?” I ask Marie.

“What about me?”

“The redhead.” I smile.

“He burped.” She pouts as her eyebrows frown like Emile Clarke’s.

We all burst into laughter but she keeps pouting despite her growing smile.

“And you can’t judge me because you dumped Álvaro for no reason and he was so cute.”

“And Spanish.” Olivia adds.

Jason celebrates Álvaro’s nationality too and I roll my eyes. I don’t care that he’s Spanish. I mean I like meeting Spanish people because they remind me of my mum’s heritage and I can speak Spanish to them but there’s nothing else you know about a person if you know they’re Spanish. I mean you know where they were born. That’s it. Then for what is worth, every person is their own person.

“But you left with Harry, didn’t you?” Olivia’s eyes widen.

“Wait were you with Harry when I called in the morning?”

I nod.

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I thought you guys had cut things off.”

“Yes, but a leopard never changes its spots.” Olivia shrugs.

I roll my eyes. My eyes set on Marie and I can read her disapproving expression.

“He offered to drive to get you in the morning.” I defend him. “And he…”

I was about to tell them about how he showered me with compliments but I decide that should stay between us. I don’t have to prove anything about him to Marie or to anyone else for that matter.

“That was sweet of him.”

Thinking about Harry makes me think I haven’t checked my phone all day. Maybe I should call him? Let him know everything’s fine? But what am I thinking? That he’s going to be waiting for me to tell him about my adventures with The Golden Girls? I blush at the idea.

“You’re not falling for Harry, are you?”

“What?” I frown. “No! Of course not! He’s such an idiot!”

Because he is. Sometimes. When he guesses things about me assuming I’m a posh bitch or when he tells me I have many flaws or when he pulls away for no better reason after confusing me with affection. Plus, he’s said it himself; it’s just sex.

“If only you felt something for him…” Marie adds.

Her words shock me.

“What?”

“Well if you were dating maybe the rest of doctors wouldn’t look down on you as bad as they will when they know about you two.”

“They won’t know.”

“They will too.”

“Does Harry burp, Indie?” Jason changes the topic, God bless him, and the three of us chuckle.

“Not in front of me, no.”

“But anyway I didn’t know about this redhead, Marie.” Jason wiggles his eyebrows but she just rolls her eyes.

“There’s nothing to know, Jason.” She sighs and rests her chin on her hand. “I need love, not burps.”

“You need to stop thinking your prince will arrive on a white horse and fuck some guy so you’ll forget about it.” Olivia tells her.

I laugh at her cheekiness.

“What Olivia’s trying to say” I correct “is that being single is also fun. You don’t need to have a boyfriend, Marie; but maybe your obsession with finding love is overshadowing it?”

Maria shakes her head.

“No, it’s not that. I know I don’t need a man but I just… I want to be in love, you know? And I want someone to love me. I’m tired of being alone…”

I give her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t lose hope, Marie Anne” Olivia wraps an arm around her shoulders and rest her cheek on top of her head “it’ll come.”

“Love?”

She looks up at Olivia, confused that our less romantic friend says that. To be honest, I’m confused too.

“No, sillyhead, mind-blowing sex.” The three of us laugh. “Like the one Indie has with Harry.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes. She’s such an idiot. I don’t know why I’m laughing.

“Did you know he’s from Bellamond?” I tell them.

The three of them look at me with wide eyes and I tell them the little I know about him. Jason hands me my phone over.

“Talking about the devil…” He smirks.

I’ve never replied faster to a text.

Harry: How’s your friend?

Indie: A lot better, thank you.

“Look at that smile!” Jason teases and I swat him away playfully.

Indie: Thanks for asking.

Harry: No problem 😊 And you? How are you?

Indie: I’m good thanks

Harry: My blunt Indie

Indie: I’m not yours.

Harry: haha you’re so curt is even funny

Indie: I’m sorry I didn’t text you back before. I’ve been with my friends all day.

Harry: No problem.

Harry: What are you doing now?

Indie: We’re just hanging at my house

Harry: Would you like to have a drink?

Indie: All of us?

Harry: I mean it’s you I want to see but they can come too

“Aw, he’s adorable!”

When I lift my head from my phone, I see my three friends are behind me reading my texts. I blush and bring my phone to my chest covering the screen.

“Guys, you’re the worst!”

Jason stands up and walks towards my room. He comes back with his shoes on his hands.

“Tell him we’re coming and ask him for the location.”

“Yay!” Marie throws her head back. “Indie, do you have lipstick?”

“But you bite your lips a lot and stain your teeth!” Olivia reminds her.

“But what if Harry has a cute friend? Or what if the waiter is cute?”

Jason rolls his eyes and Olivia and Marie disappear on my bathroom in the search for my lipsticks.

“Are you sure you want to go?” I ask him.

“Damn right.” Jason smiles. “It’d only do me good.” He shrugs. “Plus we can’t leave your man like that.”

“Harry’s not my man.”

“Whatever.” He chuckles.

Indie: Where are you?

Harry: Cahoot

The pub is dark like the ones Jason likes and there’s quite a lot of people inside but it’s not suffocating. I spot Harry straight away. He’s leaning his elbow on the bar and is talking to Mario who gives us his back. I look at Ollie and find her talking to Marie and doing a scan of the bar, surely looking for possible prince charming for the brunette.

I wonder how I’m going to greet Harry. Should I give him a hug? Or a kiss? Or shake hands? His grin widens when he sees me as I reach him in the bar.

“Hello, Indie.”

I smile back. Okay so no hug, no kiss, no handshake.

“Hi there, Indie!” Mario seems happier to see me than Harry himself.

“Hi, Mario. How are you?”

“I’m good, good.” He smiles. “How are you?”

“I’m good too. Are you guys alone?”

Jason greets them both and so do Marie and Ollie. I notice the way Mario’s hand rests on Ollie’s lower back as he presses a kiss on her cheek but my friend looks away.

“No.” Mario shakes his head. “We’re on that table there. There’s a bunch of people from the hospital. You might know some of them.”

My eyes widen as I look at Harry. He knows I don’t want people to know we’re sleeping together in Uni but he just shakes his head and frowns as if dismissing Mario’s words. The Golden Girls order our drinks before we join them on the booths they have taken on a corner of the pub.

Harry’s got an empty spot beside him and I wonder whether he did that on purpose or whether it just was there because after his greeting I doubt he even wants to sit down next to me. I also notice, even from afar, the beautiful blonde sitting next to him. She’s everything I’m not. She’s thin, like, extremely thin actually, and her skin is paler than mine. She’s blonde but her hairstyle reminds me of my own, she has long opened bangs that skim her cheekbones just like me and her face is just perfect. Yeah, that’s the way to describe her, perfect. Her lips are full and pink and her nose is small and delicate and her eyes are olive green.

Olivia motions to Marie for her to sit down next to Mario so she doesn’t have to but Marie refuses to and even though I don’t agree with whatever the hell it is she’s doing with him, I take that seat before they give a scene- and so I don’t have to sit down next to Harry too. I see him frown from the corner of my eye.

“Hello, I’m Rose.” She’s nice too.

“I’m Indie.” I tell her.

“Indie?” Her green eyes widen. “Where does it come from?”

“It’s… It’s a colour.” My face contorts in embarrassment. “My name’s Indigo Blue. And it’s my mum’s favourite colour. She’s a painter.”

“Wow!” Rose smiles. “That’s so cool.”

From the corner of my eye I see Harry smiling next to her. Olivia sat down next to Harry eventually but he isn’t paying any attention to her and he must be the first man to ever do that. Instead, his eyes are on me the entirety of the night.

We all talk about music and Mario seems interested in Extremoduro. I tell him about them and about my favourite Spanish artists and he asks me stuff and even gets his phone out to type down the songs I tell him. See? He’s such a nice guy. I widen my eyes at Olivia and point at him every time he says something cute but she just gives me warning looks and cuts the air in front of her throat threatening to kill me.

Marie wants to dance and she takes Ollie with her who’s dying to get out of the table anyway. Jason’s been chatting to another two guys about God knows what and Harry’s been mostly quiet even though as nosy as he is I suspect he’s been eavesdropping every conversation on the table. Rose’s chatted to him some too but she’s also been talking to another girl who’s sitting in front of me. I think her name is Cris.

My eyes meet Harry’s but I quickly look away and turn to Mario yet his brown eyes are set on Olivia as she dances. I look at my friends too before I give him a sympathetic smile.

“Olivia is…” I start.

“Incredible.” He cuts me off.

I smile. Yeah, that too. But I wasn’t going to say that.

“Where did you go when you guys had dinner?”

That seems like a good way to start coming around it. I normally wouldn’t be so meddling but alcohol removes my inhibitions like autumn takes the leaves of a tree. I rest my elbow on the table and then my cheek on my hand so I stop taking glances at Harry from the corner of my eye.

“We went to this Indian restaurant she suggested...” His brown eyes narrow as he thinks about the name.

My blood freezes on my veins.

“The Siddharta?” I fear.

“Yeah!” He smiles. “That’s the one.”

“Oh.”

“You know it too?” He chuckles. “She seems to go there so much even the waiter knew her.”

“Jack?” I can’t believe her.

“Yes.” He looks at me as if we were very strange people. “You guys love Indian food, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do.” I try to hide how angry I am. “I’m gonna order another drink, you want one?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Do you want me to go with you?”

Stop being such a good guy! Olivia’s gonna hear me.

“No, that’s fine. Thanks.” I give him a smile.

I need another drink. Especially because I need to calm down before I yell at Olivia. I don’t know why it bothers me so much that he’s using Mario like that. Well, yes I know; because that’s not what you do to people and I don’t want my friends to be terrible people. My frown feels heavy as I wait for my Bulldog gin and tonic.

“That was an interesting seat choice.”

Harry’s voice makes my belly flip. I swallow at his proximity.

“Your greeting choice was also interesting.”

I shut my eyes internally but on the outside I just look away from him. Why am I such a bigmouth when I drink? When I look back at him, he’s grinning. He presses his body against mine and corners me against the bar.

“Did my girl want a especial greeting?”

“I’m not your girl.” I frown.

“Then why do you want a special greeting?” He’s still grinning.

“Because… Well, because, you said you wanted to see me so…”

“So?” I want to slap that stupid grin out of his face.

“So I was expecting…” I bring my hand to my forehead but mostly to protect my face from his because I’m desperate to kiss him. “Actually, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Well” He tacks a strand of hair behind my ear “I, on the other hand, can tell you I was expecting you to sit next to me.”

“You seemed busy.” I look away again.

What am I doing? I can��t be jealous. Wait, am I jealous? What the hell am I doing? I need to get out of here.

“I gotta go.”

But his fingers lift my chin and his lips press against mine. I drink from his mouth contently and my breath catches on my throat when I feel his tongue parting my lips. His hands snake around my waist and he pulls my body to him as we kiss and my hands find the back of his neck.

“Hello, baby.” He smiles against my lips.

He’s intoxicating.

“Hello.”

“You said you didn’t want people from the hospital to know.” He shrugs. “That’s why I didn’t kiss you.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. I am just drunk.”

I don’t know why I said that. I don’t mean that. I wanted that kiss and I would kiss him again, drunk or not. But I don’t want things between us to get… complicated.

“As lovely as usual.”

“I need to talk to Olivia.”

“Fine.”

He moves aside so I can walk away from him and towards my friends, already angry and anxious. When I reach them, they’re both dancing to some lame background song and of course they’re the centre of attention of a group of guys.

“Olivia” I grab her elbow and push her even farther away from Harry’s friends “why did you go to The Siddharta with Mario?”

Her pink cheeks confirm my suspicion. From the corner of my eyes, I can see Marie’s lips parting as she stares at Olivia too. I let her talk even though I know the answer.

“It’s a good restaurant.”

“You don’t like Indian food.”

“I thought he might like it..”

“You went there to get Jack jealous?” She swallows and looks away from me. “Olivia! It’s been a year!”

“I saw him the other night.” She explains. “I… He was with her and they went to my dad’s jeweller’s. He did that on purpose.”

“And you played his game?”

“What did you want me to do, Indie? I just wanted to get back to him! And I was going to go out with Mario anyway. The only thing that changed was the place.” She shrugs.

“Is that why you keep leading him on? You said he had clumsy hands and that you didn’t like him and you went home with him last night. Do you just want him there so you can get your ex jealous?”

“Indie, this is none of your business.” She looks away from me but her lips are set on a thin line.

“Well someone has to tell you you’re acting like a bitch.”

“What? I’ve had enough, Indigo. Go fuck yourself or better be the canned vagina you are these days.”

Her words freeze me to the spot and I feel a hurricane unleashing on my chest until it reaches my throat. I can’t believe she just said that. She’s been doing this fuck-and-leave thing for a year now and not even once I’ve judged her and now she throws this at my face? Is that what she really thinks of me? Is that what Harry thinks too? Is that even what I am?

I walk away before she sees me crying, I won’t give her the satisfaction and I don’t stop walking until I’ve turn the corner. I left my jacket inside and it’s rather cold now but I’ll text Marie to grab it for me.

I’ve never been punched on the throat but I reckon this is how it must feel like. It’s hard to breathe and I feel betrayed, beaten and dirty. I walk home. My tears keep rolling freely down my cheeks while my mind goes into a frenzy.

Jason’s words resound in my mind “you’re not falling for Harry, are you?” No, of course, I’m not. We have nothing in common, other than Medicine, but that’s in no way reason enough and he’s nothing like what I... I’m not looking for that. Now or ever.

And then it hits me why it bothered me to see him with that Rose girl. It wasn’t jealousy, it was just the fact that I’m not ready to be a canned vagine. I mean I thought I didn’t care at all that he would be with other girls and I don’t think I do but for him to be with other women and for me to see that are two different things. The fact that he called me and told me to come over even if he didn’t event plan on kissing me, then why the hell did he call me if he was with other girl?

The thought that he might have wanted a threesome with Rose and me flahes through my mind like a falling star. He’s clearly into sex in a way I might not be ready for. He probably has done it before too and maybe that’s what he wants from me now.

My head aches too and I feel it dull and full and suddenly I feel so tired and cold and I just want to cover my head with my blanket and cry myself to sleep.

That’s what I do.

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