#never forget the nod to tahiti... NEVER FORGET!!

[cobra-wives]

[TAHITI: AN ANECDOTE]

A small scene that I think would fit well in Season Two, around the time before Johnny sees him at the shelter and questions if any of the stories were true. At least he can say Tahiti was real, but not in the way Johnny thinks...

__________

The students look like they’re sitting in the barracks. 

Alluring each other with feeble and shallow conversation, distracted to the fact at hand that yes, they’re in a dojo. There’s an itch in the back of Kreese’s neck to correct a scrawny kid’s posture, tell the lanky one to stand to his full height, build some muscle. He holds his words back, looks towards the back door - can hear Johnny finishing up with the young Diaz kid, honing some of his kicks before practice really starts. He figures it’s about time he gets them warmed up. 

“Class! Fall in line!”

His voice shuts them up. They scramble like ants. This, Kreese realizes. This is going to take a while to mold into what he needs. 

He saunters towards the front of the dojo, where his back can face the creed and thus, drill it into the students. “Now, we all know the value of strength. Of power,” he begins his lesson. “That’s why you’re here. But what you might not know is that power is useless if you don’t have the discipline to control it.”

One of the larger boys in the back looks half asleep. Kreese narrows his eyes, pulls himself up to his full height. “I learned that the hard way, in a place you’d least expect. Many of you know that my days in the military have taken me to places you couldn’t imagine - Desert Storm, Afghanistan. So I took a trip...”

He pulls out a shot glass from his pocket - saved for this very moment, for the time it's appropriate to tell a story. Sets it on the plastic desk by the window, where all the trophies sit, where it can catch the light.

“To Tahiti.”

Hawk chuckles. Tory blinks in confusion, Aisha next to her looking like she wants to crack some joke about him with a pineapple in his fist, with a little umbrella inside of it. One of the kids doesn't even look like he knows where Tahiti is. There’s a small rustle of amusement overall. Kreese wills himself to be patient - he’ll get there in time. 

He smiles darkly. “Tahiti—coconuts with umbrellas, beaches, clear blue water,” he continues in his story, and the ripples of Pacific waters come back to his memory. Swiping at his feet, daring to pull him in. “But paradise is just a pretty lie. And peace is just the lull in between battles.”

His thoughts reclaim themselves, and suddenly he’s 39 and coiled up in the rage of his own battles, running away with his tail between his legs. “I was there to regroup, to sharpen myself. 1985 was a rough year in the market of business, but I had some… resources at my disposal. An old friend who knew a thing or two about what it takes to get back on top took one good look at me and sent me on a plane straight to the beaches.”

Dark curls and silk monogrammed gis fill his head again, and his grip tightens around his own gi belt. Hawk pipes up, a curious challenge on his tongue, and he’s reminded of an old friend from his old army days in the way he cockily asks - “What— you got a nice 30 day cruise?”

“Well.”

The memories come back - glass in his knuckles, blood dripping down his arm, slinking away like a pathetic dog on the street. The first fight he’s ever lost. He raises his hand, Hawk’s eyes moving down to face the fist he’s raising, but the kid doesn’t flinch. Good — he taught him well. 

“While I was there,” Kreese regales, his voice sizzling on the hot coals of summer nights on the sand. “I trained like never before. I pushed my body and my mind to their limits. You do not let yourself go soft nor weak no matter what circumstance you're in, and you should never let your guard down. Do you hear me, son?”

Hawk’s eyes continue to sweep over the old callouses of his knuckles, and he looks back up to match his fury. “Yes, Sensei,” he nods. Kreese grins, leaning back— “Good—”  and he returns to his lecture. Now, he sees that the students are intrigued, and that there’s more to this story than he’s letting on. Perhaps he can persuade them to hear more. 

He lowers his voice, now that the room is quiet. “Now, this friend of mine— a businessman, a real strategist from the war— he knew how to play the long game. He taught me that sometimes, you have to step back. Let your enemies think they’ve won, only to strike back when they least expect it. Tahiti wasn’t an escape— it was a preparation for war. A place where I reminded myself who I am, and what Cobra Kai stands for. A place where we planned our sneak attack."

He narrows his eyes, looking at each of his students. “So don’t you ever forget — we may strike first, but we do not strike blindly. And neither do I. We take what we want, we don’t stop until we get it, and we plan our methods of attack. That’s the lesson I brought back from Tahiti, and what I…”

A pause. Johnny and Diaz return from the backroom, where they’ve finished their individually focused warmup. Kreese makes his grin warm. “What we will drill into each of you, every single day.”

Then he steps back, methodically inching away from the prey as Johnny tentatively makes his way to the front of the class. “They’re all warmed up for you, Sensei Lawrence.”

Johnny watches him with caution before nodding, stepping up to the edge of the mat and bowing at his students hastily. Diaz continues to eye him with suspicion, but the kid doesn't have a solid poker face and he knows he'll be approaching Johnny soon with questions about the new mysterious man slowly taking over their classes. That's only Johnny's fault - he always makes them a little too loyal. At least when the kid asks him later, he can say that this story is true - he even has the bruises to prove it.

Kreese continues to observe from the sidelines, his eyes swooping over the cream of the crop. The ones he can take for himself, shape into true fighters. Nichols and Moskowitz are top contenders, and others will need a bit of work - but it’s nothing the military didn’t do for old John and Twig. 

Twig.

He feels an odd thrum in his chest, but he cards it away. Takes a deep breath, and joins Johnny as they begin their same old dance in the middle of the mat for the day’s lesson. 

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fifteen)

Summary: (Y/N)’s first solo mission as the Cosmic Sorceress takes an unexpected turn, and she begins to notice some worrying developments with her magic.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen January 2nd, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“I’m really sorry about your nose, Sam…I-I could try healing it for you? I’m not very good at it, but I might be able to stop the bleeding just a little…”

Although partially obscured by a handful of blood-soaked tissues, (Y/N) could just make out a glimmer of amusement in the man’s dark brown eyes as he shook his head. “Nope, I’m good, I think I prefer the old-fashioned way of fixin’ broken noses. And stop apologizin’ so much, (Y/L/N), you landed that punch fair and square!”

“Birdbrain’s right, (Y/N), he walked right into it.” Natasha smirked and handed Sam another tissue. “You two should know that I had to kick Barnes out of the training room ‘cause he was laughing so hard.” Sam ambled away towards the restroom, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath as he went. “Your hand-to-hand combat has definitely improved over the past two months; tomorrow, I’ll get Steve or Thor to spar with you so we can really see how far you’ve come.”

“Mm-hmm.” (Y/N) had only been half-listening, as her attention was focused on her bandage-wrapped right hand; she could still recall the rush of fury swirling inside of her after ducking Sam’s attack and the unmistakable feeling of satisfaction when the tell-tale sound of a nose breaking filled the training room. Replaying the incident in her mind caused (Y/N)’s stomach to churn uncomfortably; she’d never been entirely comfortable with violence yet she understood that its necessity came with being an Avenger, but what she’d felt earlier had been something else entirely. It reminded her all too much of the frequent nightmares she’d been having about her parents and the destruction they’d caused in their lifetime, and that realization shook her to the core.

“You okay?” Natasha’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “That was a pretty hard punch, are you sure your hand’s not hurt? We could get Bruce to-”

“I’m fine, Nat, it’s only a little sore; I’ll be sure to ice it later.” (Y/N) gave her a quick smile and began unwrapping the bandages from her hands. “So, have you gotten a chance to begin listening to Good Omens yet?”

That seemed to do the trick. Unbeknownst to most of the team, Natasha Romanoff was secretly turning into quite the bookworm and would regularly consult (Y/N) for reading recommendations; she preferred to listen to audio books as opposed to reading print, which was why their teammates were unaware of her new passion, and she’d even taken to listening to them while she trained. (Y/N) had quickly learned that books were currently the only thing that could distract the usually observant spy, and this time she was not disappointed. “Yeah, I’ve gotten through the first three chapters already and I really like it so far. I-”

“Miss (Y/L/N),” The robotic voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. filled the training room. “You have been assigned to a mission by Director Fury.”

“What’s the mission, J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“The apprehension of one Antoine Garmiena, a known Hydra enforcer. Our agents have tracked his whereabouts to a hotel in Vancouver, Canada and Director Fury has assigned only you the task of arresting him. The Quinjet will depart in one hour and when you land, you will be met by a CIA task force. Do you accept the mission?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, I do. Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Turning back to Natasha, she gave her friend a smile. “Well, I’d better go and get ready. Thank you for such a…productive training session, and I’ll see you later!”

After stopping by her room to take a quick shower and change into her uniform, (Y/N) boarded the Quinjet by herself and was on route to Canada; from her seat near the back of the jet, she was finally able to absorb the fact that this was her first solo mission as an Avenger. To her surprise, the thought of apprehending Garmiena alone didn’t fill her with anxiety; if anything, she was glad for the opportunity to do something on her own after working with the others for so long. If Director Fury and Steve think I’m up to this than I know that I am, she thought with a smile as she continued flicking through the file on Garmiena that Director Fury had given her.

The buzzing of her phone on the seat beside her broke her concentration but when she caught sight of the caller I.D. that popped up, she immediately set the file down to answer it. “Hey, you. Isn’t it almost midnight in Oslo right now?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but since Barton has insisted on watching television all night I figured that calling you would be the best alternative to committing homicide.”

Through her phone’s speaker, (Y/N) heard Clint’s faint retort and couldn’t help but smile through her light scolding. “Loki, that’s no way to start a new year off.”

“That’s easy for you to say, (Y/N), you haven’t had to endure an entire evening of so-called ‘reality television.’ I swear by the Norns, if I hear one more obscenely wealthy housewife complain about something idiotically trivial…”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you called me because I was about to call and tell you I’ve been assigned a mission. I just left for Vancouver and should be back later tonight…and Fury only assigned me to this one.”

“Your first solo mission, then! Congratulations, darling, you’re going to do wonderfully!”

“Thank you, sweetheart, I’ll try to call you once the mission’s complete but I might be stuck in a meeting based on how well I do. And no pranking Clint while you two are on your mission, all right?”

“Fine, but if he continues to annoy me I’ll be forced to retaliate once we return.”

After wishing each other luck and exchanging their love, (Y/N) ended the call and set her phone down; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to help focus her magic. Through trial and error, she and Loki had discovered that Midgardian meditation practices helped with controlling and centering her magic before missions. Object and intent, she silently chanted, object and intent; the palms of her hands tingled with familiar energy and she peeked through her eyelashes just as her vivid purple magic began to swirl around her hands. Closing her eyes again, she took another deep breath and exhaled as the all-too familiar tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified; the air around her was practically humming with energy and as she worked to control it, she could almost feel-

“We will be landing shortly, Miss (Y/L/N).” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced; startled, (Y/N)’s eyes flew open and the moment her concentration faltered, she suddenly dropped back down into her seat and winced in pain. “I’m terribly sorry, but I could find no other way of informing you of the Quinjet’s status.”

“That’s okay, J.A.R.V.I.S., I didn’t even realize that I’d been…that I’d been levitating.” She carefully got to her feet and adjusted her long black and purple leather coat before fastening her sword to her belt, feeling a little unnerved by her meditation session. “Is the CIA task force prepped and waiting?”

“Yes, Agent Ross just arrived at the helipad and is awaiting your arrival.”

(Y/N) thanked the Artificial Intelligence and continued to ready herself for the mission; she double-checked that her comm link was operational and pressed the button on her glasses to mask their presence, finishing up her tasks just as the Quinjet began its descent. Once it landed smoothly on the helipad, the ramp automatically lowered and she walked out into the frosty air.

“Just once, I’d like it if these Hydra thugs would pick someplace warmer to hide out in. Tahiti would be a nice change of pace, or maybe even Fiji.” Agent Ross quipped, his teeth chattering slightly as he withdrew a gloved hand from his CIA parka’s pocket to shake hers. “It’s good to see you again; I’m glad Fury assigned you to this one ‘cause we’re gonna need more brain and less brawn to finally apprehend this slippery guy.”

Smiling, (Y/N) walked alongside the CIA agent as they entered the warmth-filled building and made their way down a long stretch of hallway. “It’s good to see you too, Agent Ross. How long has Garmiena evaded arrest so far?”

“Over one and a half years, since right before the launching of Project Insight. He was on the CIA’s radar before he was outed as a Hydra operative but since the fall of the original S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s been on the run and almost impossible to track.”

Before she could ask another question, they were escorted into a room by an armed CIA agent and came face-to-face with a group of agents seated around a table. Clad in their tactical gear, the agents perked up when they recognized who she was and began whispering to one another, much to her embarrassment. It had been difficult for her to grow used to being in the public eye, but (Y/N) had finally reached a point in her Avenger career where being recognized in public only made her feel slightly bashful and not on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

As if sensing her discomfort, Agent Ross stepped forward and cleared his throat to grab their attention. “As you’ve already noticed, the Cosmic Sorceress will be working alongside us on this operation. If that’s something you can’t handle in a professional manner, then I have a pile of coloring books and some crayons in my office that you can play with while the adults go to work. Is that clear?” The agents nodded and Agent Ross smiled. “Great. Now, let’s get to work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N) blocked bullet after bullet fired at her but was forced to throw herself behind a nearby stone wall for cover when she caught sight of the flamethrower being aimed in her direction; clutching the stitch in her side, she yelled into her comm link, “Did you forget to mention that Garmiena’s an enhanced, Agent Ross, or did you just want to surprise me?!”

“This is the first the CIA’s hearing about it; believe me, I’m just as pissed about this as you are! There’s too many of him, I’m calling in backup from Fury-”

“No! By the time they arrive he’ll have already escaped or injured civilians; we just need to think of a new plan.” (Y/N) cautiously rose to take a quick look around the stone wall. The hotel was completely surrounded by CIA agents but they too were taking cover as a dozen versions of Garmiena stood on the roof and fired guns and other weapons at anything that dared move. Out of all the enhanced superpowers I’ve seen as an Avenger, self-duplicating’s got to be the weirdest one yet, she thought to herself. Her eyes landed on the building beside the hotel and after realizing that they were fairly close in height, a plan began to form in her mind. “All right, I think I’ve got something but it might not work…”

“Anything’s better than nothing; what’ve you got?”

Once she and Agent Ross finalized their new plan, (Y/N) took a steadying breath and waited for the signal; sure enough, moments later the agents began returning fire on the south side of the building, giving (Y/N) enough time to sprint out from behind her hiding spot and to the building adjacent to the hotel. Without stopping to question if her plan would even work, (Y/N) summoned her purple-hued magic into her palms and aimed them towards the ground; the overwhelming force of her magic propelled her into the sky at dizzying speed, and in the blink of an eye she had landed on the roof of the building.

Not stopping to admire her newfound magical skill, she ran at top speed towards the rooftop of the hotel and jumped, landing on the roof and somersaulting onto her feet. The duplicates of Garmiena all turned towards her with their weapons at the ready, but (Y/N) thrust her hands outwards and clenched them into fists, watching as each weapon was ripped from their grasp and thrown off the roof. She then raised her arms and forced them downwards, which caused the duplicates to be thrown high into the air before landing harshly onto the roof; one by one, the duplicates blinked into nothingness until just one man was left groaning in pain as he struggled to stand.

(Y/N) strode over to Garmiena, drawing her sword and holding it against his throat to halt his movement. “Antoine Garmiena, on behalf of the Avengers I’m placing you under arrest.” She held her free hand up to her ear and spoke into her comm link. “Target apprehended, requesting assistance on the northeast side of the rooftop.”

“Great work, Cosmic Sorceress; the tac team’s on their way up.”

Garmiena’s brow rose in surprise, and it was then that (Y/N) was struck by the unusual brightness of his hazel eyes. “So, you’re the one they call the Cosmic Sorceress. Tell me, did Stark and Banner create you in that laboratory of theirs or were you blessed by the gods as I was?”

“Apparently you’re just as delusional as they warned me you were. You didn’t receive your enhancement from the gods, you’re one of the countless people who allowed Hydra to experiment on them and in return were used to carry out their bidding. If you’re trying to look for similarities between us, then I suggest you stop now because we have nothing in common.”

He chuckled to himself. “Now who’s the delusional one? The only thing keeping us from being alike is your cowardice.” (Y/N) frowned in confusion and he took the opportunity to continue uninterrupted, his eyes strangely unfocused as he spoke. “I’ve embraced my true identity while you have hidden yours away. You have the chance to fulfill your mother’s quest to rule, yet you squander your power by remaining with the Avengers, Earth’s So-Called Mightiest Heroes.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold at his words; clenching her jaw, she pressed her sword into the skin of his neck as her vision began to redden. “What did you just say?”

“Yes, you and I are similar, but I would say you and your mother are more alike than you realize. The fiery tempers, the star-crossed loves and most importantly, the ambition. Deep down, you know that you don’t belong with your pitiful pretend family and once you let them go…” Garmiena grinned widely and although she registered that something was off about the situation, it didn’t do a single thing to quell her growing fury. “You’ll be free to unleash your true potential.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, (Y/N)’s purple magic swirled tightly around his body and she watched as the smug expression on his face slowly morphed into a grimace of pain. Something deep inside of (Y/N) warned her to stop but she purposefully ignored it, clenching her fingers into a fist to tighten her darkening magic’s hold…

“Stand down, we’ll take him from here.”

Startled, (Y/N) released her hold on Garmiena and looked with widened eyes as he gasped for air and her now scarlet-colored magic faded into nothing. She stumbled backwards and out of the way of the tac team as they hauled Garmiena to his feet and dragged him towards the rooftop doorway; out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Agent Ross approaching. “The CIA owes you a debt of gratitude; zero civilian casualties and minimal property damage is what we like to see in an Avenger.” He glanced over his shoulder and turned back to her with a low whisper. “So, um, about your magic…how does it work? The color, I mean; did you choose purple, or is the color tied to your emotions, like a mood ring or something?”

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway Garmiena disappeared through, (Y/N) met Agent Ross’ curious eyes with a forced smile. “You know, Agent Ross…I’m not really sure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was well past midnight by the time (Y/N) was able to go back to her suite in the Avengers Tower. She sat through a CIA mission debriefing in Vancouver before boarding the Quinjet and heading back home to New York, only to attend another debriefing in Director Fury’s office. During that time, she hadn’t had the opportunity to reflect on what had occurred on the hotel rooftop but now that she was alone with her thoughts, it was all she could focus on; she spent the entire afternoon and evening learning about Garmiena’s background, and there was absolutely nothing in the CIA or the Avenger’s dossiers that indicated that the Hydra enforcer had any connection to Alfheim. She’d even considered consulting the book King Tarian had gifted her but had quickly changed her mind; the one and only time she’d tried reading it had triggered horrific nightmares that had yet to dissipate, so she kept the book tucked away in her closet, out of sight and out of mind.

But what had worried her the most wasn’t just that Garmiena somehow possessed knowledge of her family, it was that for a split-second, she had lost control of her magic and had done very little to try and regain it. She’d wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel pain for what he’d said and done, and if the CIA tac team hadn’t shown up when they did…she wasn’t sure what would’ve happened. First Tony and Loki, and now Garmiena, she thought to herself as she unfastened her sword from her belt and set it down on her suite’s coffee table, how many more people am I going to needlessly hurt with my magic?

As quietly as she could, (Y/N) crept into the bedroom and glanced over to see Loki already fast asleep; he was stretched out on his back, the blankets pooling at his waist as his bare chest nearly glowed in the darkness, and his expression was peaceful as he slept. Seeing her boyfriend put her at ease, and after silently changing into her pajamas and going about her nighttime routine, she carefully got into bed beside him and made herself comfortable on her right side. She smiled softly when she felt Loki’s arm wrap around her waist and hold her against his chest as he nuzzled his face into her neck and let out a sleepy hum of contentment. “How’d your mission go, my love?”

“Wonderfully.” She lied, ignoring the pang of guilt brought on by her outright deceit. “What about yours?”

“I managed not to kill Barton, so I’d say it went well. Did Garmiena put up much of a fight?”

Instead of answering, (Y/N) smoothed down his sleep-rumpled hair with gentle fingers. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Okay?”

“…Fair enough. G’night, darling.”

“Goodnight.”

Loki quickly fell back asleep, but (Y/N)’s restless mind refused to let her follow suit. She glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend and after checking that he was indeed asleep, she held a hand out and only hesitated a moment before summoning her magic. To her immense relief, the magic swirling around her hand had returned to its usual purple hue; the longer she laid in bed staring at the tendrils of magic dancing across her palm, however, the more curious she grew. Agent Ross had innocently speculated that her magic’s color was tied to her emotions so to test the theory out, (Y/N) thought about Garmiena’s words and how they’d affected her on the rooftop; though it was difficult, she remembered the white-hot anger that had filled her as her magic tightened its hold around him and she squeezed her eyes closed, part of her too frightened to look.

Don’t be such a coward, (Y/N) scolded herself after several long moments; taking a steadying breath, she slowly opened her eyes. She had to stifle her horrified gasp behind her free hand as her widened eyes stared at the shocking swirls of scarlet magic dancing across her palm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Some more interesting developments! This is the end of the second chunk of this story, and I just wanted to let you all know that there won’t be a new chapter next week but instead the week after. It’s nothing serious, I just need the time to write some more and finish up a couple of my other fics. I’m sorry to make you guys wait a little longer for the next chapter, but I promise that I’ll be back here in two weeks with an update!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Sixteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[svnflowervol666]

Mother’s Day (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: It’s Mother’s Day in the UK! Hope everyone is having a good one. I got a request about how Harry and bub would treat Y/N on their special day, so here it is! Hope you enjoy. Take care and TPWK.

//

She was dreaming so peacefully. Dreaming of the quaint hut in Tahiti that she’d spent two weeks in during her honeymoon. She could feel the hot, Polynesian sun beating down on her bare back and the cool, refreshing taste of the fresh fruit that was delivered to their suite each morning. Her head was fogged with only images of him. How they’d spent so much time wrapped up in one another during that time that they’d sometimes forget to leave the comfort of their pillowy, plush bed for anything besides another glass of wine or champagne.

She had never been happier during that time in her life. It was just her and her new husband exploring the island and nothing else mattered. There were no goodbyes that needed to be said before leaving for a lengthy tour, no business meetings that ate up hours and hours of their designated alone time, no distractions whatsoever besides how enticing each other’s bodies looked to one another.

Her mind took her to the waterfall that they’d discovered on accident. They had just been wandering around the tropical forest looking at the greenery when they’d stumbled upon the most ethereal cove they had ever seen. No time was wasted, they knew exactly what they needed to do. They stripped stark naked and dove right in, unafraid of whoever might stumble upon their pile of clothes and shoes and suspect them of doing something they shouldn’t. She swears she can feel the water lapping around her as she chased her newlywed husband towards the center of the waterfall. She can feel the way the heavy droplets of water pulsed around her arms as she tested its strength. She can feel the way the water poured down on her face as she–

Wait, no.

What she had thought was a tranquil memory of her honeymoon and the otherworldly waterfall she had swum in was not a dream but more so her two-year-old swatting at her forehead and chin with her tiny, pudgy hands. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by not one, but two identical pairs of emerald green ones.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” Harry sang as he realized she was coming to.

The toddler banged her hands against Y/N’s face in excitement of hearing her father’s voice, to which Y/N quickly grabbed her palms and held them away from her to keep from being smacked around by her child any longer.

“Thank you, lovie,” she mumbled back sleepily.

She quickly reached up and kissed the child that was sat up beside her and let her lips linger in the air just a bit longer so Harry could plant one on her as well before she fell back onto the feathery down of her pillow. Harry had perched himself up on his elbows as he laid on his stomach near Y/N’s chest. He watched as his girls snuggled tightly into each other, Y/N’s arm wrapping protectively around his little bub’s back and resting against her diaper-clad bum. They had really been pushing for potty-training as of late, but it always resulted in too many accidents that they weren’t always so quick to catch.

“Ye’ wanna give mummy her present?” Harry asked the curly-headed baby that was currently rubbing the pendent attached to Y/N’s chest between her chubby fingers.

“Mummy present!” she squealed, quickly jerking her head up from where it was resting in the crook of Y/N’s shoulder.

She hit Y/N’s nose on the way up, but Y/N was used to being borderline bullied by her growing child and chose not to make a scene about it. Harry handed their daughter the gift bag that had been resting on Harry’s nightstand, to which she teetered across the mattress to return back to her mother.

“Here go, mummy!”

Her ability to speak full sentences was far from perfect, but enough to make Harry and Y/N lose their minds at how cute it was each and every time she tried to talk like a grown-up.

“Aww, you got me a gift, bubby?” she asked, eyeing Harry as he smirked behind the toddler’s unkempt mess of hair.

“Well, let’s see it then.”

She removed the stuffing paper from the bag carefully, placing it off to her side so that the curious little girl sitting upright in her fuzzy footie pajamas wouldn’t create a mess later on. When she pulled each item out of the paper bag, she’d played up the dramatics, gasping loudly and acting overly-animated to make the toddler feel appreciated.

“Is this the same color as daddy’s?!” she exclaimed as she pulled out the slim tube of Gucci Beauty lipstick that she remembered telling Harry she wanted after seeing him in it on the cover of Beauty Papers, to which hers and Harry’s daughter blushed and nodded and took all of the credit for despite being a baby with no source of income or knowledge about the consumer market whatsoever.

There was the lipstick, the sweater she’d seen at the shops one day that she gawked at for a bit too long, the serum she’d run out of last week, a replica of the lilac-colored bathrobe of Harry’s that she always stole from him when he wasn’t using. Her gift bag was filled to the brim with tons of little things that were thoughtful and more than enough for Y/N. Harry knew that she’d insist it was too much and that they already were fortunate enough to have everything they’d ever want, but he didn’t want to be the asshole that didn’t get his wife anything for Mother’s Day.

“Thank you soooooo much, love bug,” she hugged her daughter tight after removing all of her gifts from the large bag that laid in her lap.

“Wha’ would ye’ like to do today, special girl?” Harry asked his wife that was sitting upright in bed surrounded by all of her presents.

“Today’s all about you, so you’re the boss!”

“Mummy boss!” cheered the toddler, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Actually, mummy’s always the boss,” Y/N corrected her husband with a narrowing of her eyes, “But I don’t mind what we do as long as I get to spend it with you two.”

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes before patting his daughter’s rounded belly gently as she toyed with the price tag of the sweater he’d gotten Y/N.

“Figured ye’ would say that. Which is why I, your incredibly thoughtful and tentative husband, came up with an entire itinerary for today. First, we have breakfast. The meal consists of your choice. Then, the park up north with all of the flowers and pop up shops. Then, we have lunch at that place we went to for Mother’s Day last year. Figured we could turn that into a little tradition. And then we’re gonna-”

“Wow,” Y/N interjected, knowing damn well he was just gloating at this point, “Seems like you’ve got the day all planned out now. Don’t you?”

“Sure do,” Harry answered as he slipped his hand underneath the covers to pat her bare thigh.

“Now, are ye’ gonna get up so we can get this show on the road and we can show ye’ how much we love ye’?”

“I thought I was the boss?” she asked.

“What if I want us to stay in bed just a little bit longer?”

“Doubt that’s gonna happen, love. Told this one that you might want pancakes for breakfast and it’s all she’s been talkin’ about since seven this morning,” Harry gestured with a nod of his head to the toddler that was now making peace with herself as she played with the rings on Harry’s hand that wasn’t laying on Y/N’s thigh.

“Cakes, papa?” their daughter’s face perked up at the thought of her favorite food.

“I don’t know, bug. Ask mummy if that’s what she wants.”

“I have cakes, mumma?”

Y/N did not want pancakes for breakfast, she knew that for sure. She’d much rather not start the day off with a stomach ache from pouring too much syrup on her plate, but she also knew she could never say no to such a sweet face staring back at her with such hope in her eyes.

She seemed to contemplate for a moment, placing her pointer finger on her chin and looking up at the ceiling as if she might say no just to add to the anticipation in the room.

“Pancakes sound good to me,” she announced with a smile on her face, knowing it would send the toddler into a frenzy.

Before she was able to grasp on to her tiny body, hers and Harry’s daughter slipped off of the California king-sized bed they were all sitting on and ran presumably to the kitchen downstairs, which gave Harry and Y/N some alone time. Sure, they had approximately four minutes before their bub came crashing back up the stairs and demanded to know why they weren’t cooking her breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

Harry scooted over in the bed to lay his body flush against hers. He held onto her by the waist and rested his head on her chest.

“Thank you for my gifts, Harry. They’re lovely.”

She heard him chuckle against her skin before he craned his neck up to look at her.

“What do ye’ mean? Those are from your daughter. I’ve not given ye’ my present yet.”

“What did you get me?” Y/N asked, furrowing her brow down at him.

“That, my love, is a secret that you’ll have to wait until tonight to find out,” Harry tried his best to sound as seductive as he possibly could, but undoubtedly failed miserably which made her chuckle into his chocolate brown waves before kissing them lightly.

“Alright, Mr. Teen Heartthrob. I’ll take your word for it.”

Harry blushed at her backhanded compliment, burrowing deeper into the swells of her breasts and groaning dramatically.

She tried to tug on the ends of his curls in the way that always drove him mad. Sure, their toddler was a ticking time bomb and only God knew when she’d decide to show up in their room again, but her dreams from earlier about her honeymoon had left her feeling quite needy.

When she finally got his attention by kissing him gently but passionately and wrapped her legs around his waist in an attempt to gain even the slightest bit of friction, Harry pulled away.

“Love,” he began, still panting from the kiss, “I know I said you’re the boss today, but there’s a hyperactive toddler downstairs who’s waiting for pancakes and I have a feeling that if we don’t go down there in the next forty-five seconds then she’s gonna have both of our heads.”

Y/N shoved him off of her with a huff and a laugh, knowing good and well that he was right. When she climbed out of the bed to slide her house shoes on her now cold feet, Harry surprised her with a slap across her bum.

“Oi!” she yelled, “What was that about?”

“Nothin’. Just love ye’ is all.”

“Well that’s a pretty fuckin’ weird way of showing it,” she spoke in between giggles.

“Ehh,” Harry dismissed her with a swat of his hand in the air, “I know ye’ love it.”

Sure, she may have been at her happiest when she was on her honeymoon in Tahiti with Harry without a care in the world, but nothing compared to the kind of happiness that she was experiencing now with her perfect little family.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Whether It Works Out Or Not: Summer’s Warmth, Part One

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Thank you all so much for continuing to read! Enjoy!

EDIT 4/18/21: Attempting to fix the formatting now, forgive me! It shows up fine before posting, but I believe I have it squared away! ;-;

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch​​​ @cookiethewriter​​​ @pedrosbigdorkenergy​​​ @thirstworldproblemss​​​ @anonymouscosmos​​​ @culturalrebel​​​ @karmezii​​​ @teaofpeach​​​ @crookedmoonsaultpunk​​​ @wrestlingfae​​​ @zombiexbody​​​ @nelba​​​ @scribblenotes76​​​ @toxiicpop​​​ @mstgsmy​​​ @misty-possum​​​ @gallowsjoker​​​ @midnightbeauty35​​​ @lackofhonor​​​ @renegademustelid​​​ @missfronkensteen​​ @newplanetshine​

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

Winter’s Cold, Part One

Winter’s Cold, Part Two

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional distress, vivid recollections and self-loathing. Stay safe!]

Arthur dreamed of the vigil he had stood beside Kieran's grave, Chase's large head resting on his shoulder. Bitter, sorrowful words had twisted up in his throat until he just shoved his face into the horse's mane so he could unleash a body-rattling sob. He had left a handful of bulrushes crisscrossed over the grave. Kieran had always plied the horses with whatever treats he could scrounge up, mushrooms or bulrushes or the rare luxury of sugar cubes. 

Kieran O'Driscoll, Kieran Van Der Linde, but in the end he had died Kieran Duffy. Just one more hideous taunt sent to the Van Der Linde camp from the O'Driscolls, one more life lost in the feud of two proud men who had wronged each other. 

Arthur dreamed of the nightmare of Guarma, the way his body was wracked with feverish chills on that godforsaken island, blistering sun beating down on him and he had just forced himself onwards, ignoring it. 

Micah mocking him, Dutch's merciless slaughter of that elderly woman.

Stumbling across Hosea and Lenny's graves on his long, slow trek back to Shady Belle from Van Horn and it just hitting him like a bullet to the gut that they were gone, truly gone. Like Kieran, like Sean.

When he and Charles had found that young woman in the Murfree hellhole, Arthur had sworn for several long, panic-stricken seconds that it had been Irene. The fear he had felt, the agony, he had nearly been sick with guilty relief when she stepped into the light and her eyes were blue. The enforcer would never say how dangerously close he had come to pitching himself at her feet and begging her forgiveness for being grateful that she wasn't who he had thought she was. 

And the girl's mother in Annesburg trying to pay him, like he had done something incredible. Like he wasn't a monster himself, jaded with loss and becoming more and more certain that Dutch was hellbent on reaching their collective doom. Tahiti and mangoes had never sounded so unappealing.

Molly, struck down with no mercy, 'she knew the rules', they all knew the damn rules.

Collapsing out of the blue in the streets of Saint Denis on his way to meet up with Sadie so they could rescue that fool Marston, coming back around with a kindly stranger directing him to the doctor, the sterile reek that permeated the office as the learned man dropped the bad news on him with all the grace of a boulder on his chest.

Tuberculosis, and the noose that had been around his neck since Blackwater finally snapped taut to strangle him. 

His slow, shambling walk down the street as whatever that doctor had given him to take the edge off made him hallucinate that the damned deer was back, the majestic creature sauntering through the crossroads in front of him like some kind of divine herald.

Or hellish omen.

After that was just the long, torturous slog as Dutch did his best to drag them all down into the fiery abyss with him.

Strauss, Strauss, preying on fools, on desperate men with pregnant wives, on folk he knew damn well couldn't pay him back! When Arthur had finally had enough of being the bastard's lackey he roared at the man to get the hell out!, every ounce the commanding king of legend that Sean had mockingly likened him to.

Hearts are so rarely pure. But then again, they are also rarely impure, that sister had said. Her wise words had given Arthur pause, the man speechless beside her on the bench. He wasn't used to such ambiguity from religious folk. Normally it was either saccharine-sweet pandering about how he could still be saved, or self-righteous wrath as he was told that his perdition would last eternity for every rotten thing he had done.

Rightly so, too! He was a terrible man.

The imagery of the deer kept haunting him. Arthur didn't understand it, he couldn't manage to wrap his head around why he kept dreaming about the deer. The deer or Irene, her violin music lilting fae-like through the twilight of his consciousness nearly every night as he struggled to stifle his coughing.

Black lung, black lung, Micah mocked and sneered.

When Ms. Grimshaw's end came, it was the final signature on the decree of his damnation. Violence begot violence begot violence and Arthur could scarce imagine how grisly his own demise would be.

Pinkertons flushing them out of the cave like hounds after quail, he and John fleeing--

The sound of Micah's labored breathing, blows landing over and over, the two of them circling one another on the edge of Purgatory itself until Arthur's broken body had finally given out.

In the final act of his life, Dutch had met his eyes and then departed wordlessly with Micah in tow. The sting was a far-off sensation, dulled by inevitability.

I gave you everything I had.

Arthur had thought he was dead; had thought the fight was well and truly kicked out of him. That incorrigible, stubborn spirit of his, the spite and loyalty and grit flickered and faded like a candle in a draft. He barely remembered the sunrise, his last rambling thoughts before consciousness deserted him fixated on the fact that he could feel the deer from his dreams, pacing just outside his field of vision... 

But of course, he couldn't forget the price on his head. He was still worth something to someone, even if he was hovering at Death's door.

…

Irene didn't sleep a wink, tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning. Finally, when she checked her old pocket watch for the sixth time and saw that it was four o'clock, she gave up. 

Irene got out of bed, got dressed, and went to Anna's room to wake her. "You're coming fishing with Mama, little fawn." She whispered while the child yawned. "You can even go back to sleep on the shore, alright?"

"Mmhm." Clearly still half-asleep, Anna nodded, rubbing her eyes. 

Irene gathered up her fishing gear and her daughter, leaving a note in case she wasn't back by the time Arthur managed to rouse himself. For his sake (and perhaps a bit for her own as well), she hoped he slept in. 

It wasn't until she reached the riverbank that the lunacy of the whole situation really hit her. He was the father of her child, she had nursed him back from the brink of death itself, and yet she feared what the reveal might bring! Hadn't she done enough worrying over the last few months? 

Maybe she was more worried about whether he would stay simply out of believing it was his duty to do so.

If nothing came of it, if he...wanted nothing to do with her now that the two of them had inadvertently brought a new life into the world, it wouldn't change anything in her existence. She would live out her days in peace, far from society. Arthur Morgan would no doubt carry on in the same manner that he always had, though perhaps just a touch more cautiously. 

She didn't let herself think of the alternative. It was best that she not get her hopes up. After all, he had been the one to put their meetings to an end. Knowing what she knew now, further clarified by what Trelawny had mentioned, it seemed as though Morgan was trying to protect her from the grisly fate the rest of their band was barreling towards. She could not fault him for cutting her loose, no doubt he had thought he was doing the best thing for her. 

In a way, it had been. 

Irene hooked several fish as she pondered, reeling the small offerings in absently. Anna was young. Young enough that should Arthur decide to leave, she probably wouldn't even recall him given enough time. So it was Irene's own selfishness that she was hung up on, her own silly feelings and emotions. 

Somewhere along the way, during their free and easy couplings, she had fallen in love. With Arthur Morgan, a man she could readily admit to knowing precious little about. It seemed so foolish now, what had she been thinking?

The woman smiled wistfully as the sun rose.

She hadn't been thinking at all, there was the truth of it. She had enjoyed herself for the first time in her life, consequences be damned. 

Besides, when it all comes down to it, Irene mused as she glanced over at the sleeping form of her child, I would trade a thousand Arthurs for one sweet little Anna.

Anna woke up again around eight, clamoring for her breakfast. The two of them walked hand-in-hand back to Irene's stead, Anna swinging her arms and singing some tuneless ditty only she knew the words to. 

Arthur was awake and upright on their return, the man supporting his weight with the rough-hewn posts of the paddock. Chase looked for all the world like she was listening to him as he muttered to himself, the mare's ears pricked to catch his voice.

Clearly Irene wasn't the only one who had missed him.

Anna bolted forward, crowing in triumph. Normally Chase tended to keep to the far side of the paddock, where it was more shady. "Up, up! Wanna' pet!" The little girl demanded, straining to reach Chase's nose.

Arthur, frail and pale as he was, certainly gave it a good effort. He got the child nearly two inches off the ground before he failed, visibly panicking as he dropped her. Mercifully she didn't seem to notice, the little girl just thinking they were playing a game. 

She was laughing, "again again!", waving her arms and Arthur shot Irene a look so terrified she was barely able to restrain her mirth.

"Annie, how do we ask?" Irene prompted her daughter, then propped her boot up on the lower cross-beam of the fence and patted her thigh. "Come along, up you get!" Anna threw herself over her mother's knee, grappling Irene's skirts before managing to reach Chase's nose from her new vantage point perched on her mother's thigh. 

"Mister Art'ur no lift me?" The little girl queried after a time, giving the tall man a quizzical look. 

"It's gonna' be a while before I'm liftin' much of anythin', Miss Anna." Arthur answered her ruefully. 

"But Mama can lift?" The child continued curiously. 

"Your mama is the strongest person I know. She can lift you, me, that horse, the barn…" Arthur rattled on, listing more and more outlandish things as Anna giggled. "I once saw her lift a whole riverboat with her pinky!" Arthur claimed. "Weren't even breathin' hard neither!"

"Mama can do all that?" Anna asked, those blue eyes wide as she tilted her head back to stare up at Irene. 

"Absolutely!" The woman replied firmly, then smiled. "I'd do even more for you, my little fawn."

"She's a real strong woman, Miss Anna, real strong. You'll be just like her someday." Arthur murmured, his gaze gone melancholy again.

In response, Anna seized Arthur's hand and bunched up her tiny fist to make a 'muscle' in her arm for him to feel. "Strong!" She insisted, her expression fierce. 

"You shoah are, what you need me for around here?" Arthur humored her with a grin. "I'd just get in your way at this point." Irene realized that he wasn't talking to the child anymore, for all that his eyes were on Anna. 

"We are more than happy to have you, isn't that right Annie?" The woman stated, making Arthur glance up at her. The raw look in his gaze caught her off-guard.

"Mmhm," Anna agreed with a decisive nod. "Make you better!"

"S'pose if I had to pick a place to convalesce, I couldn't find a nicer sanatorium even out east." 

…

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. 

Was this little baby girl his? Did he even deserve that sort of joy? She was two already, he had missed her first steps, her first words…God, it always seemed like he was too late. From his first child Isaac with that sweet girl Eliza, to Mary, and now this.

He and Irene sat on the porch of her little cabin, the woman having made a delicious fish fry for breakfast. It smelled amazing, but Arthur's stomach was too knotted to eat. He fumbled with his fork a few times, casting about for an opening to ask Irene the all-important question on his mind.

Anna unwittingly offered him his opportunity, the child scarfing her breakfast and then begging to be permitted to play in the puddles in the yard. Irene nodded after a moment, collecting the child's plate and then instructing her to don her mess trousers.

The little girl tore off to do so and her mother chuckled quietly. "She is such a menace. Always rummaging, stomping, finding new things to squish or examine." Irene remarked. 

Arthur couldn't wait a second longer, abandoning his plate as he turned to look at her. "Irene," he said her name sharply, trying to keep his voice low. "Is that girl my child?"

Irene took her sweet time replying to him, chewing a mouthful of flaky fish. "What happens if I say yes, Arthur?" She asked, her own words soft. 

"I...I want you to know that I did my damnedest to not--I mean, when we...hell, I didn't want you pinned down like that bastard Carson wanted." Arthur swore grimly. "I didn't want to saddle you with somethin' you ain't asked for, Irene."

"Will you leave? If she's yours?" Irene was picking at her food now, refusing to look at him. Anna carried on stomping in the puddles across the yard, her giggles punctuating the silence.  

Arthur inhaled to respond and accidentally sent himself into a coughing fit, hacking and snorting in the least glamorous way possible. "It ain't fair that you've had to put up with me for so long, with the...shadow of me, even. I'm barely a fraction of the feller I once was. Can't even lift the little one," he mumbled after he managed to get the spasm under control. "But...but even if she ain't mine, even if you've been uh, knowin' other men, it doesn't matter to me, okay? I got no business commentin' on your personal affairs." 

Arthur felt like he would burst into flames from how hard he was flushing; he usually wasn't this nervous when it came to speaking what was on his mind. 

"Feels like I've gotten a second wind here, and I just...I never stopped thinkin' about you," he confessed. "Dreamin' that I would come out the other side of this and that I'd still have a damn chance to see you again."

Irene was merely listening to him ramble, her face neutral. Meanwhile, Arthur was floundering. He had no idea what the right answer might be. Did she want to be left alone? Should he entirely abandon these thoughts, these selfish wishes of his?

"I spent most of my younger years tryin' to put on a respectable front so a specific woman and her family would deem me worthy." He vaguely recalled being strung out on drink in Valentine, crying against Irene's stomach as she stroked the back of his head to soothe him. "It was never enough, and I thought that was it. That was the end for any of those dreams I had. Then I...I met you." Arthur took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the pulse that beat in her wrist. "As much as it killed me, I had to...I didn't want you to be trapped in my mess. I felt--I-I mean, I..." 

I love you, I love you, say it, you cowardly fool!

"If I do this, if I let you stay...you can't go gallivanting off into the wilds, understand?" The woman informed him sternly, her back ramrod straight. "I will not have my daughter getting attached to a man who cannot be there for her, Arthur."

His heart twisted uncertainly in his chest and Arthur hesitated, teetering on the precipice. "She is mine, isn't she?" He finally asked, his voice faltering. At her hesitant nod, the man's throat closed up. "Jesus." Arthur rasped, trying and failing to blink the tears away before they could fall. "A daughter. A li'l baby girl. I never thought I'd...Christ almighty Irene, I n-never--" 

And in an incredibly masculine display of self control, he dissolved into hiccupping sobs.

…

Irene had tried to steel herself for his reaction, fearing the worst. This however, was...manageable. 

"Hush, Arthur." She chided him, feeling her own lower lip quiver. He caught her up in an embrace, his once-powerful frame fragile and trembling with every gasp for air. His fingers clutched at her sides and he buried his face in her shoulder, his hat tumbling to the ground. "Arthur, it's alright." Irene's arms slipped beneath his own and she tentatively hugged him back, just letting him weep and sniffle into her neck. "There's no need to cry."

He stifled a cough in the crook of his elbow, pulling away after several moments. "'Course, a'course. M' fine." He choked out, mopping at his face with his bandanna.

"Art'ur, Mama!" Anna called from the paddock, her tiny hands cupped together around...something. "Art'ur see!" She stumbled to the steps, where she opened her hands just the tiniest bit. 

A wee toad sat in her palm, the creature looking a bit put-out over their current situation. 

"Caught yerself a prince there, Miss Annie?" Arthur asked, rattled by another coughing fit when she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Nuh Art'ur, a toad. Not a frog." Anna corrected, giving him a fierce scowl. "No kisses for toads."

"Little miss," Irene interjected sharply, raising an eyebrow. "Mind your manners. I know you're not that rude."

"B-But...is a toad!" Anna protested, waving the aforementioned critter around.

"I know that, Annie, but you need to be polite when you talk to folks. Now, what do we say?"

"M'sorry, Art'ur." Anna mumbled, depositing the shaken toad into her mother's waiting hands and then scuffing her boot on the ground.

"Oh don't worry about it, li'l Miss Annie. No harm done. You were right, after all." Arthur assured her with a tight smile, his eyes clouded with emotion. "Guess I got a lot to learn about that sort of thing, I ain't much in the habit of readin' fairytales." 

Irene seized the moment of distraction to usher the toad into the shelter of the shade beneath the steps. Then, she brushed her hands off on her apron and got to her feet. "Well Anna, you know what day it is. Come along, little fawn." To Arthur, she continued, "it's Monday, which is also wash day. Be a dear and strip your bed, would you?"

…

Arthur hated that he was absolutely drenched in sweat over something so mundane! He recalled enviously the sheer amount of times he would trek back and forth across whatever camp they had set up, lugging sacks of maize or a fresh kill over one shoulder with the greatest of ease. 

He had nearly been bested by sheets and bedding, of all things. This boded poorly. 

He laid on his back for several long minutes after he had managed to finish remaking the tick up in the hayloft, doing his best to catch his breath again. He knew he should be grateful for surviving the consumption in the first place, but there was a nagging fear in the back of his mind that threatened to fester.

What if this was as good as he got? What if he never really...recovered? His clothes fairly hung off of him; his entire body had become so frail. He was winded from making his blasted pallet! He would be a dependent, a sponge on Irene, a leech. 

That thought had him cringing, and he forced himself to sit back up. Everything ached. He had pushed himself too hard, that was all. Arthur knew in a logical sense that he couldn't just...expect to leap out of bed ready to wrestle a grizzly so soon after a five-month stint of nothing. It just pricked at his pride.

"Arthur?" Irene's head appeared at the top of the ladder, the woman giving him a quizzical look as she took in his rumpled state. "Would you like to bathe? Water's still hot."

Bathe. Lord, a bath sounded heavenly right about now. His sore muscles practically screamed for it. "Depends on how much I'd have to pay to get you as my bath girl." He replied without hesitation.

"I'm a luxury, Mister Morgan." That would have driven a knife into his belly, had she not punctuated it with a saucy wink. "I'm afraid you'll have to do a bit extra to earn a helping hand in your washtub."

Arthur grinned ruefully, shaking his head. "Forgive me ma'am, my mouth ran away from me."

"Oh I'm certain!" Irene laughed, reaching up to swat his knee. "Come along now, before the water cools."

Stripping down in the privacy of her bedroom was...interesting. Arthur studiously avoided looking at the mirror she had as he shed his clothing, folding everything and leaving it by the door like she had asked. The woman already had clean clothes waiting for him on the chair beside the tub. He wouldn't get better service in a Saint Denis hotel!

Lowering his body down into the still-warm water was absolutely heavenly, for all that he nearly scalded himself. Irene must have topped off the tub before he came in, bless her for it. 

A lump of soap sat primly atop a wash rag on the mat next to the tub, and Arthur knew he ought to get started before the water grew too tepid to be comfortable. But there was no harm in taking a moment or two to relax, right?

He lolled his head back against the lip of the tub, his eyes wandering lazily to the mirror beside the door. It was safe to look at now, as it was tilted in such a way that he wouldn't see himself. The last rays of the day's sunlight reflected off the looking glass, the beams warming the rough-hewn floorboards from their usual pale gold to a rich, honeyed brown. 

Arthur wondered idly if Irene had built this place by herself. He didn't doubt it; she was a resourceful woman. 

There was still the question of how she had managed to get ahold of him. Oh certainly, she had mentioned Josiah. But there had been an omission of further details involving his rescue that he found odd. He would have to ask her after he was done with his wash. Maybe over supper.

He groaned, straightening his back and scooping up the soap. He'd best get to scrubbing if he wanted to be presentable for the mealtime.

…

"Arthur?" Irene knocked on the door to her room, a touch worried when she received no answer. "Arthur, it's nearly time for dinner." Still nothing. She took a gamble and turned the handle, easing the door open a hair. 

Arthur appeared to have fallen asleep in the tub, and Irene barely managed to stifle her chuckle. She closed the door behind her gently, tiptoeing to the side of the tub.

He didn't look so worn when he was sleeping, she decided. The furrows smoothed from his brow and the lines around his eyes eased a bit, his mind temporarily free of the burdens that plagued him during his waking hours. Irene settled onto the floor beside the tub, stroking her fingers through his damp hair. "Arthur," she called softly. 

He hummed low in his chest, those blue eyes blinking open as she continued to comb through his thick locks. "Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes." The man drawled, a lazy grin on his face. "Prettiest bath gal I've ever seen." Arthur slotted his fingers through her own, pressing a kiss to her raw-washed knuckles. "These poor hands of yours...Irene, you'll work yourself to the bone." He chided. "Once I get back up to full strength, I promise you'll want for nothin'." 

Nothing at all, his gaze continued, the heated stare sending those old but oh so familiar waves of delight through her body.

"Arthur…" Irene was at a loss, biting her lower lip and breaking his stare by dropping her eyes to the floor. "We will have to wait and see. Once you're back on your feet." She allowed finally.

"It's a deal, Miss Craft." Arthur swore, his jaw set in a determined line. 

Once you're truly well again, I doubt I'll be able to hold on to you, Irene thought sadly as she rose to stand once more. "Supper is nearly ready. Don't take too long, otherwise Annie will polish off your helping!" She teased, her heart not really in it.

Arthur cocked his head, appearing like he was about to question her further, so Irene seized the moment to slip back through the door and close it behind her.

She leaned back against the door, staring up at the ceiling while exhaling hard. Her throat felt suspiciously tight and Irene shook her head at herself, annoyed. I'll be alright. Annie and I have been fine, and we can carry on just fine even without Arthur.

If only she believed it!

Summer’s Warmth, Part Two

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Death by a Thousand Cuts - j. debrusk

Trying to venture into some new territory, let me know what you think! Title’s from the Taylor Swift song. 4.8k of post-breakup Jake DeBrusk angst, as always, I love hearing feedback! I read all the tags, so feel free to reblog, pop into my inbox, anything!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a full-bodied Syrah - smooth, fruity, the kind of wine I’d want to drink if I was sad. 

My heart, my hips, my body, my love/Trying to find a part of me you didn’t touch

Shadi threw back another shot, wincing as the vodka burned down her throat. Clara rubbed her back sympathetically. “Better?” She shrugged. Alcohol was great for forgetting things, but there were some wounds too fresh and too deep for even a Sazerac to cure. And her wounds were named Jake DeBrusk.

Jake had been her everything, still was her everything, and the idea that she was somehow now in charge of forgetting everything they had shared was more than she could bear. Breakups weren’t something Shadi took lightly, and especially when she had spent the past year falling more in love with him with each breath she took. Forgetting more than a year’s worth of early-morning conversations in his bed, Jake’s hand gently brushing back her hair before kissing her temple and going out to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Shadi couldn’t start her day without coffee. A year’s worth of games, up in the box with the other WAGs and down in the tunnel, their lips crashing together in the euphoria of a post-win high. A year’s worth of vacations, to Edmonton to visit his family and Dallas to see hers, laying on the white sand beaches of Tahiti in the summer. A year’s worth of falling asleep to him tracing lines between the freckles on her bare back in the glow of the post-sex fog. It wasn’t like she was going to forget any of it anytime soon. And if Shadi was being honest with herself, it wasn’t like she wanted to. 

---

Shadi met Jake just after moving into her new apartment with Clara, her best friend from BC, when they decided to celebrate their newfound jobs and independence with a bar crawl. As luck would have it, they never actually made it past the first one. Clara had just finished up her first week as a tenth grade English teacher, and Shadi had the weekend to relax before her marketing analytics post started on Monday. 

She wasn't going out to meet someone, not really, but if there was someone attractive enough and charming enough she wasn’t absolutely opposed to spending the night in a bed that wasn’t her own. Shadi sat at the bar, responding to a few texts and sipping her drink as she waited for Clara to return from the bathroom. She wasn’t paying enough attention to her surroundings to notice someone sidle up next to her, getting a little too close for comfort. “Hey,” he said loudly, startling her. Shadi looked up — way up, he was at least six or seven inches taller than her 5’5 — to the stranger’s face, flashing a tight smile. She didn’t know any women who particularly liked to be accosted in the middle of a drink. 

“Hey,” she said. 

He inched closer. “I’m Darren, nice to meet you.”

As much as she’d really just like to be able to tell the guy to fuck all the way off, Shadi hated that it was a far better decision for her safety and security to just try and tacitly go along with it. Let him down easy. 

“Shadi,” she responded. 

He whistled, and she internally cringed, trying as subtly as she could to look towards the bathrooms and trying to spot Clara. More than once, they had pretended to be a couple at bars to get each other out of situations exactly like this one. “Shadi,” he said, testing out the name. “What is that? Arabic? Indian?”

Now she visibly cringed, raising her eyebrows. Great, he’s racist as well as a creep. “Neither. I’m Persian.” 

“Cool, super cool,” he said, nodding. “So, Shadi, what brings you here?”

“Starting a new job next week,” she said, looking back down at her phone, trying to give him just enough information to keep him from being pissed at her. 

Darren finished his drink. “That’s cool, yeah. Good for you. I work in finance. High-level account managing and stuff. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I like the challenge.” Great, add finance bro to the list of reasons why I’ll never go home with this guy, Shadi thought. 

“Nice,” Shadi said, looking away and taking a sip of her drink and trying her damndest to make it clear she wasn’t interested. 

Darren moved even closer, his hand now resting on her waist as Shadi leaned as far away from him as she could while still staying on her seat, looking frantically around for Clara, or anyone, to bail her out. “You come here with anyone?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shadi said nervously, eyes still sweeping the room. “My boyfriend should be around here somewhere.” Darren didn’t need to know she didn’t have a boyfriend, and as much as she hated that men like him were more likely to leave her alone if they thought she was spoken for than if she told him herself she wasn’t interested, it was the best thing she could do in the moment. 

Darren took a cursory glance around the room. “I don’t see anyone coming,” he noted. “You sure about that, Shadi?

“Yes,” she squeaked, as his hand tightened around her waist and she froze like a deer in headlights, too stiff to flag down the bartender.

“It’s polite to look at people when they’re talking to you, or did they not teach that where you’re from?” 

Shaking, she turned back to look at him. “I’m from Texas,” she spat. 

“I think we could really have some fun together, if you’d just stop being so uptight we could really—” Darren didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, his arm being forcefully removed from her waist. She swung around, meeting the eyes of her unknown savior, who was too busy glaring at the man across from her to even meet her eyes. 

“Seems like you’re having a hard time taking no for an answer,” he said. 

Darren looked up, rubbing his wrist from where it had been in a vice grip only moments before. “You the boyfriend?”

The other man didn’t even flinch. “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend. Even if I wasn’t, she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you, but she’s just too polite to tell you to fuck off. Luckily,” he smirked. “I’m not.”

Darren rolled his eyes, grabbing his half-empty glass and inching away from the bar. “Whatever. Wouldn’t have been worth it anyways.” 

Shadi collapsed into her hands as soon as he was out of earshot, breathing shakily. The stranger reached out tentatively, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. “You okay?”

She leaned back, taking another drink and nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be okay, it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. He just really didn’t want to leave me alone and I couldn’t find my friend and he didn’t seem to be getting the message that I wasn’t interested.” 

He grimaced. “On behalf of my entire gender, I apologize for all the shitty men you have ever had to encounter.”

“Thank you,” she said, laughing slightly and setting her glass back down on the bar. “And thanks for stepping in, you really didn’t have to.”

He shook his head. “I just did what any decent guy would do. I’ve got a sister, girls deserve to feel safe in bars.”

“Regardless,” she added, “I appreciated it. And just so you know,” she said, pausing, “you don’t have to worry about an actual boyfriend coming around. I’ve just found it’s the easiest way for guys to leave me alone.” Shadi surprised herself; she wasn’t normally this bold. 

He dipped his head. “Good to know. Probably should properly introduce myself, then. Jake DeBrusk,” he said, sticking his hand out. 

“Shadi Azizi.” She shook it, smirking slightly as she took a sip of her drink. “I know.” 

He smiled bashfully, scratching his head. “Hockey fan?” 

She nodded. “I’ll go to Bruins games when I can make it, but I’m from Dallas, so…” she shrugged. 

“You’ve already sold your soul to the Stars,” Jake finished. 

Shadi laughed. “Yep. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of the girl.”

Jake eyed her glass, seeing that she was nearly finished. “Can I get you another?” Shadi nodded after a moment. “Sure.” He caught the bartender’s eye. “What are you drinking?” “Whiskey on the rocks.” Jake leaned back on his stool, clutching his hands over his chest. “A woman after my own heart.”

---

Three months later, it was November, and Shadi was in Jake’s kitchen, doling out Chinese takeout onto two plates. “Beer?” she asked over the counter, to where Jake was flopped on the couch, flipping through channels in hopes of finding something mildly interesting to watch.

“Yes please,” he shot back. He had just gotten back from a road trip that afternoon, eleven days in the Midwest, and there were few things he wanted more than to be back in Shadi’s arms. They had started a sort of unspoken tradition; Shadi had taken to spending the night whenever Jake came back from a road trip, and he wasn’t about to start complaining. He loved his job and he loved his team, but after a week or two of being around them practically 24/7, he didn’t want to waste any time getting back to her. 

Shadi padded back towards the living room, sliding a plate of lo mein and fried rice over to Jake, who leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “Thanks, babe,” he said, putting the remote down. “Parks and Rec good with you?”

She nodded, mouth full. “Doesn’t take much to convince me. I’d kill a man for Leslie Knope.”

Jake laughed. Shadi looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “You think I’m joking?”

He held his free hand up in mock surrender, the other balancing his plate on the arm of the couch. “I should have known better. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Shadi said, scrunching up her nose. “I think I can find it somewhere deep in the recesses of my cold, dead heart.” 

Things between Jake and Shadi had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly, certainly more quickly than Jake was expecting. But, as he was realizing, that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The scene was definitely more domestic than he was used to; it wasn’t unusual for him and Shadi to join some of their friends or the team for a night out at the bars or clubs, but it was just as common to have an evening in. It was nice, being together like this. Domesticity was never something that was quite his style, but as he thought, looking over at Shadi, who was entirely engrossed in Leslie’s valiant attempts to control a town hall meeting, maybe it could become his style.

You said it was a great love, one for the ages/But if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

It was the end of January, and Shadi was in Edmonton. Jake had told her about Boston’s bye week about two months earlier, the plan having originally been to drive up to New Hampshire for a week of camping in White Mountain. But then Jake had been selected for the All-Star Team, much to his surprise — not Shadi’s, who had been convinced he’d be picked practically since the season started —  and their schedule had been turned on its head. He had decided that it would make more sense to visit his family. Shadi didn’t complain; she had just started to get used to Boston winters, and wasn’t confident in her ability to go a week in a tent in the middle of January.

What surprised her, though, was when he invited her to come with him. She had never met his parents in person before. Over FaceTime, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Jake was initially very shy about extending the invitation, almost as if he wasn’t sure if that was something she wanted or was ready for. His concern was sweet, but Shadi was more touched that he had asked her to come in the first place, and put in her request for vacation time that night. 

The flight wasn’t much over six hours, a short layover in Montréal and one connection later and they landed in Edmonton. Shadi met up with Jake just outside of passport control, pulling her pea coat tightly around herself. “Ooh,” she said, breathing out shakily. “Bit chilly here, no?”

Jake laughed. Oh, if only she knew. “Wait till you get outside, babe. It’s January in the middle of Alberta.”

“How bad can it get?” Shadi asked naively. Pretty bad, as she found out the moment they stepped outside the terminal into the freezing air. She was suddenly very grateful her parka was in her bag, a Patagonia jacket that had been one of her first big purchases when she moved to Boston. Jake was having a very good fun time poking fun at her in the three minutes it took for his parents to pull up. 

“Aww, is my Texas girl cold? Is she having trouble dealing with real weather?”

Shadi glared at him. “Shut up.”

His parents were incredible, kind and welcoming from the moment they picked them up at the airport. They drove them back to Jake’s childhood home, where his sister greeted her with a hug. She had visited Boston a few weeks prior, her and Shadi immediately getting along thanks to their shared taste in coffee orders and music. They had swapped Spotify playlists more than one time since her visit. 

The week she spent in Edmonton was amazing. Even though she may have been a little bit apprehensive from the start, all of her worries were just distant memories by the time they had to get back on the plane. She had always been good with parents; whether it was her best friend or her boyfriend, they had always liked her. Making a good impression and being unfailingly respectful, especially to her elders, was a value that had been instilled in her from a young age. She had brought a tin of qurabiya on the plane as a gift for them, after a half-dozen Google searches to make sure she could bring them across the border and a twenty minute long phone call with her mom to make sure she was using the right type of almonds. They loved them, and seeing the tin already empty on the third day of her trip filled her heart.

“She’s really good for you, you know,” his mom said, as he was packing his suitcase for the flight back. “You’re still you, fun and spontaneous and caring. But you’re a more mature, thoughtful version of yourself. And I think that’s thanks to Shadi.”

Jake blushed, shoving his toothbrush in his toiletry bag. “She is. She’s great, Mom. We have so much fun together, and she really does bring out the best in me.” He paused for a moment. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His mom raised her eyebrows, not surprised and certainly not disappointed, but a little astonished that he had realized himself what she saw from the moment they had landed in Canada. She had just been waiting for him to admit it. “You do?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her face.

He nodded, more sure this time. “I’m in love with her, Mom.”

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand/Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

“You doing okay, babe?” Clara asked gently, one hand on Shadi’s back as she nursed her third beer of the night. Shadi reached up to try and wipe away her tears. Thank God she hadn’t worn any mascara. She nodded, trying to flash her best friend a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes. 

Shadi hadn’t ever been the kind of person to put up walls. That was Jake’s thing. But she was a great actress, and if Clara hadn’t known her as well as she did, she wouldn’t have been able to call her on it. 

“Bullshit, Shadi. You’re not fine and I know it. You know it.” God, Clara could read her like a book. It wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, and she sure as hell wasn’t over him. She didn’t know when she would be over him. If ever. 

They said that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one. If Rome was a metaphor for their relationship, Shadi would say there’s never been a more accurate phrase. All it took was five minutes for Jake to break her heart, for the world they had built together to come crumbling apart around her. As much as she hated it, there was still a part of her that couldn’t help but try to look back on that night. Shadi almost called bullshit on him the moment he said he was breaking up with her, because he had never even brought it up before, and that’s not something you just drop on someone like he did, right? But she didn’t, she hadn’t gotten closure and hadn’t gotten a reason, an actual reason, and so any curly hair she saw out of the corner of her eye that night she kept hoping was Jake’s, and any cocky smile from some guy trying to buy her a drink — she’d let them, for the free alcohol, but they never got a conversation out of her — she kept wishing was his. 

---

It was September, and Shadi felt like she was walking on air. She and Jake had celebrated their one year anniversary a month ago, and things couldn’t be going better. Training camp for the new season had started, which had begun to take up more of his time than she maybe would have liked, but she was dealing with it. They both were. It was like Shadi had told him two months into their relationship, and countless times since: she knew what she was signing up for, knew that sometimes she would have to take a backseat to hockey, and she was okay with that. Having Jake some of the time was better than not having him at all. 

So when Jake had texted her that morning, asking if she was free to come over that night, she thought nothing of it. Well, scratch that, she thought a lot of it. It had been about two weeks since they had had a proper date night; while she loved him sneaking into her apartment to sleep for a few hours before he had to get up or meeting in the mornings for coffee and bagels, they were in desperate need of some alone time. Jake hadn’t exactly been distant since their anniversary, but it had definitely seemed like something was on his mind. And when she asked Clara, or her older sister Yasmin, or Hannah, her best friend in Houston, they all said the same thing. If nothing seemed like it was going wrong, but he was seeming distant, but they were still communicating, then there was really only one possibility, at least according to them. He was going to propose. 

So Shadi took a little longer in front of the mirror, put on her good jeans instead of just a pair of sweats, ran a comb through her hair. She grabbed her car keys, locking the door to her apartment and nervously pressing on the elevator button. Why was she nervous? She was in love with Jake. She saw a future with him, a future together. If tonight was going to be the start of forever, there was nothing to be afraid of. I wonder what Jake’s doing now, Shadi thought. Was he waiting for her on the couch? Trying to cook pasta, the only dinner he could reliably make without burning? Pacing back and forth in his room, turning over the ring box in his hand? The ring. What did it look like? Did he buy it new, or was it a family heirloom? Did he ask any of the guys on the team for tips, or did — Stop it, Shadi reminded herself. He doesn’t have to be proposing. We do nights in almost every week. Maybe he just wants to watch a movie. But in the back of her mind, as she pulled out of the parking garage, was the possibility that she was about to walk into one of the most important nights of her life. And it was, but not in the way she thought. Not in the way she wanted. 

Jake’s place was only ten minutes away from hers; before she even knew it, she was killing the engine and walking up the stairs to his door. She tapped her knuckles against the wood. It was barely ten seconds before Jake opened it up, smiling at her.  “Hey, thanks for coming over,” he said, leading her into the living room and pressing a kiss against her cheek, lingering a little longer than usual 

Shadi knew something was off even as they sat on the couch thirty minutes later, Star Wars playing on the screen in front of them. If she was being honest, she knew something was wrong from the moment she got there. Jake was acting stuff, not distant, but almost confused. LIke he had something on his mind that he couldn’t quite spit out. And it didn’t seem like a proposal. “Alright,” Shadi said, huffing and propping herself up on one arm to face Jake. “What’s up.”

To his credit, he didn’t mince words, didn’t play dumb. He knew better than to insult her intelligence like that, and she knew better than to believe him. “You noticed, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “I love you for a lot of reasons, J, but you really do have a terrible poker face.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving a piece hanging in front of his eye. “Alright,” he said, in that kind of I-know-what-I-need-to-say-but-I-don’t-want-to-say-it tone, the one that she wasn’t expecting. The one that never means good news. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on my life, our lives over the past thirteen months we’ve been together, and I’ve loved every minute of the time that we’ve spent together.” Okay, Shadi furrowed her brows, where’s he going with this? “I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my priorities in life, where they are right now and where I think they should be. And I’ve realized that,” he swallowed, “I’m at a place in my life where I need to be focusing on hockey.” Oh no. “And I don’t think I’m in a position where I can have a relationship and be as invested in my career as I need to be.” Oh God. 

Shadi sat up, stunned. “Are you...Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jake nodded his head jerkily. “And I want you to know that I don’t regret anything about our relationship. I don’t have anything bad to say about you, or the time we’ve spent together, or anything. I just don’t think I’m able to give you, or our relationship, the attention it deserves. You deserve someone who’s going to be able to dedicate a hundred percent to you, and as much as I wish I could, I don’t think I’m that person.”

“So, you’re saying I’m a distraction?” Shadi asked slowly, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in his curls. “Fuck. No. That’s not it. I just don’t know if I’m in a place where I’m able to juggle two things that are so important, and that I want to dedicate this much time to.” 

She scoffed. “Are you really trying to pull the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line with me, DeBrusk?” That stung. She never called him by his last name, not even when they started dating. It was J, or babe, or even Jake if she was particularly annoyed, but never just DeBrusk. 

“Would it make you feel better if I was?” 

Shadi shook her head. “It’s worse. Don’t you know that it’s worse? Because then there’s not anything I feel like I could have done differently. Nothing I could have done to change your mind.” Her eyes drifted down to her right hand, where the gorgeous pearl ring Jake had gotten her for their anniversary just a month prior sat on her ring finger. “You said you were going to marry me one day,” Shadi said, sliding her fingertips down to the band and gently twisting it off. Her hand felt bare, even though it had only been there for a month. Jake’s breath caught in his throat. Never make a promise you can’t keep. 

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

God, sometimes Shadi just felt so fucking stupid. She almost felt naive, shortsighted from not listening to her friends in Boston, or people back home who warned her about Jake.“You know his reputation. You know how hockey players are” Shadi couldn’t count the number of times people had told her that, and the number of times she hadn’t listened. “He doesn’t stick with any one girl.” “I know you like him, but he’s only going to break your heart.” But the thing was, he hadn’t. Jake had made it clear, straight from the start of their relationship, that they were exclusive, and he backed it up. She wore his jersey to games, went as his date to all the Bruins fundraisers, and took the week off to come with him when he was selected for the All-Star Game. Jake knew his reputation better than anyone, and that’s why he was so committed to making sure she knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy everyone kept trying to peg him as. And Shadi had never felt so much pride then when she was able to turn around, prove them wrong, and say: “You see? He’s never done anything to hurt me, and he’s not about to start now.” 

But she couldn’t, not anymore. She couldn’t, because they all had been right and he had broken his promises and her heart and now she was crying in a bar with her best friend on a Friday night and had no clue how to get a grip of her feelings. She pounded back another beer, barely even stopping to swallow before ordering a fourth round. Or was it a fifth? She didn’t know, and at that point, she really didn’t care. 

I get drunk, but it's not enough/’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

Sometime past one but before her next door neighbor’s chihuahua always started barking at two, Shadi stumbled into her apartment. She unstrapped her heels and placed them haphazardly by the door as she walked down to the bathroom, reaching around the cupboard for her toothpaste. Teeth were brushed and flossed, and she had shed nearly all of her clothes by the time she reached her bed. She grabbed the nearest sweatshirt to pull over her body as makeshift pajamas, only half paying attention. Shadi was too tired to look too closely; if she had, she would have noticed that it was a Bruins hoodie, the very first one Jake had ever given to her, a month and a half into their relationship. 

It seemed like Shadi had barely drifted off to sleep when she was woken up by the sound of frantic knocks on her door. Her first thought was something was wrong with Clara, who lived down the hall, that she wasn’t feeling well or needed to be talked out of texting her ex-girlfriend. It had happened before. But then she realized that Clara would have called first. Then her thought was a fire somewhere, but she didn’t smell smoke and her alarm hadn’t gone off. The knocking persisted. “Okay, okay, I’m coming. You’re going to wake up the whole building,” Shadi grumbled, throwing back the covers and padding out to the living room, pants be damned. 

She tried to wipe the sleep out of her eyes, the harsh light of the hallway fluorescents the first thing she noticed as the door swung open. The second thing was the person standing in front of it. It was Jake. His hand was frozen in the air, like he was about to knock for a fourth time if she hadn’t answered. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice small. She didn’t trust it to speak any louder. 

Jake’s breath hitched as he noticed what she was wearing. His sweatshirt. He stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket, pulling out her pearl ring. The same one she had taken off the day he left, the same one he had given her when his thoughts of the future were filled with big houses and weddings and kids’ birthday parties. He held it out to her. “I had to see you.”

[melindacoulson4]

By her side

AOS started with the death of a hero. The Tahiti project was created to bring back a fallen hero. And so the cycle continues....only this time it isn't Phil Coulson.   Daisysous fic. Post-finale.

THIS IS WILD. PREPARE FOR FEELS. 

She jerked awake. Her eyes automatically looking to her right for the man in the chair. He was there, watching her closely. It took him a minute to react. He froze sitting up quickly, mouth falling open. "Hey. Hey. You're awake." He stood up and moved to her side quickly.  

There was a beeping. Her body hurt like someone had thrown her off the side of a building. At first glance, she saw nothing but white. White walls. White blanket covering her body. White bandages over her arms. Several things ran through her head at once. Miles was always telling her that she needed to cool it with her speed. That her van would turn into an accordion against any vehicle with substance. A car accident that had to be how she'd wound up in here. And this guy at her side was some nice citizen. A witness that had come to make sure she'd be alright.  

He completely surprised her when he grabbed a hold of her hand. "Skye," he whispered.  

He knew her name. "Huh?" She said. The way her voice sounded startled her. It had come out scratchy and deep, leaving the inside of her throat aching.

"Are you okay?" He looked down at her full of concern.  

No. Most definitely not okay.  

She tried sitting up. And that brought a spike of pain that went rolling down her spine but she continued to try anyway.  

"Hey. Hey. Hey," he protested. "Take it easy," he said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What is it? What hurts?" He asked, slowly transitioning to a seated position at the edge of her bed.  

The overwhelming sense of unknown threw her into a panic. "Everything. I. I. I..." She stuttered. "What's happening?" Against her will, her eyes watered. She didn't want to appear weak or fragile but it was kind of hard not to in this situation. It couldn't be helped.  

"You were in an accident," he told her, rubbing his thumb against the top of her hand. He was gentle in the way he touched her.  

An accident. That was acceptable, but the thing that scared her most. That had her palms sweating under the knit white blanket and her breathing picking up was that the last thing she remembered was white sand. Had she nearly drowned? Or worse, attacked by some stranger?

"Breathe. Just breathe. D- Skye. Look at me." It was a request, not an order. "Breathe with me, okay?"

Eyes swinging back to him, she nodded. His presence was calming. She blew a breath out. Her heart continued hammering away.  

"Slow...in and out," he coached softly.  

His chest rose and fell rhythmically. She did her best to mimic it. "Okay. Okay," she whispered. Feeling rational thought return. Things were okay. For one, she was alive and two, this man was here. As she knew he would be....somehow.  

Sensing her need for space again, he backed up slightly, but didn't go far. He stayed an arm's length away.  

Her mouth was so dry. Like someone had shoveled a truckload of sand into it while she slept. "Water," she requested.  

A styrofoam cup with a bendy straw appeared in front of her. She swallowed it down greedily, finishing it in three long gulps. His eyes never wavered from her face as he held the cup in place for her. When she found her breath, she asked, "Not to be rude or anything but...who are you?"

He looked down, swallowing hard. "James." It was not what she expected him to say. "You like calling me Jim though." He said, attempting to smile, but it failed to reach his eyes.  

"Jim," she tested. It felt weird, but she nodded anyway, wanting to make him feel better as he just did with her. His clothes were rumpled. Dark circles seemed engrained on his face like he hadn't slept in weeks. Several stacks of newspapers sat on the window ledge. He'd been sitting by her bedside for a while then. And it looked like he'd been in the same accident as her. A long, odd looking bruise lined his jaw. Several small cuts were sprinkled over his face. There was a black sling around his neck, cradling his entire right arm.  

Her eyes dipped to the hand he had near hers on the bed. No ring. So they weren't married. Given the hand holding and lack of ring there were only a few options. "Okay. Jim. Um. What are you to me?"  

She expected pain to cross his face or more realistically anger. Forgetting him entirely wasn't exactly a nice thank you for him sitting by her bedside. But he remained straight-faced, almost stony. "Your boyfriend," he said.  

Should she apologize? Hey Jim, you seem like a swell guy, but I have no memory of our time together at all. "I can't remember anything," she whispered, sounding small.  

He nodded. "That's okay," he answered, calm and collected. Not anything like his world had just been flipped upside-down, which lead her to suspect that he'd anticipated this.  

There was a cot pushed against the far wall. She had no roommate. A blanket was thrown over the back of his chair. A tower of books were stacked off to the side. She read the spine of the thickest one. "A concise history of the 20th century". He'd been bored enough to read something like that. Just how much time had passed? Long enough to accumulate these things to keep himself occupied. She was afraid to know the answer, so instead she asked, "What happened to us?"

He looked her right in the eye. "Helicopter crash."

That did not sound right at all. "A what?" She blurted, doubt clouding her mind.  

"There was a helicopter crash. We were...in Tahiti." He shook his head as if recalling something painful. "It completely shattered your left shoulder blade. You had a concussion. Ten broken ribs..." He trailed off.  

Come to think of it she did feel different somehow. Like she'd been torn apart and then put back together again, piece by piece. She expected some other explanation. Maybe it was the disorientation of the memory loss. Either way it was a deeply odd feeling to have.  

"Believe it or not you were lucky." His face shadowed over like he'd seen too much. Witnessed too much. "We...were lucky," he amended.  

And others not so much, her brain finished for him. "People died?"

"Yea." A haunted look crossed his face.  

It made her uncomfortable, so she didn't look at his face. He caught her staring at the rest of his body. "I have a broken arm, but it's healed well. It was in a...cast. But now I have this." He gestured to the sling.  

The door opened. A young woman walked in, shuffling papers and watching Jim. The doctor, Skye suspected. The woman smiled at Jim like they were on friendly terms, familiar with each other. "Ma-

"She's awake," he said, interrupting her.  

The doctor turned to her, shocked to her core. "You're awake," she repeated Jim, almost in disbelief.  

"I am," Skye confirmed, then felt stupid.  

"How long have I been here exactly?" She asked, changing the subject.  

The doctor stood in place, still staring at her, stunned that she was even speaking. Skye had never seen a doctor so thrown by a patient waking up.

"A while," Jim answered. His eyes flickered away.

That scared her.  

He seemed to detect her fear because he reached out and touched her fingers. "It was bad. I thought you were gone."

"You're a fighter," the doctor said. Skye felt that she could trust her. There was a genuineness about her. A face that you'd want to tell anything to.  

"Not literally though. I work with computers for a living," Skye said almost on automatic. The words felt true though. Keyboards and screens. She remembered that. "Right?" She looked to Jim for confirmation.  

There was a long pause. Jim seemed almost mournful for a moment, then he smiled. "Yea. Don't ask me the details though. I don't understand the first thing about those things."  

Both he and the doctor laughed, but it failed to truly reach either of their eyes. They both seemed worn down. There were more lines on Jim's face than she remembered ever being there.  

"I'm feeling...." Skye trailed off, thinking about what to say. Claustrophobic. Locked up. Trapped in a bubble. "Could I maybe take a walk?" She asked the doctor hesitantly. She wasn't really in great shape, but she needed to move.  

When no answer came, her eyes flickered to the doctor. She seemed trapped in some sort of trance, staring down at the papers in her arms.  

"Doctor?"

The woman blinked, coming back from where her mind had been. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"A walk. Do you think I could take one?"

The doctor opened her mouth, denial clearly on her tongue.  

"Please," Skye added quickly. "Please," she begged, meeting the doctors eyes. She seemed like a good person. Human and able to work with a patient.  

The doctor swallowed past a lump in her throat. "That can be arranged for you," she stated quietly.  

It wasn't until she and Jim made it into the hall that Skye realized she never caught the doctor's name. The woman wore no nametag nor white lab coat. But it had been obvious who she was by her caring demeanor. As she'd fiddled with the machines and disconnected the IVs, Skye felt a healing energy around the room. She wanted to ask the doctor where she was from. The accent was British and could hardly be missed, but the doctor had grown skittish towards the end. Like something was deeply upsetting. Jim had stepped in to help her stand from the bed. The doctor had made herself scarce after that.  

The going was slow. She kept her eyes primarily on her feet. One foot in front of the other. She couldn't ever remember having to use crutches before. There had been the time in middle school when she'd fallen over a soccer ball. On the landing there had been a distinct crack from her leg. She didn't dare say anything to her foster parents. All they needed was one excuse to be rid of her. That's how they all were, so she'd walked with a pretty profound limp for a while. And that marked the permanent end of her sports career.  

During her time in the bed, her muscles had grown weak. Her body itself seemed to be in relatively okay shape for a woman who'd had so many injuries. As she lifted the crutches, she wobbled a bit.

"Woah. I've got ya," Jim said with a supportive hand at her back.  

She believed him. She knew it was true down to her core. He would always be there to pick her up. Or not let her fall in the first place.  

It was quiet out here. So much so that her crutches seemed a thousand times louder than they truly were. When she tapped them on the tile, the noise seemed to echo all around them. She had the suspicion that this hospital was really small. There was barely any activity around. No nurses hustling around. No other patients. Maybe she'd seen too many movies. At this point she was kind of desperate just to see different people around. Just when she was about to ask Jim where they even were in terms of a city, she saw actual people.  

They passed a small waiting room. It was an open area filled with chairs and tables. She saw a middle aged-man and woman sitting side-by-side. Clearly a couple by the way they leaned on one another. The man wore a white checkered shirt that was tucked into a pair of khakis. Dark rimmed glasses rested on the tip of his nose. He had a book in hand, halfway finished by the looks of it. The woman wore a light purple sweater and a necklace. Her dark hair was pinned back. Her arm was threaded in the man's. They looked like old sweethearts.  

The woman caught Skye looking. They locked eyes and Skye felt her chest tighten. The woman smiled politely, but it was a facade. Putting on a brave face, Skye thought. There was a deep sadness to her. She clutched at her husband's hand. They both appeared tired and worn down, like they'd received bad news or were waiting on news of a close family member. At least they had each other. She hoped things would work out for them.  

One of her crutches caught on the tile floor. She found that she could no longer lift it. Her breathing had kicked up. Heart beating erratically. Sweat had broken out under her arms. She could scarcely hold onto the rubber grip attached to the crutches. She halted in place, feeling like she couldn't move forward. There was something deeply wrong...but her mind blanked.  

"You okay?" Jim asked from her side, but he sounded far away. So far away.  

The world was spinning fast, intending on hurling her off somewhere that she didn't know. She'd never felt so lost before. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to fight it all off. Parents. The word had entered her mind from nowhere and spread out like wildfire. Even though she was an adult she wished she knew who they were. It hardly mattered at the moment. She couldn't understand why this was happening now.  

"Skye, can you hear me?"

Jim. Jim was still here. And just like that everything was okay. When she opened her eyes the world had grown still once more. Normal. Things were normal. He was at her side and he wasn't going anywhere.  

"What just happened?" Jim questioned, clearly distraught.

She didn't want to worry him. She wanted to see him happy. A smile on his face, that was something she could remember. When he chuckled he looked so damn endearing and genuine. So she put on a brave face. "Just out of breath for a sec," she told him, brushing her panic away.  

"Maybe we should go back." His warm hand settled against her shoulders.  

Nothing seemed real in here. Like she might be dreaming. She wanted to see birds flying through the air, feel wind on her cheeks, and hear the sound of traffic. What she didn't want was to keeping breathing stale, recirculated hospital air. "No way I want some fresh air. Just needed a breather is all. I'm good now. Promise," she said, determined to finish this.  

So they continued on.  

Something flew across the floor, bounced off the toe of her shoe, and came to a halt about a foot away. A green dot. It was tiny, not even the size of a penny. The word pebble popped into her mind, but it wasn't right. That was a stupid thing to think. Pebbles weren't lime green. It was a piece of candy. She stepped over it easily.

The proof came a few feet later. A man had a red baggie in his hand. He was busy tossing skittles and catching them in his mouth. And from the looks of him, he was terrible at it. But luck seemed to be on his side, most of the candies had wound up in his lap so he could try again. Best two out of ten, she thought.

There were several candy and chocolate wrappers on the empty next to him. She counted at least three lemon head baggies. Clearly he had a sweet tooth. He upended the Skittle bag into his palm. It was red. He looked about ready to prepare for the next toss, but stopped short. Wondering what the hold up was, her eyes ran up to his face. She was almost taken aback by the way he was staring at her. His eyes were blown wide, like a deer caught in headlights. She'd always heard the expression and had used it herself sometimes, but now she was seeing it in its truest form. If a giant bulky alien popped up and punched him in the face, she didn't think he could look anymore shocked than he did right now.  

The woman next to him seemed to notice his rude behavior, turned and elbowed him in the gut. He flinched, dropping that last Skittle. His head swung towards the woman. "Ow!" He complained, outraged.  

"Pendejo," the woman said.  

The two began bickering back and forth like siblings. Clearly they had a familiarity with each other. Neither one looked at her again.  

Completely thrown by the exchange, Skye's brows furrowed. Both of them were purposefully not looking at her. A terrible thought crossed her mind. Had she been disfigured? A face transplant. Or skin graft. Helicopters could explode and Jim never gave her the details. All the terrible ways someone could be hurt in a crash ran through her mind. "Is something wrong with my face?"

"No," Jim said quickly.  

"Don't lie to me," she warned.  

"I would never lie to you about something like that," he said seriously. "Besides a few gnarly scratches and some bruises your face is perfect."

Perfect. Where did she find a man this nice? She didn't think she'd ever heard someone call her face perfect. Caring. Supportive. Nice. Attractive. She patted her past self on the back for choosing him.  

A large guy, built like Dwayne "the rock" Johnson coming down the hall.  

"Holy God. That guy is big," she murmured.  

He was stacked with muscles, but slim. He had a cardboard carrier in each hand. Both completely full. There were four coffees in each carrier, each of varying sizes. One was even a frappuccino.  

"How many coffees does one guy need?" She whispered, trying not to stare.  

"When you're that big, I guess eight," Jim responded.  

She chuckled. They kept moving and when they passed the coffee man he actually met her eye without reacting like she looked like a leper. He nodded politely as he passed. She smiled and did the same.  

There were pictures all along the walls of different landscapes. She stared at them and wondered where her home was. She had no idea. The only thing she knew was that Jim was in her life. That felt right.  

To fill the silence, she asked, "So what were we doing in Tahiti anyway?"

"Taking a long deserved vacation. Which is what we're going to continue doing until you're all healed," he said.  

A vacation from what? She tried to picture herself living with Jim. Maybe having dinner ready for him just as he set foot in the house after a long days work. She couldn't picture it. She wanted to know what he did for a living. Then she realized that she didn't even know what her own job was. So many questions and not enough answers. She didn't want to hurt him, but she could barely remember anything. The last thing she remembered was the pain. She'd fought so hard to live. Several questions bounced around her head about the accident. She wanted to know more, but thought back to his reaction in her room and decided she could wait. She didn't want to upset him.  

They made it outside without even having to use an elevator. Apparently her room was on the first floor, the only floor. Weird hospital. This must be a really small town or some private place for rich people.  

Jim lead her over to a bench and helped her sit. The black metal had a soothing warmth to it from soaking up all the sunshine. It was a welcomed difference from inside the hospital. The sun felt nice on her arms. Most of her arm was bandaged up, but the skin that she could see was pale. So she held out both arms as best she could, enjoying the heat that soaked into her.  

Jim's hand rested on her thigh, barely there so as not to hurt her. But enough so she could feel his presence. Because of him she felt warm inside too.  

She didn't know how much time had passed, but the next time she opened her eyes a little girl had appeared. Merely a few feet in front of her stood a small girl, no more than five. She had blonde hair that was almost white and was wearing the biggest smile on her face that Skye had ever seen.  

"Hi there, cutie," Skye said, smiling back. The little girl's happiness was infectious.  

She felt Jim sit up straighter.  

"No no no no." A man came over in a rush and completely out of breath. "Over here, sweetie," he said, directing the little girl away.  

He had an accent. Just like that doctor. What were the odds of that? Small odds. Waking up from a coma? Also small odds. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. She should go buy a lottery ticket.  

The girl proved to be a stubborn one. She plopped down right in front of their feet, unwilling to budge. The man scooped her up. "I'm so sorry," he apologized to her and Jim, barely sparing them a glance.  

"Don't be," she said, smiling at how sweet the girl was.  

No response came from the man. In a rush of nervous energy, he booked it away from them. Almost as if he couldn't get away fast enough. Like he thought they had some disease. Odd.  

A heartbroken cry echoed.  

Skye looked to their right. The little girl had her arms stretched out, reaching back. Her face was very displeased. That was when Skye saw a small plastic monkey toy discarded on the sidewalk.  

The man seemed to notice too. Grudgingly, he backtracked his steps.  

"What's her name?" Skye called out to him, desperate for conversation or something else she couldn't figure out.  

The man looked at her, startled. "Uh um," he fumbled over his words. He had a young looking face, but the beard and mustache combo mad him more distinguished. Avoiding her eyes, he grabbed the toy, then paused like the ground had suddenly cracked apart and was about to suck him in. After a long pause he finally spoke. "Dandelion....Dandy for short." Without waiting for her response, he spun around and took off like a fire had been lit under his ass.  

Weirdo...

People these days were weird. Not only his reactions, but that name....dandelion. What happened to boring, normal names like.... Melinda or something? "Remind me that when we have kids not to name any daughter we have after a flower," she said to Jim. He stayed quiet and her brain caught up to what she'd said. She shut her eyes in exasperation. Idiot.

"I'm sorry. Was that too soon? I actually have no idea how long we've been dating."  

"Dating," he said as if the word were foreign to him.  

Oh god, he wasn't one of those kind, was he?  Afraid of any commitment. Worry settled in the pit of her stomach. "That's what we're doing, right?" She asked, confused now.  

He leaned towards her, quickly grabbing her hand and meeting her eyes. "Yea....yea...of course...I just....I like calling it....going steady," he said almost nervously.  

That made her laugh. "What are you? Ninety years old?"

He chuckled and there was that happiness from him that she loved to see.  

She turned, searching for the little girl again, but she and her father were long gone. "That was weird, right? That guy. Acting like we were going to steal his kid or something..." She looked at Jim for confirmation that it wasn't just her that thought so.  

He nodded. "It was weird. Maybe he's just paranoid."

"Speaking of weird. In that hospital room, when I first woke up...even before I opened my eyes, I just knew that you would be there. Like I had this sixth sense of you sitting by my bedside or something," she told him.  

"Maybe you heard me talking to you," she said and she could feel the rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "Telling you I needed you to come back to me." He took her hand, threading their fingers together.  

"Maybe." She smiled. It felt good to just sit and not have any commitments. To not have to rush to respond to something. To what? She didn't know, but either way she was going to take advantage of this.  

She stared up at the sky, still lost in thought of the image of him asleep in a chair. In her mind he was wearing blue and he looked damn good.  

"Someone's getting tired," he observed.  

"Sorry. Yea, I think I am." There was a pounding going on in her head that she didn't like.  

"Let's go back in. I don't want you pushing yourself like you always do," he said.

"Okay," she agreed. Anything to make them get back to her bed faster. This whole thing really had tired her out.  

Everything was going to be okay though. She felt safe. She felt at home. Jim was with her.  

//end//

[mamapeach7]

Daeul

Preview / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / bonus

bonus + hanji’s letter

-

eighteen months later

Hanji’s job as curator in Manchester not only allowed her chances in separate campaigns but even let her write and publish a book of her own, one which narrated the life of England’s most well-known king.

She spent seven months writing it along with conducting research and compiling evidence analyzed by other historians, enough to finally publish it in the summer with the title of The Body of Henry VIII -- specifically focusing on the last few years of his life and what may have led up to his death.

Sitting by a small foldable table in a nearby library, she gracefully signed copies of the book for readers lined up in front of her.

“Thank you for coming!”, she cheered as she gave the reader back his book before she dropped her pen to the ground.

As she bent to pick it up, her eyes caught a glimpse of an all-too-familiar stuffed animal.

Eppe?

“H-Hanji?”

Her eyes slowly trailed to the owner of the voice who spoke her name, and lo and behold stood Kwon Daeul whom she had instantly recognized.

Only this time he was bigger and taller, beginning to look a little less like his father and more like his birth mom which made her feel a sort of sorrow inside her but she knew she would still love him the same.

“D-Daeul? W-What are…”, she spoke softly, as she placed her hands on his small shoulders which he was quick to accept as he pulled himself in for a soft hug.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and embracing the warmth radiating off of him.

Then she realized that if Daeul was here then someone else was too.

“W-Where’s your…”

Her eyes now open, her attention was brought to the pair of black dress shoes making their way to her and the not-so-small boy anymore.

When she brought her eyes to the owner of the shoes, she held her mouth agape as her hold on Daeul loosened.

There stood Kwon Hyuk dressed in one of her favourite outfits on him -- the gray blazer on top of a solid shirt and black pants with the once-intimidating pointy shoes.

“Care to sign one more book?”, he said as he held the novel in his hand.

She scoffed lightly before picking Daeul up and pulling both the child and his dad into a shared hug. They laughed warmly, Hyuk’s arms wrapped around the most important people in his life as Hanji placed a soft peck on his cheek.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Well, I couldn’t miss out on your first signing.”, he chuckled as he pulled her closer by the waist before planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Are you free tonight?”

~

They had spent the past year and a half together through video calls and text messages, trying to balance the time differences and their schedules. She watched Daeul slowly grow up and Hyuk made sure that he remembered her even through a screen.

Hanji had brought them to her favourite spot for dinner whenever she felt like treating herself and there they sat as a complete family among other diners.

At one point, Hyuk had scooted closer to Daeul, passing him something under the table which Hanji became playfully suspicious of.

“Give this to Hanji.”

Daeul carefully held the small brown box with both hands and passed it to Hanji, saying, “It’s from me and dad...but mainly him.”, making Hyuk chuckle in embarrassment.

Hanji laughed softly before taking the box from him and patting his head. When she opened it, an even smaller box resided inside and something inside her instantly knew what it was.

“...Dad was wondering…”, Daeul shyly began as he played with his fingers, Hanji beginning to slowly open the gift.

And there rested a small diamond ring which glistened even more when she tilted it to the white lights above them.

She held her mouth slightly agape, looking over at Hyuk who smiled warmly but kept his nervousness to a composure.

“W-What is dad wondering, Daeul?”, Hanji teased with now a tight smile on her face.

“He was wondering if you would...w-what’s the word?”, the boy turned to his father who only smiled and patted his head before turning his attention back to the woman on the other side of him.

“W-Will you?”

They shared the first long gaze after months and Hanji smiled warmly before slowly nodding her head, causing Hyuk to exhale in relief before standing up to place the ring on her finger.

They both chuckled loudly as they stood together before sharing a quick kiss. Pulling Daeul into a hug, Hyuk held them both tightly with a warm feeling inside him knowing that his family is now complete.

--

hyuk,

they say time goes by faster when you're with the people whom you love. when we first met, i wish i would have known that that was our first meeting. eppe brought you to me. a stuffed animal which to this day i still don't know which type of creature she is. daeul did as well. he looks just like you, you know? i'm sure you do. i once joked and said it was as if you had single-handedly given birth to him, yourself. i wasn't sure what it was exactly he had inherited from you -- the eyes? his nose perhaps? definitely not the lips, as his are thin and slim but it's not like i've been paying attention to yours to even notice. i had yelled at you for not being a good parent. for not watching over your child who could have been run over that day. we fought several months after i began working. you had told me to remember who i was. that i was only daeul's caretaker and not his mother. by then however. i had already seen myself as more than just his nanny. i raised my voice and told you that you had failed as his parent. you frowned. you frowned a lot my first few months here. eventually it stopped. and it was in tahiti did i hear and see you laugh for the first time. i thought you were choking. i was so ready to get on my feet and perform cpr which i told you i had learned in my first year of teaching. tahiti. it was everything and more that i had ever wanted. daeul fussed the whole ride. i sat by the window, holding him and pointing to the clouds to put him at ease. i never told you that i felt your eyes on me the whole time. you held him in your arms when i couldn't anymore. both of you fell asleep. it was the first time i had seen you be so affectionate with him. that same day you sang for the first time in years. sometimes i like to think it was because of me. then again it could have been because of daeul. or perhaps the vacation just put you in the mood. you sang my favourite which i never confessed to you. half moon. your dark slicked back hair had never looked so great. i didn't tell you how much i liked it when you chopped off the manbun. i listened. it was the first time i had heard you sing in person. i always denied ever listening to your music. but it was always something i waited to hear in real life. the next days made me forget that i had a job to fulfill. i taught daeul how to swim though he almost hated me for letting go. we learned how pearls were harvested and saw the prettiest to ever exist. our third night in tahiti you had asked me to dinner. daeul was sent to a daycare which he apparently hated at first but then refused to leave by the end of the night. i remember having trouble styling my hair that evening. would he like it down? or would a bun catch your attention, exposing my neck and all? i decided to leave it down as to play off the innocent look which i still had to identify myself with, being your son's caretaker. i wore white that night. and i was glad that you did too. it made me feel like we purposely but not really matched. you sat me down in the small restaurant in front of the shore. the small candlelight danced between us. your feet brushed mine three times that evening. you opened up to me about your past with daeul's mother whom you tried to forget but she always seemed to creep her way back into your mind. then you said. then you said you had recently started thinking about her less. because there was someone else on your mind. it was so difficult not to kiss you right in that moment. my sister always teased me about you, knowing that like every other woman out there. i wanted you. you asked me to look at you as a man and not as my boss. what i didn't tell you was that i thought you were lost. that you're trying to find yourself and you are finding yourself. that although you act cold you were once kind and gentle and that side often comes out when you're with daeul. your lips were as soft as the butter missus chae uses to make her pie crust. i hope the sound i had slipped that moment didn't rub you off the wrong way. then you told me about your plan to propose to her. and it never happened because she ran away. i meant to tell you that it was her loss. that if it were me whom you asked i would have given you a definite answer.

yes, hyuk.

i would say yes.

hanji

[dreamwritesimagines]

Once A Year 2- Cornered Animal [Billy Russo x Reader]

A/N: Hello my darlings! <3 I hope you’ll enjoy it, and please tell me what you think, kisses and hugs! <3

Summary: Sometimes, fear isn’t enough to make people walk away.

Warning: Explicit language, mentions of guns and violence. As usual, I don’t condone any of the messed up stuff happening on the show or in this story. 

Word Count: 2506

Due to the linking issue, the first chapter is in my masterlist

By the time you got to your apartment that night, you were almost positive that you had imagined that whole thing.

That was it. That had to be it. There was no way Billy would-

No way.

You had almost convinced yourself until you heard a knock on the door, making you look up from the news flashing on the screen of your phone and you pressed the phone on your lips, shutting your eyes.

“I know you’re in there,” Billy’s voice reached inside “We need to talk, Y/N.”

“If you could be anywhere you wanted,” You trailed off, chewing on the stale chip on his bed. Even though you had no idea how he got the money to buy snacks, you were still grateful he shared them with you, “Anywhere. Where would you be?”

Billy reached inside the package to pull out a piece of chip, “Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Depends,” he muttered, “Does it have to be around here?”

“No, anywhere.”

Billy clicked his tongue, “Will I be by myself, or another foster home?”

“By yourself.”

“Tahiti.”

You pulled your brows together, “Tahiti?”

“It’s an island, I saw it on a magazine.” Billy said, “It has… it has this bright sea, so bright that you can see the bottom. And there are these trees, and houses- they called them bungalows, they’re in the water.”

You pulled your brows together, “Why doesn’t everyone go there?”

“It’s a place that rich people go.”

You pursed your lips together, “Oh.”

Billy eyed you up and down and pushed your shoulder with his.

“Why the face, Skittles? Maybe your new parents will take you there.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They look rich.”

You shrugged slightly “You saw them for two minutes,”

“I saw their car.”

You made a face at him, and pushed his hand so that you could get more chips,

“Who knows?” You asked, “Maybe one day, I will take you there…Tahiti.”

If you had to be honest to yourself for once in your life, you actually wanted to visit him in the hospital, for old time’s sake. Even if all the news kept telling you how he was dangerous, even if you had probably read every newspaper piece for ten times about the things he had done, a small part of you hoped that there would be an explanation.

Of course there wasn’t.

Grow up, you had told yourself, Fuck your Prince Charming fantasy.

“Y/N?”

“You’re insane if you think I want anything to do with you.” Your voice cracked, and you heard him heave a sigh.

“If this is about tonight-“

“Tonight?” Your voice went high pitched for a moment, “It’s about everything!”

“I wouldn’t hurt you, you know that-“

“How do I know that?” You snapped, “I read everything on the news, and you- you never told me-”

“Just open the door.”

“You lied to me.”

There was a loud thud on the door, as if he was way too tired for this conversation;

“At least once a year,” he said after a couple of minutes of silence “That’s what you said. Once a year, no excuses.”

The bastard knew how sacred you held your promises.

“You don’t get to use that against me,” You gritted your teeth, taking a step towards the door, “You just don’t.”

“I never broke that promise.” Billy said, “And you were supposed to be in Italy.”

Your eyes narrowed almost instantly.

“Oh I’m sorry, did my presence put a kink in your plans of robbing my family?” You snapped at the door and he scoffed,

“Stop pretending like you give a shit about them, you told me a hundred times. You don’t care about them, just like they don’t care about you. You get money, they get to prance you around, it’s a business deal, not a family.”

You bit inside your cheek and rubbed your eyes, forgetting about your makeup for a moment.

“Doesn’t mean I want them threatened at gunpoint!”

“Bullshit.”

You let out a breath, “You have some nerve-“

“They didn’t run to you,” Billy cut you off, “When we first walked in. You didn’t even glance in their direction. That’s not how a family acts, when they’re under threat.”

“Fuck you.”

“I offered once, you said no.”

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the memory,

“How do you know where I live?”

He scoffed a laugh, “Come on,” he said, as if that was enough of an answer and you gritted your teeth, then shook your head at yourself and walked to the door to unlock it. You half opened the door, leaning on the door frame and your frown deepened when you saw that familiar mask on his face.

“Take your arts and crafts project off your face before I rip that off you.”

He shook his head, “It’s better if I kept it on.”

“I think we both know it’s a little late for me to go to the police and give them a sketch for tonight’s robbery.”

“That’s not the reason.”

“And what is the reason?”

“I look a little different than you remember.”

You rolled your eyes and opened the door wider so that he could step inside. He walked in, looking around and you closed the door, then locked it for some reason.

“What does that mean?” You asked him as he turned around to look at you, and even behind the mask, you could tell he was eyeing you up and down. You were barely aware of the fact that you were still wearing that long, green gown your mother had picked for you, and for a second you felt silly.

Billy had made so much fun of you when he first saw you in a uniform when you were sixteen, let alone a gown;

“Oh wow,  that’s what they make you wear?” he asked as you sat across him, and you pointed at him,

“Not one word, Russo.”

“I have a lot of words,” he grinned, leaning back slightly so that he could eye you up and down. Even you could tell you two looked completely different now, he was wearing ripped jeans and a black shirt with leather jacket thrown over it, and you were wearing your usual school uniform, with pleated skirt, white shirt and your tie.

“Is that a ribbon?”

You rolled your eyes and motioned at the waiter, “Stop.”

“No seriously, you have a ribbon in your hair.”

“I’ll get a cappuccino please, and-“

“Black coffee- do you have one of those jackets too? With crests on them?”

You nodded grimly, “It’s the uniform, asshole. I have to wear it.”

“You look like you just walked out of a porn shot.”

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” You slapped his arm “And here I was, thinking about hooking you up with one of my friends, but if you don’t like the uniform-“

“No no, I like the uniform,” Billy cut you off, and grinned, “Tell her she can keep it.”

“What does that mean?” You insisted, and he ran a hand over his buzzcut hair,

“You’ve read the news. I’m sure you read some stuff about what happened as well.”

“Your ex boss, Rawlins did it to you and now he’s in the wind,” You tried to remember what you had read, “Is he? Or is he dead?”

“Not yet.”

“But you’re planning to kill him,” You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms. You still had no idea why you weren’t running for the hills, after tonight, after everything.

Maybe you were as messed up as everyone had said.

“Take the mask off.”

“What will you take off in return?”

You rolled your eyes, “Bill. Come on.”

“I’d scare you.”

You shook your head slightly, “Look me in the eye and give me one instance I’ve ever been scared of you,” you told him, “Tonight included. Hell, I’ll even include that time when you got into that terrible fight in front of me when we were seventeen.”

“Yeah because that guy felt you up.”

“And you broke his nose.”

“This is different.”

“How?” You said as you took a step towards him, and he heaved a deep sigh,

“I look different, Skittles.”

“You saw my face when I had chicken pox,” You reminded him, “Remember that?”

He let out a small laugh and nodded as you took another step and reached out to touch the mask, but he gripped your wrist. His eyes darted between yours, as if he was scared of your reaction and you heaved a sigh,

“Billy,” you said silently, “It’s just me. When have I ever been scared enough to walk away?”

That seemed to be enough, because he lowered his hand and let you touch that mask before you stood on your tiptoes and pulled it off his face.

Oh.

His face was adorned with scars, even though healed, they still made you wince when you thought about how he had gotten them. They looked painful, and you reached out to touch the one on his cheekbone, but then pulled your hand back and looked up to see him completely focused on you, as if trying to see your reaction.

As if he expected to see something he dreaded on your expression.

“Does it hurt?” You asked slowly and he shook his head,

“Not anymore.”

You pursed your lips, then forced yourself to shrug and smacked the mask on his chest, pushing him slightly, “Sorry to disappoint. Not scary enough for me.”

“Yeah, speaking of-“ Billy said as you walked away from him to the kitchen, with him following you suit, “What’s up with you and smart mouthing guys with guns?”

“You were the guy with the gun-“

“You didn’t know that!” he insisted, “What if it wasn’t me? What if it was some psycho-“

“Billy, you and your budget friendly Purge gang just waltzed into a party at my parents’ house, threatened and robbed people, I’m pretty sure you also fall under the category of a psycho right now!” You looked up as the thought hit you, “You- you also killed someone-”

“You know what he implied.”

“Jesus Christ,” You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes before you lowered them, “Are you listening to me, Edward Cullen? Hm? Can you hear the words I’m speaking or-?”

“How many times did we talk about this?”

“You, killing someone?”

“You, not knowing when to stop.”

“Not knowing when to-“ You paused for a moment, shutting your eyes, “Please tell me you actually see the irony of you telling me that.”

Billy opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head,

“It wasn’t-“ he licked his lips, “You can’t get hurt.”

“I was doing just fine before you and your gun holding buddies came into my house, Russo.”

He looked elsewhere and you leaned on the kitchen island before walking to the sink to fill yourself a glass of water, just so that you would have something to do other than staring at him. You could feel his glances burning a hole on your back, but you sipped the water, then lowered the glass when you turned around.

“What happened this year?” he asked you and you frowned,

“What?”

“I know you,” he stated, “Much better than you think I do. You have always been calm, yes, but this? Tonight? Why weren’t you scared, when you didn’t even know it was me?”

“I’m good at pretending.”

“Not that much,” he shook his head, taking a step towards you, “I know how you look when you’re scared, Y/N. Why?”

You only arched a brow, keeping your gaze on him as he approached you slowly, towering over you and you tilted your head slightly.

Once, Billy had told you that talking to you sometimes felt like talking to the world’s best poker player. He always knew when you were hiding something, but he could never tell whether it was good or bad, whether it had hurt you or not.

Your lips pulled into a smile as you batted your eyelashes innocently, as if you had no idea what he was talking about. That made him clench his jaw and you gave him a couple of seconds before you walked past him.

“My turn. When did you plan on telling me?”

“Never.”

“Bullshit, you wanted me to know,” You put the glass on the kitchen island, “I wouldn’t have known it was you if it weren’t for that stupid nickname, you- you wanted me to recognize you. Why?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Why?” You asked again, and walked around the island to approach him, “You led them into my house, but you…didn’t let them harm anyone, any of the guests. I would’ve thought it was about the money, but it wasn’t, was it?”

“That was a coincidence, I thought you were in Italy.”

“You got into my parents’ house, and expected me to be away?” You scoffed, “What did we talk about you underestimating me, Billy?”

He gritted his teeth, his eyes following your each and every move. He reminded you of a cornered animal now, unable to move, but still intimidating as you took another step towards him,

“I asked you a question.”

“Did your fiancé spoil you so much that you expect everyone to give you answers whenever you demand?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but as soon as it dawned on you, you held your breath. He looked like he already regretted what he had said but it was too late, both of you knew that. You blinked dumbly and reached to touch your ring, then licked your lips.

“You’re not serious,” you managed to say, and he had the audacity to cross his arms, a defiant look flashing over his eyes.

“Did he?”

“You did that because I got engaged?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You burst into my parents’ house and probably broke like one hundred laws because I got engaged?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You planned a fucking heist because I got engaged!?”

“Where was he?” he asked, “Because he wasn’t there, right? If he was and he didn’t step up-“

“Billy,” you said silently, “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t plan that just so that you could see whether my fiancé would try to protect me or not.”

He gritted his teeth, “Did you visit me at the hospital, Y/N? Or were you too busy, with him?”

“Tell me you didn’t.” You croaked out and he eyed you up and down, then scoffed.

“No,” he shot you an arrogant smirk, “I had no idea you’d be there. Just a coincidence.”

He was lying, you knew he was lying, and yet you did nothing as he walked past you so that he could approach the door.

“Nice ring though,” he called out, “Big rock. What did you say about compensating earlier?”

With that, he walked out of your apartment and closed the door behind him.

  Tag stuff!: @theskytraveler @iblogabout-stuff @marauderskeeper  @asongofmarvelanddc @thorohdamnson @mellxander1993 @papercloudx @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @superwolfchild-fan @billyrussotiddie @lostkizzy @anxietysucks @finnickfoxes @luminex3 @rhabakoli @fictionalthrill @shadowhunterscloset @my-little-dumpster-fire @xpunishedx @aesstheticallypleasing  @luminex3 @utterlyhopeful @redrxbel @ilkaeliseb @rpo03 @pancakefancake @flowers-in-your-hayr @thescarsweleave @maelloute @we-are-all-wild-things @evilturtlemonkey 

[froggy-beans]

everyone feels like a liar these days (don’t know how not to feel that way)

This was written for @cinnamonrollstark for the 2019 Irondad Fic Exchange with the prompt “Tony comes back to life years after the snap. This is their reunion”. 

| 1/1 Chapters | 7,121 Words | No Archive Warnings Apply | Teen and Up Audiences | 

Summary: Written for the 2019 Irondad Fic Exchange for CinnamonrollStark. Prompt: Tony comes back to life after the Snap and this is their reunion. ---- Then, as Peter dodged bullets and destroyed drones, a flash of red and gold caught his eye. Attention elsewhere, he slammed into a drone and was sent sprawling to the ground. His mind raced a mile a minute.

It’s not real, Peter. It’s not real. It’s not real. You know what Beck is capable of, he’s only trying to distract you.

He could only watch, stunned, as he saw his childhood hero blasting drones out of the sky. Beneath his mask tears began to fall as he told himself it wasn’t real. How could it be?

link to story

               Peter didn’t know what to do. There were too many of them, too many drones. How was he supposed to destroy them all? There were thousands, hundreds of thousands, and he was one teenager with spider powers. Stickiness and super hearing weren’t extremely helpful when one was flying through the air. Why on earth had he believed he could take care of this by himself?

               Oh, right. He didn’t. Fury did. And where was Fury now? Cozy up in his tower watching the whole event unfold from his office window. Peter wished he had never agreed to go with him in Venice. He wished he could have just enjoyed his school trip and asked MJ out at the top of the Eifel Tower. God, life seemed so much simpler a year ago. So much simpler before Thanos and the Snap and . . . and . . . Tony’s death.

               Even now the thought was more painful than Peter could have imagined. Peter knew that Happy hadn’t meant to, but hearing his words made him feel so much worse. “He wouldn’t have done what he did if he didn’t know that you would be here after he was gone.” Tony’s death had never really gotten easier, not when he saw reminders around him all day every day, but that statement sent Peter reeling even further backward. And then there was the glasses. Tony had trusted him, and he gave them to Beck.

               Then, as Peter dodged bullets and destroyed drones, a flash of red and gold caught his eye. Attention elsewhere, he slammed into a drone and was sent sprawling to the ground. His mind raced a mile a minute.

               It’s not real, Peter. It’s not real. It’s not real. You know what Beck is capable of, he’s only trying to distract you.

               He could only watch, stunned, as he saw his childhood hero blasting drones out of the sky. Beneath his mask tears began to fall as he told himself it wasn’t real. How could it be? He watched the light leave Tony’s eyes, felt his heart stop under his palm. Beck had used what Peter had told him to stop him, to torture him. It was sick.

               “Stop messing with me, Beck!” He screamed, using the fresh anger and adrenaline pulsing through his veins to fight. He shot a web at the nearest drone and yanked it out of the sky as forcefully as he could, an explosion sending asphalt and concrete flying. As soon as his bravado had appeared it disappeared. His comms, always silent, came to life.

               “Slow down, kid. I’ll handle the rest of this. Happy is waiting for you a few blocks away, okay?” Came Tony’s voice. Peter shook his head.

               “I know he’s not real! I know you’re just trying to mess with me!” Peter shouted. He tried to have Karen shut off his comms, but she told him that he didn’t have access to that feature. Puzzled, Peter wondered if Beck had hacked his entire system instead of just the comm channel.

               “What do you mean? Peter, I’m not trying to mess with you.”

               “Yes, you are. Tony is dead. He’s dead. I know he isn’t here right now.”

               “Kid—just go to Happy and wait for me. He’ll explain everything.”

               “I’m not letting you win!”

               “Just listen to me for once in your life, Peter. I swear it will all make sense later—”

               “Why should I believe you?” Peter asked, voice weak. He didn’t want Beck to know how much he was affecting him, but he couldn’t keep the desperation and hope out of his words. His heart ached with the idea of this all being real.

               “Because I know that your favourite song is Pompeii by Bastille because you love the vocals and that May hates it because of how much you play it in the car. I know that you say you love Star Wars because it’s Ned’s favourite, but you really prefer Star Trek. I know that you used to hide your Spider-Man onesie in the ceiling so May wouldn’t find it—”

               “Okay, okay!” Peter said, tears flowing hot and heavy under the mask. “I believe you.”

               “Go to Happy, he’ll explain everything, and I’ll be there soon.”

               Peter nodded even though Tony couldn’t see him and took off in the direction Karen told him to go. She must have gotten the directions from FRIDAY. After a few blocks of swinging through the deserted London streets he found Happy, along with MJ, Ned, Betty, and Flash. Betty and Flash looked confused at Peter’s arrival, but he couldn’t have cared less.

               Peter ripped the mask off as soon as his feet touched the ground. Not long after he was on all fours and breathing heavily. What the hell? What the actual hell? Tony was alive?

               Happy came rushing over and lifted Peter into a sitting position. He was well trained in the art of Peter’s panic attacks, having become accustomed to them over the past year. He assured Peter that he was alright and everything was going to be fine, while rubbing reassuring circles on his back. Ned was soon at his side as well, though MJ hung back awkwardly with Flash and Betty.

               Several minutes later after Peter had (relatively) calmed down and drank some water, he asked Happy to kindly explain what the fuck was going on. Happy took a deep breath and shot a nervous glance to the rest of the teenagers.

“Cat’s already out of the bag, Happy. Just tell me,” He said tiredly. With no more adrenaline coursing through his veins a nap sounded like a very pleasant idea.

Happy explained the situation slowly, as one might do to a young child. Peter, who usually hated being talked down to, found that he didn’t mind. One could even say he appreciated the simple words even though they did not fit the situation. Tony had actually died on the battlefield, that much was true, but everything else Peter knew was a lie. From there the remains of SHIELD had taken his body back to one of their top-secret facilities (hence the lakeside funeral) and executed something called Project Tahiti. Project Tahiti was a top-secret program developed to bring back an Avenger or other important SHIELD member.

“So, what you’re telling me is that Tony died and then was brought back to life?” Peter asked. Happy nodded his head with a sigh. “Who else knows?”

“Pepper and Morgan, the remaining Avengers, Rhodey, and myself.”

“And he never told me?” Peter felt a sharp pain in his chest, almost like he’d been stabbed. Was I not important enough to tell? Did Happy even mean what he said on the plane?”

Peter was pulled from his stupor by the loud clank of the Iron Man suit landing behind them. He stood up quick enough to send his head spinning, but that didn’t matter. He barely waited for Tony to step out of the suit before the words came.

“How could you not tell me?” He shouted. Betrayal stung deep in his bones, more painful than any injury he had acquired in the past week. Tony’s eyes held emotions Peter couldn’t even begin to process at that moment, but Peter barreled forwards. “I mourned you! I cried for you!”

“Peter, listen—”

“I went to your funeral! I saw you die! I heard your heart stop beating!” Peter’s breathing was erratic, breaths coming in short bursts between his words. It had been a year since that god-awful day on that god-forsaken battlefield.

“Someone was supposed to tell you—”

“What do you mean?”

               “There was a list. I gave Fury a list of people that he was supposed to tell. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he didn’t tell you.” Tony looked sincere, but Peter didn’t want to hear another word. He picked his mask up from the ground and pulled it on roughly before swinging away.

               The comfort he had so wished for the past year stood three feet away from him and here he was, running away.

                 Rain fell softly that day, sending ripples throughout the lake and filling the air with the sweet smell of wet earth as the universe wept for the loss of her best defender. Peter watched the summer birds flying wide circles above him and wondered if they knew the true weight of this day.

               If Peter listened hard enough, he could hear the distant calls of bullfrogs from across the lake and quiet rustling of the leaves. It was worse, somehow, to know the world went on when your own was standing still.

               Peter glanced towards the tree line as Pepper lowered the wreath into the water, unable to watch the final piece of his mentor drift away from him to a place he couldn’t reach. He caught the orange flash of a robin’s wing as he gathered sticks for a nest and the light whistle, he gave whilst working. Another robin, this one sitting on the porch railing, whistled back.

               Will they remember him in a hundred years? In a thousand? And do the habitants of other planets know the true cost of their loved ones lost and found? Will they care, in the end, of the price of being able to hold them again?

               Peter stood still even as the crowd dispersed, lost in thoughts of another kind. He wondered what the world had thought. He wondered if Mother Nature had minded their absence. Maybe not, he supposed, maybe she didn’t even know.

                 Tomorrow morning the trees would rustle in the wind and flowers would grow, forgetful of today’s sorrow. Tomorrow morning the birds would sing their beautiful song, none the wiser of their loss. Tomorrow morning the sun would rise on a universe unaware of Tony Stark’s sacrifice, unaware of the true price of their salvation.

                                 The plane ride home could not have been more awkward if Peter had tried to make it that way. He sat in a row with MJ and Ned, all of them reeling from the recent revelation. Flash kept shooting the trio odd glances and Peter was worried he might stand up any second and announce Peter’s secret identity to all the passengers.

               “I shouldn’t have been so stupid earlier,” Peter sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “Now Flash is going to tell everyone and make my life a hundred—no, five hundred—times harder.” His only escape was Spider-Man and soon he wouldn’t even get to have that.

               “No, he won’t,” MJ said firmly. “He wouldn’t even dare.”

               “And why is that? It’s not like I can blackmail him into keeping it a secret.”

               “Mr. Stark can.” Ned chimed in. Peter knew Ned was only trying to reassure him, but the name sent Peter over the edge of the precipice he had barely been holding onto in the first place.

               “Don’t say his fucking name, okay? I don’t need his help.” Peter stood abruptly and pushed his way to the aisle. He nearly tripped on Ned’s feet but managed to make it to the bathroom and slam the door shut before anger gripped him like a vise. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold tile of the tiny airplane bathroom. There wasn’t enough room to stretch his legs, so he pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned his head against the wall. Peter took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

               His anger faded slowly until it became nothing more than a dull ache. Peter checked his watch (the one Tony had given him two—seven?—years ago) and saw that he had been in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes. He knew he had to go back to his seat soon, for the descent at the very least, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to see Flash’s stupid glances or listen to Ned’s empty reassurances.

               When he finally did go back to his seat, though, he was met with neither of these things. Flash appeared to be engrossed in some movie and Ned was playing on his computer. Peter sent a silent thank you to the universe. He would apologize to them later, of course, but he took the opportunity to try and rest. He would need it later when he finally tried to sort out his thoughts.

               The plane finally landed around one am. May was waiting for Peter at the gate with a sad smile. Peter assumed she would know by now what had happened between the news (who hadn’t stopped reporting on it since that morning) and Happy (who Peter was sure called her as soon as he was gone). May greeted him with a comforting hug.      

               “Ready to get your luggage?” She asked eventually, pulling away. Peter shook his head.

               “Don’t have any. It got blown up, remember?”

               “Oh, right,” May nodded. Peter, oddly, wanted to laugh. The whole situation just seemed so stupidly funny to him all of a sudden. Blown up luggage should be the least of his worries. He almost died this week. His friends almost died this week. His whole life got turned upside down (again) this week.

               “What are you laughing about, Peter?” May asked, confused. Peter just stood there laughing and drawing the attention of strangers.

               “My life is such a fucking joke, May. My whole goddamn life is a joke,” Peter said. May sighed and started leading him to the car. She couldn’t say she disagreed. Getting bit by a radioactive spider, meeting your childhood hero, fighting aliens, finding out your mentor wasn’t actually dead, and almost destroying Europe sounded like something straight out of a comic book.

               “How about we go home, okay? You can sleep, have breakfast, and then we’ll talk about all of this. Everything will be fine.”

               Peter just kept laughing.

                 Later that morning Peter heard May calling Happy. He tried to tune out most of their conversation, unwilling to listen to lovey-dovey comments coming from his aunt. Super hearing turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing when it came to living in an apartment. Especially when your neighbors were two young newlyweds. Peter hoped he never ran into them in the hallway, or god forbid, the elevator.

               Twenty minutes after the call ended Happy was knocking at the front door and Peter knew he would have to get out of bed. Instead of waiting for May to come get him, he pulled the covers off and grabbed a hoodie before heading to the kitchen. May liked the apartment colder than he did, but Peter wasn’t going to complain. At this point it was a miracle they even had an apartment to keep cold.

               Peter could feel the pair of them staring at him the second he stepped out of the hallway. He pretended not to notice as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and a box of Lucky Charms from the top of the fridge. The tension in the room was palpable. Peter ignored May and Happy for another five minutes while he ate, wishing he could ignore the situation all together. How, exactly, did one deal with their dead mentor/father-figure coming back to life? Was that the sort of thing you could go to counseling for?

               “So, Peter, about yesterday,” Happy started awkwardly, glancing towards May. She nodded and he kept going. “You did an amazing job handling Mysterio. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

               That’s an understatement.

               “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Peter asked calmly, the very opposite of the emotions swirling in his mind. He knew that being hysterical wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Tony said there was a list.”

               Happy nodded. “He gave Fury a list as soon as he woke up of people who were supposed to be told.”

               “So why did no one tell me?”

               “Because we didn’t think you could handle it.” Happy answered truthfully. After everything else that had happened, he hadn’t had it in him to lie to the poor kid.

               “What do you mean?”

               “The remaining Avengers, Fury, me and Ma—”

               “They didn’t think that you would be able to act like Tony was gone if you knew that he wasn’t.” May said quickly, shooting Happy a pointed glance. Peter didn’t miss May’s quick intervention. Were they hiding something else from him, too?

               Oh. Oh.

               “May,” Anger quickly took over despite Peter’s efforts to keep it hidden. The spoon he had been holding was like putty in his hands. “Did you know?”

               “Sweetie—”

               “Did you know?”

               “—it’s complicated—”

               “I don’t care!” Peter yelled. “Did you know?”

               “Yes, but you have to understand something, Peter. We didn’t—”

               “—think I could handle it, yeah I got that part. That’s low, May, really fucking low. All those times you woke me up from nightmares and caught me crying and you never told me.”

               Peter’s chair flung backwards when he shot up and went to his bedroom. He needed to be somewhere else before he did something he regretted. He pulled his backpack out of the closet and roughly filled it with clothes and his phone before pulling on his (severely damaged) suit. He didn’t bother shouting a goodbye before exiting through the window. They would realize he was gone soon enough on their own.

               Tony watched the tv half-heartedly. Every channel was stuck on one thing: him. He watched looped video after looped video of himself blowing up Mysterio’s drones. He had to admit, he did look pretty cool doing it, but that didn’t make up for the hundreds of calls from Nick Fury blowing up his phone. The man clearly didn’t know how to take a hint. Sometime in between the twentieth and twenty-fifth call, a plan hatched in Tony’s mind. On the twenty-seventh call he answered.

               “Nick Fury, you son of a goddamn bitch.” Tony said coldly. Pepper glared at him from the kitchen where her and Morgan were making lunch. Tony shrugged his shoulders. “You didn’t fucking tell him?”

               “Tell who what?”

               “Don’t play coy with me, asshole. You didn’t tell Peter I’m alive.”

               “We didn’t think he could pull it off.”

               “You have no fucking clue what he can pull off and thanks to you my kid ran away from me in London and refuses to talk to me.”

               “Stark, we have more pressing issues—”

               “The fuck we do.” Tony said finally, hanging up the call and tossing his phone to the other side of the couch. Pepper rolled her eyes.

               “This is why our daughter says things like ‘shit’.” She said. Morgan giggled innocently. Tony laughed despite the overwhelming stress he felt. Peter clearly wanted space, and as much as it would hurt, Tony knew he had to give it to him. Nobody could push Peter into doing something he didn’t want to. Peter would come to him when he was ready, and when he did, Tony would welcome him with open arms.

                               Peter had been on a normal patrol—as if anything could be considered normal anymore—when it happened. He had stopped in Times Square when he saw Quentin Beck’s face light up every screen, dumbstruck. Wasn’t he dead? Or in some high security prison somewhere at least? Peter perched on the nearest lamppost to watch the video.

               The film was shaky and loud, explosions and sirens filling the background. Beck was wearing his illusion suit, helmet cracked, and fabric torn. If Peter listened close enough, he could make out the faint blast of Tony’s repulsor in the background as he joined the battle. Anger filled Peter’s mind at the memory. A month later and he still couldn’t believe they hadn’t told him. Especially May. How could she keep that a secret as she comforted him about nightmares of Tony’s death? Through the panic attacks that often accompanied the reminder that he was gone?

               “I wish there was something I could do, honey,” She’d say, carding her fingers through Peter’s messy curls. You could have told me, Peter thought. You could have told me he was alive instead of letting me think that my curse had finally caught up to him.

               Peter’s anger only grew when Beck began speaking, looking around anxiously.

               “I don’t have much time left.” He said hurriedly. As much as Peter wanted to leave, he was curious as to what Beck was going to say. When he did finally call Nick Fury for a debrief, nothing was mentioned about a video.

“Tony Stark isn’t dead and—” Beck was cut off by a particularly loud blast that rocked the bridge he was hiding out in. “I know Spider-Man’s identity.”

Peter’s heart started to race as the New York passerby glanced at him. The very last thing he needed right now was another shit show. Of course, that’s when Beck announced his name, accompanied with a school photo from sophomore year. He looked slightly younger, but not different enough to not be recognizable now.

Peter felt everyone’s attention shift to him. He glanced around, mind going a million miles a minute. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. Peter shot a web to the nearest building and took off. It didn’t matter what direction. He couldn’t go back to Ned’s now. People would follow him there. He would be putting Ned and his family in danger.

And what about school in the fall? What about ever being able to leave the house again? There was only two people he could think to call, and he didn’t want to speak to either of them. Of course, he could try to call Nick Fury, but what would he do? He would probably use this as another chance to get Peter to work with SHIELD, which Peter didn’t want.

               Five minutes later Karen announced that Peter had a phone call from Ned. He almost didn’t answer, but thought better of it at the last second.

               “Where are you?” Ned asked worriedly. Peter tried to look for a landmark, but this area didn’t look familiar to him. Maybe his brain was just too muddled right now to figure out where he was.

               “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

               “As opposed to nowhere?”

               “Star-Lord told me about a place like that once, but I think its spelled with a K.”

               “Okay, we can talk about how incredibly awesome that is later. Right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

               “That’s the understatement of the year.”

               “Yeah, it is. But you need to get back here, dude. Mom is worried about you, and so am I.”

               “I can’t go back there, Ned. I don’t want to put you guys in danger. What if someone follows me?”

               “Well first off, you’re a superhero, so I’m not too worried. But if that doesn’t work out my dad keeps a gun somewhere. I’m pretty sure, at least. I guess I don’t know because I’ve never seen it, but he says he does and why would he lie about that—”

               “Okay, I get it. But if something happens—”

               “Then we’ll deal with it. Just come back, okay? Then we can sit down and actually talk about this.”

               “Okay,” Peter sighed. “I’m on my way back.”

               Karen hung up the phone and plotted a course home for Peter. She was worried he might get lost otherwise.

               “Should I contact Tony Stark?” She asked. Peter had told her not to bring him up last month (“Spider-Man is the only escape I have from all this anymore, Karen, don’t bring him up), but he had never actually programmed her not to do it.

               Peter debated her question. Tony would know what to do about this, for sure, but Peter wasn’t ready to see him.

               “No.” He said finally. He reached Ned’s bedroom window two minutes later, opening it and slipping in quickly. He found his best friend and his family sitting at the dining room table.

               Boy, he was in for a rough night. A very rough night.

                 A very rough night turned into a very rough week. Peter stayed in the apartment until he couldn’t stand it anymore (which with his ADHD and overactive spider energy, was only two days). On the third day he found an old baseball hat in Ned’s closet and borrowed his dad’s sunglasses, hoping to avoid any kind of unwanted attention. But it turns out that the more you don’t want attention, the more you seem to attract it.

               Five minutes after leaving the apartment building Peter dropped his phone facedown on the concrete (normally that wouldn’t happen, but his spider-sense had been going batshit crazy since what will be henceforth referred to as The Incident). He sighed at his luck and bent down to pick it up, the over-large sunglasses slipping right off. Peter scrambled to pick them up, but the damage was already done. Somebody had seen him.

               “Peter Parker?” The man who spotted him said. Peter tried to shake his head no and stammered out a response.

               “No, no—”

               “Hey! It’s Spider-Man!” Another person shouted. All eyes were turned to Peter as he tried to make excuses, tried to convince them that he wasn’t who they thought he was. In the end, he ended up running back to the apartment as fast as he could while people took pictures and tried to ask questions. If just walking down the street was a nightmare, he didn’t want to know what kind of hell school in the fall would be.

               Peter suspected that Flash would be even worse than before, if that was possible. Now that he knew the kid he had bullied for years was Spider-Man he would try to be friends with him. Everyone at school was probably going to try and be friends with him, save for the ones who thought enhanced individuals were a disease and not to be interacted with.

               Maybe it was incredibly twisted, but it was sort of comforting that not everybody would want to talk to him. Peter was already used to people hating him (although he could never figure out why, because he never bothered anyone), so a few more wouldn’t matter.

               Somehow Peter found himself back not at Ned’s apartment, but May’s. He stared at the seven story building wistfully, every muscle in his tired body aching to step through the front door. May couldn’t solve all this, try as she might, but she knew how to comfort Peter. She would make hot chocolate with exactly four marshmallows, no more, no less, and put on some old movie they’d seen a million times while they talked.              

               No matter how much Peter’s feet wanted to carry him up the stairs and into the apartment, he couldn’t make them. Instead they took him back down the familiar path to Ned’s apartment, each footstep a pang in his heart. It had been over a month since he’d seen or spoken to her last. Would she even want to see him after the stunt he pulled?

               Deep down Peter knew the answer was yes, but he wasn’t quite ready to face her yet. He could still barely process the fact that his dad mentor wasn’t truly dead and that everyone had thought him incapable of handling the truth and keeping the secret. It took time to face things like that when someone didn’t have to worry about much else, let alone dealing with an identity reveal and Peter’s whole life being turned upside down (again).

               Maybe tomorrow, Peter thought, I’ll be ready.

                 After his last shit show of an outing, Peter decided to stay in indefinitely. He drove Ned’s family crazy by constantly doing pushups at every turn and using the doorways to practice his pull-ups. None of them mentioned his crazy behavior for worry of sending Peter into an even more mentally precarious state. Ned walked in on him watching a nature documentary about spiders once at three in the morning and when one of the spiders got eaten by a bird, he started crying. Not normal, sniffle crying, but full on sobs.

               “How could you?” Peter said to the bird, unaware of Ned’s position in the doorway behind him. Ned wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or just disappear like nothing had happened. In the end he had gone with the third option, but his escape was cut short when Peter turned around to search for a box of tissues. Peter stared at him owlishly for a moment before fresh tears began to fall.

               “How could the—the bird do that, Ned?” He’d asked. Ned sighed. He’d done some weird shit to help Peter out before, but this was a whole new level.

               “It was just the spider’s time, Peter. That’s nature. The circle of life.” Ned had answered. This was not the correct answer, however, and made Peter cry harder.

               “But David had so much to live for.”

               “David?”

               “The spider, Ned! His name was David and he had a family! Mr. Nature Guy said it himself!”

               “Peter, I think its time for you to go to bed.”

               “I’m not tired.” Peter protested, barely holding back a yawn. Somehow Ned managed to wrestle him into bed and Peter fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. Ned hadn’t mentioned that incident to his parents, but they were probably woken up by Peter’s not-so-silent breakdown.

               In short, Peter was a mess. Ned understood why Peter didn’t want to talk to his family, but he could tell it was really wearing on him. Four days after what will be referred to as the David Incident, Ned tried to discuss the situation with him. It was late, probably sometime after eleven, and Ned’s parents had already gone to sleep. The only reason the pair were awake was because they were finishing up a movie.

               “It’s been over a month.” Ned started casually. He glanced sideways at his best friend to see his reaction, but Peter’s expression remained neutral. “Since the thing with Mr. Stark.”

               Mr. Stark had told Ned multiple times to call him Tony, but it felt weird to call his childhood hero by his first name. Peter had had the same issue at first.

               “I think you should talk to him.” Ned continued.

               “Why? He hasn’t tried to talk to me.”

               “He knows you wouldn’t pick up the phone. Everyone knows how stubborn you are. ”

               “I’m not being stubborn—”

               “He calls me. And my parents. May does too, to make sure that you’re okay and stuff. They’re worried about you. They were only trying to give you space because that’s what you wanted.”

               Peter’s mouth hung open, whatever argument he had prepared gone.

               “It was a really shit thing to do, alright, not telling you that Mr. Stark was still alive. But now that you know he is alive, why are you wasting time by avoiding him? I don’t know about you, but if I thought my dad was dead and then it turned out he wasn’t, I would talk to him. Mr. Stark didn’t know that nobody told you because he was stuck in some shield facility somewhere. You can be mad at May and Happy and Pepper all you want, I totally would be too, but Mr. Stark wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. He might be Iron Man, but sometimes even he can’t control who’s pulling the strings.”

               “Ned,” Peter said, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “I have to go.”

               New York City was never quiet, but it seemed to be as Peter walked through the residential streets of Queens. His thoughts were much louder than anything else around him at the moment. He’d had no idea that May and Tony called to check on him. He was still mad at May, Happy, and Pepper, but those bridges would be slow to repair. He loved them still, of course, but it was hard to think of them without being angry. They didn’t trust him. They hadn’t believed in him. And it hurt.

               But, hopefully, he could fix the mess he’d made with Tony. At the very least he could try.

                 Tony was asleep when his phone rang. Pepper shifted beside him and mumbled something that Tony couldn’t quite catch, though he suspected it was something along the lines of, “What is it?”. Tony didn’t answer, fumbling around for his phone on the nightstand. The screen practically blinded him before FRIDAY adjusted the brightness. When he could see again the name Peter Parker flashed across the screen.

               “It’s Peter,” Tony said, suddenly wide awake. It had been a month and a half since the pair had spoken. Peter had wanted space and Tony wasn’t going to begrudge him that, no matter how much it hurt. Yelling at Nick Fury had made him feel better, but only temporarily.  

               “What?” Pepper asked.

               “It’s Peter,” Tony repeated. The excitement at the call quickly turned to dread as he realized the time. Was Peter in trouble? Before his mind could fall further down the rabbit hole, Tony pressed the answer button.

               “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony asked anxiously, sitting up. A thousand possibilities, each more terrible than the last, played out in his mind in the moments it took Peter to answer.

               “Yeah I’m—I’m fine.” Peter answered. Tony released the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. Thank god. “I was just wondering if, um, if I could come over?”

               “Yes, yes. Of course, Peter, you can always come over. Do you need me to pick you up?”

               “Yeah. I’m a few blocks away from Ned’s apartment in Queens—” Peter was cut off by someone shouting in the background. The only words Tony heard were “look”, “Spider-man”, and “over”.

               “Is everything okay over there, Peter?”

               “Come on guys, we can work this out. There’s no need for anyone to get shot tonight—”

               “Peter?”

               Tony heard three things: a gunshot, a scream, and the sound of someone hitting concrete. He immediately jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. Barely a minute later Tony was suited up and flying towards New York City. FRIDAY located Peter using his phone.

               “Hang in there, kid. I’m on my  way and then Dr. Cho will get you all fixed up, okay? Just hang in there. Can you do that for me?”

               Some by miracle Peter answered. “They got away.”

               “I’m not worried about that right now, Peter. I’m worried about you. You gotta sit tight for a few minutes until I get there, okay?”

               “Okay.”

               In Tony’s opinion it took far too long to find Peter. He landed the suit on some quiet residential street in Queens and ordered FRIDAY to scan vitals as he stepped out of the suit. Peter was curled up on the ground and shivering. He quickly rolled the kid onto his back to examine the bullet wound, eliciting a moan from Peter.

               “I know it hurts, buddy, I’m sorry, but I have to see it. Soon we’ll be back at the compound and we can give you the Captain America drugs. Then it won’t hurt at all.”

               Blood had soaked through Peter’s t-shirt and the light jacket he was wearing, turning the blue t-shirt a deep purple. It was everywhere. On Peter’s shirt, on the sidewalk, on Tony’s hands. God. There was so much of it that Tony couldn’t even figure out where the wound was. He would have to hope that Cho could locate it as soon as they got to the compound, or at least before Peter’s super healing kicked in.

               Tony hated to leave Peter’s side for even  a second, but he had to put the suit back on before he could carry Peter to the compound. Peter was light in his arms, head lolling as Tony picked him up. Tony prayed to every god he’d ever heard of that Peter would make it to the compound. How cruel it would be of fate to split them apart now after all they’d fought through.

                 Tony didn’t think he would ever forget the image of his kid on the operating table at three in the morning. Somehow there was even more blood than before, and yet Dr. Cho and her colleagues were as collected as ever. Tony knew that Cho was worried even if she didn’t show it. In the couple years before the Snap she had gotten to know Peter quite well while they worked on discovering the limits of his powers.

               Three and a half hours later, Peter was out of surgery. Dr. Cho decided to keep him in an observation room instead of taking him back to his bedroom at the compound just in case there were any complications. She didn’t expect any, but she decided to err on the side of caution.

               “He’s stable now, but I don’t want to take any chances. If you need anything or if something seems off, tell FRIDAY and she’ll let me know.” Dr. Cho said after briefly explaining Peter’s situation. “He must be extremely lucky. The bullet barely missed his spine. If he’d been shot half an inch to the left, he would have been paralyzed.”

               “Thank you.” Tony replied.

               “Of course,” Dr. Cho smiled. “We’re going to keep him asleep for awhile to let his super healing do its job. You should probably try to rest.”

               “You know I can’t.” Tony sighed. If something bad happened while he was asleep, he would never forgive himself.

               “I know.”

               Moonlight was streaming through the windows when Peter opened his eyes. Everything seemed fuzzy around the edges, as though it wasn’t quite real. Through the muddled fog of his mind he recognized the med bay. What was he there for? The last thing he remembered was watching a movie with Ned in the living room.

               Tony was sitting quietly in a chair next to the bed, phone in hand. But that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. He was . . . dead. Oh, Peter thought, I must be dreaming. These sorts of dreams had happened to Peter before. Sometimes is was Tony, sometimes it was Ben.

               He hated them. He always woke up in the morning with a fresh wave of sadness, pillow wet with tears. It was like starting the seven stages of grief all over again.

               A few moments later, maybe sensing Peter’s staring, Tony looked up at him. “Hey sleepy head, how was your nap? You were out the whole day.”

               “It was fine.” Peter answered. He hated the excitement he felt at talking to Tony again, even if it was all in his mind. “I’m still tired though.”    

               “Go back to bed, then, kiddo. It’s almost midnight anyway.”

               “I don’t want to.” Peter said. “If I go back to sleep then I’ll wake up in real life and you won’t be there.”

               “What makes you think I won’t be there?” Tony was confused. It must have been the drugs. Cho did say that he would probably be dazed when he woke up.

               “Because you’re dead. You’ve been gone for over a year.”

               “I’m not dead. Underoos, I’m right here. Don’t you remember?”

               “I remember the first time you called me that,” Peter said idly, changing the topic. “I was so excited to go to Germany even though I was nervous. You were the first person that really believed in Spider-Man and I wanted to make you proud.”

               “I am proud of you.”

               “And the new suit was super cool. It probably would have been embarrassing if I’d shown up to the airport in the old one. Can you imagine if I’d actually met the Avengers dressed like that?” Peter wrinkled his nose at the thought. He was incredibly glad that hadn’t happened, although it probably didn’t make a difference anyway. There were hundreds of videos of him in that suit on YouTube.

               “Yeah, it might have been a little rough, but I’m sure everyone would have loved you anyway.”

               “Really?”

               “Of course. We all start somewhere, right?”

               “Yeah,” Peter said, pausing to stifle a yawn. Tony smiled at the memory of fourteen-year old Peter Parker walking in the door with headphones in. He was smaller back then, more innocent. How Tony wished he could go back in time and prevent Peter from ever being involved in any of this. Deep down, though, he knew that he couldn’t. Peter would have never stopped being Spider-Man. The least that Tony could do was protect him while he did it.

               “Get some more rest, kiddo. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

               “No, you won’t,” Peter sighed. The tears didn’t have a chance to fall before he was asleep again. Tony hated to see Peter upset, but the only way to fix this was for him to sleep off the rest of the drugs. Until then, Tony would be waiting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair at his bedside.  

               Next time Peter woke up the August sun was shining cheerfully through the med bay window. The chair next to his bed was empty and there was no sign of anyone else having been in the room except for Peter. Because Tony was gone. Because he was never really there in the first place.

               “Oh, you’re awake.” Tony said, surprised. He had left to get a quick snack before Peter woke up. “I hadn’t expected you to be up yet, but if you’re hungry I can—hey, hey,  what’s wrong?”

               Peter looked up at the sound of Tony’s voice, crying. “What?”

               “Do you need more pain killers? Cho said they shouldn’t have worn off but I guess you never know with your special metabolism.”

               “Tony?” Peter’s voice was impossibly quiet, as if he was afraid that if he spoke any louder the world would shatter around him.

               “. . . Yes?” Was the anesthesia still messing with Peter’s head? Peter was quiet for a minute as Tony set his coffee down on the night table and sit at the foot of the bed. He was careful not to jostle Peter too much for fear of hurting him.

               “I’m so sorry.” He said finally, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. He hated crying—he had been doing it so much lately—but he didn’t care this time.

               “Me too, kiddo, me too. I love you.”

               “I love you too.”

               Peter’s life was still upside down, and would be for a while, but he was relieved. He loved Ned and his family, he truly did, but they didn’t understand. They never could. But Tony could. He understood being a superhero, he understood being famous as a teenager, and he understood the trauma that came along with both. He could help him through it.

               Maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out okay.

@irondad-fic-exchange

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries - Final Part

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Welp, this is it guys! The final chapter. Thank you so much to those of you who stuck with me during this whole story. I seriously appreciate the support you’ve given me ever since I started this fanfic, and it means the world to me to see how much you’ve enjoyed it. I’m definitely gonna miss writing about Arthur and Eddie, but I also can’t wait to show you what else I have planned in the future. Stay awesome :)

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

THE BASTILLE, SAINT DENIS

“Dear, John...” I murmured to myself, readin’ my awfully-written letter out loud, “...it’s Tacitus. I hope this letter finds you on the off-chance that you’re still alive, but truth be told...I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Last time we saw each other, we was both trying to make our way out of that god-awful shit storm, and I regret that I never got the chance to see if you survived.”

“If you’re still out there somewhere, I wish you luck. You saved my ass when hell finally broke loose, and I won’t forget it. As for me -- my partner and I have managed to stay out of trouble for a while, and we’re planning to start a new life someplace else. For your safety and mine, I cannot say where, but just know that we’re doing okay. Things ain’t easy, but we got each other. And if these following years go according to plan, who knows? Perhaps we might be able to rejoin you someday.”

“If you’re not alive though, then...I will certainly miss you. That’s for sure. We ain’t related by blood, I know, but you was always like a brother to me. We grew up together since the very beginning, and I’ll never forget the times when you used to annoy me so much that I wanted to tear my hair out. Who’d have thought I’d eventually miss those days?”

“But...as much as I’d like to keep this going, I’m afraid there’s a ship I need to catch pretty soon. It’s gonna carry me off to a civilized world where I am to live as a civilized man. I ain’t exactly ready for a life like that, but it’s where I’ve ended up. I suppose we shall see how that goes.”

“Farewell for now, John. You’ll always be in my thoughts.

Your friend and brother,

--Tacitus Kilgore.”

Placin’ the letter down on a table, I leaned back in my chair and reread some of the sentences to myself as a worn-out breath escaped me, probably because of how long I spent thinkin’ about how to word all this.

If I was bein’ honest, I didn’t even know if trying to contact John was a good idea. I mean, we was both still wanted men. Even with Agent Milton gone, the rest of the Pinkertons were still searching for us. If they knew that either of us were alive, I had no doubts that they’d do everything within their power to try and stop us from escaping...and that was a risk I couldn’t take.

I let out a frustrated sigh and balled up the piece of paper in my hands, tossin’ it into the nearby fireplace.

“...Goddammit.” I whispered to myself, solemnly watchin’ as the letter burned.

Was that the right thing to do? I wanted to see John again, of course, but...maybe it was better this way.

We both had people to take care of, after all. He had Abigail and Jack, and I had Eddie.

The less we knew about each other, the safer we’d be. We had to worry about more than just ourselves in this case, and -- with the law constantly up our ass -- perhaps it was best for everyone if John thought I was dead. Then, he’d have nothin’ to give to the Pinkertons. At least, not when it came to me.

Still though, part of me wished I could at least say goodbye to him before hightailing it to England. Out of all the people I grew up with, John was the only one left who was alive and trustworthy.

And on top of that, there was no guarantee I’d ever return to America. Apart from sentimentality, this country had nothin’ else for me. All that remained of the Van der Linde gang was a long trail of blood that civilization was already in the process of forgetting, and I certainly didn’t plan on lingering around with my wanted posters still flappin’ in the wind.

I was finally ready to be the man I aspired to be, and not the man Dutch created.

My life in the United States may have been over...but my life as a free man was just beginning.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door suddenly swung open when Eddie came wanderin’ in with a briefcase in his hand, all ready to go. He was usin’ the same cane that Hamish gave to him back at O’Creagh’s Run, and the more I saw him limpin’ around the room with a sway in his step, the more I worried about the true condition of his leg.

The pianist insisted he was fine whenever I asked him, but -- despite bein’ the dolt that I was -- I was still smart enough to assume that climbing a huge rock formation not too long after getting shot in the leg probably wasn’t the best idea.

I supposed all that commotion with Atticus finally did a number on Eddie’s injuries. He looked alright during all that drama, but with everything else that was goin’ on, I only hoped that we wouldn’t need the doctor’s services before departing for England. Things was stressful enough as is.

“Arthur,” Eddie greeted, settin’ his briefcase down on the bed for a moment. “You ready to go? The ship’s leaving in half an hour.”

“Yep. I got everything I need. What about you?”

Eddie took a seat across from me. “Me too. Just...preparing myself for the long journey now, is all. It’s been ages since I last set foot in England. I wonder what it’s like nowadays.”

“Hopefully, better than here.”

A chuckle escaped him. “Oh, I dunno about that, but at least we won’t have to worry about the Pinkertons there. I’m sick of constantly checking over my shoulder for them.”

I nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling. Milton may be dead and gone, but I doubt that the rest of them clowns will give up so easily. Perhaps, it’ll even motivate ‘em to work harder. I just hope Agent Ross doesn’t find John. That man has a family to look after.”

“Have you heard from him ever since Beaver Hollow?”

“No. I was actually plannin’ to send him a letter, but...I got rid of it just before you walked in here. Figured it’d be better if he didn’t know I was alive.”

Eddie tilted his head in an inquisitive manner. “Why? Don’t you want to see him again?”

“’Course I do. But think about it -- if John believes I’m dead, then the Pinkertons will have no reason to pester him. They might still go after him for the bounty on his own head, but interrogatin’ him for information about me would be pointless.”

The pianist glanced downwards. “Hmm. I guess so. Still, it’d be nice to thank him in person. John was always friendly to me back at camp, and he saved our lives at Beaver Hollow too. Without him, neither of us would’ve gotten away.”

“Now, ain’t that the truth.”

Eddie changed the subject. “And what of Dutch? Have you heard any news about him?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing. There’s no word in the papers, no rumors circulating about him --  it’s as if he’s vanished entirely. That man could be on his way to Tahiti for all I know.”

The other man glowered. “...Or running off with Micah.”

“...That, too.” I sighed in disapproval. “Goddamn it...what the hell happened to that man? Dutch used to be so different. So full of life. So...human. But now, he’s nothin’ short of a madman. Just a tyrant who goes trigger-happy when he doesn’t get his way. I keep wonderin’ to myself where it all went wrong. Where things started to fall apart.”

The pianist frowned out of sympathy. “Well, perhaps he was always a madman. It was you who finally opened your eyes and changed.”

I rubbed my chin in thought. “...Maybe. I don’t know. Hosea used to say the same thing about himself, but to be honest...I’m not sure I care anymore. All I care about is us. You’re what matters to me now, Eddie. Not them.”

Eddie beamed warmly at the comment and gazed lovingly at me for a second, seemingly gettin’ lost in his thoughts before bringing up another topic.

“You know what...” he recalled, “that actually reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to tell you ever since we arrived in Saint Denis.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

The pianist gave me a sincere look, suddenly changing his overall demeanor. “...I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I flicked my eyes around in confusion. “Sorry? For what?”

“For not taking your advice,” he answered. “Ever since the beginning, you warned me that vengeance was an idiot’s game. And like the idiot I was, I refused to listen to you. I was just...”

Eddie let out a conflicted sigh, shifting in his seat. “I was so consumed with this insatiable desire for revenge. No matter how much I tried to forgive him, I just couldn’t let Atticus go. There was too much anger inside me. Too much grief. I thought that killing Atticus would provide a sense of justice, or a fresh beginning, but in the end...his death only made me feel...”

The man trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“...Empty?” I finished.

The pianist nodded in response.

“Yes. Empty. But not only that. When I saw the life disappear from Atticus’ eyes, part of me even...regretted killing him so soon. I guess I had hoped there would be some sort of closure to the conflict between us, but instead...it felt like reading a story that was one chapter short. There was no resolution. No way down from the peak of the mountain. It was just...a cliff. And you know the worst part of it?”

Eddie’s expression sank with melancholy. “...I still can’t let Atticus go.”

Strugglin’ to set his thoughts in order, Eddie lowered his head in a distraught manner and stared aimlessly at the floor, causin’ me to reach across the table and lay a hand on top of his own in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey...” I whispered softly, tryin’ to catch the disheartened man’s attention. “You made a mistake, but it ain’t the end of the world. You can still learn from this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. And...if I may offer some advice...”

I scooted my chair closer to his, grippin’ his hand more firmly now. “Based on everything you’ve said to me since we first met, it sounds like that Atticus ain’t the one you can’t let go. ...I think it’s Nathaniel that you don’t want to forget.”

Takin’ my words to heart, Eddie paused at my observation and lifted his head slightly, starin’ in a way that told me I just hit the nail on the head.

I could tell from the expression plastered on his face that he ain’t never thought about it that way before, and I almost felt kinda bad for the emotional conflict that I was clearly puttin’ this poor boy through.

He blinked away some of the tears that were startin’ to gather in his eyes and gripped my hand affectionately, trying to hide how much his voice was truly trembling.

“...He is, isn’t he?”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, thinkin’ back to the day Nathaniel died.

“You know, I always blamed myself for not being able to save Nathaniel. I understand that, realistically, there was nothing I could’ve done for him, but still. The thought eats me up all the time. Even now. I just...can’t move on. I can’t sleep at night because I know that if he was alive today, he’d probably never forgive me for abandoning him.

“Nonsense,” I replied, quick to come to his defense. “If Nathaniel knew that you managed to survive that day -- that you actually made it all the way to America, started a new life for yourself, became a pianist, and killed Atticus Rose after months of fightin’ for your life as an outlaw only to become a free man -- why...” I chuckled in awe, “...he’d be so, goddamned proud of you.”

The other man gazed at me with teary eyes, not quite convinced yet. “How do you know?”

I smiled brightly at Eddie. “...Because I know I am.”

Evidently somewhat overwhelmed by my praise, the sorrow disappeared from Eddie’s face as he cracked a small grin and leaned forward, showerin’ me with his own storm of compliments.

“Thank you, Arthur, but it’s not as if I did it all by myself. You did your fair share of work too. In fact, I never would’ve made it this far if you hadn’t found me that day. Your first interaction with me was an act of kindness, and yet you still speak ill of yourself constantly. You truly are a marvel, Arthur...but I don’t think you see it.”

I sighed remorsefully, wishin’ I could say Eddie was entirely right.

“That’s ‘cause I done some real bad things in my life, Eddie. Horrible things. Before I met you, I used to rob people who didn’t deserve it, kill folks who did nothin’ except get in the way of Dutch’s plans, and I did all of it while living under some twisted sense of honor to help me sleep at night. But now...”

I looked the pianist in eye, still holdin’ on to his hand, “I wanna change, Eddie. For real this time. I don’t wanna just be some thief who happens to be kinder than the rest. I wanna be a better man. A better partner. No more crimes, no more violence...just redemption. That’s all I want.”

Eddie gently brought his hands up to my face and pulled me closer, caressing my cheek in a loving manner.

“...Then let’s do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

SAINT DENIS HARBOR

Sittin’ in the stagecoach as it gently rolled over the brick roads, Eddie and I eagerly gazed outta the small windows with a newfound wonder in our hearts as we passed by the whole city, somewhat unable to comprehend that we was actually leavin’ this country.

I had to admit -- it was strange, seeing Saint Denis like this again. Over the course of the last few months, Eddie and I spent every damn day fightin’ for our lives, just trying to survive. We fought against the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons, Atticus, and even good ol’ Dutch himself.

We had been to Hell and back while still finding the time to plant the seeds of what was now an unbreakable bond between us, and yet...Saint Denis hadn’t changed one bit.

In fact, this city looked exactly the same as when I first met Eddie. People were breezin’ through the streets without a care for the beggars on the sidewalks, activists and politicians rallied people to their campaigns, children played games in the open gardens, and everywhere, people lined up in front of all sorts of establishments, waitin’ to be entertained.

The gears of civilization kept turnin’ with not a single thought for those left behind, and somehow, it still managed to look like it hadn’t gone anywhere at all.

It was one of the many wonders of the new world, but also one of the things that made me fear it. How was it that a city could progress so much without actually changin’ anything? Or maybe it was just my nerves actin’ up? I didn’t know anymore.

Everything was just so confusing now. Instead of runnin’ away from civilized life like I normally did, I was headin’ straight towards it.

I was getting ready to do the one thing that Dutch always insisted was impossible, and to make matters even more astonishing, I had a man who loved me standin’ at my side.

All them years of wondering why I could never be good enough for Mary, or strong enough to protect Eliza...and I finally had someone who accepted me as I was, but also encouraged me to be better. It took a good three decades, but my life had finally picked itself up even though I sure as hell didn’t deserve it.

I was on the opposite side of the spectrum for the first time, but -- contrary to what I expected -- I was happy. I was ready to change. And I welcomed it.

Finally arrivin’ at the harbor, the stagecoach slowed down to a steady halt as it stopped beside the entrance, prompting me and Eddie to leave. There were already a few other stagecoaches lined up in front of us, spittin’ out passengers just the same, and without even looking, I could tell it was gonna be crowded as hell outside just based on the noise.

I picked up my briefcase, takin’ hold of the door’s handle.

“You ready?” I asked Eddie, earning a nod from him.

“Ready as ever.”

Lightly pushing the door open, the two of us were instantly greeted by a cool breeze as the sound of seagulls cryin’ and people chatting reached our ears, followed by the distinct scent of saltwater.

All around me, I could see men, women, and children pacin’ their way across the harbor as they hurried to find their ship, or simply waited for their loved ones to arrive.

There were multiple paperboys stationed throughout the place, merchants displaying their trinkets to newcomers as they came fresh off the boats, fishermen luggin’ heavy nets around, and a number of street performers offerin’ a lively mood to the otherwise mundane atmosphere of the harbor.

It was a surprisingly busy day in this part of town, and...if I was bein’ honest...I felt a tad nervous jumping into the heart of it all. There were just so many people; so many civilized folks who were unlike me that...I felt incredibly outta place here.

But I supposed I’d have to get used to it sooner or later. This was the beginning of my new life, after all...and I was old enough to know that nothin’ worthwhile ever came easy.

“Here,” I said, offering Eddie a hand as he stepped out of the stagecoach. “Lemme help.”

The pianist gave me a humorous grin. “Such a gentleman.”

I chuckled, duckin’ my head as I followed him out. “What can I say? Civilization’s gettin’ to me.”

Swiftly makin’ our way outta the confines of the stagecoach’s limited space, Eddie and I set out for our ship as we slithered through the bustling streets of the harbor, doin’ our absolute best not to crash into other people.

Unlike the serene nature of the countryside, this place was pretty much filled to the brim with commotion. Folks were movin’ around so fast that they practically made the signposts twirl, and sometimes, there’d be nothing but a tornado of leaves whirling in their wake.

It was like people couldn’t even spare two seconds to take a breath. They were just completely focused on the here and now, and didn’t even bother to take in their surroundings. It was...kinda sad to witness, in a way. Though, I guessed that was just the nature of civilization.

There was no time for the present. Only for the future.

Stickin’ to the sides of the pavements, the two of us made haste for a ship at the very end of the harbor called “The Pytheas.” It was a gargantuan thing stacked with so many massive crates and strange-lookin’ machines that it made you wonder how the hell it managed to stay afloat.

There were all sorts of people gatherin’ on the pier as well. Even from here, I could see groups of businessmen discussing deals in many different languages, professors pondering what awaited them on the other side of the sea, artists sketchin’ down the vast landscape to combat their boredom, and immigrants huddling up with their families. It was like seein’ a miniature version of the entire world stuffed onto one strip of land.

And then...there was me and Eddie.

Just a musician and an outlaw.

A pianist and a gunslinger.

Two lost souls who were once crippled by their own fears, but learned to become whole after they found each other.

We was nothin’ but a pair of ordinary men in the eyes of these people. Just two regular guys goin’ about their business on a regular day. But if they were to look a bit more closely -- I guaranteed they’d be able to see the convoluted stories hiding inside.

They were written in the lines on our faces, in the depths of our eyes, in the steps we took. It was a silent journey that spoke for itself, and I doubted that either of us would ever forget it, despite leavin’ that entire ordeal behind.

We had a plethora of memories lingering in the west, after all. Simply by gazin’ at the wilderness hiding behind the city’s skyline, I was practically able to relive every moment of my past.

From the day Dutch and Hosea found me, to our endless adventures riding across the open deserts, to the times I wasted fallin’ in love with Mary, to the many years I spent mourning Isaac and Eliza...

All the friends that I buried along the way, the anger and grief I experienced, the enemies we gunned down, the nights we spent sharin’ stories around the campfire, the days where I wondered if I’d live long enough to see the next sunrise...

It all flooded my head at once. Within the span of a few seconds, I watched my whole life unfold in front of me like a person rapidly flipping through the pages of a book, and for the first time in years, I could sense genuine tears welling up in my eyes from all the emotions that were racin’ through me.

It was just...surreal to think about how far I had come. How much I’d grown. How much things had changed.

Not too many years ago, I was nothin’ but a sad, lost, and lonely man who thought he’d die long before the age of gunslingers withered away -- but now... there was an entirely new world waitin’ for me on the other side of the ocean. As well as a new home.

And so -- with one last glance over my shoulder -- I turned around and savored the reminiscent view standin’ behind me as it slowly disappeared in the distance, waving goodbye like an old friend bidding me farewell.

I had no idea if I’d ever return to this country, or if I’d ever get the closure I desired with John and Dutch...but one thing I did know was that America would always be home to me.

No matter the amount of pain or heartache that lingered in the shadows of our gang’s actions, there was just some sort of connection between me and this place that nothing could sever.

For the sake of buildin’ a peaceful home with Eddie, I would comply and live in a civilized world away from crime, but deep down -- I knew damn well that I’d always be an outlaw for life.

It was just who I was, and it was the thing that turned me into this man today.

I was Arthur Morgan, and this was the end of my story in the Wild West.

“...Goodbye, Dutch.” I whispered softly to myself, turnin’ on my heel to follow Eddie to the ship.

There were only a few minutes left until departure now, and part of me grew weary just thinkin’ about the lengthy journey ahead -- but regardless of how long it took for us to reach England, or how tiring the trip would be, I was at peace knowing that we had finally achieved the dream we fought so long to reach.

Eddie and I were officially free men from this day forward...and we had acquired the one treasure Dutch never found. The only luxury that no amount of money could buy.

The one thing that only ever truly mattered to me.

Redemption.

[admiralty-xfd]

Culmination

Mulder and Scully make a difficult decision. Set after the events of “Existence.” This is Chapter 13B, to start at the beginning click here.

DECLARATION

(Existence)

MULDER

He’s never really imagined himself as a father, but today he feels like one. When he holds William, smells his tiny head, gazes into his beautiful eyes that look just like Scully’s, he feels it.  He thinks of himself eight years ago, when he first met her, and how even though he knew their lives would somehow be forever entwined, he couldn't possibly imagine this.

His ringing cell phone jerks him out of his reverie.

Dammit, he thinks. He was sure he’d remembered to switch it to silent mode before the baby fell asleep. Luckily the kid doesn’t stir, and neither does Scully. He slips off the bed and quickly runs to pick up his cell.

“Yeah, hello? Mulder.” He hasn’t gotten used to answering his phone as an unemployed ex-FBI agent.

“Agent Mulder.” The gruff voice of Deputy Director Kersh.

“It’s just plain Mulder now, sir. You can’t possibly have forgotten that already.”

“Mulder, you need to listen. I’m calling to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Your life is in danger, Mulder. I can’t stay on this line very long. Wherever you are, the danger will follow you. I suggest you disappear as soon as possible.”

His heart drops into his stomach. No, no…

“How can you possibly know this? Where are you getting your information from?”

“You know, Agent Mulder. You already know how close the danger is. The FBI has already been compromised.”

“Sir, you can’t just call here like this, say these things-”

“If you stay, it will put Agent Scully and her child in danger as well.”

A cold chill wracks his entire body. He thinks of Agent Crane and his position within the FBI, how he relentlessly pursued them. He hasn’t forgotten, but he’s tried to forget. As if just ignoring the danger would make it disappear.

“I have to go now. Please take this seriously, Mulder.”

The line goes dead. Mulder stares at the cell phone in his hand, cursing himself for even answering it. Why is this happening now, right when he’s finally happy again?

He sits down on the couch and holds his head in his hands.

Scully. The baby.

All he can think of now are horrible thoughts, intruders, super soldiers busting her door down, throttling the life out of her, kidnapping the baby, him powerless to fight back.

All of them dead. Or even worse, him left alone, again.

How does Kersh know these things? If he’s helping Mulder, his own safety must be on the line as well. Why would he reach out to help him and Scully? They’ve always been a thorn in his side, a hindrance, a nuisance.

Well, he has, anyway. Kersh has always respected Scully. Maybe he’s only helping Mulder to keep her safe.

The worst part is that even if none of this is true, a seed of doubt has been planted inside Mulder’s brain. A hint of fear that may follow him forever. The tiniest possibility that harm could come to Scully or William is enough for him to take this seriously.

For the first time in his life he really hates that the line of work he’s chosen has turned out to be so dangerous. When it was just him, he didn’t have to worry as much. But there are others involved now, people he loves, who could get hurt just because of him.

Mulder recalls something the cancer man had said to him during one the visions he’d subjected him to:

At some point I realized that if the Syndicate didn’t kill you, the FBI would. If the FBI didn’t kill you, your own misguided heroism would. There’s really no way out for you. There’s no way for you to cheat death, except by disappearing.

Could that son of a bitch have been right? Will there ever be a way out for Mulder? Could he ever find any freedom from the forces against him? He wonders if he’s always been destined for this fate of solitude. It would be apropos, of course. If he’d never even met Scully, never had this opportunity for happiness, he may well have been resigned to such a fate.

But he did meet her. He did fall in love with her. And now they have a son together. They’re a family, they are his family. Who would have thought Fox Mulder would be lucky enough to have a family once again?

He hears a cry, and knows William is awake. He walks slowly into the bedroom as Scully is lifting him out of his bassinet.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?” she asks. She sits in the rocker and unbuttons her pajama top, letting William latch. Mulder watches as the baby suckles contentedly, knowing this bliss won’t last much longer.

Of course it won’t. It never does.

She can tell something is up. “...Mulder? Was someone on the phone?”

His eyes finally find hers and he knows she knows something is terribly wrong.

***

Byers, Langly and Frohike are dropping the last of Mulder’s earthly possessions off at Scully’s apartment. Mulder hated to leave Scully and William even for an hour but he had to gather the few belongings he needed before the Gunmen took everything else to put into storage. A few suitcases full of clothes, some important photographs and papers, and that was it. Everything else was to disappear if Mulder was truly going to disappear as well.

He’s greeted by some huge eye rolls when he asks his friends to spare the fish tank but it means a lot to him. The idea of letting his fish die for his quest seems a little too on the nose for him to handle.

Besides, Scully wants to keep it. She tells him it will remind her of him. When Frohike overhears her say this, her wish is his command. She watches him fill the tank and delicately put in the mollies personally.

“Thank you, Melvin,” she says earnestly as he plops the last fish into the tank, now positioned in its new home in Scully’s place. She bounces William a bit, on the tail end of a half-hour long calming routine. He’s finally fallen asleep on her shoulder.

“I may not understand any of this, but you know whenever there’s anything you or the little guy need, we will be here to help in Mulder’s absence,” Frohike tells her.

“I appreciate that.”

The Gunmen supply Mulder with all the fake documents he needs to get the hell out of dodge, say their goodbyes, and are gone. He closes the door behind them and turns to Scully.

“I don’t like this,” he tells her. “I don’t think leaving you two alone is a good idea.”

She walks William into her bedroom over to his bassinet and places him inside. She comes back out and closes the door to a small crack.

“I don’t like this either, I don’t want you to leave. I can’t stand even thinking about it.” She approaches him and takes his hand. “But Mulder… I cannot bury you again.”

“I still say we all go. We head to Canada, or Tahiti, or something.”

He knows as he says it it’s ridiculous. He’s asked enough of Scully. He can’t make her uproot her whole life for him, and with a baby, no less. It wouldn’t go the way he pictures it anyway.

She shakes her head and looks at him, so sad. “We can’t do that, Mulder. A life on the run with an infant? Always looking over our shoulders? I don’t want to have to make this choice but I have to put William first. I have to.”

“Of course you do, I know that. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

He looks at her for a long time. He can’t help but think he deserves this fate, this loneliness. He didn’t fight against it when he should have, it took forever for them to get here and now, by his own doing, he’s being forced to give it all up.

He has to do what he needs to do to protect his family.

“A year. One year without contact.”

He repeats what they’d already discussed, although it sounds much less appealing with every passing second. “How am I gonna do that, Scully? What am I going to do? What are you going to do?”

“If it keeps us all safe, a year will be nothing in the long run.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She looks down. “I’m trying, here, Mulder. I’m really trying not to make this impossible.”

He just looks at her, holding her hand. She tries to keep this all business. It’s what she does when things get hard. “You have my in case of emergency email, but try not to use it, okay?”

“It’s going to be hard knowing you’re an email away.”

“In case of emergency.”

He nods. “This entire fucking situation is an emergency, Scully.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You know which X Files to bring home? You have the list?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get the ones we need.”

“I hate asking you to do that.”

“I understand why you did. If there’s any truth to any of this, those files are in danger too. I want them protected as much as you do.”

All he can do is look at her. It’s all he wants to do, and now he can't do it anymore.

“I’ll help continue our work, Mulder. The X Files are in good hands with Monica, and John. And I’ll take care of our son until the danger has passed and you can come home.”

He grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on top of hers. Everything in him is telling him not to go, to stay here with her and fight.

But then he thinks of Samantha. His eight year old sister, abducted right in front of him, and the powerlessness he felt at that moment. The powerlessness he never stopped feeling for years, almost his entire life, until he was finally released from it only a year ago.

What if something happened to William? He can’t go through that again, he can’t put Scully through that. He’s already put her through so much.

He always told himself he’d rather her be happy without him than miserable with him. If staying could put himself or them in danger, how could anyone be anything but miserable? She might not be happy with him gone, but she would have William. And they would be safe, he can only hope.

He closes his eyes and just holds her tight. “I know you’re right. This is just so unfair. Why does this have to happen now? I feel like I can finally plant my feet on the ground and for the first time in my life I really want to.”

She smiles into his shoulder. Neither of them want to let go. “No matter what happens, it makes me happy to hear you say that, Mulder.”

“I love you.”

“It makes me happy to hear that too.”

His eyes shift to the bedroom door. “I have to say goodbye to the bullfrog.”

He releases her and walks over to Scully’s bedroom, opening the door slowly. Scully remains in the living room, giving them their moment.

He tiptoes inside and peers into the bassinet, little William asleep soundly, his perfect tiny face still and serene. Mulder watches him for a minute, seeing his tiny chest go up and down, up and down. He had no idea he could love anything so much. All those years he never even thought of being a father, never wanted such a thing.

He was so stupid. He had no fucking clue.

He reaches down and gently touches the downy head of his son softly, as not to wake him. The next time he sees this baby he probably won’t be a baby anymore and he can’t stop tears from welling in his eyes.

“Goodbye, kiddo. I’ll see you soon, okay?” His voice starts to catch in his throat so he says nothing more.

He wants to see William’s eyes, Scully’s eyes, one last time but he doesn’t want to put her through the forty minute nightmare of getting him back to sleep so he goes without. He turns from the bassinet and quietly leaves the room.

Scully is next to the couch and he can tell from her face that she was watching him and William through the door. He crosses over to her and she falls into his arms.

They stand in the middle of her living room for a few minutes, just holding each other. He doesn’t want to let her go because he knows the second he does, he’s going to have to leave. He may not see her for a year. He may not see her ever again. There’s no right way to leave her.

“I can’t, I can’t let you go,” he says. “Who am I anymore when I walk out that door? I don’t know who I am without you.”

They pull back from their embrace and she looks at him. The tears are actively streaming down his face now but he doesn’t care. He’s never been more miserable in his life and has no inclination to hide that fact. He knows once she’s seen his tears she won’t be able to hold back any longer and he is proven correct. She bursts into tears of her own.

“Mulder. Please, please just go before you make me change my mind,” she sobs.

He knows he’s dragging this out too long and every minute he doesn’t leave is possibly putting them all in more danger but he has to kiss her one last time, he has to, so he does. The crooks of her elbows go around his neck as she pulls herself up as tall as she can, and she holds her body flush against his. He tries to memorize every curve and his hands move down her back, pulling her close, drinking her in. He can feel his tears mixing with hers on their cheeks and everything about this is just so heartbreaking.

She finally pulls away first and holds onto his face while wiping his tears with her thumbs. He closes his eyes and pulls her forehead to his; he doesn’t want to have to look at her when he leaves.

But “Mulder, look at me,” she says, her voice beginning to break. He opens his eyes and looks into hers. He never denies her anything.

“We can get through this. We can get through anything. It’s you and me, always.”

He nods. “You and me, always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you back.”

He kisses her one last time, a quick one, and he’s reminded of the last time this happened, in the car at the airport. That time he didn’t come home.

Thoughts like this will keep him here longer, will keep her in danger, will keep their son in danger. So he turns and heads out the door, not looking back.

Thanks for reading! Sorry for the sadness, we know things always get worse for them before they get better. Ugh.

[likethetailofacomet]

Tic-Tac-NO!

A/ N: So. this is a thing that happened. I…I don’t really even know. Well, that’s not true. I do know. It happened like this. Yesterday I posted a list of ten words that had to do with my most recent WIP and @ooo-barff-oooChaos Queen that she is, decided to take all ten words and come up with scenarios about each one. OBVIOUSLY I have to do at least 5 of them now. This was one.

Pairings: Jake x Kara, Mike x Eva, Kenji x April 

Word Count: 2,138 

Warning: We’re about to get personal with Kenji and April 

It was late August and a passing summer shower beat steadily against the covered porch of the McKenzie house, the breeze occasionally blowing a droplet sideways beneath the overhang and onto one of their faces. The air was warm despite the rain and the late hour, painting the sky a deep eggplant, lazy wisps of blue-gray clouds all but dissipating as they swirled, the stars and the moon begging to poke through. Laughter and the soft golden glow of the lantern lights poured from the porch as Kara handed Kenji a beer and, clutching her own beverage, slid onto Jake’s lap. His arm came around her and he kissed the tip of her nose, smiling and whispering a “Hey, Princess,” for her ears only. Across the way Mike and Kenji were engaged in a debate with Eva and April over which of them had packed more useless junk for their moves- that day had marked the official end of the Katsaros family’s southern migration, as well as Eva’s, Jake and Kara having helped them in their exodus of New York, and they were using the night to celebrate the whole family being together. Molly and the boys along with Hideki were all fast asleep upstairs, and though the adults were all exhausted from hauling boxes and moving furniture, sweating in the sun before it gave way to the rain, they had caught their second wind from the joy of being together and the buzz of the alcohol in the beers they were drinking.

Eva was smacking Mike’s knee playfully, expressing the importance of her collection of hair products and why she’d had to stock up on conditioner from her favorite salon in New York before they left. “Mike, don’t be ridiculous,” she rolled her eyes. “That was one box, okay? How could it have possibly made a difference in the grand scheme of things?”

“Darlin’,” Mike said, tucking Eva’s long, flowing, soft-despite-the-humidity, chocolate locks behind her ear. “It was one box of hair junk, another box of makeup junk…let’s not get into your shoes…” he laughed as she slapped his knee again, eyes twinkling as they widened. “Hey!” he chuckled.

“Hey yourself, babe, you knew what kind of woman I was when you put this ring on my finger.”  She wiggled her hand showing off the diamond that she’d been wearing for nearly three years as the two of them kept their relationship up with flights back and forth from New York to Louisiana. She took a sip of her beer, her eyes dancing as she did, and he squeezed her thigh.

“I sure did,” he said, biting the air before kissing her on the cheek. Kara caught Jake smiling over at them, that brotherly look in his eyes, and she knew that he was proud of Mike for the way he’d let Eva turn his life around. She felt the smile grow on her own lips. She knew that Mike’s past was just as lonely and broken as Jake’s was, but with Eva, his future was bright and whole.

“Okay, okay, guys but hear me out now,” Kenji stood, the neck of his beer between the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand, his wedding banded left hand pointing accusatorily at April. “This one,” he jabbed his wife in the shoulder with his pointer finger and she mocked being wounded- with her super strength she had barely felt it at all- “This one just had to bring the paper copies of every project she’d ever worked on, every report she’d ever run, all the articles, all the folders full of lab work and trials and-“

“And all of our top secret information, Kenj,” April tugged at Kenji’s wrist, easily pulling the massive man back down to the cushioned bench. “Or did you forget that, ya know, we have super powers that,” she made air quotations around her next words, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “don’t exist.”

“Fair…fair point,” Kenji said, ruffling April’s thick black hair. “Alright, Darwin, looks like you win for ‘most useless junk packed by our wives’.”

Jake noticed Kara looking over at the way that Kenji was brushing his nose against April’s, and the nearly permanent way that both of their cheeks were lifted into their eyes from happiness and laughter and smiling until it hurt. He knew she was thinking about when she’d met her sister, the two of them stranded in the crystal dimension together, April so drained and weak that she almost didn’t make it home, and he knew that she was reveling in how far April had come from then, and how much it had to do with the man by her side.

“Nuh-uh,  Metal Man,” Mike shook his head. “Nope, I have retracted my former statement. Eva did nothing wrong, never does.”

“That’s more like it,” Eva said as she and Kara laughed while April rolled her eyes.  

But Kenji wasn’t letting it go so easily. “No way, man, you can’t compare redacted top secret government information and heavily guarded trade secrets to hair care products and shoes.” He took the finger he’d been pointing at April and instead directed it at Mike.

Mike was getting ready to respond when Jake interrupted. “Easy way to settle this,” he said, moving to grab the wooden box that was stashed on the side table next to the wide Adirondack chair he and Kara were sharing. He shook it and the contents rattled over the sound of the pattering rain. It was a hand carved wooden game set complete with chess, checkers, puzzles and a tic tac toe board. “The McKenzie dispute resolution method,” he said, opening the box and rummaging through the different types of boards until he found the one cross hatched with two vertical lines and two horizontal lines. “Any time Molly is arguin’ or if Princess and I can’t agree, we settle it the civilized way.” He held up a wooden X and a wooden O. “Good ‘ole fashioned Tic Tac Toe. Scrap Heap vs. Darwin. Right now.” He slammed the board down a bit harder than he meant to in his tired, happy, inebriated state, and a snort of laughter burst from his lips to mix with Kara’s tingling giggles.

“NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” Kenji stood, shaking his head feverishly, a look of pure horror on his face as April hid her scarlet cheeks behind her hands. Mike and Eva suddenly found the slats of the porch floor extremely interesting as they averted their eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah,” said Jake, a mischievous flash in his cobalt blue eyes. Kara could tell that he wasn’t going to let whatever this was go, and she smirked at her sister as April peeked out from between her fingers. “Someone gonna explain why I mentioned an innocent game made for children and the four a you are actin’ like I suggested strip poker?” He took a long pull from his beer as he waited for one of them to bite.

“Well,” Eva started, but Mike quickly stopped her with a hand on her knee and a light lipped shake of his head.

Jake saw his friend’s attempt to silence her, and it only made him push harder. “Nuh, uh, Darwin, don’t you go tellin’ miss Eva to keep quiet. I can tell that this is a good one from Kenji’s reaction, and I think Kara and I deserve a good, funny, embarrassing story as payment for helping you all move your hair stuff and your lab reports and all your other crap, right, Princess?” he looked to Kara for confirmation.

Kara was still eying her sister, barely able to keep her laughter from tumbling out at the way April was shaking her head and furrowing her eyebrows; at the way Kenji was still standing like he was hoping he might suddenly gain the ability to fly away. “Yeah, I think that’s only fair,” she nodded to her husband before turning back to Eva. “Go ahead and spill the beans, E.”

Kenji was shaking his head muttering “nothing is sacred, I swear,” and April’s eyes were pleading with Eva desperately, but Eva seemed to be siding with Jake and Kara on this one, deeming it too hilarious to keep under wraps any longer.

“Well,” she said again, a little louder this time. Kenji sunk back down to his seat realizing that it was happening. April groaned and hid in Kenji’s shoulder. “Well, it’s funny you should mention strip poker, Grandpa,” she had taken to using Mike’s nickname for him- the only other person he’d allow to call him that until the day he actually became a grandpa-“Have you ever heard of Strip Tac Toe? Because apparently, that’s how Kenji and April settle disputes.” She looked at the Katsaroses and raised an meticulously arched eyebrow. “Isn’t that right, April?”

April was trying to disappear into Kenji’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna talk about it!” her voice was muffled by the fabric of Kenji’s shirt. He had his arm around her, comfortingly rubbing her back, that look of horror on his face fading to one of complete resignation.

“Well, too bad, Miss A,” Jake was loving this a little too much. “Looks like the secret is out.” He turned back to Eva. “Now what I really wanna know is how you two know about this arrangement,” he indicated between Mike and Eva.

Eva sighed, looking over at Kenji who rolled his eyes and nodded, seeing no way out and knowing that his brother in law was like a dog with a bone when he latched onto something that might make for a good joke. “Well…remember last year when Mike and I went to Tahiti? And Kenji and April’s apartment was being renovated so they stayed at our place while we were gone?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, I remember,” he was resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, his attention completely captured by the embarrassment unfolding in front of him, taking great joy in the fact that the embarrassment was not his own.

“Well…I don’t know if you remember the detail about us having to come home three days early because of a storm in the forecast? We tried to tell Kenji and April that we’d be back early…you know, to let them know to expect us…but,” she shrugged, “they didn’t get the memo and, well…” Mike covered his eyes as if he was still trying to wipe the images of his friends’ nearly naked bodies in Eva’s living room from his mind.

“You walked in on Strip Tac Toe?” Jake looked at Kenji with a shit eating grin. “Like that time I walked in on you posin’ for Miss A like an un-masked hero?” Kenji and April groaned in harmony and Jake almost fell out of his seat with laughter. “What was the argument, I gotta know!”

“I tell you and you never speak of it again, got it?” Kenji leveled Jake with a look and the pilot held his hands up, making a face as if to say ‘I accept these terms and conditions’.

Kenji sighed. In a barely audible voice he mumbled, “It was over whether we should have Korean BBQ or Sushi for dinner.”

Kara completely lost it, Jake guffawing right alongside of her. “Oh my god, A, you two just cannot keep your clothes on, can you?”

“No, they can’t and It’s a real problem,” Mike said, pointedly looking at Kenji.

“Alright, alright, you got your story, Wingnut, you happy now?” Kenji grumbled.

“Happier’n a dead pig in the sunshine, Tin man, really. Miss Eva, thank you for your cooperation in this highly important matter.”

Eva gave in to a fit of laughter that had been threatening to burst forth from the second Jake produced the tic tac toe board. Mike followed suit with Kenji finally cracking and before they knew it the 6 of them were belly laughing as the summer storm blew right on by and the sound of the falling rain quieted until they were just left with the sounds of the night and the crickets and the frogs.

Kara felt her heart swell as he husband’s chest rumbled with laughter, as her sister’s cheeks turned back to their original shade, as Mike blinked his eyes enough to rid the images from his mind. She remarked for what felt like the millionth time about how at one point, she was nothing, from nothing, and had no one. And now, well, now she had the world right here on the porch, and heaven inside in the form of her sleeping children and nephew. Their memories were heavy on the laughter, full of the good stuff, and that was only going to get better now that they had their whole family all in one place.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes  @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @endlesshero1122 @indiacater @nekkidmolerat @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @cordoniantrash @akrenich @gardeningourmet @choiceslife @choices-is-life @mkatschoicesblog

[perrytheplaidypus]

I've got a piece of paradise (that's all I ever wanted)

My first Philinda smut fic, them enjoying their time on Tahiti. Smut under the cut. Read also on AO3.

They watched the Zephyr take off, flying home above their heads. Closing her eyes, Melinda let a cool breeze wash over her face, taking in the moment, feeling at peace with Phil by her side. His hand in hers brought shivers trough her body.

This here, this moment, was everything she ever dreamed of, since when she does not know. It happened without explanation, her head realising after decades what she really wants.

Turning a bit she cuddles herself more into Phil, his left arm pulling her to him and she savours the warmth he is spreading out, even though the heat from the place is slowly crawling trough her clothes. But she doesn't want to let go. She wants to hold him, staring at the ocean, that deep water a blue nearly as deep as Phil´s eyes.

Melinda feels his lips on the side of her head, not really a kiss, just his lips lingering on her skin, whispering the words she longed to hear: “I love you so much. I'm so happy you're here with me.”

She looked up, couldn't see his eyes trough the glasses, but his face showed every emotion nonetheless. Moving up on tip toes she pressed a soft, short, but loving kiss to his lips, her eyes watering a little at the thought that she could do this now. Any time. Every time she wanted, felt like kissing him, touching him, until the day he would-

No. Not today. They promised each other they would deal with that when the time had arrived. Not now, not tomorrow. Some day. This was their time, and she would relish every single minute of it.

Her lips broke the contact but she didn't move away, their faces still so near. “I love you too.” A second kiss, the same emotions. Melinda noticed that he too had problems holding the tears back, so she took a deep breath until she smiled at her thought.

“So, I think you promised some parasailing, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh is that so?” That smirk made her weak in the knees, but she wouldn't tell him. Maybe after round two.

“Yes, and I actually looked forward to it. So don't let me-”

Before she could end that sentence his lips were on hers again, but with much more force and passion and he was backing her up the beach to their little cabin, ignoring their bags on the porch, driving direct for the door. Being too focused on each other they didn't manage to open the door right away, which is why her jacket and their sunglasses ended up on the floor of the porch. When he tried to get her shirt of as well she broke the kiss and turned around to open the door, a simple handle, but Phil made it unbelievable complicated with his teeth grazing her neck up to her ear, nibbling and biting her sensible places.

Finally she had it open and before he could follow she was next to the bed, looking at him mischievously, gesturing him to close the door and stop there.

Phil watched with a stunned expression as she slowly slid her shirt over her head, revealing a black lace bra she put on before they left the Zephyr, paired with matching panties he got a good look at when her jeans were shed too, together with her shoes and socks. Melinda never felt conscious with her body, she had her fair share of scars, the one on her thigh most visible, but her skin healed good, so they where nothing but nearly invisible white lines along her skin. She lost some weight through the lighthouse, the running and fighting, but her muscles still showed her form nicely.

Phil seemed to think the same, his mouth slightly open, and then, oh dear god help her, he did that thing with his tongue, letting it run along top lip, then biting his bottom lip, making her gasp slightly. Another thing that made her weak, the thoughts about what he was capable of doing with tongue and his flexing fingers. His eyes run over her body, hungry and full of love and desire, it made her feel good, wanted, and Melinda felt a wave of confidence wash over her.

She bit her lip, beckoning over seductively and without hesitation he was on her, his mouth on her neck and hands along her sides, a light, sensual touch, whispering how beautiful and sexy she was, while she worked the buttons on his shirt and let it fall from his broad shoulders. When she pulled the hem of his undershirt from his trousers, she hesitated, played questioningly with his skin between the cloth and his jeans until she felt him nod against her neck.

Melinda took her time, pressing a hard kiss to his lips before sinking onto her knees, pressing kisses along the skin she exposes, making him gasp and moan. It had been a long time ago when she had last seen him completely out off his shirt, they were much younger back then, less scars, less history.

She remembered the soft, light hair that covered a line of skin on his upper body, some was slowly greying, but not too much. He didn't had a six pack, not that exaggerated anyway, Phil was always firm, flat muscle, strong, cut in the right places, like those lovely hip dents he carried always hidden. She loved those, they always made her wet when she caught a glimpse of them, and to prove it she let the tip of her tongue ran trough the valley of both of them, slowly, sensual. Phil really seemed to like it, she could tell by the way is hands balled into fists as he tried to hold himself back.

It was tempting, to see him lose control, to let him take over and have that usually so controlled man ravish every part of her. But she needed this first, for her and for him, to show him that she desires him too, this would not be based on one-sided attraction, this was mutual.

So Melinda continued her exploring him, lifting that shirt a bit higher, exposing his ribs and slightly visible abs. He too had lost weight not only trough the lighthouse, but through his illness, nether less he was still broad, it came with his activities, he loved to swim in his youth and it earned him wide shoulders and a strong chest as well as thick back muscles.

Her mouth placed wet kisses along his ribs and abs while her hand altered between kneading his back and drawing her nails across the skin. He was definitely losing it. Good. Maybe she could drive him a bit further. Intentional accidentally she let her still covered breasts slide against the promising and growing bulge in his jeans with every kiss, make him groan her name. But his hands remind by his sides, she had always admired his control, but this was overwhelming.

Pushing herself up on her feet she simultaneously pushed the shirt over his pecks, letting it get caught under his arms pits, her bottom lip driving across the valley on his chest while she looked up at him. His eyes altered between being shut close and watching her, his pupils blown, the magnificent colour in his eyes nearly vanished.

Ignoring the dark lines Melinda kiss every part of his chest, giving his hardened nipples some extra care. The sounds he made, his taste, the short hair covering his chest, everything about him made her want to push him onto that bed and ride him into the mattress. But they had time for that. She wanted to know every part of the man she loved. Needed to hear the sounds that voice could create. This was real. She could have him.

When her teeth nipped at his collarbone and then a line along to his neck, she pressed her whole body against his, feeling his rapid heartbeat, his hot breath on her neck, making them both shiver in anticipation. Biting gently into the skin behind his ear, she beckoned him to raise his arms and the next moment he stood shirtless before her. He was gorgeous. So handsome. His control slipped for a moment and he drew her into a passionate kiss, their tongues fighting for the upper hand and the way his fingers danced across her back, flirted with her skin and played with her underwear nearly made her forget her plans with him. Nearly.

She let the kiss go on for a few minutes, making them both whimper when she finally broke the contact. Before he could initiate a new kiss she stepped an inch away, her hands stilling on his chest.

“I'm not done with you yet.” They smiled and then she looked down at him, turning her smile into a smirk.

“And you are a bit overdressed. Lose the shoes, socks and jeans, I'm back in a second.” Phil gave her an eager nod, then started unlacing his shoes and she turned around, walking back to the door but could not miss the way he stared at her ass, which made swing her hips just the tiniest bit more seductively.

Opening her bag on the porch she fished out one of the two packages of condoms. One was given her by Daisy, who was slightly embarrassed but could not help herself, and the other by Elena who straight out told her not to use everything on day one. They clearly meant it as a joke, to annoy them a bit but Melinda intended on using every single on of them. She and Phil would make up for lost time, for nearly three decades.

When she walked back into the hut she saw Phil taking off his pants, giving her a glorious view on that nice ass he wore. That ass made watching his six for years so much easier and more pleasurable.

She took the image in front of her in for a last moment, Phil only in black boxer briefs, her eyes following the way up his strong legs, remaining on his covered erection, making him twitch under her view, until her eyes were fixed on his again.

She wanted to do so much more, following her plan, admiring every part of him, but she was losing her patience. She wanted him, now. He seemed to have read her thoughts because in a second he was on her again, kissing her so much harder and passionately than before, hands around her waist, holding her against his body. As soon as his tongue invaded her mouth she was gone, the condom package falling to the ground with a thump and her back hitting the wall behind them.

Melinda, despite the presumption, loved cuddly, slow and tender love making, it made her feel safe and wanted. But from time to time she just needed this hard and uncontrolled sex against the next hard surface. It was messy, tongues, teeth, hands in hairs and on every reachable part of skin. A shiver ran trough her body when her bare breast came into contact with the hair on his chest. When had he removed her bra? Was she so far gone already?

As much as she loved this, she needed to know one thing first, so she gently pushed him so she had enough room to look him in the eyes when speaking.

“I know this may sound … I just … I need to know that you feel up for this. It was only yesterday that you were not healthy enough to stand and I don't want to worsen your condition by over doing it now. I mean … We … we can wait until you feel good enough … “

His wide smile made her stop and she was confused for a moment, before he spoke.

“I am grateful you thought about this, but it's okay, I feel … honestly I feel great. The blood loss, the constant worrying about the fate of the world, about our family, it made everything … it was the stress. But since the moment I knew I didn't had to think about that any more, when I knew you would be at my side, I felt better. And I plan on keeping my mind off of all these things and concentrate on being with you, spending the rest of my time with you.”

Gently his thumb stroked away the tear that had slipped away over her cheek, a tear of relief, before he kissed her again.

“So, yes, I'm absolutely up for having sex with you right now, unless you don't want to.” The decision was made easily for her, gripping his hands and laying down on the bed with him. They resumed their slow but passionate kissing and touching, laying side by side, legs intertwined until he started playing with her last piece of garment and rolled her onto her back. Phil sat back on his knees, moving her panties down her legs, throwing them somewhere behind him and suddenly couldn't take his eyes off her body. Under his view she felt beautiful, admired and it felt so good, she hasn't felt like this in years.

His hands, rough and large, embraced her ankles, slowly moving up to her knees, his thumbs drawing circles on her skin, continuing sensual long movements along her thighs. He made Melinda crazy like that, the familiar burning and craving in her lower belly being prominent since they started but now everything was focussed on her, on that point, every time his fingers came near her throbbing core, she felt herself getting more and more impatient.

Phil then leant down, pressing soft kisses to her belly, moving towards her centre.

“You are so magnificent.” His breath made her squirm, she was close, it would not take long for her to-

“Oh-oh god, Phil!” It was the only thing she could vocalise after his mouth began to suck and nibble her clit, her wetness making it easy for him to first insert one, then two fingers into her, making her go boneless under his ministrations. Once she had accommodated to his thick fingers he began to set a faster pace and truth to her presumption, she came not minutes after that first contact, screaming his name. He was easing her trough her strong climax, licking and soothing her cunt.

Blood slowly flooded back into her brain, and Melinda noticed that her left hand was fisting the bedsheets and the other clung to his head, nails grasping the short hair on his neck, holding him to her. She let go of him, but not without caressing his head where she would leave some red marks. It wasn't her fault, that man man had a magnificent tongue and amazing hands, and as much as she wanted him to continue, she also could not wait any longer to have him.

Pressing two last kisses to her inner thighs, Phil moved up her body until their lips crashed together and she was able to taste herself in every corner of his mouth. Her hand slid from his neck over his chest straight to his groin, feeling him hard in his briefs, stroking him over the fabric, making him squirm in return, thrusting against her hand. Then her other hand followed and she helped him getting his underwear over his ass and finally away from them. Now there was nothing between her and Phil, only skin moving on skin, hot, sweaty. They kept moving like this for a while, savouring the contact, just kissing and touching. He felt so good, covering her, moving against her. Like they were made for this, for each other. It was a silly thought, but she could not describe it better.

Melinda felt him nudge her entrance, she was wet and ready for him, but he still made sure by sliding two fingers into her, testing, making sure she was stretched enough, then deciding on a third finger, which she was later grateful for. She took one condom out of the discarded box, opened the foil paper and put it over his cock. Holding him in her hand made her realise that it would be quite the stretch, he was thick, long, and it would feel so good. Once she had accommodated to his three fingers she urged him on, guiding his cock to her centre.

“Look at me.” And she did, her eyes locked on his, feeling him slowly enter her. It was hard to keep her eyes open, pleasure overwhelming her the moment he bottomed out. Gasping, breathing hard, getting used to him, they just looked at each other. Then he started grinding against her, using his weight to thrust hard and slow into her. It didn't take long for Melinda to moan his name, nails scratching his back muscles and her legs clinging to his waist.

Then Phil pushed himself up with his prosthesis, his other gently cradling her face, leaning slowly down and kissing her softly, whispering: “I love you”, before starting to thrust in earnest, hard and fast, driving her towards her next climax. Phil was hitting all the right places, making it clear he was driving them to cum. The bed was creaking and thumping against the wall under the force of his thrusts and that thought made her even wetter, that he was pounding her into the mattress. Then suddenly she was there, her back aching off the bed, her hoarse voice trying to get his name out but ending up with a loud ragged moan. The change of angle made him go faster for a short moment before losing his rhythm completely, hands gripping the bedsheets, twisting it and moaning her name into her neck while she felt him twitching inside.

They couldn't move for several minutes, the power of their orgasm to strong and Melinda relished the feeling of Phil blanketing her, feeling his hot and sweaty body, his fast beating heart against her chest, hot breath in her neck and his lips just slightly grazing her skin. When he was sure his arms would hold him up Phil stood from the bed, making her groan when his soft cock slipped out of her. When he came back he had discarded the condom and brought a wet cloth and a glass of water for her, which she was grateful for. After cleaning them up he put the cloth away and joined her in the bed, sheets lazily draped over them, while they lay intertwined, the exhaustion of the last few months catching up on them. Melinda's head on his chest, arms around each other, they drifted off to sleep very quickly, satisfied and happy.

[willaims0388]

Mila Beijne-A fantasy

He received a phone call that evening. William had just laid his suitcases on his bed. Another spoiled child he had to guard as she had gone to Disney World.

“How long of a tour? Eight weeks? Travel? Paris to Tahiti? A model? Stalker? I want..” Before he could finish his request he muttered an okay.

He was exhausted. He took shirt off. He looked in the mirror he sighed audibly. His work out routine was shot. Going to “spas” at hotels was not the same. He was tall nearing two meters tall. Those he was well into his thirty’s he had a full head of hair. His eyes were bright blue and when he had a chance to smile it was infectious. But lately he has not been home lately. His daughter stayed with his ex. His ex he could forget but not his daughter. Never his daughter. He pulled his wallet out and looked at her picture. He sighed again. He turned the tv on and got undressed. The shower felt good. He lathered up his hair then soaped himself up. Not realizing that the lack of sleep and the hot water pounding his body resulted in his dick growing. It hung down wrist thick and swayed heavily as he scrubbed himself down. He cupped his heavy sac and then stroked it. It hardened instantly. He rinsed off then reached for a towel. Then he heard a knock on the door. Cursing he wrapped a towel around himself and opened the bathroom door. He padded over to the hotel room door and opened the door. The chain in place allowed him to see the agent for the model. He closed the door took the chain off and opened the door.

A tall good looking brunette came in wearing a navy blue outfit with white blouse. She sat down and snapped open her briefcase.

“Mr. Roberts I have a contract for you to secure Mila Beijne when she goes through her photo shoots from Paris to the islands.” She paused and handed the papers to him.

He took the papers in his right hand still holding onto the towel with his left.

He hooked the towel inside of it itself and went through the papers.

Ms. Blackburn looked up at his face then her eyes traveled down to his muscled body then down to the towel. Her eyes settled onto the thick ridge that protruded through the cotton towel. It seemed to be at least a centimeter thick! Her eyes narrowed. The head looked at least 5 centimeters across! As she stared it throbbed and twitched. It seemed to grow further down the towel. She felt her nipples hardened. She had heard of his exploits amongst his previous clients. One tour was with a matron of a Fortune 500 club as she toured Africa. They said she couldn’t walk straight for a week afterwards. His tip was over $10k

It twitched and grew some more down the towel. She felt a dampness growing in her womanhood.

He walked over and pulled a pen out and signed the papers. As he walked over.

“Everything seems to be the same as I was faxed. Now that I know the dates I find it acceptable.” He handed the papers over to her. But she couldn’t focus. The enormous head popped out. It was big as a plum. It swayed back and forth as he walked over to her.

It seemed to be pointing at her. She ran her tongue over her lips. She took the papers from and followed him with her eyes as he walked towards the bathroom.

She got up to follow to him. He broke out his shaving cream and stared into the mirror. She looked down. His almost fully erect penis jutted out.

She swallowed, “I am leaving your plane tickets here on the table. I will see you tomorrow night at the airport.”

He turned razor in hand, He seemed oblivious to the fact that his towel opened up and his thick penis hung half hard. The shaft was thicker than she had ever seen. But the plum sized head mesmerized her.

He had a wry smile and made it jump.

She closed her eyes and then brought her eyes to meet his blue eyes. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded and watched her leave. Damn she was cute! Too bad he was so tired. He took his towel off when she turned back. She looked at his totally naked body.

“I..I ..” She stared open mouthed at him.

“Yes?”

“I ..never mind. I forgot.”

The flight to Paris was eventful. Ms. Blackburn seemed to squirm as he tried to sleep. He made sure he made his cock grow down his pant leg. He smiled inwardly at the thought of her checking him out constantly.

Paris was beautiful. Customs and the metal detectors were a pain but soon he was to meet this supposed ‘model’. He slipped coffee and snacked on pate on a tiny table on the cobblestoned street waiting for the entourage to appear.

And then she was there. He stood and as dispassionately as he could took her hand and kissed it.

He was introduced as her new body guard for her photo tour of Paris and then St. Kitts Aruba and Tahiti Last.

She was gorgeous. Blonde skin and with big breasts. But he wasn’t going to let her know that.

The upper floor suite was reserved for the party.

William tried to shake off the tiredness. He felt like horny and tired all the same. He brushed his teeth. He stripped down and turned on the bath water. His thoughts went back to that gorgeous model. What was her name? Mila? That’s it. He took his growing penis in his hand and stroked it. Then there was a knock on the door and it opened slowly. Ms Blackburn entered and looked at him. Behind her he saw the shorter Mila peek around then hold her mouth on an ‘O’ as she looked at his naked body.

“She wanted to apologize for not a little.

William nodded, “I am here anytime you need me.”

As an exclamation he made it twitch again. Mila blushed and stared. Ms. Blackburn hustled her out and closed the door.

William stood in front of the mirror and stroked his hard cock. He heard the door creak and saw the cute model staring incredulously at him. He pretended not to see her and stroked his cock until he moaned.

Mila watched as his body tightened and huge ropes of white cum shoot our and splat into the sink and mirror. Mila closed the door and lay in bed for a long while until sweet dreams overtook her. She had to know more about this hunk with a big fat dick.

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

okay another pride prompt - two (or more!) people in a queerplatonic relationship that you havent written before! any characters of your choice

I knew immediately that I wanted to write about Philinda, because after FitzSimmons, they’re the couple that’s so obviously queerplatonic, but I really struggled with what to write. I brainstormed a bit with @buskidsburgade (thanks for that!) and got a couple ideas, but I couldn’t quite get them to work in fic form. So, I decided to take a page out of @florchis‘s book and write a bullet fic detailing Phil and Melinda’s relationship from pre-series to the end of season 4 similar to how she re-wrote Demisexual Fitz’s story. 

It got long, and kinda angsty because SHIELD, but I hope you like it!

Phil Coulson never really cared about dating in high school.He was too busy learning everything he could about Captain America, PeggyCarter, the Howling Commandos, and SHIELD.

He’s recruited by SHIELD his freshman year of college andgoes to join the Communications Academy.

He goes on a few dates while he’s there, but he never formsany sort of romantic relationship with anyone. It doesn’t really bother him.The Academy Library has many more books on Captain America than he’d had accessto before.

After he becomes a fully-fledged SHIELD Agent, he findshimself being frequently paired with Melinda May, an Operations graduate. Theyquickly become friends, and nothing more.

Garrett doesn’t believe that Phil and Melinda are onlyfriends. He insists that they must be sleeping together, or even if theyaren’t, that Phil must want to. He doesn’t. Not with Melinda.

It’s the early 2000s when Phil stumbles on some newvocabulary: Asexual. Aromantic. Queerplatonic. “Huh,” is his reaction.

Asexual kinda fits. He isn’t a virgin, but sex isn’tsomething he desires all the time. Maybe gray-asexual fits him? He isn’t thatbothered with the specifics.

Aromantic definitely fits him. He struggles to define it,but he knows it makes sense.

Queerplatonic is another good word. He finally has somethingto describe his relationship with Melinda.

She’s alloromantic and allosexual. He’s spent enough timelistening to her talk about her dating partners to know that much. He’s seenthe way she and Andrew interact. There’s something between them that Phil justdoesn’t understand.

He goes to her to talk about what he’s figured out. She’saccepting of the possible asexual identity and the aromantic identity. Then heexplains about queerplatonic relationships and how he thinks they’re in one.

She gets it, and she agrees, but then she starts worrying.Is she cheating on Andrew? Is forming an emotional connection with another manconsidered cheating? Will Andrew be angry or accepting? Does their relationshipbreak SHIELD’s fraternization protocol?

Melinda wants to keep it between them, but Phil pushes,gently, that they should talk to Andrew, if only to alleviate her fears thatshe’s cheating. Phil says they’re not because there’s no romantic or sexualfeelings between them. Melinda still has doubts.

Finally she agrees that they should talk. Luckily, as atherapist who does his best to keep up with the various orientations andidentities people have, Andrew is familiar with all the terms Phil and Melindaare using.

Andrew is jealous at first. He’ll admit that. But he’s knownPhil long enough to trust that he’s being honest when he says that therelationship he has with Melinda is strictly queerplatonic and non-sexual. Hecan’t deny them the emotional connection they have. They’ve been through someshit together, that Glasgow mission in particular. He’s aware that people whohave been through what they have form close bonds. He tells them he acceptstheir relationship.

Everyone’s happy. Phil comes over frequently to spend timewith Melinda. They invite Andrew to join them when he can. Melinda and Andrew’srelationship grows stronger. They start to talk about starting a family.

Phil meets Audrey, and they form a connection. He explainsthat because of his job and his sexual and romantic identities they can’t havea relationship like she might want. Audrey understands. She still wants to try.They spend time together, have fun together. Phil hasn’t felt a connection likethis since Melinda.

He talks to Melinda about it, and she’s happy for him. “I’dbe a hypocrite if I didn’t want you to have more relationships, Phil,” shetells him.

Then Bahrain happens. Andrew does his best to be supportive.Phil is always there, encouraging her to talk about it, sparring with her whenshe needs to physically fight the memories. But the pain is too much. Melindawithdraws. From Andrew, from Phil, from field work. She requests a transfer tothe Administrative Department, which is granted. She and Andrew divorce. Philremains a field agent. He’s given special assignments: TAHITI, the AvengersInitiative. He doesn’t have time to talk with Melinda anymore. She won’trespond to him anyway.

Phil and Audrey start seeing more of each other. They startplanning a trip up the coast. Then Phil is called to assemble the Avengers.

Melinda hears reports about how Phil was killed in actionbefore the Battle of New York. She’s devastated. She regrets shutting him out,but she had to. Being around him after Bahrain just brought up memories shedesperately wanted to forget. “Let the girl go.”

Director Fury calls her to his office not long after theBattle of New York. He tells her all about TAHITI, how Phil is no longer dead,how he can never know what actually happened to him. He explains the mission,asks her to evaluate what they’ll need and give him the report. He’ll give theparameters to Phil. He warns her that Phil will want her as part of the team.Melinda’s okay with that. She’s ready to start repairing their relationship.

They form their team. FitzSimmons, the young, genius scienceduo who are the talk of SHIELD isn’t Melinda’s first choice, mainly becausethey aren’t cleared for combat, and they have no field experience to speak of,but their scientific record speaks for itself. Agent Ward is Maria Hill’schoice, one Melinda approves. The agent is surly, and his people skills need alot of work, but he has a dry sense of humor that Melinda appreciates, and he’snot bad to look at either. Phil decides to add one more, because of course hedoes. He’s Phil. He’s compassionate. That’s one of the things she loves abouthim.

Their relationship picks up almost where they left off.Their camaraderie hasn’t changed even with the separation. Phil is above her inrank now, which is different, but they’re still equal when they’re not actingas agents.

Melinda starts having sex with Ward, and she thinks shefinally understands Phil’s aromantic nature a bit better. There’s no romance atall in her relationship with Ward. She keeps it secret at first, but the guiltof keeping things from him gets to her. This secret she can tell him. Fury’ssecret, she can’t.

It comes out, of course. All secrets do, eventually. He’shurt. She’s hurt too. Their trust is broken, and he sends her away. She goes.She’s determined to find answers. To prove that she cares.

She finds the hard-drive and brings it to Phil. “Huh,” ishis reaction. They apologize to each other, and forgive each other. Theirrelationship has never really been physically intimate, but that night theyshare a bed. They need to be close.

They defeat Garrett, arrest Ward, and find a new base.Melinda thinks that maybe they can start to rebuild their lives.

Then Phil starts to carve. Melinda finds him the nextmorning, passed out from exhaustion on the floor, knife in hand, and the wallcovered in those strange symbols. She knows instantly what this means. Shehelps Phil to bed, and once he’s had some more sleep, they talk. She tells himwhat she knows. She makes him promise to get her each time he feels the need tocarve. She starts to make plans.

They go undercover together as husband and wife. “We’remodern,” Melinda tells their mark. If only he knew how true that was…

Phil wants her to shoot him in the head. She can’t. Shewon’t. She’ll send him to Australia. He likes kangaroos.

“Point is,” she tells him, “no matter what happens, I’lltake care of you. That’s my plan.”

“That is,without question, the sweetest, most selfless thing anyone has ever wanted todo for me,” he tells her, “but I need you to forget all that, and kill me asordered.”

“Phil, please.” How can he ask that of her? After everythingthey’ve been through?

“Hardchoices are coming. I need you to make this one. For me.” For him. She doesn’tlike it, but she nods.

Luckily,it doesn’t get to that point. He figures out what the carving means and theimpulse goes away. She doesn’t have the words to describe how relieved she is.

Theyneed Andrew’s help. He’s the only one they trust to evaluate Skye. She goes tosee him. It’s awkward. He’s a little annoyed. She should have called him back.He agrees to help anyway.

The baseis taken over by Gonzales and his team. May does her best to resist, to helpPhil escape, and convince the others that he’s not the threat they think he is.But Gonzales and his team know the Director’s secrets. Melinda knows that it’spart of the job—keeping secrets—she’s done it before. But this secret—Philmeeting with Andrew behind her back—that’s too far. They’ve always been openwith each other about their various relationships. Melinda knows, logically,that Phil probably went to Andrew for therapy, but still! Andrew is her ex, and it feels weird that the manshe’s currently in a relationship with, non-sexual/non-romantic though it maybe, is talking to the man she used to be in a relationship with.

Andrew shows up after it’s all over, to help them deal withthe ever-growing number of traumatic experiences they’ve faced. He and Melindastart talking again, just like they used to before Melinda bottled all herfeelings up inside her. They steal Phil’s whisky. Andrew encourages her to takea break, go on vacation with him. Melinda agrees. Phil is supportive. She cantell he’s sad; she hopes that he’ll miss her. But all he does is tell her it’stime she took a break.

The vacation with Andrew is great, but then it’s like hedisappears off the face of the planet. He doesn’t return her calls, or answerher texts. She doesn’t know what she did, but she must have done something.

She goes to see Phil. She lets him know things went southwith Andrew, but that she’s not ready to come back yet. They share a drinktogether, and he listens to her vent. She lets him know she’s going to spendsome time visiting her parents, and leaves again.

While she’s gone, Phil meets Rosalind Price. He doesn’ttrust her, but she does intrigue him. He can flirt, pretend to be alloromanticand allosexual. He wants her to trust him.

They find out that Andrew is Lash. Melinda is devastated.Phil wants to help, wants to be there for her, but he remembers how she wasafter Bahrain. She just wanted space to process in her own time. So that’s whathe gives her.

He trusts Rosalind more now, but not enough to come out toher. He’s not sure she’d be accepting of his relationship with Melinda. He’sworking toward it though. Sadly, he never gets the chance. It’s Melinda’s turnto give him space.

Melinda is pissed when she learns how Phil jumped out of theQuinjet into the portal, but she’s so relieved when she learns he’s alive. Shewaits anxiously for the pod to return to the Zephyr, and when Phil exits, shehugs him. Later, when they’re alone in his office, she lets him know just howstupid she thinks he was, going through the portal like that. He lets her yell,doesn’t try to defend himself. He just stares off to the side, like he’s lostin his thoughts. She realizes that something happened on Maveth, something thathe’s not willing to share yet. That night, they share a bed, and she holds himwhile he cries.

Time passes. Andrew dies. They save the world again. ThenDaisy leaves, and Phil steps down. A new director takes over, and their team issplit apart. Phil is sent to do field work on the Zephyr with Mack. May istasked with training a special strike force team. They barely see each other,or even get a chance to talk. The new director puts up motivational posters inthe bathrooms. It sucks. Melinda considers leaving again, but chooses not to.She needs to stay, to protect her found family.

Phil is worried when he learns that Melinda is infected, andhe’s furious when Mace refuses to give him any information, then relieved whenSimmons reports that she’s been cured. He’s slightly alarmed when Simmonselaborates on exactly what the cure was, and then he’s curious about whatMelinda saw before she died.

Melinda doesn’t remember much of what happened while she wasinfected. But she remembers seeing Phil, and she remembers the comfort thatbrought her.

He’s annoying about it, repeatedly asking her about what shesaw. She wonders if he saw her before he died? Not that he’d remember. TAHITItook that away.

When he vanishes, she does everything she can to get himback, even getting Radcliffe to read the Darkhold. She knows Phil will bepissed when he finds out, but she doesn’t care. She needs him back, and theDarkhold may have the answers. She’s right. Radcliffe and his robot build aportal. When it opens, and she sees Phil being sucked into the darkness, andFitz doing his best to pull him out, her heart stops for a second. She tries torush in to help, but Radcliffe stops her. There’s nothing she can do but watchand yell at him to fight.

“I knew you weren’t gone,” she tells him when he comes backthrough.

“I know,” he responds.

Melinda remembers going to get AIDA. Then, she’s in a spa. Andagain, and again. Then, she’s escaping. And again, and again, and again. Then,she’s back in Bahrain. She saves the girl. She goes home to Andrew. She has noidea who Phil Coulson is.

Phil is mad at himself that he didn’t recognize that Maywasn’t the real May. He should have known. They’ve been through so muchtogether. He should have known. He kissed her—kissed it? Why did he do that?Their relationship has never been very physically intimate. He’s fine withkissing, and he loves Melinda, but she’s never been on his list of people hewants to kiss. Though lately…

He searches for her, the real her. The Russian brings up anassignment he and Melinda worked together, before Phil learned about hisidentities, before Melinda and Andrew were together. He had known, even then,that his relationship with Melinda was different, and special. She brought updating, and even though he wasn’t that interested, he was willing to considerit. For her.

Then, he’s a teacher. And Melinda May is the Hydra Agent whoendangered them all.

But, Phil has doubts. Something isn’t right about his life.It must be the soap. Hydra is brainwashing him with the soap. He learns how tomake his own.

Daisy brings Agent May to the Resistance’s base. Phil can’thelp but feel drawn to her. Daisy had mentioned that they were close in theother world. Phil wonders exactly how close?

He gets shot trying to leave, and it feels oddly familiar.May is there, helping him. “Come with me,” he tells her. “Just follow my lead.”

He wakes up in an unfamiliar room. May is hooked up next tohim. “Come on, May. Jump.” She wakes with a gasp.

He fills her in on everything she missed, carefully leavingout one certain detail. She picks up on it though. “What aren’t you tellingme?”

“I drank the bottle of Haig.”

“You piece of sh—” Phil is only slightly grateful that theexplosion stops her from finishing.

They don’t really have time to actually talk about whathappened, but they do their best in between setting up the plan to captureAIDA. Phil really wishes they had another bottle of Haig to help make the talkeasier, but they’re a bit busy at the moment. He really wants to reaffirm theirqueerplatonic relationship, maybe discuss physical intimacy, but he can’t dothat at the moment. He vows to buy another bottle as soon as everything hassettled down around them.

He isn’t able to keep that vow.

[abrilliant-idiot]

Fading into the background

~~a percabeth angsty smutty thing~~ She looked nervous. Percy had been friends with Annabeth long enough to know what she'd be feeling when her hands shook. Or when her lips were curved in a smile, but a different kind of smile. Or when she clung to her fathers arm as they walked slowly, so slowly down the aisle. She wasn't ready. She knew that. He could tell when she locked eyes with him. They brightened from their dullness and she flashed him a quick smile, a real one that time, then glanced away back to the area the groom was supposed to be standing. Annabeth stood beside the preacher as her father sat in one of the very empty aisles. They were at a very last minute wedding "rehearsal," in the reception hall of the prestige Hotel they reserved in Tahiti, at ten at night. Annabeth wanted to make sure everything would go smoothly, and Percy went along to help her, going so far as to unregrettably waking up the preacher for the ceremony to help sooth her nerves. Bennett was on a flight with his parents to help them get settled, but he promised he'd be there the morning go the wedding. She shouldn't be marrying Bennett tomorrow. And to make it worse, Percy was his friend. Not close enough to be the best man, or close enough to be a groomsman, but close enough to be invited to a wedding so small in a small hall. Yet again, Annabeth did ask him to be her "Bro of honor" and Percy laughed and asked her if she was serious before accepting. Annabeth and Bennett met in their sophomore year in college. Percy introduced Bennett, who was his roommate, to Annabeth, his best friend since high school. There wasn't really an instant click but they did end up hanging out a lot. Which turned into dating after he asked her out? And because of that, they barely saw each other anymore. He was used to hearing, "Percy and Annabeth," but now it was "Percy, and Annabeth," or "Bennett and Annabeth." However, he was still her best friend and he wanted to be there for her no matter what. There were moments where he thought that maybe, he and Annabeth would actually become a thing; sometimes when she'd slide her hand in his whenever they were out for coffee, or she'd snuggle against him during the few movie nights they'd have together, or maybe it was even the drunken kiss—the best night of his life—they shared before she and Bennet had gotten engaged that he assumed she had forgotten, because they left it unspoken. But nothing had come out of it. Percy swallowed down his jealousy as she focused her attention to the task at hand. Tomorrow, Bennett would be smiling down at her—the expression every groom would wear proudly— as if Annabeth were a million dollars. And she was worth a million dollars to Percy. He didn't want to be that bad guy, the one everyone hates at weddings, the one who wishes the wedding hadn't come to exist. Bennett didn't deserve Annabeth and neither did Percy, but there was always that part of him that knew Annabeth deserved more than Bennett and he wanted to prove that he was the perfect man to give Annabeth what she deserves. But it was too late. "And then, here's where you say your vows," The preacher said. Annabeth's cheeks flushed red, and she nodded to the preacher. Her hold on the card she wrote her vows on was tight. Annabeth hadn't read her vows to anyone, not for assistance, review, nothing. Not even to Percy himself. "I'll read them tomorrow, it isn't finished." She said. The preacher nodded. "Very well. After the vows are the exchange of rings, the main vows, and then you're married by the power vested in me." Annabeth took a deep breath. The preacher patted her shoulders taking her sigh as a nervous bride type of sigh, but Percy saw right through her—something was wrong. "Everything will be fine, Ms. Chase. I will see you right here this time tomorrow," The preacher said, before exiting the room. Annabeth turned to her father and Percy meekly. "I think I've gotten it all down packed." Mr. Chase engulfed his daughter in a deep hug and she returned it half-heartedly. "You think? Where's my daughter, the one who doesn't think, but knows?" He joked. Annabeth chuckled. "Dad, my wedding's tomorrow. Let me be off, just for a bit." Mr. Chase kissed her forehead. "You'll look amazing. I'm so happy for you munchkin, even if it's a lowlife, unsuccessful idiot, you'll be marrying." Percy had always liked Frederick. Frederick was the first person to find out, besides his mother, that Percy liked Annabeth. He never supported her engagement with Bennett. But, he loved his daughter dearly. If she was happy, he was happy. And it was like that for Percy. Annabeth frowned, "Dad, you promised you would stop insulting him." Frederick scoffed, "No, I promised I would stop insulting him to his face." "Dad!" Her father simply laughed and pulled away from their long hug. "If only your mother could see you," he whispered, holding her cheeks. "She'd be so proud of you." A tear slid down her eye. "Thanks." "Okay, so I will see you early tomorrow for breakfast, have fun at your bachelorette party tonight. Mr. Jackson, I'm expecting you to watch out for her." Percy grinned. "Always, Mr. Chase." They had this long running joke of call each other by their surnames. The first time Percy met Mr. Chase, he'd been intimidating as most fathers usually are. But at the end of the night, he told Percy to call him Frederick, but Percy wouldn't stop calling him Mr. Chase, so Mr. Chase calls him Mr. Jackson. With a wink, he left the hall room. Annabeth clutched her planner (always a planner) and glanced at Percy. "You do know I'm not going to that party right?" Percy didn't even know why she has asked. Earlier today she gave Piper her bachelorette sash just for all the free events and drinks at the club five floors down. Piper hadn't come with a date, so Annabeth wished her well on getting lucky tonight. "Of course you aren't," he agreed. "You're going to try on your dress to make sure it still fits." She wrinkled her nose, full of pride. "I'm not. I was going to take a bath and go to bed." ~.~.~ About fifteen minutes later, Percy was perched on a comfy couch in Annabeth's suite waiting for her to step out the bathroom from putting on her dress—just for her to make sure everything was fine, according to Annabeth. "No, no, no!" He could hear her muttering on the otherwise of the door. "What? Did you get toothpaste on it or something?" He could hear soft sniffles and he froze in the chair, a strong broken-hearted feeling seizing his chest. Percy had only heard Annabeth cry twice before in his life, once when her mom had died and he offered his shoulder to her at the funeral, and the other when she had broken her wrist, and couldn't draw for over two months. Annabeth had always been a strong person, and she didn't cry for just anything. He stood up and leaned against the door, the shadow of her feet loomed through the bottom crack of the door. "Annabeth, what's wrong," he pleaded gently. He heard her gasp through the door and a chocked sob. Percy shook the door knob, but it was locked. "Wise Girl," he tried again. "Yes?" She whined. "Why are you crying?" She could hear her gulp and agitation in her voice. "I can't get the zipper up." He tried to hold back a laugh, knowing it wasn't the best time to. "You're crying because you can't get the zipper up? Why didn't you just ask for help?" He heard the padding of her feet move from closer to the door and then the door clicked open. Percy pushed it open and Annabeth was staring at herself in the large mirror. Her nose was red, and her lower lip quivered insatiably. "Can you just zip it up?" He couldn't move, for he was mesmerized. "Percy, get out, or zip up this god damned dress!" She demanded. He tried not to let the sight of her smooth curves distract him. She looked amazing in white. Like really amazing. And not only did she manage to look extravagant in a long white dress, one that accented her curves perfectly, but she looked regal and carried herself impressively. And just watching her made him miserably. Annabeth was supposed to be his. She should be wearing this dress for him and not Bennet. He was supposed to watch her walk down the aisle in perfection, and he was supposed to slide a ring on her finger, and he was supposed to be her husband. She was supposed to be his wife. Everything was messed up, and he couldn't help but swell with jealousy. "Annabeth—" "Forget it, I'll try again myself!" Somehow, she managed to zip up the side of the dress, and then she flattened it out before her. He'd heard of the huge bridal freakout before weddings, but this was Annabeth. She was the most levelheaded person Percy had ever met and hear she was—freaking about the most important piece of the wedding. The dress. Annabeth had been saving up for her wedding dress ever since her engagement to Bennett. All those extra shifts and late nights at the architecture firm paid off. She looked perfect in it, beyond perfect. She was extraordinary. The dress was simple, beautiful ivory silk fashioned into fabric that hugged ever inch of her skin—he so wanted to rip it off. Thoughts began to drift into his head. Thoughts of running his hands down her back, palming her ass, kissing her lips, sucking her smooth skin, taking her against the counter, worshiping a goddess who deserved everything she wanted—She just was so desirable, and he couldn't help the tingling feeling below his stomach. She let out a small sob and covered it with her fist. "Wise Girl, what's wrong?" Percy reached for her shoulders and turned her around to press her against his chest. Annabeth weeped into his shirt and Percy felt guilty for focusing more on the fact that she was in his arms rather than that she was crying over her dress that was for Bennet. "It's all wrong!" she cried. "That's what's wrong! It's not right!" Now he thought this girl was seriously delirious. "What could possibly be not right? Annabeth, you look—you look indescribable in that dress!" She let out a humorless laugh and pulled away, pacing. "I feel indescribable. I should feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now." Percy sighed taking a step closer to her shaking form in front the mirror. "Then why don't you?" "Because!" She cried out angrily, turning towards him quickly. "Can't you see? I don't want this, I don't want any of it! I don't want to hurt Bennet, but—" Her words smacked him in the face like whiplash. Was she having...second thoughts? Despite his hopefulness he said, "Annabeth, it is probably just cold feet." Her grey eyes were blazing, "I'd know if I'm having cold feet or not! But Percy, I don't think I can do this!" She stepped closer to him and he could smell the lemony scent of her hair which made him woozy and he wanted to drown in her. "Annabeth, what are you talking about?" "You know, exactly what I'm talking about," she challenged, their noses almost pressing together. "I think you know exactly why I don't know what I want anymore and it's your fucking fault, because you won't get out of my head." And it was those words that made him think back to when he looked at her earlier in the hall, and he saw it in her eyes that she wasn't ready. And she knew she wasn't ready herself. So he took initiative, or maybe she did. But the tension had taken over, and he took her lips with a desperate kiss that had been like a ticking time bomb, waiting to happen at the worst possible moment. Annabeth returned it eagerly, clutching one hand to his hair and the other latching onto his button down. She tasted like her usual strawberry lipgloss and a bit of Moscato. She smelled like heaven in a bottle he had finally uncorked. But his emotions had uncorked as well. Instead of the slow kisses he had always dreamed about with Annabeth, with this fire raging inside him, they were passionate, fast, teeth clanging, rough kisses. He broke away from her to bruise his lips against her neck and back up to her jaw, as she began to unbutton his shirt. The stirring at built all the way up in his pants, and crotch ached with need. No, he wasn't going slow. He had one moment, to show Annabeth how he felt, and he was going all out. He didn't even have the strength to make it last as long as he should have. Annabeth tightened her grip on his hair and he groaned her name. He took the sweetheart neckline and pushed it down to her waist, right along with her bra, and he hugged her creamy skin when he took her lips again, tongues clashing. Annabeth finally unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, Percy pulling away to let it drop to the floor. Her fingers trickled down his chest and he felt her tremble the closer they drifted to his belt buckle. Percy took her breasts in his hands, the pads of his thumbs dragging across the hard stubs of her nipples, and he reveled in the mewls that passed through her lips, against his mouth. "The dress—off, take it off," she muttered, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his jaw. Percy clutched her waist and forced the tight thing down past her waist, leaving a large white puff of fabric on the tiled floor. He lifted her in his arms and she wrapped her free and longlegs around his waist, grinding against his—god, it felt amazing. Somehow he made it out of the bathroom without bumping into anything, and he plopped her onto her bed. She gazed up at him with lustful eyes, and her hair was sprawled across the lush comforter like a halo. Percy took in her in, lingering on every part of her body. Her lips were plump and red, and her eyes were hooded. Her breasts heaved deeply, and her lace underwear begged attention. He started at her breasts, kissing between them, taking them into his mouth without hesitation, and moving down, down, lower her body. He bit against her under breasts, drew his tongue along her abdomen, and moved faster the closer he got to her lower region. He caressed her thighs, wherever his fingers touched, his lips found soon after. When his tongue lapped at her wet folds, her gasp and shrieks were music to his ears. "Percy, shit!" She grasped the sheets and arched her back. He sucked and nipped at her clit and slipped a finger inside her. His other hand reached for her breast and Annabeth pulled his head up, and kissed him. She pushed his belt aside with a free hand, and took his member in her hands, making him grunt. She pulled down his jeans and he had to help her, all while she stroked him quickly. It took a lot of willpower not to come apart in her hands. When his jeans slipped past his feet, he pressed Annabeth down into the bed, caging her head with her arms, and thrusted inside her without warning. Annabeth clawed at his back, gaping into his neck. She squeezed him like a glove, and he saw stars. "Yes," she breathed. He took hold of her waist and pumped into her, already knowing he wouldn't last. Annabeth clung to him like a koala, her head thrown back as he drove her to an edge. "Percy, uh, don't—don't stop," she cried into his neck. He sucked at her throat, the pleasure taking him on a rollercoaster ride he would never want to end. "You're mine, Annabeth. Mine, you hear that," he growled in her ear, biting it at the end of his claim, marking her as his. He tweaked at her nipped and her breath hitched beyond her moaning and squeals of pleasure. "Oh god, yes!" She shuddered in his arms and he linked their fingers together, looking into her eyes with a tender expression on his face. Annabeth locked eye contact, her mouth popped open, a hand pressed against his cheek. "Let go, Wise Girl," he gritted his teeth, the feeling of her against him, pushing him past his limit, coming apart right with her. Annabeth cried out and kissed him, holding on tight as they both came. Percy admired her expression, loving how vulnerable and intimate it was, something he had never seen before, and felt so gifted and honored to have had. He didn't even deserve her. He spent about two minutes ravishing her neck and face. "That was—" Percy rolled over onto his back and was about to pull her into his arms, but she sat up quickly instead. "A mistake," she cut him off. The moment—the new best moment of his life ended. He touched her shoulder, "Wise girl…" "Did that just happen?" she weeped. "I can't believe I just did that." Annabeth placed her hands over her face and her shoulder shook so much that he couldn't bear it. Seeing her cry made the guilt settle into his stomach. He wasn't exactly sure what to say. He was happy with what had happened, but not at the cost of hurting Bennett. All he thought about was her, and her alone. "I don't think this was a mistake," he admitted. "We both feel something and—and we…" She wiped the tears falling down her face, and his heart broke all over again. "It shouldn't have happened." "We can talk about this," he tried. "Can you please leave," she whispered. "Annabeth—I love y—" "Go!" She sobbed. "I can't—just please, Percy. Just go." He pursed his lips and sought out for his clothes, leaving her to her thoughts and tears, unsure of where tomorrow would take them. But he sure wasn't going to make a mistake as to letting her go after that night. She wasn't getting away from him that easily, never again.