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wardenparker · 3 years ago

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Wish You Were Here - ch. 6

Marcus Moreno x female reader

–We Can Be Heroes meets the Soulmate Universe!– When Missy’s favourite actress is cast to play Marcus’s late wife in the biographical movie of her life, Marcus finds himself drawn to the young actress. What will he do when he learns the truth about the identity of her soulmate? How will his and Missy’s lives change as she becomes a part of their future?

Rating: Mature for heavy themes Word Count: 19k Warnings: The usual cursing, food mentions, alcohol consumption. HEAVY themes of loss, self-doubt, angst, and hurt/comfort. Death of a parent/spouse. Pregnancy loss. A very upset Missy gets a warning of her own. Chapter Summary: Miracle Guy gets nosy about Marcus’s mood. Danny and our actress watch some old videos with big secrets involved. Some very important words happen. And Marcus decides it’s time to tell Missy the truth. Notes: Hang on to your hats kids because a LOT happens in this chapter! This absolutely was not the first time that @absurdthirst and I have cried while writing for this beautiful story and there’s no end in sight. Missy is such an amazing kid 💖

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

“You’re in a suspiciously good mood.” Miracle Guy - Adam - almost walks right into Marcus as he strides down the hall with the kind of confident gait he hasn’t seen on his friend in a long time. As much as he’s encouraged Marcus to start dating again, he knows it can’t be that - the other man always stonewalling him about being set up or coming to nights out with friends. “Missy get into college five years early or something?”

Marcus rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head. “That would probably make me have a panic attack.” He jokes. “Thirteen is a little too young to learn how to do keg stands.”

Skipping ahead two paces, Adam turns to face Marcus and starts walking backward down the hall toward their offices. “Please tell me it’s a girl,” he practically begs. “Literally any girl. They don’t even need to stick around long. But I swear to god if you start dating somebody, I will throw a party.”

Marcus snorts but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face. “Not a girl, definitely all woman.” He confirms, thinking about how you looked coming apart on top of him last night. “But no parties, we are…taking it slow.”

Adam stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide with both hands up in shock and to keep Marcus from walking into him. “Are you serious?”

He rolls his eyes again and huffs at the impression that it’s so unbelievable. “No, I’m lying.” Marcus tells his friend sarcastically.

“Sorry, it’s just—” Adam shakes his head, trying to sort through the cobwebs, and starts walking alongside Marcus again. “You haven’t dated anyone since…I mean, it’s great!”

Marcus looks around and motions Adam to a tiny alcove. “Look, don’t say anything, but you know her.” He pauses and says your name while lifting his brows to his friend.

The excitement drains from Adam’s face, replaced with instant concern. “I should have known,” he sighs. Not upset, but full of worry. “Marcus…she’s not Melanie.”

“I know she’s not Melanie.” The only reason he’s not getting angry with Adam is because he anticipated this reaction. Honestly wondered if the public would thing the same thing when your relationship goes viral. “They are different. I know that. She’s totally different from Melanie, aside from being sweet and caring and adoring my daughter.”

“You’re telling me it’s a coincidence?” He raises an eyebrow at his friend and crosses his arms, not wanting to be mean but wanting the truth. “That the woman who is playing your wife in a movie is the only one you’ve looked twice at since she died?”

“Yes.” Marcus groans and shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain but, shit, every time I touch her or she touches me - it’s like the time you put Tech No’s electric sensors in my suit. It lights me up, not painful but intense.”

That makes him pause. Closing his mouth mid-breath, all he can do is look at Marcus’s face. He looks…excited. Happy. Optimistic for the first time since - well, since Melanie died. “They leave in a few days,” he sighs, knowing the cast will be gone and if this was all a terrible mistake, Marcus will be able to get his head on straight again. “Does Missy know?”

Marcus nods. “She wanted to make sure Missy was okay with the idea. It’s…it’s just been one date.” He tells Adam, wanting him to understand that he’s not lost his mind. “Teaching me how to make a dinner that won’t be fed to the neighbor’s dog.”

Adam has to laugh at that. Marcus has never been able to cook. He sighs, shrugging his shoulders, but smiles. Maybe this will just be the nudge out of the dugout that Marcus needs to start dating again. Who knows? “Why don’t you guys come over for dinner on Friday night? The kids can hang out and Samira can make something you like that’s always too spicy for me. No party. Just friends.”

Marcus sighs, knowing exactly what this is and it’s not an invitation. He loves his friend for caring but hates that it will eat into his potential time with you before you leave. “I’ll ask, but if she can’t I don’t want to hear anything. We are taking Missy to the drive in on Saturday so don’t even think about changing to then.”

Adam nods, jutting him chin out to motion past Marcus. While they’ve been talking, they’ve made it to their offices, and you are sitting in your usual spot on the other side of his desk with Dan Alvarez nowhere in sight. The smile on your face is so broad and animated that it is best described as giddy. “Looks like she’s waiting for you.”

“Go get some work done.” He grumbles, even as his face lights up with a smile directed at you. “I know you’ve been slacking on your reports.”

“Friday.” Adam insists, giving you a small wave before retreating into his own office.

“Hey.” Marcus admires the way that you’ve put yourself together in such a short amount of time, just two hours since he has last seen you walking down your hallway. “Long time no see.” He teases.

“Hey.” You force yourself to stay in your chair until he closes his office door behind him, only then letting yourself stand to give him a quick hug. It’s all you’ve allowed yourselves at work this week and you don’t want to presume he’s willing to do more. “I—um…I know it was only a couple hours but…” The tips of your ears and your cheeks burn. “I…missed you.”

He returns the hug and grins at your admission. “I missed you too.” He squeezes your hand before he lets go of it and walks around the desk. “Question….do you have plans for Friday night?”

“Did you have something in mind?” Honestly you had been thinking about asking him the same thing.

“Weeeeellllllll.” He gives you an apologetic look. “Adam may have just pried the information that I went on a date with you out of me.” Slight exaggeration but he honestly expected you to say something to Danny. “And he wants us and Missy to come over for dinner on Friday night.” He decides to be honest with you. “He’s afraid I’m interested in you because you are playing Melanie.”

“He cares about you.” You remind him with a small smile. You had expected this reaction from his friends when they found out - it was something you had talked yourself through already. “I’m absolutely okay with that. I was going to ask you if you wanted to do something anyway.”

“I told him that if you had plans to not read anything into it.” He assures you, giving you an out if you wanted one. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to accept the dinner.

“No, it’s a good idea.” Giving the people he cares about the reassurance that you like the real Marcus and not the idea of him - that what’s developing between you is very real - is something that will only help him in the long run. “He’s your best friend. Sooner or later, he would want to do this. So I don’t see any reason not to. It could be fun.”

“Or a nightmare.” He huffs, but he nods. “I’ll let him know. He’s going to have food made that will burn our tastebuds.” He chuckles. “He’s too much of a wimp to handle it though.”

“Burned tastebuds is how we like it.” Pulling your few work things out of your bag, you set your tape recorder down on the edge of Marcus’s desk and pick up your script to make notes to yourself. “It will be fun,” you assure him, lending him a sunny smile.

“She hated the heat.” Marcus tells you, watching you write the notes on the side. “Couldn’t even stand jalapeños.”

“Does Missy take after her?” You can’t recall having anything spicy with them, and you’re curious now.

“She has moods.” Marcus chuckles sadly. “I think she does love the heat but says she’s doesn’t because her mom didn’t like it.”

“That’s a fairly harmless thing to hang on to,” you reason. “She’ll find things she loves along the way, and they’ll be her own.”

“I know, it’s why I don’t push it.” Marcus smiles and reminds himself again that what you and he share is completely different from what him and Melanie had.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this.” Flipping through pages in your script, you open up to a scene that would have you as Melanie with a book in your lap in the beginning. “What did she like to read?”

“Murder mysteries.” He shakes his head, remembering the books she would bring home. “Occasionally a trashy romance, but mainly psychological thrillers and who-done-its.”

“I do love a good mystery,” Nodding, you scribble in your script’s margins. “And a good trashy romance, too, sometimes. There’s a long wait between scenes sometimes.” Throwing him a grin, you shrug innocently. “A girl’s got to keep busy somehow.”

He ignores his body’s reaction to that comment. Instead, he just hums and tugs on what’s rapidly becoming his favorite piercing of all time.

“Shit!” You moan out loud before you can stop yourself, clapping one hand over your mouth and erupting into giggles. “Okay, I deserved that.”

Laughing, he gives you a wink. “Yes, you did.”

“The last thing we need is Lava Girl busting in from next door to investigate the suspicious noises,” you cringe a little, but at the last time the image is comical.

He shakes his head. “Lava Girl is on vacation. Although I can’t guarantee Adam won’t be running in here every five seconds now.”

“I’m guessing he’ll come up with at least two or three reasons to visit.” If he’s having concerns, why wouldn’t he? Or even just put of pure nosiness, which all best friends develop as soon as their other half meets someone new. You’ve done it with plenty of Danny’s past girlfriends.

“At least until I tell him we will come on Friday.” Marcus reaches for the lid to his laptop just as the door opens and the man in question sticks his head in.

“Have a question about the—”

“Everything okay in here?” Adam raises an eyebrow at you before turning his head to Marcus. You’re sitting placidly in your chairs like always, but the sound he heard a second ago should have come from a much more interesting position. “Could have sworn I heard something from across the hall.”

You do your best not to look completely mortified, biting the inside of your lip, and shaking your head like nothing is out of the ordinary. “Must be hearing things.”

“Okay weirdo.” Marcus huffs. “We will come to dinner on Friday if….” He stresses the word. “You stay out of my office for the next two days.”

The sly grin that crosses his face is knowing, and he nods. “Seven o’clock.” He glances over at you again. “Do you have mutant taste buds like him, or can I escape the night with my tongue intact?”

That makes you giggle a little, and you wave one hand nonchalantly. “I’m not picky, but I’m afraid I do like spicy food.”

Adam groans and rolls his eyes. “Need to go buy another gallon of milk then.” He grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” you cover your face with both hands, stifling anxious laughter. “I can’t believe someone actually heard me…”

“He’s lying.” Marcus waves off your concern. “The offices don’t really let sound travel very well. Otherwise, I would be pissed every time Tech-No lets off his ear-piercing alarm.”

“Then I guess I’m glad I didn’t apologize for it and accidentally confirm his lie.” That would have been more embarrassing. And Marcus didn’t need that.

Marcus shakes his head. “Don’t worry, he just wants to meddle.”

“He cares about you.” It’s one thing you’ve seen and admire about their friendship. “I’m glad you have that. Someone to look out and make sure you’re taken care of. Even if he’s a meddling old lady about it.”

Marcus laughs and nods in agreement. “Subtly is not Miracle Guy’s forte, in or out of the super suit.”

“That’s alright,” returning your eyes to the pages of your script, you fiddle a little with the edges. “I figure there’s only a matter of time until Danny figures it out. The shit-eating grin on my face isn’t exactly subtle, either.”

“I’m glad you aren’t mad. I don’t keep things from him. We didn’t even keep that secret from him.” He levels you a look, telling you what he is talking about.

“Honey why would I be mad that you want to tell your friend about us?” Your hands fold in your lap and your head tilts curiously to the side. “The idea that you’re happy with what we’ve started? That you would want to tell people instead of keeping me a secret? That’s flattering. I’m proud that you think so well of me.”

“I just— sometimes you want to make sure that things are going well before a celebrity announces their relationship.” He tilts his head. “I was saved from a lot of the speculation because Melanie and I were together so young, but I remember when Adam was dating. It was a circus.”

“Which is why we’re limiting it to your immediate family and our best friends.” You have to agree with him on this, from the bottom of your heart. You didn’t want to turn your relationship into a public conversation so soon. “There’s a big difference between this and a press release. And I completely agree that the press release shouldn’t happen any time soon.”

“Speaking of press releases…” Marcus taps his finger on the desk. “Have you talked to the producers yet?”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head just a little. “I have a meeting with them tomorrow. Them and the director, and Danny promised to come and support me.” You’ve been spending almost all of your spare time putting together arguments for why it should matter that the film tells the truth other than because Marcus wants it to, and it’s been consuming your concentration in a good way. “If someone leaks the information though…do you know when you’re going to tell Missy? I don’t want her to read about it because some ass hole on our production staff decided to take a check by spilling privileged information to a fan site.”

“I- I was planning on telling her this weekend.” He admits quietly. “But if the meeting is tomorrow, maybe I should tell her tonight.” He’s nervous, not wanting to hurt her, but she needed to know the truth.

Sighing, you sag back in your chair. “She’s going to be heartbroken…”

“Do you— do you want to be there?” He asks quietly. Normally this is something that he would never ask anyone to witness, not even his mom, but in the short time she had known you, Missy had bonded to you. He had run by his mom’s house and picked Missy up to take her to school and she had asked if he would be upset if she called you to talk about the things she was embarrassed to talk about with him. Namely: boys. “I think she might like you there for this.”

“Oh.” A part of you had wondered if it would help or hurt to offer, but had decided against it because this was between Missy and Marcus. This was their family. But if you could help in any way, you wanted to. “If you think it might help her, of course.”

“I don’t— I’m not trying to use you as a crutch, she might just- you know, talking to you when she’s mad at me.” Marcus explains.

“Marcus, you don’t have to explain.” Reaching forward, you place your smaller hand over his larger one and squeeze gently. “Of course I’ll be there. If there’s absolutely anything I can do for her or you, you know I will.”

“What did we do to deserve that?” He asks, both puzzled and in awe of you.

“We both know how fantastic Missy is.” Shrugging a little, you let your fingers thread through his on his desk, enjoying the little sparks that fly at his touch. “And you’re just…well…you’re you. And you mean a hell of a lot to me.”

He snorts and sends you a playful pout. “That’s all I get?” He asks. “You’re you?” He shakes his head. “Let me go tell Adam you just broke my heart.”

You huff, taking your hand back and playfully crossing your arms across your chest. “If it’s not enough that I am completely enamored of the entire man that you are, then go right ahead.” The words flick at the tip of your tongue you swallow them. A teasing argument is no place for that kind of admission. Especially not when you’re still wrapping your head around it, and not quite sure how to confess it. Or if you even should after less than two weeks. “I adore you for who you are, Marcus Moreno. Get used to it.”

He chuckles and leans back in his chair, the lighthearted banter doing wonders to quell the anxiety of how Missy would handle the truth about him and Melanie. “If I have to.” The exaggerated roll of his eyes tells you exactly where Missy learned her skills and it wasn’t from the late Mrs. Moreno.

Half-snorting at him, you roll your eyes right back and motion at his desk. “You have reports to do. I’m going to go down to the archives and watch some of Melanie’s training footage for a few hours.” You know he usually works through his lunch break just out of habit, so today you’ll hit the cafeteria for both of you and bring back two of the ham and gruyere paninis he’s always moaning over. “I’ll come back this afternoon with a few more questions?”

Marcus pauses, chewing on his lip for a moment before he nods. “Look under…H, second shelf down.” He tells you cryptically. “There’s some good references to her character in that section.”

“Alright, Mr. Mystery,” you laugh, a smile curling the corner of your lips. “I guess I’ll go check under H on the second shelf down.”

He gives you a small smile and waves you away, turning his attention to his computer so he can actually do his work instead of staring at you.

******

The archives are on the other side of the main HQ building, and you take your time on the walk. With only one more full day in this building, you want to be able to absorb how it looks and feels just a little bit more. The sets that are being built won’t have the same gravitas, so you want to be able to show as much of that in body language as you can.

The televisions in the Archives are set up on desks, with a DVD and a VHS player attached so that anything on the shelves that hasn’t been digitized yet can still be watched. You set your purse and script down on the far desk as usual before disappearing into the shelves to hunt down Marcus’s cryptic clue. But there, hunched over the ‘H’ shelves, is Danny.

“Hey! Fancy meeting you here.” You grin, moving instinctively to give him a hug.

“Hey!” Danny’s hug is a bit awkward, but it was just because he didn’t want to hold on to you for too long. “What are you doing down here Love Bug?”

“Investigating.” Having moved past the awkwardness of a few days ago, having Danny call you Love Bug has become an endearment instead of something to cause questions or raise nerves between you. “I came to watch some training videos, but I’ve been told to look under ‘H’ in the second shelf.” As you say it, your finger traces down the bookcase to land on a box marked Home Videos: Moreno. For a moment you almost don’t want to say anything. You want to keep looking and pretend this isn’t what Marcus sent you to watch, but you know it is. And it’s not fair to keep it away from Danny like some personal secret. Professionally, this is of just as much interest to him as it is to you. “Want to watch some home videos?”

Danny turns to look at the shelf in confusion before he reads the label. “Oh,” his face screws up in quiet contemplation and he wonders what the meaning behind showing you the home videos is on Marcus’s part. “Yeah. I think we better get some tissues ready.” He murmurs quietly.

You pull the entire box out and haul it over to the desk you’ve claimed, watching as Danny disappears into the designated bathrooms nearby and returns with a tissue box from the counter inside. “There’s so many.” Combing through the box, things are arranged chronologically - everything from Marcus and Melanie’s first Christmas to their wedding, to Missy’s birth and first steps, to summer vacation footage through the years.

“God, it’s— it’s their entire life together.” Danny pulls out a video that is labeled Weekend Getaway Before Baby. “I wonder why all of this is here. Not at his house.”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, but have a sneaking suspicion it has to do with Missy. “So, you want to put it in?” You motion to the disc in his hand as you turn on the tv.

“Yeah.” Danny takes the disc and gently feeds it into the DVD player, conscious that this might be the only copy of this footage and he would never forgive himself if it’s damaged.

His own notepad is lying next to yours. He had spent plenty of time with Marcus as well but there had been a lot of his information that he had found out with the long packet he had filled out for Danny to read through.

“Are you sure you want to see this?” Danny asks, reaching over and touching your hand gently as he sits down beside you. He hadn’t asked what was going on with you and Marcus, but your happiness seemed to be an indicator things were good between you.

“Yeah,” your head bobs a little and you offer your friend an appreciative smile. “I am. It wouldn’t be here if it was too private. And…he wouldn’t have told me how to find them if they weren’t going to be helpful.”

The tv captures his attention. The blue screen changing, and you see Melanie, alive and laughing, pushing at a camera that according to the sound, Marcus is operating. “Come on Marcus, get it out of my face.” She whines, even as she is laughing at him.

“No! We have to record it! What did you just say?” He demands, his own voice sounding years younger on the audio. Danny leans forward, eyes fixed to the screen.

On screen, Melanie grumbles and pouts through the laughter. “I said I wanted to get some meat lover’s pizza and a really, really cold jar of sauerkraut.” She’s clearly embarrassed, and looks to be about eight months pregnant if you’re judging right. The place their sitting looks like a cabin from the background, with Melanie plopped down on the edge of a bed with a patchwork blanket spread across it.

Marcus’s laughter rings out. “And?” He prompts, the camera shaking as you can imagine the way his shoulders shake when he laughs with his whole body.

Melanie huffs, her hands running over her belly. “Andabubblegummilkshake,” she mumbles out in one breath.

Marcus laughs even harder, and Melanie huffs at him again. “You grow a heroic and tell me you aren’t going to want weird shit!”

“Hey. Hey.” Marcus walks up and the camera kneels down, his hand reaches out and caresses her stomach. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to get it for you.” He promises. “Anything for my bebita, I’m just going to have to sit outside while you eat it or I’m going to throw up.”

“God, that sounds gross,” you laugh, fully agreeing with Marcus on camera. “Pregnancy cravings are fuckin weird.”

“Well, what are you going to eat, Mr. Normal Food?” Melanie teases. The camera is centered on their hands running over her belly and it tugs at your heart in the most unexpected way. “A basket of jalapeño poppers stuffed with ghost peppers and drenched in Buffalo sauce?”

“Fuck yes.” Marcus huffs. “Followed up with some spicy wings and then a large burp. And a beer.”

“Melanie couldn’t do spicy food,” you tell Danny, when you notice his eyebrow raised at the screen. “Remember that time we went for hot wings? Marcus totally agrees with me that they weren’t hot enough. Spicy food is his thing.”

“You’re disgusting.” Melanie nearly retches and Danny and Marcus laugh at the same time.

“But you love meeeeeee.” Marcus teases, making Melanie glower at the camera. “Marcus! I’m hungry!”

Danny chuckle again at the quiet “oh shit” Marcus huffs out that is barely heard on the audio.

They’re perfect together. Soulmates or not, they’re so in love that you can feel it straight through the screen, and a tiny pang of doubt hits your heart. You may not ever want to replace his wife, but you do, absolutely and without a doubt, want to be the woman he loves. But there’s no one who could compete with her. You turn your eyes back to the screen to try to push it of your own mind. Marcus wouldn’t have suggested you watch these if it wasn’t important to him.

“Marcus!” Tears started in two point five milliseconds and the video goes blank.

“Wow.” Danny chuckles when the video starts again, the camera not pointed at her directly, but you can see Melanie shifting through bags on the counter. “Where is the chocolate syrup?” She demands.

“Wha— babe, you never said anything about chocolate syrup.” Marcus argues, sounding frustrated.

“Yes, I did! I said I wanted Fritos and chocolate syrup. Not a bubblegum milk shake! Who eats that shit?”

“Not you apparently.” Marcus huffs under his breath.

“Hey, hormones are the worst,” you defend, numbing Danny with your elbow. But your teeth chew your lip as the conversation progresses in screen, eventually to the point where it becomes a borderline argument, and the camera is set down on a surface. Marcus enters the screen - younger and a little thinner, definitely more muscles without the little hint of softness in his belly that you love. He wraps his arms around Melanie and tugs her in close, murmured words of love muffled by a crappy 14-year-old camera microphone. “I can’t even imagine what she must have felt like at that point.” But all at once, you are reminded how much you want to know.

“But this is good to know.” Danny tells you, looking away from the screen and his eyes shine with excitement. “It’s showing their humanity. God, the entire world puts them on a pedestal, but they are just as flawed as we are. Marcus and Melanie were the prime example of soulmates for the public.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Are you ready for the meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I wonder how they are going to react. But I agree, it needs to be in the movie.” He reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Honestly, it shows how brave they were. And how much they loved each other.”

“It does.” The screen has gone dead, the camera obviously having been shut off. “People are going to lose their shit when we play then like they really were. Crazy in love but also very human.”

“So…” Danny removes the DVD and selects another one. “How did the talk with Marcus go?”

“Um…” The way you fluster, broad grin splitting your face, should be the first clue. “He came over last night. We turned our first date into a cooking class so he can actually cook for Missy without poisoning her.”

“Uh….and?” He asks, very aware of your dating habits.

You roll your eyes, flushing that much hotter when you remember exactly what happened in every glorious detail. “We made out on the couch and fell asleep together. All clothes on all night. The one person I don’t have sex with on the first date.” Still, you’re biting your bottom lip thinking about it. “He wants to take it slow. For Missy’s sake. So right now only like four people know, including you.”

“You don’t bite your lip like that because nothing happened...” Danny argues. Slept with you or not, he’s been your friend for forever.

Um…” Busted. “Let’s just say…he definitely didn’t need to touch the piercing to find it…”

“No - fuck, really?” Danny whistles, impressed. “He can do that?”

“Mmhmm,” your head bobs on a sheepish nod. “He, uh…had fun with that discovery.”

“Damn, I bet.” Danny is slightly jealous about that ability. “And I’m sure it was incredible, but how is that slow?”

“It’s slow for me,” you smirk. But he has a point. “Okay, it was a tiny bit fast, but we reigned it back in. He hasn’t been with anyone since…well, you know. I’m not trying to push him into anything.”

“Jesus.” He murmurs, imagining five years without sex. “So— how experienced is he? Other than his wife?”

“We haven’t really talked about our dating histories, past him knowing I’m bi, and about you and me,” you motion between you and Danny. “And obviously I know about Melanie. But I don’t know his body count or anything.”

Danny shrugs, “I’m sure it will come up. We have so many weeks on location.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a rollicking good time.” He’s right, damn him, and now that you’re thinking about it you’re dreading talking about it. Marcus and Melanie were together for something like fifteen years. The longest relationship you’ve ever had in your life was two. More often than not, they dissolve within six months or less. Sometimes considerably less.

“If he judges you for that fuck him.” Danny would be very disappointed if that was the case, finding out he wasn’t the man Danny thought he was.

“He won’t.” You know Marcus well enough, you hope, to think he won’t mind that you’ve had a large number of sexual partners. “I’m just— I’m not great at long term relationships. But I want this to work. So, I’m going to have to work my ass off.”

“You know why they don’t work, you just need to be honest with him.” Danny advises you. “And all of them are not your fault.”

“Uggh.” You groan at him, dropping your forehead down on your forearm. “I am not telling Marcus about the five percent of my stupid-ass heart that’s still holding out for my soulmate, okay? If I can’t shut that stupid little voice up and commit to making this work with him, then I shouldn’t even try. That’s not fair to him or Missy.”

“But you owe him that if you care about him. Especially with his history.” Danny argues. “I think he might understand better than anyone about being honest.”

The groan you let out is frustrated and resigned, and when you raise your head to look at him again, you’re basically pouting. “You know what Missy told me? That smart as hell thirteen-year-old looked me in the eye and told me I need a better decision-making paradigm.” Your laugh of disbelief is basically a huff. “And my best goddamn friend is sitting here telling me to completely ignore my instinct to keep my mouth shut and do the literal opposite instead by having the hard conversation.” Tossing your hands in the air is basically admitting defeat. That you want what is blossoming between you and Marcus to work so badly that you’re willing to throw the brakes on how you normally do things because your normal never seems to work out well. “The two of you are accidentally ganging up on me and you didn’t even know it.”

“Good.” Danny laughs. “You need to have your ass kicked every once and in a while.” He levels a look at you. “You deserve to be happy.”

“God this timing sucks,” you moan, scrubbing at your temples while you try to figure out when to have this conversation with him. “We’re sitting down with Missy tonight to tell her about the soulmate thing, then tomorrow we have dinner plans and Saturday is the drive in.” You toss Danny a pleading look. “I feel like this isn’t something to talk about over FaceTime, ya know?”

“Don’t talk about it over FaceTime.” He tells you. “Go talk to him about it now.” He chuckles. “Or after we watch some more of these videos.”

This isn’t a conversation to run into blindly just like it isn’t one to have over the phone. You lean over to hug Danny tightly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for a brief, earnest squeeze. “Let’s put in another one. I want to give him time to catch up on paperwork if I’m going to force him to have an extra serious conversation today.”

“What do you want to watch now?” He asks you conversationally.

Digging into the box, you find a disc marked in Melanie’s looping handwriting marked Marc’s 30th!!. “Birthday video?” You hold the disc out to Danny.

Danny nods and puts the disc in the player and sits back. “I wonder what a 30th birthday for a heroic looks like.”

When the video pops up, a five-year-old Missy is in focus, concentrating very hard on the glass of orange juice in her little hands. “You got it, mija?” Melanie’s voice asks from off camera. She must be the one filming.

“Got it mama!” Little Missy beams up at her.

“And what do we say to Daddy?” She whispers, signaling for the little girl to be quiet as well.

“We say feliz cumpleaños!” Missy stage whispers - definitely not having it in her to keep her excitement down.

“That’s right, mijita.” You can hear Melanie smile through her voice. In the background things clatter a little, until you see a breakfast tray appear in the bottom of the frame. Breakfast in bed.

Marcus is asleep on his side, mouth open slightly and a small snore coming out softly. “Daddy!” He jumps slightly at the squeal of excitement. His eyes aren’t even entirely open when his daughter starts wishing him a happy birthday. “Feliz cumpleaños!”

“Feliz cumpleaños, cariño,” Melanie laughs from behind the camera as Marcus rubs his eyes and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table. In the chaos of saying good morning, Missy has plunked the glass of orange juice down on the same nightstand (only spilling a little) and the breakfast tray is carefully set down on Melanie’s side of the bed. You wonder briefly if Marcus still sleeps on the left side of the bed out of habit.

“Thank you.” His voice is gravelly, but his smile is wide. He sits up and pulls Missy onto his lap, burrowing his face into her neck and scrubbing his stubble against her skin to make her squeal. “Daddy!”

“What? It’s my birthday! I get to do whatever I want on my birthday right?” He laughs like a villain and goes to tickle her again.

“Mija, do you want to give Daddy his present?” The bed shifts and so does the camera angle as Melanie carefully sits down on the mattress.

“Yessss!” Missy pulls herself put of Marcus’s grip and jumps off the bed, put of the frame.

“Coffee is fresh, breakfast is from the bakery.” Melanie tells Marcus, and her face pops into frame awkwardly when she leans in to kiss him. “I swear I did not try to bake muffins this time.” You almost snort, covering your mouth with one hand as it turns in to soft, sentimental laughter. So that’s why Marcus loves your muffins so much.

“This is the best birthday.” Marcus shoots Melanie behind the camera a grin and you see a finger flash in front of the lens.

“Ass.” Melanie mutters, but that just makes Marcus grin harder.

“So rude to me on my birthday.” He chuckles, reaching out and taking her hand. “Thank you, Love Bug.”

Missy reappears in the frame, holding a carefully wrapped little rectangular box with a big, neon green bow on top. “This is from mama!” Missy squeals happily. “The present from me is downstairs, Daddy, it’s too big to carry!”

Marcus looks at the box and then at the camera, obviously not expected two presents. “Okay thank you baby.” He takes the gift-wrapped box and starts to open it, eyes widening when he sees the lettering on the box. “Babe—” he chokes out, his head jerking up to look at his wife behind the camera.

Out of the box slides a handheld test. “Jesus, Mel.” Marcus immediately starts tearing up turning the test around so you can see a positive pregnancy test. “Tell me you aren’t joking.”

“Oh my god…” you breathe, listening to Melanie sniffle off screen and seeing the tears start to fall from Marcus’s eyes. Your own gaze jets over to Danny, whose jaw has unhinged itself. “Oh my god…”

“What is it daddy?” Missy doesn’t quite understand the importance of the object in her dad’s hand.

“It’s— God,” Marcus wraps his arms around Missy and reaches out to Melanie. “Mommy’s going to have another baby.”

Your brain almost short circuits, watching Missy squeal and reach out to hug Melanie’s middle as more tears fall from Marcus’s eyes. Missy is an only child. What the hell happened? “I need to go.” You announce, pushing away from the desk and reaching for your things. “I—I need to—will you put these away when you’re done? I need to talk to Marcus.”

Danny nods, shocked and reaches out to take your hand. “Don’t— just listen to him.” He cautions you.

“I will.” You squeeze Danny’s hand tightly, swooping in to hug him with one arm before taking off for Marcus’s office.

******

Marcus is finishing up a report when you all but stumble into his office. The surprise and annoyance immediately fade away when he sees it’s you. “Hey.” He says easily, grinning at you.

“Hey.” Your impulse is to go straight for him. Tug him into your arms and tell him how unbelievably sorry you are that he had lost so much; but you slow yourself down and shut his office door behind you with a definite click. “So…I found the box of home videos…” you start uncertainly. “Particularly…um…the video from your 30th birthday…”

The grin slides into a more serious expression and a pang of sorrow flashes through his eyes. “Yeah.” He takes off his glasses and tosses them down on the desk. “That was a significant one. Three. Zero.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, I just—” you close the distance between you, coming up beside his desk chair and laying one hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I opened the door.” Marcus admits, reaching up and taking your hand and pushing his chair back so he can bring you down into his lap. He needed the feel of you at the moment. “San Francisco.” He murmurs quietly. “She refused to come off the response team.”

“She got hurt?” Keeping his arms around you, you press your cheek against his hair. Of course she got hurt. Otherwise Missy would be a big sister.

“I argued with her the entire fucking time. Right until they dropped us.” Marcus sighs, remembering the way he had nearly lost his voice yelling at her. “There was a stupid fucking rule in place then that she could decide when she came out of the field. And she was fucking stubborn.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Tugging him just a little bit closer, you turn to press your lips to the top of his head. “I can’t even imagine…”

He shakes his head. “It was…hard, but she blamed herself. It didn’t make it easier when I blamed her for a while.” He admits, guilt clawing at his throat for some of the harsher words that were exchanged after she had come home from the hospital. Thank God Missy hadn’t been there for them. “There was a month that I slept in the spare bedroom.”

“But San Francisco, that was…April, wasn’t it?” The dates and names and locations of all of Melanie’s major battles are crammed into your head from all the articles you’ve read over the last several weeks. “Your birthday is…” your mind ticks through the calculations and your stomach lurches, realizing how far along she was at that point. “Had you…had you found out the gender yet? I mean…Jesus, you don’t have to answer that, I just can’t believe it. No one knew she was pregnant. The media hadn’t picked it up yet at all.”

Marcus gives a sigh. “Thank God.” He chokes out, knowing how much harder it would have been to have all the faux public sympathy and have to pretend it was okay when it definitely was not. “We were going to have a boy.”

The sound you make is a choked kind of strangled sob, and you hold him that much tighter. “You’ve been through so much, honey and I…is it trite to tell you how strong you are for making it through everything?” Your heart is positively broken for him. For everything he’s been through and everything he’s lost, to still be the amazing man he is now just seems…well…superhuman.

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around you and holds you against him. “I never - I don’t want that in the movie.” He tells you adamantly.

“Of course not.” You wouldn’t have even dreamed of suggesting it. “Honesty doesn’t mean laying out your entire life.”

“I also know that it was incredibly selfish of her.” He murmurs. “Believing that her powers were invincible and that she could protect the baby.” He shakes his head, having worked through a lot of his anger when he had talked to the Heroics therapist after it had happened, when he decided he was tired of sleeping in another bed. That didn’t mean that she was not guilty of that fact, she had been selfish.

There’s not much of anything you can say to that since your level of awareness regarding Melanie being selfish is nearly zero. “Just…” you exhale deeply. “Just so you know. Danny was in the Archives with me. We were watching the videos together.”

Marcus nods, knowing that it was a box that could have been found during any one of his archive digs. “I hadn’t expected you to watch that video so soon, but now….” He shrugs. “You know that she was definitely multi-faceted.”

“The other one we watched was from when she was pregnant with Missy.” Your voice is low, the fact that he’s so close means there’s no need to be louder. “The weekend getaway you guys took at - it looked like a cabin?” Danny’s voice echoes in your head, telling you to talk to him. He deserves it. Truth. And he deserves happiness. You promised Missy you wouldn’t hurt him. And you will absolutely keep that promise. “Since I’ve already interrupted you and we’re already on a serious note, can I talk to you about something?” You pinch your eyes shut for a second. “It’s not bad, I just…it’s on my mind.”

“Yeah.” Marcus’s brow furrows and he waits for you to tell him what’s on your mind. He waits patiently, his thumbs rubbing in small circles on your back and thigh as he holds you.

“I’m really, really shit at long term relationships.” Better to just go ahead and lay it out there. “I mean most people I’ve dated it’s never lasted past a few weeks or months. Once I was with someone for more than a year.” You pull back a little, finding his eyes. There’s something comforting and grounding about his hands on you, but Marcus’s eyes are unshakingly honest. “I have helpfully had it pointed out to me that there is a reason for this. That I…” Come on. You can do this. “That I’ve always held back a little part of myself for my soulmate. And I end up accidentally self-sabotaging because of it. But I don’t want to do that with you.”

Marcus understands. He really does. He had always wondered about his soulmate. What they were like and how his life would be with them. They were thoughts that he had felt incredibly guilty about. Especially when he had a new scar show up. “I-it’s natural to want your soulmate.” He admits, his hand starting to rub your thigh gently. “When we were first married…I tried to hide my marks when a new one would pop up.” He confesses. “Melanie didn’t have to worry about a soulmate, but I had marks really start showing up after we were together.”

“I just don’t want to hold anything back with you.” Despite how nerve wracking it is to admit, there’s a sense of relief that washes over you. That Marcus understands and isn’t immediately upset in any way. “I’m in this for the long haul.” You close your eyes and breathe. “I’d rather be with you than wait around for them.”

Marcus makes a small noise in the back of his throat, pleased that you are wanting to be with him despite your soulmate still being out there. “And I want you to know that if you meet them, and want— to explore something with them, I will understand.” He tells you softly. “Even if you hurt me, I will understand.”

“If they show up now?” The way you shake your head almost moves both of you with how close he’s holding you in his lap. “If they show up now, they’re going to be a platonic soulmate at most. I don’t care what the universe set down or what was intended.” A small, almost huffed laugh escapes your lips as you push through the thought at light speed. “I never, ever want to hurt you, Marcus. Especially for some person who I guarantee isn’t as remarkable as you and I couldn’t possibly love more than I already love you and I—” The words are put of your mouth before you can even process them, the truth of it just pouring from your lips as easy as breathing.

Marcus’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to respond to that surprising confession. His entire body hums in excitement and he feels his heart pounding in his chest. “I—”

“Shit.” Your body hits a panic response immediately and you cut him off. “Please don’t feel like you have to say it back,” you insist quickly. “Please don’t say it. I’m not trying to pressure you or push you or…I told you that you set the pace and I meant it. I shouldn’t have said…” Shoulders rounding, you can’t quite meet his eyes out of sheer worry. “I’m not taking it back. It’s true. But I…I want you to know that if you never get to that point with me or if you find your soulmate…I’ll understand.” You’ll be crushed - completely heartbroken - but you’ll understand.

He’s learned through the series of unfortunate events that you really enjoy the flight side of fight or flight when you do something that you are embarrassed about. He doesn’t want you to run away this time, so his hand leaves your thigh and he cups your face, turning you while his lips descend on yours. The kiss is nearly chaste, but in a soft and assuring kind of way. Only when he feels you relax does he pull back. “I won’t say it.” The now is unspoken but hangs in the air, and he knows you hear it just as loudly as if he had shouted it. It was crazy to believe it, but he knows that’s what this is.

“So…” You’re so relieved you could cry - only realizing belatedly that a single tear has escaped the corner of your eye just from the high alert that your body is coming down from when he kisses you. “So, I don’t care who my soulmate is.” Whoever they are, they can’t possibly hold a candle to the man holding you right now. “I want to be with you.”

“I don’t know, I might have some disgusting habits you can’t stand.” He teases, his thumb swiping that tear away and caressing your cheek. “Just be honest with me and I will be honest with you. You are the one taking all the risks. I’ve been married, I’m a widower with a teenage daughter, I’m set in my ways, I’m a Heroic.” He whispers the last one because he knows that even though he is doing paperwork, there could come a day where he needs to be out in the field if the threat is great enough.

The message is loud and clear. And you know logically that Melanie isn’t the only Heroic to ever have died in the line of duty. Like anyone who protects the innocent for a living, he puts his life on the line every time he puts on his suit. And while the reality of that is terrifying, you also couldn’t be prouder of how strong he is - not just physically. “I’ll take every risk in the book,” you tell him quietly. “And…” the reality of it is so startling that you almost can’t believe it, but then, isn’t this always how you’ve felt about her? “If anything happened to you…I would be there for Missy. I hope you know that…” You would never try to replace her mother, but if the worst happened and she lost her dad, too? You would drop everything for her.

That makes him feel better. Even if he hasn’t known you for a long time, the worry and love you have shown Missy is amazing. “Thank you.” He whispers, amazed at how exceptional you are. “You are— an amazing friend to her and despite your wild youth, I think you are a fantastic role model for her.”

“I learned from my mistakes.” Of course, not every part of your misspent youth was bad, or harmful, or a mistake. But the things that were, have become your cautionary tale. “You’ve done an amazing job with her. I’m lucky that she trusts me, and that she’s accepted us.”

“Sometimes I think she’s thirteen going on forty-five.” He shakes his head, an amused smile on his face. “She can be so mature about things it’s easy to forget she’s still a child.”

“She’s amazing,” you agree wholeheartedly. “And I would never want to hurt her just like I never want to hurt you.” The odd fantasy of being a stepmom is not something you’d ever thought you’d see in your life, but here you are. Falling in love with a man ten years older than you and his inimitable teenage daughter. Sometime life really does throw curveballs. And yet, there was plenty in your past that had made you want to be a mother. It’s just that stepmother was never on your radar.

“I have a feeling the two of you will be ganging up on me.” He tells you, certain it will happen. “Just no piercings until she’s ninety.”

“She can date at 29 and a half, but no piercings until she’s 90. Got it.” You smirk at him. “But we’re good for tattoos next year, right?”

“God no,” Marcus rolls his eyes. “She technically already has one.”

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow raises as your smirk fades. “How did that happen?”

“Do you remember when Adam’s son was kidnapped from neonatal ward after he was born?” He asks you, remembering that day like it was yesterday. Every heroic had been called in and was on high alert. “We decided to have a special tattoo marking the kids. It’s invisible to the naked eye, only able to be seen under a special ultraviolet light.”

“Don’t tell her or she’ll go around with a UV light when she decides to look for her soulmate.” Resting your forehead against his, you swallow a sigh. “If…if you still want to look for yours, I get it. Melanie was special. And you and I are just starting. Who knows what you might end up feeling for them?” Even though he could turn the tables and say the same to you, you’ve gone through plenty enough to know where your heart lies. And it is squarely in his hands.

Marcus cocks an eyebrow at you, slightly insulted but understanding that you are trying to give him choices and protect yourself. “There’s no difference in my meeting my soulmate now than if I met them when I was married to Melanie.” He murmurs quietly.

Both of your arms wind back around his neck, tilting his head up slightly so you can slant your lips over his earnestly. Some unspoken words might have hung in the air a few minutes ago, but this says all it needs to. “Okay,” you murmur simply against his lips, not knowing what else to say while your heart feels like it’s about to burst in your chest.

He sighs quietly, wondering what it is about you that calms him so much, even as you are making him feel like he is crawling in his skin. He likes it though, and there is no way that you will have to worry about him giving that up, unless you want to move on. “Anything else we need to have life changing conversations about right now?” He asks, amused that despite wanting to go slow, it seemed as though both of you wanted to move at warp speed.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly, moving to go off his lap. That video had caught you so off guard that everything had sort of spilled out of you all at once.

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Marcus tells you softly, holding you a bit tighter to keep from letting you get up. “I— baby I really love the way we are talking.” He admits. “It’s important, given how we feel about each other.” Again, the sentiment isn’t spoken but it’s there.

“I just know that long distance doesn’t work if we don’t talk.” That’s something that your own experiences have proven time and time again. “I won’t always be away, but since I’ll be away soon it’s important.”

“We will talk as often as you and your schedule allows.” He promises you. “But, I don’t want you sacrificing sleep to talk to me.”

Throwing him an animated pout you huff out a “Fiiiiiiine” and grin. “I promise I’ll sleep as long as you promise you won’t always order take out for dinner.”

“I guess.” He huffs, rolling his eyes and grinning.

“Speaking of which,” You nudge his nose with your own. “And in the order of life changing conversations. Do you want to cook together tonight, or should I bring something when I come over?”

“I’m thinking comfort food for her is the best. Burgers.” Marcus tells you.

“Just tell me what to bring and I’ll bring it,” you promise. Tonight is going to be hell on Missy and anything you can do to soften it for her will be worth it.

“In & Out.” He murmurs. “I’ll give you my card.”

“You don’t need to.” Pressing a kiss to his hair, you exhale softly. “And I’m bringing something stronger than wine for us, for when we’re done talking.”

He frowns, not like you paying for dinner so much. “Fine, but this is the last time. I’m paying for everything Saturday.” He warns you.

“Fine.” Dinner tomorrow will be with his friends and Saturday is the last night you’ll be in town, so it’s not like it’s an enormous compromise. With one more quick kiss to his lips, you slide off of his lap. “I don’t know what else I can do but be there, but I’ll be there.”

“I’m sure she’s going to be upset. Just— if she would rather talk to you than me…..” he gives you a helpless look. “Would you just listen?” He knows it’s not your place, but you haven’t judged him for keeping it a secret and it’s nice to have you in his corner.

“Of course I will.” Without hesitation. To you that’s a given. “For as long as she needs.”

He looks at the clock and sighs. “I better go pick her up.” He tells you softly, arms loosening around your body. “Six?”

“Six.” If it’s time for him to go, then it’s about time for you to leave as well. “Everything’s going to be okay, Marcus. Try not to go crazy until I get there, okay?”

He nods and pats your thigh as you get up. “I’ll see you then.”

******

Pulling up at the front gate of the Moreno’s house to press the buzzer is a comfortable ritual now. It’s still five minutes before six but that feels very appropriately on time, and Missy’s happy voice greets you through the voice box when the gate clicks open.

The bottle of good tequila in your purse is definitely for after consuming the giant bag of In & Out burgers you pick up off your passenger seat, and you oof lightly when Missy buzzes out the door to wrap you up in a tight hug.

“Hey, Mis,” you laugh, bending over to wrap your free arm around her in return.

“Hey!” Missy gives you a big smile. “Dad said you were coming over for dinner. I’m happy he didn’t scare you away with his dadness last night!” She giggles.

“No,” you shake your head, grinning about the very un-dad-like flirting and fucking phenomenal orgasm that had dominated the night. Your arm tightens quickly, squeezing Missy’s shoulders, and you toss her a little grin. “Between you and me? I think things with your dad and me are going pretty well.”

“Good.” She rolls her eyes and leans in, whispering to you in confidence. “Maybe his best friend will stop saying he needs to get out more now. And trying to set him up on dates he refuses.”

You snort, snickering slightly as you steer her toward the house. “I, erm…I don’t think there will be comments like that anymore.”

“That’s good. Plus, it will be nice when the single moms at the school stop being nice to me because they are drooling over dad.” She’s grossed out by that. You are better even if she doesn’t understand your interest in him.

That makes you grin, a little pride running through you at the giddy feeling of having the affection of someone as remarkable as Marcus. “It might be a while until people know about us,” you remind her gently. “Just smile and nod at those single moms for me until I can be right beside you two, myself.”

“Plus, it’s - it’s nice to know that dad has someone that cares about him.” She admits. “He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s lonely after mom died.”

“I think the only person in the world he’s ever loved as much as your mom is you.” And god you hope she believes that. Understands that. Especially with what’s coming. “But we talked about it today…and he knows how much I care about him. So don’t worry about him being lonely anymore, okay?”

Missy’s eyebrow shoots up. “You had the talk already?” She asks, sounding both shocked and impressed. “I thought things like that only happened that fast with soulmates.”

“I don’t know about the talk,” you smile down at her as you reach the house. “But we had a talk.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly.” Missy chatters, pushing the door open and taking one of the bags from you. “He only stutters when he’s embarrassed. The sex talk for me was sooooo painful.”

You’re laughing as you go through the door after her, shaking your head as you try to imagine how nervous Marcus must have been. “If you want to talk to someone a little less embarrassing,” you shoot her a grin. “You can call me anytime you want. About anything.”

Missy grins evilly. “Thanks, I might take you up on it, but it’s also fun to ask dad to describe what an orgasm feels like and watch him flail around.”

“What have I gotten myself into,” you groan animatedly, and halfway mean it. Dealing with a teenager’s sex questions is not something you had even gotten from your niece yet.

Missy laughs and sets the bag of burgers down on the table. “Dad! She’s here!” She turns back to you and her brow furrows. “He’s been upstairs since we got home.”

“I’ll go check on him.” He’s probably been freaking out, and you wouldn’t blame him. “Wanna set the table for us? I’ll be right back.”

Marcus is pacing in his room like a caged animal. “The thing is, Missy—” he mutters to himself as he walks. “Your mom and I meant to tell you this when you were ten, but I chickened out because you were still so upset…” He’s practicing what to say so he doesn’t crush his daughter any more than he has to, and he is not feeling good about it.

You can hear him softly from inside his room, and you’re careful to knock loudly enough for him to hear you and not jump out of his skin when he sees you in the doorway. “Babe? Do you need another minute?”

“I’m doing the right thing, right?” Self-doubt was creeping in, and he wants to yank back the entire idea and stuff it in a deep, dark hole and forget about it. “I mean, we meant to tell her. We just…ran out of time. But is it easier to just let her keep think that we were soulmates?” He glances behind you and lowers his voice, so his words won’t travel.

You’ve asked yourself that same question several times over the course of the afternoon, but you always land on the same answer. “She deserves the truth. Even if it hurts at first.”

Marcus sighs, shoulders slumping because he knows you are right. “Yeah.” He steps over to you and takes your hand. “I wish- I wish Melanie had been able to talk to Missy with me, so she could explain how she felt about it.” He admits softly. “But I’m glad that you are here for support, for both of us.”

“She would want you to tell her,” you’re not entirely sure why you’re so certain of that, but you are. “You planned on telling her. And I’ll do whatever I can to help ease the hurt.” Offering him a place in your arms, you add: “For both of you.”

Marcus continues to be amazed by you, thanking whatever god is out there for sending you to him. “I am feeling so much of that word you don’t want me to say.” He murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before he wraps his arms around you and tucks his face into your neck. It’s comforting, to have someone to lean on right now, even if he doesn’t need it, he loves the feeling.

“I just don’t want you to say it until you’re ready.” No matter how much it makes your heart hammer in your chest and your blood pound in your ears. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.” Admittedly a little afraid that he might come right out with it - although you’re not sure why it scares you when you want it so badly you ache with it - you hug him tight before letting your arms loosen again. “Missy is setting the table. We shouldn’t stay up here too long.”

“Okay.” He reluctantly lets you go and steps back, looking for the world like a man headed to his own execution. “Let’s let her eat first. She can yell at me on a full stomach.”

Marcus is on your heels as you come downstairs, and Missy is sitting at the table impatiently, playing on her phone while she fidgets and waits for you to reappear. “Come wash up, Mis,” you nod your head toward the kitchen, figuring you might as well wash your hands, too.

Marcus waits for the two of you to wash your hands before he washes his own and sits down at the table and chuckles when Missy groans in appreciation. “I love the burgers from In & Out.” She moans happily.

“They’re the best,” you agree with a similar hum of happiness. Bringing treat dinners over for Missy has been wreaking havoc on your normal diet but you don’t care.

“Although we are going to start to eat better.” Marcus warns Missy, lifting his brow at her.

“I taught him some stuff,” you promise her, seeing the doubtful look on the teen’s face. Even if the majority of last night was spent on your couch, some instruction did still happen.

“She even wrote the instructions down so that even a thirteen-year-old can follow.” He teases.

“Yeah,” you smirk at him and catch Missy’s eye. “Simple enough for even your dad to understand them.” Any little bit of playfulness that can put a smile on his face is worthwhile.

“Hey.” He gives both of you a pout. “That’s not nice.”

“Our next lesson will be harder,” you remind him, keeping your tone light and even so Missy doesn’t pick up on the double meaning.

“That would be impossible.” He murmurs, shooting you a look that says you know what he means.

You have to hide your grin by taking another bite of your burger, and turn the conversation to asking Missy about school so you don’t get into trouble trading barbs with Marcus in front of his daughter.

******

Dinner passes easily, the conversation light and Marcus knows that both of the adults are compensating for the serious conversation to come. When the time comes, Marcus is nervous. “Missy – I-I wanted to talk to you about something.” He starts, adjusting his glasses and sitting straighter at the table.

“Dad, relax,” she rolls her eyes despite the touch of happiness in them. “Your girlfriend already told me. You had the talk.”

Slightly mortified, you drop your face into your hands. “I did not use that word,” you promise him quietly. No titles had been used between you and it was yet one more of those things that you didn’t want to pressure him with.

Marcus gives a nervous chuckle and reaches over to take Missy’s hand. “No, it’s not— not about that.” He ignores the use of the term girlfriend right now, focusing on what he needs to tell his daughter.

“Missy, with the movie about mom. I-I wanted them to be honest about who she was. And— and I— honey, we meant to sit down with you when you were older, but that changed when mom died.” Marcus rushes out, feeling slightly out of breath from trying to force the words out.

Missy's entire body stiffens, remind you of the way Marcus freezes when he's taken off guard. "What—" her vision tunnels on her father. "What are you talking about?"

Both hands are holding hers now, thumbs rubbing the back of her hands soothingly and his body turned towards her in his chair. He’s thankful that you decided to clear away the wrappers and condiment bottles, so they weren’t in the way. “Sweetheart, your mom and I, we— we just never expected her to pass away before we could tell you. But you’ve always said that we— we were the perfect s-soulmates.” He takes a deep breath, his somber brown eyes looking into hers. “Baby, we weren’t. Your mom and I were never soulmates.”

Tears immediately start to leak from Missy's eyes, her little face absolutely stunned into stone. "Y—you're..." her voice cracks, and the first move she's able to make is to shake her head. "You're lying," she insists. "Why are you lying?"

Marcus swallows and his own eyes are starting to mist up, knowing he is breaking his little girl’s heart. “I’m not lying, sweetheart. I would never lie to you about something this important.” He promises her. “Your mom’s soulmate d-died when they were younger and we loved each other so much, it didn’t matter that we weren’t soulmates.”

"But you said!" Missy's voice jumps, cracking again, and she jerks her hands out of her dad's to wrap them around her own waist. From your place at the table, the best thing you can do is be the only one not crying - there to support both of them in whatever way they need you. You can shed your own tears over seeing them both hurt when you're at home alone.

"You told everyone!" She insists, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You told the whole world you were soulmates. You were soulmates!"

“No.” Marcus shakes his head. “The whole world assumed we were soulmates. We just…never corrected them.” He admits softly.

"But—" For the first time, her eyes move to you. Surprisingly, there's little anger there. Just absolute heartbreak rimmed with confusion and a touch of betrayal. "Did you know? Do the movie people know?"

Your hand is on the table, letting her reach for it if she wants to but not presuming. "Your dad told me a few days ago," you tell her, keeping your voice even and soft. Honesty all the way. "It's really important to us that the movie is as honest to your mom's story as we can make it. So, I'm going to talk to my bosses about it." You don't say when, that doesn't matter right now. "But your dad wanted to make sure you knew first."

“You told her, a complete stranger before you told me.” Marcus winces are the accusation because it was completely true. He doesn’t defend himself, just watches as the tears stream down his daughter’s face. “Mom— she was your soulmate!” She insists shrilly, nearly hysterical.

“No, baby, she wasn’t.” Marcus tells her sadly, guilt and sorrow weighing heavily on him. “I wish she had been, and I loved her with my entire heart, but we didn’t share marks.”

“I hate you!” He freezes when Missy spits those words at him. “I hate you and I wish you had died instead of mom!” Missy turns and flees up the stairs, feet pounding on the treads and sobs filtering down behind her.

Moving silently, you shift over a few inches to wrap your arms around Marcus, who looks exactly as devastated on the outside as he no doubt feels on the inside. "She needs time to adjust," you whisper, hoping to god you're right and that it's the slightest bit reassuring.

He makes a choked noise akin to a wounded animal. “Fuck.” He turns and buries his head against your shoulder and lets out sob that was so very close to the same one he had made when Melanie died in his arms. “It should have been me.” He cries. “I wish it had been me every day, but to- to hear her s-say it?”

"She doesn't mean it." There's something about hearing and feeling Marcus cry that shatters you. The water that falls from your own eyes is silent and you have to reel yourself back in quickly, so you don't tumble off the edge of sorrow after him. "She loves you, she's just shocked. And if Melanie were here doing this instead, she would have said the exact same thing to her." Your arms around him tighten, one hand making soothing circles on his back. "You did the right thing, honey. Telling her was the right decision."

He doubts that. Missy had idolized Melanie. He clings to you and shakes his head. “I should have just kept it a secret.” His words are muffled, and self-doubt is at an all-time high. “I can’t do this— I shouldn’t have done this.” He pulls away from you abruptly and shoots out of his chair, red rimmed eyes still leaking tears. He turns his back on you, ashamed for you to see him so upset. “I should have just let her keep her mother’s memory intact.” He chokes out.

Upstairs, doors slam— several times and suddenly there is a loud burst of angry music, the sound of screaming underlying the music.

"What would happen if you did find your soulmate one day?" The fact that he's turned on you is more heartbreaking than it is anything else, since you came into this to be his support system. But he has every right to work through his own feelings, so you don't do anything more that reach out to touch his arm gently; urging him to turn around again but not forcing him. "I can cancel the meeting with the producers, and we don't have to tell anyone else. But Missy deserved the truth." That, at least, is something you truly believe. That everything would get worse the longer he waited to tell her. "Better now than in five or ten or fifteen years."

He turns back around, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes, squinting slightly before he puts them back on. “I— you’re right, but I hate this.” Marcus reaches for you, putting his arms around your shoulders and dropping his head onto one. “She hates me.” He whispers. “She’s never said that, not even after Melanie died.”

"She doesn't hate you, Marcus," your lips are close to his ear, letting you whisper and keep the tone - of at least this conversation - gentle. "She's upset. And sad. And probably even a little scared. But she doesn't actually hate you." Like this, it's easy to put your arms around him again. To keep him close. Close and as safe as you can.

He wants to believe you, god how he wants to believe you. “I hope you’re right.” He sighs heavily, the outcome of this probably the worst that he could have imagined. Those words still lashing at his heart and twisting the knife of doubt and heartbreak deeper. “I wish I knew what to do to make it better.”

"Try to give her some time." It's the best suggestion you can come up with, even though it's sadly the most obvious one. "Just...just love her, honey. You're an amazing dad. There isn't a single parent in the universe who could have had this conversation easily." For a moment the only sound between you is sniffling as Marcus tries to collect himself, and you sigh lightly. "Do you want me to see if she'll talk to me? I don't know how much of that anger might be directed my way, but I can go try."

“I don’t know if she will talk to you.” He admits, pulling away and frowning slightly. “I’m sorry she lashed out at you. She - she idolizes you.” His voice is rough, and he glances up at the ceiling as if he had x-ray vision. “I just need a minute, okay?” He can’t even begin to describe the way his heart is bleeding from those words spit in anger. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

"Take all the time you need." Nodding slightly, you know he's right. Missy may be far too angry at you to actually talk, and that's completely fair. "Marcus?" You catch his hand before he walks away, just not sure at all what to do. "Do you want me to go? I can knock on her door and give it a try, but would you rather I just not be here? I don't want to make this harder." It's not what you want in the least, but the last thing you want is to cause him more distress.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “I know— I’m bad at this.” He licks his lips and squeezes your hand. “But you are helping tremendously.” He tells you earnestly. “I want you here.” He whispers, pausing for a second before he decides to be honest. “I think I’ll always want you here.”

"Then I'll stay." It feels silly to sound relieved, but knowing that he doesn't see you as an intruder or somehow extra is a blessing. "Take your time." You tell him again. "I'm going to go knock on her door. Just to see where she's at." If you get screamed at, or cried at, or whatever else - at least you'll be able to tell Marcus how she feels. No matter how much it might hurt.

It’s silly and selfish of him, but he pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours quickly. “Thank you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours for second as he sighs. “Thank you.”

"Anything you need. You just say the word." The way you both hold on tight to each other before letting go again is like a deep sigh. "Anything."

He moves, kissing your forehead before he breaks away, holding onto your hand for as long as his can before his fingers slip from yours. Making his way to the downstairs half bath, he closes the door, walking over to the faucet and turning it on, bending down to splash his face with water after he takes off his glasses again.

You breathe out a deep sigh in the moments after the bathroom door closes behind Marcus and you're left, standing alone, in the middle of the Moreno family kitchen. The music coming from Missy's room hasn't quieted but the screaming has lessened, and the sound of crying is not at all vague. Taking the stairs carefully, one at a time, you try to shake out every ounce of self-doubt before you make it to the upstairs hall. Inhaling a deep breath and exhaling slowly, you raise your hand to knock on her door - slow and steady so that not even the knock sounds agitated. "Missy?" You try to call loud enough to be heard over the music, but not shout. "Honey, if you don't want to talk that's okay." Water pricks at the backs of your eyes again, hoping to god she answers you. "But if you do...I'm here, okay, Mis?"

Missy doesn’t respond. Biting her lip, she refuses to even look at the door. Pictures of her mom and dad are scattered on the floor. Looking for something that would prove this is one big lie. That she hadn’t lived her entire life believing a lie.

"Okay." Sighing as quietly as you can, you nod at no one since Missy clearly doesn't want to talk. "If you change your mind, I'm going to be downstairs a little while longer. Or..." You squeeze your eyes shut, one of your hands resting flat against her door for a second. "Or you can always call me later on. Anytime, okay? I..." There it is, the crack in your voice that you've been trying to hold back, but Missy deserves the truth. "I'm always going to be here for you if you want me, Missy."

Swiping furiously at her tears, Missy turns back to the photos. How can she trust that? You knew and you didn’t say anything. Her eyes narrow, examining the photos for some evidence this is all a nightmare.

You stand there for a minute more, hoping she'll say something, but the sounds from inside Missy's room don't change. Just an angry, heartbroken teenager who wants nothing to do with two adults who tried to do the right thing. "I'll be downstairs," you tell her door again before stepping away. Right now, you can be there for Marcus, so you head for the stairs again to go back down to the kitchen.

When you come downstairs, Marcus had broken into the liquor. The amount missing from the bottle does not equal the two glasses that have been poured and he doesn’t even feel bad about belting one down without you. He turns at the sound of your footsteps, a hopeful glint in his eyes, only for his shoulders to round when he doesn’t see a smaller figure behind you. “Any luck?” He asks quietly, holding out one of the glasses for you.

"Well, she didn't yell at me." You take the glass of tequila gratefully, flopping down in the empty chair beside him at the table. "But she also didn't answer her door at all."

He sighs and nods. “Thank you for trying.” He murmurs before he takes another sip of his drink, only swallowing half of this one this time.

Your empty hand reaches over, lacing your fingers through his free hand to hold him steady. "What can I do for you?"

Marcus shrugs, giving you a not-quite-a-smile twist of his lips. “You’re doing it.”

Giving his hand a little squeeze, you genuinely wish in this moment that both of you had crossed the line with that word before now. To be able to reach out and tell him you love him and give him every ounce of support you have to offer would be a mercy, but there's a solid possibility that bringing that up right now could only make things worse, so you just sip your drink for a moment in silence. "It'll be okay," you tell him quietly, still unsure as to why you're so certain of that.

“I hope so.” Marcus looks down at your interlaced fingers and sighs. “Part of me wishes I never agreed to this movie. But the other part—” He squeezes your hand and looks back up into your eyes. “That part believes that this is supposed to be.”

"I was surprised that you did," you admit. His eyes are holding on to you and the flutter in your stomach has absolutely nothing to do with the liquor. "But...I'm selfishly glad. Not because of all this," the hand holding your glass motions vaguely in the direction of Missy's room. "But because of this," you look down at your hands before your eyes drift up to his again.

The music shuts off from Missy’s room and Marcus tenses, ears straining for the sound of a door opening. He looks back at you as moments pass with no other sounds and he sighs. “I- I’m selfishly glad too.” He murmurs quietly. “Obviously I didn’t want this, but this—” He looks down at your hand before really smiling at you. “I want this.”

"You've got this." From the bottom of your heart, you wish you could hear anything from upstairs, but the chance to talk through things with Marcus is important, too. "Me, I mean. You've got me."

Marcus chokes out a small laugh. “You should run.” He tells you honestly, wouldn’t blame you if you did.

"Nope." You shake your head but don't drop his eyes. "You're the one getting into it with an actress. Paparazzi and red carpets and plenty of people with opinions about our lives that don't have one ounce of say in how we live. A lot of people would consider that to not be worth the effort." And most of the time, you wouldn't blame them in the least.

“You’ve never seen some of our fan clubs then.” Marcus snorts. “There was a pole taken about if I should dye the greys in my beard.”

You actually smile a little, a lopsided thing that sticks in the corner of your mouth. "I like the greys," you tell him quietly.

“Of course, you would.” He feels a little bit of the tension in his shoulders uncoiling. “You’re a sugar baby.” He says teasingly, chuckling quietly when you make a face at him. “Have you dated older than me?”

It takes you longer than you're proud of to think through it, rolling through the names and numbers that you actually remember or even knew to begin with. "Maybe by a year or two," you shrug. There's nothing wrong with being a sugar baby, but the relationship you have with Marcus definitely isn't transactional in any way. "But that depends on your definition of dating. I told you, I'm usually bad at long term."

“What makes this different?” He asks quietly. “I was teasing, by the way, about the sugar baby thing. I just could think of another term for a woman liking older men.”

"You're what's different." It feels like a line. Like something out of a script or an on-your-feet nighttime talk show interview answer. Too easy and not complete enough. "I don't know if I can explain it. But I've only been this sure of one other thing in my life...and that was my career." He's still holding your hand, and you draw them together into your lap. "Missy...she, um...she said something earlier tonight...and I kept thinking about it all through dinner..."

“What’s that?” He asks, curious as to what she might have said.

"I was telling her that we had talked today. She had said how happy she was that you weren't lonely anymore," your eyes flick up to him, as if needling in the reminder that his daughter absolutely does not hate him. "And I told her that we had talked today, and I told you how much I care about you." Draining the end of your glass, you go ahead and top off both of your glasses. "I didn't use the word, by the way, or say girlfriend or any of that, but...but she said she was surprised. That she thought people only talked like that that fast when they were soulmates." Sighing slightly, you shut your eyes against the whole thing for a second. "It's selfish. To wish that that was true. But...I do."

“That would be fantastical.” He admits, admiring the symmetry in the irony. “I have a confession to make.” He reaches out and threads his fingers through yours again. “I kind of always hated the idea of soulmates.”

"Really?" That's definitely unexpected, and your head quirks in one direction, wondering why.

“I mean, I didn’t hate it, but I did.” He shrugs. “I was born destined to be a heroic. From the moment I was born because I was Anita and Martino Moreno’s son, I had my life planned out. Having a soulmate took the decision on who I loved away from me in a sense.” He gives you an embarrassed smile. “I don’t know, I guess it was my way of trying to determine my own fate however I could.”

"No, that makes sense." It makes your confession slightly more embarrassing, but it makes sense. "You got Melanie and Missy out of it, so it looks like your small rebellion worked out a lot better than any of mine did."

“But.” Marcus adds softly, picking up your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back softly in an old school romantic gesture. “If I could choose my soulmate, I’d have to choose you.”

You almost huff. The slightly disbelieving, surprised sound that puffs out with your breath brings a few prickling tears to the back of your eyes with it. The idea that he could feel what you are - just as strongly - seems almost fairy tale. "Count your scars some time and let me know," you joke quietly.

He gives you a smile, a tinge of heat in his eyes despite the heartache. “I’ll wait until you can map them for yourself.” He rumbles out, his voice slightly huskier than before.

That small huff becomes a hum, and you shake your head at him. He's not teasing you, not intentionally, but it's almost comical how you've moved so quickly emotionally while barely having experienced each other physically. "Do we have to go to Adam's tomorrow?" It's only half a joke this time, and you lean against his shoulder when you take a sip from your glass.

“Maybe not.” Marcus frowns and looks up at the ceiling with another heavy sigh. The quiet from upstairs is kind of unsettling. It’s been a good half hour since in the music shut off. “Maybe I should go check on her.”

"Go ahead." You lift the back of his hand to your lips and press a kiss to his skin, mirroring his gesture from earlier. Not for the first time in your life, you're grateful for kiss-proof lipstick that actually works. "I'll be right here."

He sighs and stands up, leaving his drink on the table and walks down the hall to climb the stairs. Each step, his feet feel like they are made of lead as he makes his way towards Missy’s room. “Mis.” He knocks softly. “Can I come in?” He turns the handle and is surprised that it’s not locked. Pushing the door opened, he peeks his head in and sighs. She’s in the bed, covers pulled up over her head and obviously asleep. He stares at the lump of covers for a moment, debating on if he should wake her but ultimately decides against it. Closing the door gently, he makes his way back down to you.

"No luck?" You look up again when he reappears at the bottom of the stairs. There hadn't been any yelling and he'd barely been gone a minute, so you assume nothing happened.

“She’s asleep. Burrowed under her covers like a polar bear.” Marcus tells you, giving a half shrug.

"Good." The visual sounds adorable and you're tempted to sneak up, but Missy's not a little kid anymore and you're not about to invade her space after all this. "She'll feel better in the morning. A good night's sleep can do wonders for perspective." Glancing at your watch, it’s a whole hell of a lot later than you thought it was. The whole sad affair felt like it lasted only minutes, but it’s been hours. “Maybe I should get home,” you murmur reluctantly. “You need your sleep, too.”

“Yeah.” He feels old. Tired and just worn out from the emotions of today.

“I won’t be at HQ until lunchtime.” The reminder is an important one. “Unless…do you want me to cancel the meeting?” A decision on that front had never been made, your offer flying under the radar as the conversation kept rolling.

“No.” Marcus shakes his head. “I want people to know the real Melanie. And the real Melanie did not marry and have a family with her soulmate.”

“Okay.” When you reach for him It’s gentle but sure, wrapping him up in your arms in the middle of his silent kitchen. “You need to sleep, but don’t drink yourself into it, okay? Giving yourself a hangover won’t help when you’re bringing her to school in the morning.”

“I’m not. I’m going to go take a shower and try to sleep.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Okay,” you murmur again, kissing his cheek in return. “I’ll text you when I get home safe.” It’s not a date night, but it feels like the thing do tonight. You turn and pick your purse up off the counter and offer him a smile. “I—well, you know. Get some sleep, honey.”

He smiles back at you and guides you over to the door. “I’m walking you to your car at least.” He murmurs.

“Always the gentleman.” Your car is parked a bare seven or eight steps from his front door, but every moment with him is precious.

“I guess so.” He opens the door for you and waits for you to slide into the seat before he closes it. “Thank you again.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you softly.

“Good night, Lancelot.” Maybe when you come back from principal photography, you’ll say the other thing when you leave his house at night. But you’ll wait as long as you need to. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

******

The drive home is blessedly uneventful, and even the LA traffic seems forgiving, letting you get home a bit faster than usual. You’re honestly exhausted from the day. From secrets and conversations and confessions - and a screaming hot bubble bath is calling your name like a siren song.

Parking Thelma neatly in her space, you pick up your purse from the passenger seat and stretch as you climb out of the car. Yeah, you definitely need that bubble bath.

The only thing that could possibly stop that from happening is the small figure sitting on the bench beside the front door to your building, scrunched over her backpack and looking for all the world like a symbol of the misbegotten young.

“Missy?”

******

Marcus opens the shower door, the entire room filled with steam, and he feels slightly human. The knot of tension in his shoulders probably won’t go away until he talked to Missy again. Stepping out onto the bath mat he reaches for his towel to wrap around his waist when he hears his phone go off in the bedroom.

******

Standing in the middle of your living room with your phone pressed to your ear, you’re praying Marcus picks up his phone before Missy emerges from your bathroom. She’d showed up at your front door with a bag packed and her school bag beside it, looking like she’d kept crying far after the music in her room stopped playing.

“Hey, I take it you are home?” He holds his towel on his hip and tucks the phone against his shoulder. “I just got out of the shower.”

“Marcus,” your voice is relatively quiet, even though you had flat out told Missy that you needed to call her dad and tell him where she is. “We fell for the oldest trick in the book.” You sigh. “Missy…basically ran away. She came to my apartment.”

“What?” It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t think you would lie about something like that, but he still rushes out of his bedroom and flings Missy’s door open. Still holding his towel, he strides over to her bed and reaches for the covers.

Pillows. She had stuffed the bed with pillows to look like her body. “I—I’ll get dressed and be there in twenty minutes.” He promises you, slightly panicking at how his daughter got across town without him knowing she had left the house.

“No.” You shake your head as though he could possibly see you. “No, I think it might be better if we let her stay.” For a moment you’re quiet as you turn to face your bathroom door. “She brought a change of clothes and her school bag. I’ll bring her to school in the morning.”

Marcus closes his eyes and sighs, turning and sitting down on her bed. “I— you think?” He asks, his voice quiet and broken. “She - did she say why she left?”

“She hasn’t said much yet.” You can hear him sigh on the other end of the line and then a creak, and you have a feeling he might end up sleeping in Missy’s room tonight out of some sort of personal guilt. “But I promised her she could come to me if she wanted to talk, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m immediately taking that back.”

Marcus nods even though you can’t see it. “Okay. I know she’s safe with you.” He knows that. He knows how much you love Missy. “I won’t come over. Just— just tell her that I-I love her. No matter what.” He chokes out softly.

"I will." You wish he was in front of you, that you could reach for him and hold him like he sounds like he needs. But right now, the best thing you can do for him is to take care of his daughter, and you'll do that without fail. "We'll be okay. A little serious conversation, a little girl talk, and I'll tuck her into my bed and sleep on the couch. Don't worry."

“Honestly, she will probably want to sleep in the bed with you.” He remembers the times she was really upset for one reason or another, burrowing into Melanie. While he didn’t think she was trying to replace her mother with you, it was clear she was turning to you like she had her mom. “Thank you.” He hears you whisper that he doesn’t have to thank you and he knows what he is going to say next. He says your name to make sure he has your full attention. “I love you.” He tells you softly before he ends the call.

Missy emerges from the bathroom a second later, while you're staring at your phone stupidly with tears pushing at your eyes. "Do—" you almost have to shake yourself out of a daze. He loves you. Hold your shit together. Don't celebrate in front of Missy. "Do you want something to drink, honey? Or a snack?" Focus on Missy. She's what's important right now.

Missy nods. Almost shyly. Her eyes are swollen from crying and her breathing is heavy from her nose being clogged up from the sobbing. “I-is he mad? Is he coming to get me?” She is a strange combination of defiant and vulnerable like she would spit and claw at him and then collapse into his arms in tears.

"No, honey." With one arm, you reach for her shoulder and are glad when she lets you wrap it around her to lead her into the kitchen. "He loves you. No matter what. Those were his exact words." From the cupboard next to the refrigerator, you bring down two of your fanciest wine glasses and open the fridge so she can pick a drink. "You can stay with me tonight. If you want to, that is."

Her shoulders round even more, the affirmation of his love hurting because of how cruel she had been to him. “You don’t mind?” She whispers. “I wouldn’t blame you if you sent me home.”

"No way." You shake your head, reaching for the lemonade in the back of your fridge when Missy starts nudging things aside to get to it. "Do you know how long it's been since I had a girls' night sleepover?" The arm you have around her stays there, it keeps her close as you start to pour lemonade into the wine glasses you've pulled out. "I told you that you could always come to me, and I meant it. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't keep my promises to you, Mis?"

“I don’t— why?” She asks, lips pulling down into a frown. “Why did they hide it from me? From the world? Why was it a secret?”

Taking one more second to collect yourself before you answer, you reach up into the cupboard for the remainder of the shortbread cookies that you and Marcus didn't finish off the day you met. Bringing them down, you grab one glass and wait for her to pick up the other. "They always planned on telling you." That is the first and most important point, as the two of you head into the living room to sit down on the sofa together. "But your mom passed before they could, and I think your dad found it really hard to find the right time to bring it up. He knows how much you love your mom, and he didn't want to hurt your memories of her."

Missy is quiet as she absorbs that information. She was eight when her mom died but she still remembers how sad her dad was even though he still tried to make sure she didn’t feel like her mom was being forgotten. “I was young.” She admits, staring down into her lemonade.

"As for everybody else?" You wish you could just reach right through her and take the pain away. All the sadness and all the confusion and all the hurt - just scrape it right out of her heart and throw it away so it could never touch her again. "I can't say I know everything your mom was thinking, honey, but I know what your dad told me. And it's really hard to love someone in front of the whole world when they're not your soulmate. Maybe in another world there's plenty of famous people who can love whoever they want without being criticized for it, but that's not the world we live in. But...they never lied. They had a secret that they kept, because they loved each other so much that they were willing to go against what everybody else in the world thinks is right."

Silent tears fall. They had loved each other. A lot. Even when they were mad at each other, they still loved each other. It was one of the reasons Missy couldn’t wait to meet her soulmate. She wanted something like what they had. “It—if they weren’t soulmates, it makes what they had even more rare, doesn’t it?” She asks, looking up at you for confirmation.

"Yeah." Your free hand reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks when she looks at you and it's like a gut punch in an incredibly odd way. You had been horrible when you were her age. She's...incredible. "It does, honey. It really does. Because they found it all on their own, and they worked hard at it, and they kept it strong." A small smile tucks into the side of your mouth. "And I know your dad doesn't regret a second of it. Not just for your mom. But because he got you."

“God, I was horrible to him.” She closes her eyes and moans out in embarrassment. “I— what I said. It-it was disgusting.” She whimpers.

"And you can apologize to him tomorrow." With one hand still hovering near her cheek, you wipe one more tear from the corner of her eye before taking it back again. "He loves you, honey. Everything is okay."

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “How do you apologize for saying I wished he died instead of my mom?”

"How about telling him you love him?" It seems like such a simple thing, but it's so much bigger than the words. "And maybe forgiving him for keeping it a secret? It's okay that you were mad about it, but he has to know when you stop being mad, too."

“You are really good with this.” She mumbles, taking a sip of her lemonade in embarrassment.

"I have a really good therapist." You offer her a smile. "For when I get mad and stressed and sad." And all manner of other things you've dealt with in your life. "Sometimes the best thing you can really have is just someone to talk to."

“I just— they were my standard.” She groans out in frustration. Her eyes on you, begging you to believe her. “What do I do now? My entire life is a lie.”

"I don't think so." You shift a little, offering her a place to cuddle up at your side if she wants it. You remember what Marcus said about her maybe wanting to share the bed to have comfort, so you want to make sure she has plenty of chance for that. "They're still an amazing standard. Just a standard of people who love each other. Without the label of soulmates. That's not a lie at all. Like you said, it's even more rare."

Missy curls into you, unaware that she’s even doing it. “But everyone always says that soulmates are the standard.”

"Mm." A little hum escapes you as you bring one arm around her. "But what everybody else says isn't always what's important. Your parents were in love with each other right to their core. And that's an amazing standard to grow up with." Remarkably, there is no sting of jealousy. No sad thoughts about how what Marcus and Melanie had was more than he could ever feel for you. For the first time - and you know it has to do with what he said before he hung up the phone - you don't have a single doubt about the potential of what is growing between you and Marcus.

“Do you think that—” she bites her lip, trying to figure out how to put her emotions into words and express herself. “Do you think that his real soulmate will hate me?” She asks quietly.

"Mis," you scoot forward to set your glass down before tugging her closer with both of your arms. "Anyone who doesn't like you can come right to me. I'll be more than happy to get their head put on straight about how amazing you are."

“He feels like you do, right?” She’s still trying to figure out what all this means. She had been happy for him with you, still is. But now both of you had soulmates out there. “About finding his soulmate?”

"You mean about not looking for them?" This is the thing that you've been rolling over in your mind. How much to tell her? How much of your brand-new relationship it would be okay to reveal to the daughter of the man you've fallen in love with. On one hand, Missy deserves the absolute truth after the bomb that she had dropped on her today. While on the other, it wouldn't be fair to get her hopes up when everything is so new and nothing is set down in stone about the future. The best you can do is lean on what he said to you in his office, with his hands holding you in his lap and his voice in your ear. That meeting them now would be the same as if he met them when he was married to Melanie. "Neither of us are going to be looking for our soulmates, honey. That's not..." You swallow, deciding that a little bit of the truth is best right now. "Your dad and I are pretty happy with how things are going right now. And we want to see what happens between us. So no, neither of us is going to be looking for our soulmates."

Missy nods, seemingly accepting that answer easily enough. "I'm sorry." She murmurs quietly, looking over at you. "I was mean to you too, I just— I hated that— he kept it from me." She feels silly, thinking that it means that he doesn't trust her, but she does. Especially since she can't talk to her mom and hear that they really did plan to tell her later on.

“Apology accepted.” You almost don’t realize you’re doing it - leaning over to press a kiss to the top of Missy’s head. It’s just a natural instinct. “I just hope that you don’t actually consider me a stranger anymore. I know I was then.” Memories of the aquarium are sharp in your mind. Only a week old but so much has happened since then.

"Why did he tell you?" She tilts her head curiously, needing to know if it was for the movie or because of whatever was developing between you. "Was it for the movie or because of ... you know."

“For the movie,” you tell her. One of your hands runs up and down her arm in soothing strokes. “Because he wants the movie to be honest. There…there wasn’t any you know yet.”

“What are people going to think?” She asks, chewing on her bottom lip. “You think they will hate my mom when they find out?”

Sighing slightly, you look down at her worried face and wish again that you could take it all away. “I hope they think about how brave she was. And how she didn’t give up on love or happiness even though her soulmate had died. I think…” Honesty. “Of anyone, I think people might hate me. But not your mom.”

“Why you?” That confuses her.

“Because I’ll be the one on the screen, not her. And…and because I care about your dad so much. If we eventually decide to tell people, they might think I’m trying to take your mom’s place. Just like I was afraid your dad might think.”

“That’s stupid.” Missy immediately jumps to your defense. Angry that they would be upset at you. “Who cares what they thi—” Her mouth clamps shut when she realizes how her statement she was about to make applies to her own question. “Oh.”

“Cut your dad a little slack, honey. He wanted you to know the truth. And we’re going to tell everyone the truth. But I know your opinion is the one he cares about.”

She frowns. “No wonder he always wore a shirt around me when mom was alive.” She comments. “Even in the pool. He didn’t want me to question why they didn’t have the same scars.”

“Just remember,” your hand continues its long strokes down her arm. “They were always going to tell you.”

“Except mom died.” She replies bitterly. “Then dad was stuck raising me by himself.”

“And I don’t think there’s a single thing in his life that he’s prouder of than you.” The way his face lights up talking about her is all anyone needs to see in order to know that.

Missy is quiet for a moment, absorbing and processing everything. “It’s why you were there tonight, wasn’t it? You knew he was going to talk to me, and you were there for him? Us?” She looks up at you with a slight smile. “You really love him, don’t you?”

You flush, ears turning hot and the smile creeping across your face needs to be literally bitten back. He actually said he loves you. It’s not just a fantasy. “Yeah, Mis.” You nod gently. “I really do.” A small scratch in the back of your head makes you worry for a moment, and you look down at her. “Is that okay with you?”

Her brow furrows and she gives you a look that asks you why you are even questioning it. “I adore you. If-if you want my dad, and he wants to be with you, why would I not be okay with it?” She asks before she reaches did your hand, her fingers wrapping around your slightly bigger one. “Mom told me once that soulmates don’t define us. That if something were to happen to Dad or her, she wanted there to be love again. I didn’t understand why she was saying that at the time, but I do now.”

A full wave of relief washes over you, and you hold Missy’s hand tight in yours. The way her still-small fingers curl around yours is some kind of magical that you’ve never experienced before, even with your niece and nephew. “I adore you, too, you know.” You genuinely hope she remembers and believes everything you told her on Sunday before all hell broke loose. “Your dad and I are just starting out, but I hope whatever friendship you and I have will grow, too.”

Missy’s smile brightens and she nods. “I’d like that.” She leans against you and sighs. “Are you sure he’s not mad at me?” Her voice is soft, sounding much younger than just a few seconds before.

“I’m sure.” He was devastated, you had been there for that. But not mad. “I think a big hug tomorrow and some time together after school will help him, though. He just wants you to be happy, Mis. And to understand why he and your mom kept their secret. That’s all.”

“Thank you.” Missy whispers. “I just needed to get away and I remembered what you said. It was stupid but I’m glad you didn’t turn me away.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Hugging her right to your side, you press another kiss to Missy’s hair and glance up at the clock. It is late. Later than late. “I think it’s past my bedtime, kiddo. I might turn into a pumpkin pretty soon. Did you bring pjs with you or do you want to borrow some of mine?”

Missy winces and gives you a pleading look. “I forgot pajamas.” She admits in an apologetic voice.” She bites her lip and looks towards the couch reluctantly. “I can sleep out here.” She tells in, tone telling you the complete opposite.

“Not a chance.” You pull yourself up off the couch, still holding onto her hand so you can tug her up after you. “I’ve got clean sheets and a big bed and there’s no reason we can’t have a sleepover.” Going off of what Marcus said, you figure that if you offer her the option, she might take it. “Is matching pjs too nerdy?” The grin you throw her is purely to make her smile. Matching pjs is absolutely too nerdy for a thirteen-year-old.

She giggles, the first laugh she has let out since her dad told her the truth. “Absolutely!” She tells you, letting you pull her up. “Let’s do it!”

About half an hour later, you’re tucking Missy under the covers beside you and texting the studio’s transportation pool that you won’t need a car to pick you up in the morning. The fact that you have two sets of the same pair of purple silk pajamas is suddenly the best decision you’ve ever made as you look over at Missy cuddling a spare pillow. “Comfy?” You ask, genuinely wanting to make sure.

“I am.” Missy gives you a heavy lidded, sleepy smile before she yawns. “I’m going to like having you as my stepmom.” She tells you before her eyes drift shut.

She can’t possibly know how much that single sentence does to you - the way it wraps its way around your heart and squeezes until happy tears are falling from your eyes. Silent, happy tears. Which are so much better than the ones she’s earlier tonight.

You pick your phone up off the nightstand one more time, barely shifting so that you get both of you in the frame. The picture you text Marcus before closing your eyes is one that he will hopefully wake up to. A picture of you and Missy in matching pjs in bed, with the attached text: To: Lancelot: Wish you were here.💖🌹

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit

Wish You Were Here: @fastandfeminist @lowlights @thisshipwillsail316 @sunnydaysonthemoon @luxmundee @sainteredhood @rebel-fanfare @silver-pieces @janelongxox @nolanell @lawfulgranola @fan-of-encouragement @hnt-escape @donnaa @mswarriorbabe80 @poenariuniverse @spideysimpossiblegirl @sherala007 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @quica-quica-quica @agingerindenial @mand-amando @misslolasworld @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @notagamersdey @dobbyjen @chibi-liz05

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze.

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to.

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away.

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best.

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head.

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.”

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak.

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap.

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding.

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying.

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him.

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job.

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck.

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again.

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones.

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly.

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?”

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.”

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #hufflepuff #slytherpuff #slytherin

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kthstrawberryshortcake · 3 years ago

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BTS Reactions: Their S/O is Inexperienced Yet in Their Mid 20s

A/N: Here it is, my first post after my long-ass hiatus :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Requests are OPEN, please send some over! <3

PREMISE: OT7 reacting to finding out that their s/o is physically inexperienced relationship-wise / that this is their s/o’s first relationship despite them being in their mid 20s

A/N: I think a lot of people won't understand why this is a reaction in the first place (lol) but it can be super uncomfortable / awkward to have not dated / had any experience at that age, and a lot of people react badly to finding that out about someone. It's definitely an insecurity for a lot of people (myself included).

warning: mostly unedited due to my status as a trash gremlin

Jin:

Jin was completely shocked when he found out that you had never dated before him. Without thinking, he let this incredulity show on his face, total surprise evident and eyebrows raised. He was briefly silent in disbelief. You took that to mean that he thought you were weird now. You certainly felt that way.

Involuntarily, tears welled up in your eyes and Jin finally registered your distress. “What’s wrong?” he asked in concern, gently brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. You stared down at your feet, murmuring “You probably think I’m super strange now.” in explanation. Jin shook his head insistently, imploring that he didn’t find it weird at all.

“Honestly I was just shocked because I don’t know how you didn’t have people practically lining down the block to date you.” He explained, bringing a small smile back to your face. He pulled you into a hug, assuring you that he was in no hurry as long as he got to spend time with you.

Yoongi:

You and Yoongi were having a cozy night in and catching up on dramas. In the show you were presently watching, there was a character who was in her mid 20s that had never dated or even kissed anyone. Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes at this. “This is so unrealistic. Like come on, seriously? How do you get to be that age having never dated, having never even kissed somebody? It’s a completely absurd concept.”

You started to curl in on yourself, looking down with a tortured expression on your face. You were scared to explain the truth, fearful that if he knew he wouldn’t want you anymore. After a few minutes like that, Yoongi finally noticed your body language. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He inquired gently. How were you going to explain this to him?

“I, um… I guess I kind of freaked out when you were talking about the plot being unrealistic… You were so sure it couldn’t happen that you were annoyed by it. And then I really didn’t know how to tell you that the plot line we were discussing is literally the same as me. I’ve never dated before, you’re the first… And when you kissed me for the first time, that was my first kiss.” You took a deep breath, having exerted a lot of energy to force out your words.

Yoongi’s eyes lit up in recognition, then guilt crept onto his features. “Baby no, I’m so sorry, I completely overreacted about the show. I shouldn’t have said all that. I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” Yoongi admitted sincerely. He could tell that you felt a little bit better after that reassurance.

"It’s not a bad thing to do things on a different timeline. Plus, I got the honor of being your first boyfriend because of it. Maybe I’ll be your last.” He said the last part quietly, smirking softly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Hoseok:

One of your favorite things about Hobi was his open and energetic attitude. He was truly one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and it had felt easy to become close with him. You hadn’t been dating long at all, but the ease of conversation made it feel like you’d known each other for years.

On one particular day, the two of you were chatting over a dinner of your favorite delivery food. Hoseok was in the middle of a funny story about one of his exes, never one for unnecessary social boundaries or conventions, which was fine because you were laughing like crazy at the ridiculous tale he told. Then he continued, though, to tell (admittedly hilarious and absurd) stories about some of his other exes. You were entertained, certainly, though the number of people he seemed to have dated was a bit intimidating to you.

When he finally finished, he asked about *your* exes, and that was where the issue really started. You deflected, not wanting to directly bring attention to the fact that you had never dated before him. He became oddly persistent, seeming frustrated that you didn’t want to share. Not wanting him to misunderstand why you weren’t telling him what he wanted to know, you sucked it up and told him that he was your first boyfriend.

He was extremely surprised, but seemed to understand now why you had been reluctant to answer his questioning. He apologized for going on about exes for so long, and for inadvertently making you nervous. You assured him that it wasn’t a big deal, especially since the only important thing was your relationship moving forward, not either of your pasts.

Namjoon:

When you and Namjoon had only been together a few weeks (after a much longer friendship prior to your romantic relationship beginning), you were spending a nice chill evening at home, eating takeout and chatting. The two of you seemingly never ran out of things to talk about, one of the things you loved about being with him.

You don’t even remember what had led to it, but partway through the evening, he made some dumb joke about virgins and you visibly froze. You had yet to tell him about your lack of experience, and now you were terrified to. Was that really something he’d be bothered by? You hadn’t thought so, but his joking around about it made you doubt that. You did your best not to show your panic, paying unusually close attention to the glass of water you were drinking.

Unfortunately for you, your discomfort was completely apparent, and Namjoon asked you if you were okay. You nodded with a forced smile, making him frown, easily able to tell that you weren’t. You were afraid to tell him now because if it really bothered him that much, maybe it would disappoint him. Maybe it’d be a dealbreaker and he would lose interest in you. Unsure what to do, you stared at your hands, tense and worried. Namjoon lightly rested his hand on your shoulder, staring at you in concern. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” He implored gently.

At that moment you could no longer hold in your emotion, your fear, and tears began to leak from your eyes as you sniffled, starting to shake a bit as you cried. You let him pull you into his arms, holding you close as you tried to stop crying. After a few minutes of you trying to calm down, aided by Joon’s sweet behavior, he asked again what was wrong, insisting that you could tell him anything. Your chest felt tight, but you didn’t see a way out of sharing what had upset you.

When you explained what had happened, Namjoon felt horrible, cursing himself for having said something so dumb. He told you that it was just a stupid joke, not something he actually cared about, apologizing for upsetting you with his thoughtlessness. He made sure to assure you that it wasn’t a problem for him in the least, and that he was in no rush. Afterwards the whole situation seemed a little silly, though you remembered how genuinely panicked you had been only minutes before and shuddered. But things were immediately made better, the two of you snuggling up on the couch to watch a movie.

Jimin:

Your blossoming relationship with Jimin made you feel like you were walking on a cloud. He was incredibly sweet and so much fun to spend time with, you felt very lucky to be dating him now. Just to be sweet, you had picked up food from his favorite lunch place and were bringing it to him at the BigHit building, where he was currently busy at work in a practice room.

When you arrived, the door to the room was open, but you heard voices coming from inside. You only paused when you heard Jimin say your name. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, and you were about to announce your presence until you realized what he was saying. “You know I really like her, man, I just feel so unsure right now. There has been like, zero physical affection up to this point, nothing beyond hugs and holding hands.” Jimin grumbled, sounding irritated.

Tae hummed in acknowledgement, pausing before inquiring “So obviously you’re frustrated, but what are you thinking about it?” Jimin sighed. “Maybe she just doesn’t like me as much as I like her. I don’t want to think anything bad about her, but what if she’s playing me? Like, she doesn’t have actual feelings for me.” He sounded very down, clearly hurt by the mere possibility. At that moment you were so shocked by what you were hearing, you accidentally dropped the bag of takeout, hurrying to pick it up, but you’d already drawn attention to yourself.

Jimin and Taehyung looked beyond shocked to see you, and you realized you were crying. Taehyung excused himself to let the two of you talk. You walked farther into the room, approaching the boys. “I thought we could have lunch… I know you don’t take enough breaks, and I really wanted to see you…” You admitted quietly, unable to actually make eye contact.

“I just feel so horrible, it’s all my fault that you don’t even know how crazy I am about you. I can’t believe…. I let you be unsure of how much I care about you. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry Jimin.” By the end of what you were saying, you were holding back full sobs. Seeing how distressed you were, Jimin wasted no time in rushing to you and pulling you into his arms, hugging you close.

When you’d finally calmed down and stopped crying, you thought you owed him an explanation. “The lack of physical affection isn’t because I don’t like you. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anybody. I’ve just… never done anything. I haven’t even been in a relationship before now, it’s all new to me.” You admitted, feeling Jimin stiffen in your hug.

When you pulled back to look at him, tears were welling up in his eyes. “Oh, I’m the worst…” He muttered, feeling so guilty. “I was just frustrated, I was feeling insecure. Now that I know, I don’t mind one bit waiting for anything until you’re ready.” He assured you, planting a quick kiss on your forehead as you nodded understanding.

Tae:

It had only been a few weeks since Tae had confessed his feelings to you and the pair of you had started dating. Long before that, you’d been close friends, so you had spent a lot of time together over time. During one of your first few movie nights as a couple, things slowly began to escalate between you. You were sitting close together, seemingly focused on the film, when Tae moved to put an arm around you, pulling you closer so you were snuggled up beside him.

His eyes never left the screen, but there was a telltale little smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes a little, but you certainly didn’t mind. Despite it being such a small thing, at this stage in your relationship, this was a little bit thrilling. Soon you could feel him staring at you, and you turned your head to look back at him. His face had gotten much closer to yours than you’d expected. “…Tae?” you whispered, seeing both affection and mischief in his eyes. “Yes love?” He replied quietly in his gorgeous low voice, making you shiver just slightly.

You shook your head almost imperceptibly, and before you knew it his lips were on yours. You froze, all of this being completely new and foreign for you. Feeling you stiffen and fail to reciprocate the kiss, Tae pulled back to look at your face, wearing an expression of concern. “Um, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have just… assumed you felt the same way…” He muttered nervously, not making eye contact. “No!” You exclaimed a little louder than you meant to, quieting your voice to a near-whisper before speaking again.

“No, Tae, I do feel the same way! I really, really do. I love you. I have since we were just friends. I… I want you too. Just, um, I don’t know what to do…. That was my first kiss just now and I kind of just panicked and froze.” You confessed, watching the surprise and then recognition cover his face. That was all it took to take his unsure expression back to a smug smirk. Knowing the power his voice held over you, he leaned in close to you to speak in your ear when he said “in that case, I think we need some practice, don’t you?” Oh boy.

Jungkook:

You had been seeing Jungkook for a couple of months now and it was more than apparent that he was smitten with you (and vice versa). He complimented you frequently, his heart eyes for you always clearly on display. The only problem was the way you practically jumped away from him any time he got close to you. He had definitely noticed your weird behavior, and though you didn’t know what to do about it, you knew it was only a matter of time until he brought it up in conversation.

When that moment came, you had just clammed up and pulled back from him when he tried to put his arm around you while watching a movie. When you saw his expression in reaction, you felt immensely guilty, seeing the hurt on his face. After a moment it shifted to extreme irritation, him clenching his jaw in annoyance. “What’s your problem? I can’t get anywhere near you without you freaking out and moving away in a hurry.” You couldn’t make eye contact anymore at that point, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you were filled with the fear that you had ruined things with him.

“I… I don’t really know why I keep doing that, it’s just all new to me. I’ve never dated anyone before you so I kind of don’t know what to do with myself most of the time.” You confessed, trying to mask the sniffle that you gave as the first tear rolled down your cheek. Now it was Jungkook’s turn to feel guilty. He approached you slowly, asking you to look at him in a gentle voice. When you did, you saw that the irritation was completely gone, replaced with remorse and fondness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, I could have just asked like an actual adult rather than how I behaved. I guess I was just insecure, afraid that you don’t like me in the same way I like you.” He explained, and you nodded slightly in understanding.

“That’s not it at all! I really *really* like you. A relationship is just totally uncharted territory for me and I handled it wrong. I should’ve just told you.” You sighed, the heaviness leaving your heart as an adorable bunny smile grew on his face. “Uncharted territory, huh? Well let me be your travel guide. We can be explorers together.” You rolled your eyes at his dumb joke, but smiled in spite of how silly his words were. You felt like now, with it all out in the open, things could be good with the two of you.

a/n: Feedback please! <3 I love to hear from y'all!

#bts reaction #bts reactions #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts ot7

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

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Eunoia // Ch. 11

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, injuries and blood

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

A/N: The taglist for Eunoia is now closed.

“Zayn, I promise I’m right around the corner,” you said into the phone. “I went home for lunch and it took a little more time than I had expected.”

You heard the singer laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s alright, you are always on time. I can excuse this one. You aren’t even that late.” You checked your phone to confirm what he was saying. Six minutes late. Not that bad.

“I could be a little earlier. I parked the car at the usual parking spot so I’m really just around the corner.” You looked back at Jimin. He had stopped walking and was looking behind him. Some shop window had probably caught his attention. There were many charming independent shops in the area. “By the way Jimin is with me, he wanted to get out of the house. I didn’t think you would mind.”

“I don’t,” Zayn said. “I would like to see the lad again. You talk so much about him, about all of them really, it would be nice to actually see him instead of hearing about him.”

“I mean…” You paused. “C’mon, I don’t talk about them that much.”

Zayn huffed. “Keep telling yourself that. But I’ll let you have this one. Other than them and work, do you even have any other news?”

“I totally have other news.” Zayn waited. It was slightly worrying that you came up empty. “I’m drowning in work, okay? What other news would I have? Ehhh, have you met Astrid?”

In the short silence that followed, you could hear Zayn rolling his eyes. “Taylor’s hybrid is hardly news, she adopted her a month ago. You were literally together in Nashville. And did you forget I told you that last time I met up with Taylor Astrid was with her? Do you listen that well to what I’m saying?”

“Oh, right. I had wanted to come too, but you know work-” You were cut off by the sound of quick footsteps on the gravel behind you. Not many people wandered these streets. You turned back in time to see Jimin running in the opposite direction down the street. “Jimin!” You shouted. He didn’t stop. He should have heard you. With his hybrid hearing, he should have heard you. “I have to go. We’ll be more late.” You ended the call and took off.

You thanked whatever deities could hear you for deciding to wear sneakers instead of high heels to work. When you had important meetings with the higher ups of the film studios, you would dress nicer and high heels were etiquette at this point. Lucky for you, this day you didn’t have any meetings of that kind but rather a more active role as the director. High heels would only slow you down.

Chasing Jimin down the streets, you were glad nothing was slowing you down. You called his name again and again but he wouldn’t reply, just kept running. Your mind jumped to the worst things that could have happened. No one was chasing him, other than you. He wasn’t running away from someone, unless… Unless he was running away from you. But no. Jimin wouldn’t do that. He had no reason to run away from you. He had been a little strange before and something was certainly off but he wouldn’t run away.

You didn’t let yourself entertain the thought anymore, just put one foot in front of the other as fast as you could. Your heart was racing but it wasn’t solely because of running.

Around a corner, in a small alleyway nestled between a small art shop and a closed down building, Jimin had stopped. You stopped too. A large graffiti in blue spray paint read “The world isn’t fair, why should we be?”.

“Jimin?” you repeated quietly, it felt wrong shouting here.

Jimin was frozen in the middle of the alley, his eyes wide. His hands were fisted at his sides, they were shaking. Someone was standing against the wall.

Jimin went to take a step forward but a hiss stopped him. “Yoongi?”

“Step back,” the man said. Black cat-like ears were turned back, their fur blending into his pitch black hair. Narrowed dark eyes regarded Jimin. Jimin didn’t back down.

“Yoongi, it’s me,” Jimin said, albeit with a little less confidence. His eyes were open and vulnerable, staring at the other hybrid like he was a dream he was too afraid to wake up from, yet he wasn’t sure if he should call it a nightmare. “It’s Jimin, don’t you remember me?”

Yoongi didn’t reply. His shoulders were drawn high in tension, making more obvious the teared up fabric on his shoulder. It wasn’t the only tear on his clothes, his jeans were ripped in a way that didn’t look intentional and the hem of his shirt was torn and scuffed. One of his hands was tightly clutching a baseball cap. “Stay away from me.”

There was so much pain in Jimin’s eyes. All you wanted to do was gather him in your arms and hold him until it was gone, but something was holding you back.

“I looked for you. In the shelter and in the streets. I tried to find you for years.” Jimin’s lip trembled. “Where have you been?”

Yoongi looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

“Please,” Jimin whispered and you could hear the heartbreak in his voice. “I-I’m so sorry.”

That made Yoongi’s head shoot up. “You’re sorry? What-”

Just then, your phone started ringing. Both hybrids looked at you. Alarmed, Yoongi backed further into the alley. Perfect timing. You thought Zayn must be calling you, asking you what had happened and where you had gone, but it was Namjoon. Wary of the deadly glare Yoongi was sending your way, you declined the call.

“Who are you?” Yoongi hissed. The fur on his tail was standing on end and you could imagine him pouncing on you and tearing you apart with his teeth. You hadn’t been as nervous around a hybrid as you were at the moment. With Namjoon, it was more wariness than anything else. But this time a thread of fear was slithering up your arms. There was dried blood on Yoongi’s knuckles. There was no John this time and you didn’t have only yourself to worry about.

"She's my owner," Jimin replied for you. It wasn't the way you would have phrased it and Yoongi's eyes narrowed further until they were nothing more than twin slits. "Yoongi, please," he said again. You didn't know what he was pleading for.

"She's your owner?" Yoongi spat out the word like it was the worst of insults.

You had a very bad feeling about this.

Jimin clenched his jaw, standing up straighter. "She isn't like him, she's nothing like him. She saved me."

Yoongi didn't say anything. His back was one with the wall by now.

Jimin averted his gaze, shoulders slumping. "I-I missed you. I thought... I thought he had done something to you." He hugged his frame, making himself look smaller. "I thought he hurt you," the last words came out as a whimper.

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. "He didn't, he didn't hurt me. You shouldn't have worried about me. You shouldn't be thinking about me."

"But I was! I still am!"

Yoongi looked away, he didn't move from the wall. It was clear the two hybrids knew each other but there were too many things you couldn't make sense of. Yoongi must have been someone important to Jimin if he had chased him all the way here and by what they were saying he had something to do with Jimin's past owner. You had assumed Jimin had been alone with that vile man, you hadn't considered having someone there with him. Someone he seemed to care for. Maybe he had met him at one of those parties Jimin had mentioned his owner liked to take him to, or he was one of his friends' hybrid.

Your brain was in overdrive but your body was rooted on the spot. You didn't want to intrude but you were worried. Meanwhile, you only had limited time before you had to get back to work...

Stupid brain, you cursed. This was such an important moment for Jimin and here you were thinking about work.

“I have to go," Yoongi said, pulling himself away from the wall.

"No!" Jimin protested loudly, moving as if he was going to reach for the other hybrid. "I have been looking for you for years. Don't go. Please." He had been saying please a lot today.

Although Jimin didn't touch him, the other hybrid stopped, as if he was unable to leave Jimin behind when he was calling for him. His fists were clenched at his sides and you could see the dried up blood on his knuckles better. It looked like he had left the blood clog up for a day or more instead of cleaning it. It would be easy to get an infection, especially with the dirt and grime all over his clothes and skin.

"Is she treating you right?" Yoongi asked after a few moments of silence.

Jimin's eyes widened at the question, brimming with tears. You held your breath. "She's my family." He glanced at you. "She taught me how to cook. She takes care of us and she lets us dress any way we like. She lets us go out alone, too, I haven't yet but I could... We went to the lake and we stayed there all day and had a picnic and... and... I'm- I'm happy. I'm happy, Yoongi."

Yoongi lowered his head. "You deserve to be happy," he said quietly but even your human hearing picked it up. He took a step forward.

"Wait." You were surprised to hear your own voice. "You should disinfect your cuts, you could get sick if you leave them like this." Not your best, but enough to make his stop and look at you. Jimin gave you a hopeful look. "I have a medical kit in my car, I can clean them and if you want, then you can leave."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly. His hands were shaking. "You know how to give first aid?"

You nodded. "I have taken a few lessons, I know my way around it."

"She's really good," Jimin confirmed. Neither of you could forget the night you had met. Purplish bruises, stark white gauze and fearful eyes.

Yoongi's cat-like ears twitched. It didn't give you any specific answers as to the kind of hybrid he was. His tail was black as well, it stayed low as he contemplated your offer.

"I don't need your help, I'm fine, " Yoongi said. His eyes flickered to the other end of the alleyway. You could sense the internal battle going on inside him, vices gripping his body as he vibrated with something you were hesitant to call nervousness. His eyes locked with Jimin for a moment and his shoulder slumped slightly. "I don't need your help… but there is someone who does. Can you help him?"

You ignored the suspicious glare and gathered all your confidence. "I can do my best."

A small nod. "Go get your supplies."

He stayed glued to the spot so you turned to Jimin. You cupped his cheek gently and said, "I'm going to the car, I'll be back in a moment." The cat hybrid nodded and you speed-walked to the parking lot, thankfully it wasn't too far away. You would have run if you hadn't already been tired from chasing Jimin. You grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk before rushing back. It was a medium sized box, containing all the essentials, from gauze, band-aids and disinfectant to various pills, like Advil and Claritin. "I've got it," you said when you arrived back at the alleyway, finding the two of them in the same spots you had left them.

Yoongi glanced at you and the white medical kit, and then he was walking away. You took that as a sign to follow him. You slipped your hand in Jimin's, who gave you a small smile, and intertwined your fingers. This neighborhood housed one of your favorite coffee shops, the one you had planned to meet Zayn at, but you hadn’t wandered far from the quiet aesthetic streets with the colorful buildings and the tiny squares.

As you walked further away, the scenery changed. More graffiti appeared on the walls. Words dripping in red and black. Slurs and protests. You kept Jimin close to your side. After ten minutes of walking, Yoongi stopped in front of a two-story building. The door was hanging off from only one of its hinges, as if holding onto a thread. Shattered windows, peeling paint on the walls and pieces of white plastic sheets angling from seemingly random places didn’t leave any room for doubt whether the building was abandoned.

Yoongi slipped in through the half opened door and disappeared in the partial darkness inside. Two balconies were situated above the door on either side, parts of them chipped off. You were worried they would fall on your heads at any any moment. You tugged Jimin forward and twisted your body to get inside without touching the door or the wall. Jimin did the same and you were faced with an empty room. You couldn't see much, sunlight didn't get in the house properly and the plastic sheets prevented most of the rays from passing through.

The smell of rot drifted in the air and you could almost feel the dust swirling around. You resisted an instinctual cough. It was mostly in your mind, the feeling that dust was suffocating you, but your mind tricked your body quickly. You ignored it and walked further into the house, leaving footprints behind on the granite floor. The light got dimmer the further you went and your eyes had trouble adjusting. Jimin's eyesight was much better than yours and like cats he could see well in darkness.

One of the rooms, with the dirtied floral tapestry peeling off from the walls, opened up to a grand staircase. Once upon a time it must have been beautiful, polished wood shining under the light of the chandeliers. You could imagine balls taking place here, women wearing beautiful gowns and men in tuxes made by the biggest names in fashion, mingling and sharing drinks. Now, the room was a ghost of its former glory, a place that belonged in a horror film instead of a period drama.

Jimin's hand slipped from yours and you reached blindly for him. The room wasn't in total darkness but it was dark enough to make you nervous.

In all of your observation of the staircase you hadn't noticed that there was something in the space under the stairs. A boy was curled up on a ratty blanket so thin, it must have been doing nothing to shield him from the cold granite underneath. Yoongi was kneeling next to him but you couldn't make out his features or if he was talking or not. You were too far to hear anything and the building was by no means quiet (you had a suspicion that a family of mice or cockroaches had made its home somewhere inside and you prayed you were wrong). You approached cautiously.

"-alone. Please, don't go again. I'm fine," you could hear the boy saying as you got closer. His voice was croaky, from disuse or pain you weren't sure. He must have been the one Yoongi wanted you to help. You couldn't see him clearly but you could make out the ears peeking out from his hair. Another hybrid.

Yoongi was holding his hand. "You aren't fine, I had to do something. I brought help."

The boy hadn't noticed you so far, he must have been pretty bad if he didn't hear you coming in and didn’t notice your scent. When his eyes landed on you he only curled up tighter with a whimper.

"We're here to help you, not hurt you," you said, coming a little closer when Yoongi didn't hiss at you. You showed him the medical kit you were holding. "I only want to help if you let me."

He didn't uncurl from the ball he had created with his body but Yoongi looked at you expectantly. You knelt on the floor next to the blanket, ridiculously aware of the dust and grime your expensive pants must be gathering. Your mind was jumping from one place to the next so it wasn't surprising that for some reason it decided it was worth it to worry about dirtying your pants. With Yoongi's help, you coaxed him out of the ball so you could start treating him. After turning on the flashlight on your phone, you handed it to Jimin, instructing him to keep it steady while you worked.

The boy clenched his eyes shut at the light, you wondered how long he had stayed here in semi-darkness.

You opened the first aid kit and took stock of the supplies inside, everything was there. You didn't know the extent of his injuries but his labored breathing and sharp flinches whenever he moved told you enough. In the artificial light, you took a better look at the boy laying on the floor. His hair was a reddish shade of orange. A fluffy tail was half-hidden behind his body. A fox hybrid. You had never seen once before.

The awe and curiosity didn’t last long. Your eyes were drawn on his swollen eye, a shocking purple painting his skin. It wasn't the only place tainted with color. His cheek had a purplish bruise as well and his lips were cut in two places. A trail of blood had dried underneath his nose.

"I'll start with your face, okay?" you asked, but the hybrid didn't reply, he just tightened his hold on the blanket. Taking off his clothes, to tend to the rest of the injuries you were sure were hiding underneath, would only make him more uncomfortable. You pulled out a water bottle from your bag, you were always carrying one with you, and poured a small amount on a white cloth. Before the cloth could touch his face, you spoke up, "My name is Y/N. Do you want to tell me your name?"

Wide fearful eyes turned to Yoongi, who gestured vaguely with his hand. "H-Hoseok," the boy whispered.

"Hoseok," you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. "That's a nice name. I like the way it sounds." Gently, you dabbed the cloth on his bottom lip, the boy flinched at the contact. He didn't pull away so you continued. "I'm not a professional, I'm not a doctor or a nurse or anything. My profession is actually very different from that, though I did have to play nurse a few times. I would like to think I'm quite good at this by now. I've taken a few lessons, I was fascinated with first aid when I was younger. I don't even know why."

You continued speaking while tending to the wounds on his face. Earlier in your life you had discovered that talking, or at least listening to someone speak, would take the other's mind off the pain a little. By the time you were finished with his face, you had told him the whole story of how you had come to learn first aid and how you had panicked and forgotten everything you had learnt the first time someone had fainted in front of you, only remembering what to do when a friend of yours had pinched you. Hoseok listened to everything you said silently, his lips curling up a tiny bit at the last story. Maybe you exaggerated a bit and you made way too many hand gestures for someone supposed to be tending to his wounds but it seemed to be working.

Yoongi helped him pull off his shirt and you heard a gasp from behind you as his torso was revealed. His body was toned but a few of his ribs were pushing out in ways they probably shouldn't. It wasn't too bad but it was clear he hadn't been eating well for some time. But that wasn't the worst and it wasn't what you noticed first. Large bruises littered his body and what looked like the imprint of a hand was left on his bicep.

Switching topics, you told him about your first time coming to Los Angeles. Hoseok let out a breath as you started speaking again. As you checked his ribs, you recalled your very first days in the city, when you had been as excited as afraid to go to University in a brand new city where you had no friends. He hissed at the contact, but didn't object otherwise. You observed the way he breathed, taking note of the heavy bruising over his ribcage. You applied salve over the area and all the other bruises on his torso and the few on his back, the front had taken the blunt of whatever had happened. You had a suspicion but didn't speak of it yet.

His right arm was broken, he was holding it immobile close to his body. One touch and you were certain of it. Disinfecting a rather large cut on his arm, you wrapped it in gauze after coating the injury in a thin layer of cream. The cream smelled awful and was a sickly green color but you could testify to how effective it was. You did your best to make a cast for the arm, you hadn't done it before outside of a class and it was more of a struggle than you had expected. When his arm was secured in the cast, you trailed off your recounting of a stupid fight you had with one of your cousins that resulted in both of you getting lost. You were done. Hoseok looked at you with wide eyes, as if asking you why you stopped.

"This is it, we're all done," you said, rubbing your hands together with hand sanitizer like you had before treating him. "When did he... get injured?"

"Why do you need to know?" Yoongi asked, at the same time as Hoseok croaked out, "Yesterday."

"What pill I give him to relieve the pain depends on when he got hurt. Some kinds could slow down the healing process if they are taken less than 48 hours after the injury." Digging into the small suitcase-like kit, you handed him two paracetamol tablets along with the water bottle. There was still had some water inside. "It will numb the pain, it takes about an hour to work," you explained.

Hoseok tentatively took the pills and bottle from you. He drunk the water in one gulp and you were reminded again that he might have gone without water for some time. "Thank you," he said, his eyes on the blanket.

You sighed, getting up from the floor and dusting off your pants. Just like you had expected, two white patches were left on your knees. "I'm afraid, other than a broken arm, you might have fractured one of your ribs. I noticed the area hurts more than the rest and you have some trouble breathing." Jimin who hadn't moved much while you were working, latched himself on your back. The situation was too familiar for him. The injuries, the smell of the disinfectant and the fear in Hoseok's eyes. And just like that night your heart was clenching, begging you to do more. It worked once, why wouldn't it again? The traitorous organ whispered.

Yoongi had sat on the blanket next to Hoseok, who had crawled closer to him, his side touching leg. The silence is broken as your phone starts ringing again. You had set it on silent so whoever is calling you must have made many attempts. You are expecting to see Namjoon's name flash on the screen with the wolf and moon emojis, but instead it is the name of one of the producers.

While tending to Hoseok, you had almost forgotten you had to be at work after the supposedly short trip to the coffee shop. You had to take this. At the other side of the staircase, close to a door that led to what must have been a dining room once, you answered the call.

Everyone had been looking for you, worried about your absence. You had never been late to work before, often you would show up before you were scheduled to, in order to get some additional work done. Three missed call, that's how many times just the producer had called you. His worry soon turned into irritation, asking you why you didn't inform them and why you weren't answering your phone. They had called everyone close to you to find out what had happened and no one had any answers.

You were more than an hour late. An hour you were supposed to spend guiding the actors and getting the first feeling of a few scenes. Those plans went down the drain.

You peeked over the railing of the staircase. Jimin was standing closer to the space Hoseok was laying under the stairs. They were talking but they were being quiet and you couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud voice of the producer coming from the phone and your own too loud thoughts. You tried to explain yourself, staying as close to the truth as possible, which was admittedly difficult. In the end, you used the personal emergency card. Although the producer didn't sound convinced, he let you off, scolding you half-heartedly about calling next time instead of leaving them in the dark looking for you and thinking about the worst.

Ending the call, you looked through all the ones you missed and the texts they had sent you. You replied to a few of the texts, giving the same answer as you had to the producer. There were several from Zayn, asking where you were and if you were okay. In the final one he asked you to call him as soon as you could. Guilt gnawed at your insides. You had left him alone waiting for you for forty minutes, until he was sure there was no chance of you coming. You were an awful friend. Namjoon had also sent you a few messages. Someone had called the land-line at your house. No word from you. You and Jimin had both disappeared. Cradling your heavy heart, you sent a message to Namjoon assuring him that Jimin was with you and you were both alright. You hoped that would be enough for now.

Pocketing your phone you walked around the stairs. Closer to them you could pick up parts of their conversation. Yoongi and Jimin were arguing, silent tears streaming down Jimin's face. You held yourself back from running to him and pulling him away from whatever was hurting him. This was Jimin's battle, you would let him fight it. He rarely spoke of the demons of his past but they were many and frightening with long claws and sharp teeth.

Jimin suddenly reached for your hands. "Tell them, tell them to come home with us. Please, they can't stay here. We have a lot of space in the house, they can take one of the rooms until he heals."

Your mouth was faster than your brain. That was a problem you didn't have to worry about before but something was changing. "They can come home with us if they want." Yoongi hissed, ready to protest. "A fractured rib isn't a trivial matter, he would need medical supervision but I can guess you don't want to go to a hospital. I can tend to it until he gets better, he will need medication to relieve the pain and plenty of bed rest. This place will only slow his healing."

"Yoongi, please. Let me..." He stopped with a sniffle. "Just come with us. I need you to come with us." That seemed to break any of the resolve the older hybrid had. Hoseok didn't react at all, remaining curled in on himself.

"Okay, we'll come," Yoongi said. "We'll come, but we'll leave as soon as he's better.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It should be way more surprising when you show up at the Castle with Jimin and two unfamiliar hybrids in tow. The initial surprise lasted only a few minutes before everyone just sort of accepts this. Namjoon was the most wary but you couldn't blame him, his instincts were screaming to protect his pack and while Hoseok in his condition was by no means a threat, Yoongi didn't exactly look friendly. Jungkook had hopped away soon after with Jin. The bunny hybrid wasn’t good with strangers. You suspected that he had inherited some bunny instincts that made him jumpy and easily afraid around predators.

You led the two new hybrids to the guest room with the two queen beds on the second floor, and like you had with Jin, you gave them the key. Yoongi looked at you suspiciously but didn't say anything. Hoseok fell asleep as soon as his body hit the soft mattress. Their reaction to the house had been similar to most people’s. Wide eyes and disbelief. It didn’t serve to calm Yoongi down, instead he looked like you had been leading him straight into some sort of trap.

Jimin stuck close to you as you called John from your office. He was one of the first people your team had called, it just happened that the day they needed him was the day he hadn't accompanied you. He was fuming when he answered, worried out of his mind and, unlike the producer, he didn't let you off easily. You had been rash, forgot about any rational thoughts, put yourself and Jimin in danger, didn't call anyone for backup in case something happened. Those hybrids could have been serial killers for all you knew. The list went on and on.

"I'm coming over as soon as I can," he said. "I have to see those hybrids for myself. You can't just go around picking up hybrids like they are new projects. What mess have you gotten yourself in this time?"

"Hopefully, not too big of one," you muttered. "You don't have to come, really. I've got everything under control and it's your week off. I took the rest of the day off so I'll be home. I swear I'll call you if anything happens."

"There is no way I'm leaving you in the house with two hybrids you just picked up from the street and decided to nurse back to health-"

"One of them is fine," you interrupted him.

Yoongi didn't have any visible injuries other than his bloody knuckles and a slit lip he wouldn't let you touch. Even if he had more, there was no way he would let you tend to them.

"And that makes it better how?" John asked. "I mean, good for him he isn't injured, but that doesn't guarantee your safety. If he is fine, he could try something. Don't forget that hybrid's have human DNA too, there are bad apples regardless of how much you want to keep looking at the good ones. Just because it worked once, doesn't mean it will work again. "

Jimin was sitting on the edge of your desk, his head tilted to the side. He could hear everything with his hearing. You ruffled his blond hair and he leaned into your touch. "It isn't the same," you said.

"Isn't it? It sounds awfully a lot like something I've heard before." John sighed. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgment, but lately you act then ask questions lately. I trust you but I don't trust everyone you take into your house. They could take all of your jewelry before they disappear or it could be much much worse."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely defenseless." The first years John was assigned to you, he had decided to teach you the basics of self-defense. He couldn't always be with you and you hadn't been able to throw a punch to save your life. The lessons had paid off and, although you were no black belt student, you could defend yourself to an extent if you had to. "I'm serious, you don't have to come over. What about Alice? She wouldn't want her father running off when he promised her he would spend the week with her."

John huffed. "You are evil, using my daughter against me."

"I will add it to my resume," you said. "I'm alright and I'm going to be alright. You know I'm not alone, if anything happens we can count on each other, and you can come in a few days when your break is over and check in."

"I'll accept this only because I have heard Namjoon growl when he thinks someone in his pack is threatened," you felt warmth seep in your cheeks when John mentioned so casually that you were part of their pack, "and Jungkook has gained enough muscle in the last few months to launch a nice punch if he needs to protect himself or someone." It was difficult to imagine your sweet bunny hybrid punching anyone, especially given the way you had found him, but it was true that the time he spent in the gym paid off.

John didn't come over. He stayed with his daughter because he had promised they would go to the zoo together as soon as she woke up from her afternoon nap. You went through a few papers after the phone call, reassuring yourself multiple times that the whole TV show wouldn’t crumble because you had taken one day off work (you really needed to work on your sense of self-importance). Jimin had turned his body on the desk so he could see what you were doing without taking up too much space.

They would be fine without you. The conclusion wasn't hard to reach but you had tortured yourself a lot over it. Missing days of work was almost unheard for you. You scheduled your life around your work schedule, the breaks were on specific dates and you didn't need to take extra ones. To miss work, you had to be so sick you couldn't get out of bed without fainting.

You put the papers in their respective folders and placed them back on the bookshelves. "Now that we are alone, do you think you can tell me what happened?" you asked, feeling Jimin's eyes on your back.

"I-" He averted his gaze, his fingers wrapping and unwrapping on the hem of his shirt, wrinkles forming on the material and smoothing out again. "I'm sorry."

You walked around the desk, coming closer to him. "That's not what I wanted to hear. A warning before taking off would have been nice, though. My mind went to the worst possibility and you wouldn't answer my calls or wait for me."

Jimin was about to apologize but stopped himself. "I couldn't lose him. I couldn't stop running, I couldn't lose him again. I couldn't really hear you... It was like a fog was over everything other than the path I was following. I needed to make sure it was Yoongi, that he was alright."

You touched Jimin's thighs, situating him better on the desk so you were standing between his legs. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He hesitated before reaching for your hand and holding it in his. He brought it close to his face and started nuzzling on your wrist. He had told you your scent calmed him and he liked it when your scents mingled. Placing a kiss on the center of your wrist, he pulled back a little, keeping your hand in his.

"He was there, in my old house," he said. "I was around sixteen when he was brought in. My owner didn't say why he was there but Yoongi is a panther hybrid, he could brag about him to his friend and he was also a guard. He was supposed to be protecting the house, to be protecting me. I was all alone there and then I wasn't. He was suddenly there and I wanted a friend so bad. Yoongi was gentle and he was kind, he would stay with me when I was feeling lonely. He cooked for me when he could, the food was delicious. I remember loving it but I'm not sure it was because of the food itself or because he was the one who had cooked it. Maybe both." He lowered his head, his cat ears pinned to his head. "We did something. We did something very bad. He took Yoongi away and I was returned to the adoption center. I never learnt what he did to him. I thought..." His voice cracked.

You shushed him, stepping even closer and taking his into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you against his chest. "He's alright. You're safe here. This is a safe place."

"I know," he mumbled into your shoulder. "I know."

You cupped his neck with one hand, rubbing small circles with your thumb on his neck. "Do you trust him? Do you trust him to stay here until Hoseok recovers?"

He nodded. "I trust him, I would trust him with my life."

You held him in silence for some time, just feeling him breath against your chest. "What did you do with Yoongi?" you asked, curious. Jimin stiffened, you felt like he was holding his breath. "You don't have to tell me."

His body relaxed a little, leaning on you. "I can't, we shouldn't have done it. We betrayed him. I couldn't hold myself back, I was weak. I'm stronger now, I promise. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if your hated me."

What he said made you jolt back. Jimin whined lowly but you were quick to cup his soft cheek. "I could never hate you. Nothing in this world could make me hate you," you said, gazing into his watery eyes. Even with tears threatening to fall, he looked beautiful. "My Jiminie. Nothing you say will ever change my feelings about you. Your past doesn't define you. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it."

"But you don't."

You didn't understand what he meant. "What?" You looked into his eyes but you only found sadness there. The small smile on his lips hurt more than his tears would.

He sniffled. "Don't leave me. Don't throw me away," he pleaded.

You squeezed his thigh, leaning your forehead against his. "Never, I'll never leave you. I will always watch over you, I swear."

“I’m not worth it. I’m not worthy of the care you give me,” he whimpered.

“You are. You are worth everything and so much more.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Namjoon was sitting on the largest couch in the living room, a documentary about ocean life playing on TV. His ears twitched a little when he heard you climbing up the stairs. You stayed standing for a moment, watching the screen as a blue whale emerged from the water shooting up a water water spray like a fountain. Their tails flapped against the water. Such magnificent creatures. They were endangered species, the man speaking explained, hunted and killed for their meat and blubber. On top of that, pollution, vessel strikes, entanglement in traps and nets and more.

If there was one thing humans knew how to do is destroy beautiful things.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? Or some variation of it?” You turned away from the screen and settled on the couch, leaving some distance between you. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you before springing this on you.”

“I can handle it, I think,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think Jimin left you much of a choice if he ran after him. If his mind is set on something, he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“Do you know anything about him? Yoongi? Jimin told me some things but he doesn’t want to say everything.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I didn’t even know he existed until now. Jimin never mentioned it. He doesn’t like talking about his past. I can understand, but then things like this happen. I just wish he shared more with us, so we could help him.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I feel the same. But it’s only temporary. In about a week Hoseok will be well enough to go. Not completely healed, that could take up to a month or more, but he will be better.”

He cracked a small smile. “You can’t really stand there doing nothing, can you?”

You couldn’t, could you? You had always been one to try to help in any way you could. It didn’t matter what the problem was, you wanted to help. An issue at work, a dilemma one of your friends was facing, human rights, poverty, hunger. Homeless injured hybrids. But you usually were careful, you would think the problem over, review all the points and then try to find a solution.

Since when did you throw caution to the wind?

You liked to pride yourself on your mind. You could see the things other people couldn’t and laid new paths when others hadn’t bothered to stray a foot from the blocked road. It felt like you were slipping.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you said, hiding your face in your hands. “Jimin was so sad and Hoseok’s ribs are fractured-”

Namjoon cut you off by tugging at your arm. He pulled you closer to him. “I trust you, you know I trust you.”

“That doesn’t always make things better,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you trusted me and I’m wrong? And, I don’t know, something really bad happens.”

“Then we’ll face the consequences together.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll tell you if I think you’re wrong and we will work it out. Now, I’m not sure. We don’t know what happened or why one of them has fractured ribs and a broken arm. I saw the blood on Yoongi’s hands. All we know is that he was part of Jimin’s past.”

The screen was darker as lion fish were swimming around the bottom of the sea, illuminated by blue light. They weren’t afraid of the diver, aware of the poison in their back spines, the narrator said.

You shuffled around a little, getting comfortable on Namjoon’s side. His arm snaked around your waist, settling on your hip. The words unsaid between the two of you were choking you.

“Jungkook came to me earlier,” he said. “He was crying. He told me he had done something horrible, something he couldn’t forgive himself for. It took me hours to calm him down. He said I needed to find Jimin and make sure he was okay. After what he had done, Jungkook said he wouldn’t want to see him again.”

You frowned. “Jungkook said that?” That sounded nothing like the sweet boy you knew. Sure, Jungkook liked joking around, teasing all of you and he could be very stubborn. But he looked at Jimin like he was his muse and whatever he created would be bland and pointless without him. “Jimin caught me last minute before I left the house. He didn’t look well, he was panicked. It was like he was trying to escape something. He didn’t tell me what happened and I didn’t want to push him and make things worse. Where is Jungkook?"

“At the atelier, Jin is there with him. I don't know what we'd do without him," Namjoon said. You agreed. Jin had slotted into your lives like he was always meant to be there. "What about Jimin? Wasn't he with you?"

"He came with me to my office, before I came upstairs he said he was tired and he left to go to your room."

The sun was setting outside, the sky turning navy as the colors of the day receded. You felt like only a few minutes ago you had been about to walk out the door to meet up with Zayn.

Namjoon's hand was rubbing your arm up and down, the touch calming something deep inside you. You had so many questions, so many doubts about what you were doing. There were so many ways this could go wrong. Jimin was in a fragile state. If what Jungkook had told Namjoon was true to some extent, Jimin would be in a really bad place. On top of that, a person from his past showing up could ruin all his progress. Most of all, you were afraid your Jimin would get hurt.

"You're thinking too loud again."

You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder. "I'm not." You turned to the TV trying to erase the look on your face. The deepest parts of the sea were home to so many creatures. Small and large, all of them had adapted to live in darkness. Adapting. Such an interesting skill.

You squirmed in Namjoon's arms, he loosened his hold on you so you could sit up straighter. You hadn't talked about the night when you had been beating yourself up for saying the wrong thing, Jin's retreating form, head lowered, haunting you. Namjoon had a way to make your brain go quiet, something you hadn't learnt how to do regardless of how much you tried. You had been floating and for once you had fallen asleep without tossing and turning.

But you hadn't talked and you couldn't decide if it was better that way or if it would only serve to torment you further. The doubts came, like they always did, and you weren't ready to deflect them.

Namjoon's clever eyes were on you as you traced invisible swirls from his shoulder, his neck and up his face. Your knuckles ran over his cheek in a feather-light touch. His hand covered yours, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss in the center of your palm. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest.

"Can I?" he asked, leaning closer. You could do nothing but nod. His lips touched yours gently at first, before both of you got lost in the feeling. This kind of kissing was reserved for books and movies, it wasn't something that was supposed to happen in real life and yet... How could you settle for anything less after this?

This, this was something you could write about. Something to fill up all those blank pages taunting you. Paragraphs upon paragraphs attempting to describe that feeling spreading through your whole body. You could spend your whole life trying to put this moment into words and it would be worth it.

You pulled back. A flush had crept up on Namjoon's cheeks and his hair was mussed. You probably didn't look any better. Hopefully, your makeup could cover any redness on your skin.

Your hand was still in his, held against his cheek.

"What are we doing?" you asked him, breathy from the kiss that had overtaken your whole being. "What does this mean?"

"What do you want this to be?"

Your lips twitched up. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

Namjoon combed a hand through your hair, twisting a strand loosely around his fingers before letting go. "It can mean whatever we want it to mean. Whatever we need it to be."

On a moment, his back straightened and he looked at the stairs. You followed his gaze but saw nothing. A few seconds later, your human ears were able to pick up steps climbing up the staircase. You got up from the couch and straightened the wrinkles on your clothes. An itch to change into clean clothes nagged at you, preferably after taking a nice long shower, but there were still things needed to be done.

Black hair was the first thing you saw before the rest of Jin came into view, but you had already guessed who it was by the careful steps he was taking. Living with them, you could distinguish between the ways they climbed up the stairs. Jungkook ran up, eager to reach his destination. Jimin occasionally skipped some steps, light on his feet like he was floating his way up. Namjoon's step were light as well and he was the most likely to miss, stalking up the stairs silently as if on a hunt. Jin was careful and measured in everything he did and this was no different.

The sugar glider hybrid glanced around, his eyes landing on the two of you in the living room. He shifted his weight on his feet.

"Hey," you said softly, coming closer. "Is Jungkook still in the atelier ?"

Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, even though he tended to stick to the other hybrids like glue. Whatever had happened earlier was enough to make him change his habits.

"He's in the middle of a painting," Jin said, biting his bottom lip. It was obvious he was worried as well, but trying to make excuses for the youngest. "I'm going to cook dinner."

The sun had set by now but you couldn't comprehend how late it had gotten. Time to make dinner. On an average work day you would be wrapping up now and checking off the tasks you had completed, making sure everything was going according to plan before leaving.

"I'll help you then," you said, nudging his hands with yours. The two of you go to the kitchen and Jin starts pulling out bowls from the cupboards. "What are we making?"

Jin paused. "Now that you're here, we can make whatever you want. But I can cook. You should rest, you must be tired."

"No more tired than usual." It was true in a weird way. Your body was actually feeling less like it would need to sleep for a week to restore all its functions and more like something heavy you didn't recognize had wrapped itself around your shoulders. "You? How are you feeling?"

Jin fiddled with one of the bowls. "I'm alright."

On a couple shelves, away from where most of the action took place, your cookbooks were lined in neat rows. You picked up one of your favorites, the well-known chef smiling at you from the cover.

"It's okay if you aren't," you said. "It was very unexpected. It'd be understandable if you felt uncomfortable or upset. I didn't get a chance to warn you before bringing practically two strangers into your home."

The bowl was apparently very fascinating for Jin because he was looking nowhere else as he forced a smile. "I couldn't be upset. I was a stranger coming here, too."

You left the cookbook on the counter. "The circumstances were different. I had called the others before adopting you and we had all agreed that I would bring you home with me. I adopted you, you came to stay. They will be leaving soon."

"It's just... I'm not used to strangers," he admitted.

You moved around the kitchen island, standing next to him. You gave him space in case he wanted to move away but he only leaned closer to you. "This is your home and all I want for you is to feel safe here. I'm sorry I didn't call you to ask before bringing them here. I don't want you to act like you don't mind if you actually do. You have a right to be upset."

You brought your foreheads together, rubbing gently. A rare purr escaped Jin and although his cheeks reddened he didn't pull away at the sound like he used to do.

The kitchen filled with noise as you started preparing the dishes. You had decided on chicken with honey and garlic as the main dish and you would make a few side-dishes because you didn't know what the new hybrids liked to eat. Halfway through, when you had added the honey, the diced garlic and the soy sauce in the pan, the itch under your skin got too long and you left to go shower.

Washing away the day felt almost cathartic. The worst parts of it falling down the drain. It was your favorite part of coming home, second only to seeing your hybrids and spending time with them. Freshly washed and dressed into sweatpants and a comfortable top, you got out of your room. Dinner wasn't ready yet but Jin didn't need any more help. Any other day you would get your laptop and open one of the files in your to-do-list but this time you climbed down the stairs to the second level.

Knocking on the door, you took a step back and waited.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice you recognized as Yoongi's called from inside.

"It's Y/N." You didn't elaborate further, curious to see what he would do. Contrary to what you had expected, you heard the key being turned. The door opened, Yoongi peeking at you through the crack.

"What do you want?"

"Dinner is almost ready," you said. "I came to check in on you. Has Hoseok woken up? I wanted to see how well the medication worked."

You could sense Yoongi contemplating shutting the door in your face before a small voice from inside said, "I'm awake."

Yoongi muttered under his breath but opened the door further letting you in. The room was mostly untouched, only the bed Hoseok had been sleeping in gave an indication that someone had been inside. Yoongi had taken a shower but changed back into his own clothes, which he had pulled out from the small duffel bag. The green duffel bag, as worn as their clothes, was the only thing they had carried with them. It was small and certainly not enough for two people to live out of.

Hoseok was laying on the bed, making himself as small as he could without aggravating his injuries. In the hand that wasn't in the cast, he was clinging to the blanket he had with him in the abandoned building. It desperately needed to be washed but you weren't sure it could be salvaged. The light in the room was in the lower setting not to aggravate his eyes. His fluffy tail was curled around his waist, dirt staining it and parts sticking together with grime.

He stuttered answering your questions but overall he looked better. The granite floor with only a thin blanket to lay on wasn't a place someone could actually rest on. You offered to bring him some clothes to change into. Unlike Yoongi, he accepted.

Jacob's clothes had really come in handy. You would have never guessed that you would find a use for them when he left them behind. You had even considered throwing them out at one of your lowest points. Jacob's promise to remain friends and the excuse he would be coming over had been proven a lie or just wistful thinking. They weren't taking too much space, considering how large your closet was, but you had no use for them but sentimental memories you no longer needed. Until February, that is.

Some of Namjoon's clothes would fit Hoseok better, but you dismissed the idea without considering it. The hybrid's scent would be too prominent on the clothes. Jimin liked wearing the others' clothes because he claimed he loved being enveloped in their scents. It was also the reason he had stolen one of your hoodies that fit him and refused to give it back.

Jacob's scent had faded from his clothes after so many months, Namjoon had confirmed it. He had left in early December, five months had come and passed since then. You could remember the months leading up to the break up. It wasn't the fights, there weren't many of them, but the silence and the distance that had broken you. You had been at work all day and he had been at the studio. When he went out you either couldn't go because you were busy or you were too tired to. He didn't get your hobbies. He wasn't a fan of reading and he didn't let you listen to his tracks before they were ready. You weren't good at giving feedback, he had told you laughing after you had said the track felt like something was missing in the chorus. You had been getting further and further apart for more than a year. The house was but a way to fool yourself that everything was alright.

Yoongi had helped Hoseok shower, following your advice to not ruin the cast on his arm and wet the bandages you had wrapped around some of the deeper wounds.

Dinner was different. You had carried two trays down with Jin's help for the two hybrids. It was better for Hoseok not to move and even if he could, Yoongi wouldn't be thrilled at the idea. Jungkook didn't come up for dinner. He wouldn't leave the atelier and Jin carried another tray to him, because there was no way he would let him go without eating. Jimin asked after him. He didn't speak for the rest of dinner picking up the food on his plate with a guilty expression on his face.

John did come the next morning. He didn't press and didn't threaten anyone, not that you had expected him to but it was a relief nonetheless. John was an intimidating man with his height and bulkiness. Yoongi hissed, backing into a corner when he saw him. John looked him up and down, taking in his split lip, the bruises and his worn clothes, and then showed you a picture of his daughter on his phone. Yoongi regarded him for a little longer before disappearing again.

Jungkook and Jimin were avoiding each other. Jungkook did everything in his power not to find himself in the same room as Jimin, getting up and leaving whenever Jimin entered. The hurt on Jimin's face was heartbreaking every time it happened. You tried to comfort him but you couldn't do much when you were gone most of the day and you had to check Hoseok's injuries every morning and night.

You were in your office scanning a few documents when the email was delivered. Your hand froze, unable to comprehend the contents at first.

There was a knock on the half-opened door. Namjoon walked inside. "Are you coming for dinner?"

You looked up from your phone. "I have to go to Virginia the day after tomorrow."

#bts #bts hybrid au #btscreatorscorner #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #jikook #yoonmin #sope

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

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Merry Christmas | Fred x Reader

Prompt requested by @n3ssm0nique: Best friends were all that you and Fred were. Right? Or at least that’s what you thought. But will Christmas at the Burrow change things?

Warnings: literally absolute adorable fluff JFC, Fred being adorable, George being George

Word Count: 5.6k words

A/N: I AM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC IT IS SO FUCKING CUTE My first Fred fic, babeyyy!! Weasley Nation Rise! Just an FYI, we are wholeheartedly pretending that the Burrow didn’t get destroyed for this fic hehe.

Flashbacks told in italics.

“Thank you for letting me stay with your family for the holiday, Mrs. Weasley,” you graciously tell the woman in the kitchen who hovers over a kettle, brewing you a cup of tea. You sit on a chair in the dining room, keeping quietly to yourself, hands folded in your lap. The sunlight streams in from the window, warming you up, the tip of your nose still chilly from your travels here. The Burrow was still quiet; it was early in the morning when you arrived, expecting everyone to be up, but you should have known better that only Molly Weasley would be up at this hour. Everyone wanted to catch up on their sleep while on holiday from school.

Mrs. Weasley turned around to offer you the warmest smile, “No need to thank me, dear. You are always welcome in our home. And please, call me Molly.” She pours you a cup of tea in a delicate piece of china that you knew she saved for when guests came in fear that if she used it in her regular rotation of dining wear her children were bound to break it. “Drink up, dear. You must be freezing. The wind is unforgiving this time of year,” she adds, wrapping a blanket around you making you smile at her motherly gesture.

This year you were spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys due to your parents work schedule. They were traveling abroad for work which made you upset that this would be the one year you haven’t spent the holidays together. But when you mentioned in passing that you would be spending the holidays alone this year in passing to George Weasley, he insisted that you would spend it with the Weasleys. You told him that the offer was kind, but you didn’t mind going to your aunt and uncle’s house to spend it with them and your cousins, but George said you would have more fun spending it with his family. Which you knew he was right, so you eventually gave in.

Spending Christmas with the Weasleys also meant more time with Fred which made your heart flutter. You had been best friends with the twins since year three, but you and Fred became especially close in your fourth year. Since then, you two were inseparable. But the more time you spent with Fred, you eventually grew romantic feelings for him. You feared that these new feelings towards Fred would ruin your friendship, so you had kept it all bottled up, knowing that it was best to just stay friends and nothing more.

As you sipped on your tea, still wrapped up in the blanket Moly gave you, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Molly hovered over the stove again, this time cooking up a large amount of breakfast foods for the many people who would be dining this morning. “Oh, (Y/N)!” Ginny says when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t know you were coming this early,” she skips over to you, giving you a large hug. You had always taken a liking to Ginny and how outspoken she was. You had to be if you were the only girl amongst the Weasley boys. “Fred! George! (Y/N) is here!” Ginny yells up the stairs. “Wait until they see you. They couldn’t shut up about how excited they were for you to get here. Especially Fred,” she tells you with a wink. Ginny knew about your little crush on Fred after she coerced you to tell her after she told you about her crush on Harry.

After the words fall out of Ginny’s mouth, you hear bumbling and crashing from up the stairs before wild running down the stairs. “Easy, boys!” Molly yells at them while flipping bacon over in the pan. “(Y/N) is not going anywhere! No need to rush,” she laughs at them before looking at you with a smile. Molly knew how much her boys loved you. She shook her head while laughing, continuing to cook up enough sunny side eggs to choke a horse.

George saw you first and a beaming smile came on his face. “There she is!” he yells as you laughed, scooping you up in the biggest hug, spinning you around. “I’m so glad you’re here!” he exclaims as you wildly giggle. He places you down gently before looking over at his mother, “Merlin’s beard, Mum, the poor girl is in a straitjacket the way you bundled her up.” George helps you get out of the blanket, wrapping it over your shoulders lightly. “Much better, right? Now you can give people a proper hug,” he teases, hugging you once more.

“Hey, save some for the rest of us,” a voice calls from behind George. You pull away from George and see Fred patiently waiting to give you a warm welcome. When your eyes meet, your heart instantly starts beating faster and a pink hue makes its way up to your cheeks, warming your face instantly. A small smile dances on your lips as Fred gives you a cheeky grin. “Hey, you,” he winks, making his way over to you.

Fred engulfs you in a hug, picking you up and spinning you around similar to George, holding onto you tightly. He puts you down as you beam, hands resting on his shoulders. “Hi, Fred,” you smile up at him, eyes locked on his, allowing yourself to relax under his touch. The joy on his face was evident, his eyes twinkling with happiness and his mouth drawn into a toothy smile.

The two of you just stood there for a moment before George clears his throat, making his presence still known. “Alright, enough of that you two,” he speaks, knowing very well that the two of you had unspoken feelings for the other. George liked using that as leverage against the two of you when he wanted something to go his way. And this holiday, he was going to make sure that the two of you were going to confess those feelings to each other. “We’re glad that you came for the holiday, (Y/N). It’s gonna be wicked time.”

You pull your gaze away from Fred, peeling your hands away from his shoulders, but Fred keeps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as you smile. This was fine for best friends, right? “I was just telling your mum thank you for having me. I’m excited that I can spend it with my best friends and their family,” you beam as Fred squeezes your shoulders.

“Breakfast!” Molly calls to the rest of the house. With that, you immediately hear footsteps run down the stairs that are unmistakably Ron’s.

Behind Ron follows Harry, the both of them with major bedhead, still in their pajamas. “When did (Y/N) get here?” Ron asks, raspy with morning voice, rubbing his eyes as he tries to get used to the sunlight.

You shake your head, “Good to see you too, Ronald.” He chuckles as you pull him into a big hug, Ron squeezing you tight. Ron was like your younger brother. He was always pushing your buttons, but in the most playful way possible. “Hey, Potter,” you rustle the other boy’s hair as he laughs, giving you a small hey.

Everyone gathered around the table, taking a seat and a plate, piling mixed breakfast foods onto it. The sounds of happy munching and forks hitting plates filled the air. Light chatter between siblings and friends ensued as you sat and took in the atmosphere. The Weasleys were always so happy and that’s why you loved the family so much. They always managed to make the best out of whatever situation was thrown at them. No matter how dark times got, they were able to find lightness and laughter. When you first became friends with the twins, you were in a really sad place, always very homesick. But when the twins came into your life, they brought so much joy and hope into your life. Now you can’t help but feel out of place when you are not with them.

Fred interrupts everyone’s conversations and speaks, “Since (Y/N) is the guest of the house, sorry Harry, you don’t count anymore,” Harry shrugs, “(Y/N) gets to pick what’s on the agenda for today.” Fred sends you a smile and a wink making you lightly chuckle.

“That seems like a big responsibility,” you say as everyone looks at you.

But before you can say anything else, Ginny grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair. “I need (Y/N) first to help me with something,” she tells the group. The twins look at her suspiciously, knowing that the youngest sibling was up to something. “It’s girl things. You wouldn’t understand. Right, Mum?” Ginny looks at her mother for support as Molly gives her a thumbs up and wink. “Right then, come on (Y/N),” she drags you to the stairs.

“Ginny, I didn’t even finish breakfast,” you laugh at the girl who has an iron grip on your hand as she pulls up the winding stairs of the Burrow.

Ginny just looks at you quickly before saying, “Ron can finish your plate. Besides, if you think breakfast was a lot of food, just wait until lunch.” With that, you make it to Ginny’s bedroom as she slams the door behind her. The fourteen year old sits on her bed as you slowly take a seat next to her. “So, are you and Fred gonna get together now that you’re here?” she excitedly ask.

You sigh. You wish it were that simple. “I don’t know, Gin,” you softly smile at her. “Anything can happen, honestly.” Ginny rolls her eyes as you laugh. “Give me your brush. I’ll braid your hair,” you tell her. A bright smile finds it way to her face as she grabs her hairbrush from her desk, handing it to you, turning so her back is facing you. Carefully, you brush out her long ginger hair, pushing it away from her face as Ginny happily sighs. “I’ve always wanted a younger sister,” you tell Ginny honestly. You did feel like Ginny was your sister in an odd, yet comforting way. When you first started hanging out with the twins and Ginny arrived to Hogwarts, she kind of latched herself onto you. At first, you were a little shocked, knowing that Ginny wasn’t like this around most people. But for some reason, she trusted you and you with her. Ginny became your little sister very quickly, always coming to you for advice and guidance when it came to school, boys, and everything in between.

“I always wanted a sister,” Ginny retorts, making you chuckle. “Seriously. It can be so much sometimes with all these boys in the house and it’s just me and mum. It’s always nice when you or Hermione visits. It gives me someone to talk to rather than having to constantly hang out with those bloody idiots,” she rolls her eyes, making you laugh.

From outside the door, you hear a hey! The two of you look at the door as Ginny springs to her feet and opens the door to reveal a Harry and Ron eavesdropping on your conversation. “Get out of here, you stupid gits!” Ginny chases them down the hall as the boys laugh wildly. You laugh at the young girl’s antics before she returns into the bedroom. “Do you see what I have to deal with everyday? Drives me mad.”

Ginny returns to the bed, sitting back down as you start to braid her hair. “Poor you,” you tease. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as you braid her long hair, the ginger hair now perfectly styled and swept back from her face. You pat her shoulders, letting her know she’s done as she takes a look in the mirror, smiling at the results. “Like it?”

“Love it,” she looks at you before coming back to sit next to you. “But anyway, I really do hope that you and Fred get together. You’re perfect for each other. And Merlin, he never shuts up about you. It would just make so much sense if you two were together.”

You knew Ginny was right. Fred and you were a match made. The two of you knew how to have a good laugh, but you balanced each other out. He was always there for you when you needed him most. Fred was everything you wanted. But you feared that he didn’t feel the same in contrast to what everyone told you. The fear of rejection from your best friend was a terrifying thought, so keeping things to yourself seemed like the best option. “We’ll see, Ginny. I’m hopeful,” you brush her cheek.

As you and Ginny sat in her bedroom, what you didn’t know was Fred and George were outside, leaned against the wall, eavesdropping on your conversation much more slyly than Harry and Ron. George bumps Fred in the shoulder with a smile as Fred blushes. This just made holiday much more interesting for everyone.

------

The week has gone nothing, but smoothly. Matches of quidditch in the backyard, playing chess, late night bonfires, and long chats all ensued throughout the week and it just made you sad that the holiday would be coming to a close in the upcoming days. You were having so much fun being around the Weasleys and staying in their home. It felt like home to you in a comforting, yet odd way. It felt like you belonged here. Molly treated you like a daughter and Arthur even forgot that you were going to leave at one point, thinking that you had moved in.

But in all of the fun, you and Fred hadn’t got a moment alone. You knew that George and Ginny both were anticipating when you two would finally make a move. Hell, everyone in the house was anticipating when you two would do something. But within the week the most intimate thing that happened was you waiting to use the bathroom and Fred getting startled that you were outside waiting, him still wet from the shower, towel tied around his waist. The two of you just stared at the both, bright red blushed on your cheeks. “I didn’t know you were waiting for the bathroom,” Fred had said. “You could have just come in. You know you’re always welcome too,” he said with a wink making you gulp. And with a wink he was gone, leaving you shocked and unable to speak.

Tonight was another bonfire, everyone in the backyard circled around the roaring crackling fire. The flames were the only things illuminating everyone’s faces. You looked around with a smile, enjoying the night. Ginny sat disgruntled and mad at Ron who sat in between her and Harry, Harry also a little pissed that Ron couldn’t take a hit that he would rather be snuggled up to Ginny rather than his best mate. You giggled at the sight, sipping on your hot chocolate as Ginny just glared at you. With her eyes, she gestured for you to git next to Fred would was just a seat over from you. George was too busy telling Ron a story about one of he and Fred’s many adventures when they first got to Hogwarts, Ron completely enthralled. Sit next to him, Ginny mouths to you.

Absolutely not, you mouth back, eyes darting to see if Fred was watching you. He just stared at the fire, legs kicked up resting on a log, his hands behind his head. I’m not gonna make the first move.

Ginny rolls her eyes. Just do it, she mouths before returning her attention to George and his story. You sigh, looking at your almost empty mug of cocoa. You look at Fred longingly, wanted to be cuddled up next to him under the blanket that rests on his lap. You imagined being able to rest your head on his shoulder, his strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you as you felt safer that ever. He’d kiss the top of your head before resting his head on yours, enjoying the way your body melted into his. As you get lost in your imagination, you realize that Fred has caught you staring at him. Your breath hitches in your throat and you blush, unable to look away from him.

Fred chuckles and smiles at you softly watching you as you are curled up in a ball on the chair just a few feet away from him. Your lips were perfectly pink and the tip of your nose a little red from the windchill in the air. The jumper you wore was pulled over your hands as you cradled the mug in your hands. You looked absolutely adorable as a small smile was on your lips. Fred sighed as you giggled a little at him. He just shook his head at you jokingly before dropping his left eye in a wink.

“I’m gonna go get more cocoa,” you announce to the group, but your eyes don’t leave Fred’s as if you were just directing the statement to him, as if you were telling him to follow you. You rise from your chair and make your way inside. There are small whispers being exchanged behind you that sound like words of encouragement as you smile to yourself before going inside. Shortly after, you hear footsteps follow you inside. As you go into the kitchen and pour yourself more cocoa, you turn your head to see Fred beside you. “Hey, tiger,” you tease him.

He laughs at your nickname for him, “Hey, gorgeous.” Your heart flutters, knowing that he’s been calling you that for years, but now when he says it, it has new meaning to you. “You alright?” he asks.

You nod, happily, turning to face him, ignoring the task you originally came in here for. “More than alright. The week has been lovely,” you tell him as the two of you walk aimlessly around the lower level of the Burrow. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay with you and your family for Christmas. It means the world to me,” you genuinely tell him.

Fred smiles, “Of course. There was no way George and I were gonna let you spend it alone or with some weird family members.” You play with the cuffs of your jumper nervously, a thousand thoughts dancing around in your head about where this conversation was going to go. The two of you come to a halt as Fred speaks, “You mean a lot to me, (Y/N).”

His confession makes your heart speed up. “You mean a lot to me, too, Fred,” you confess to him, looking deep into his eyes. “Truly.”

“I don’t think you quite understand how much you mean to me. You make me feel really happy, (Y/N),” Fred tells you, taking a step closer to him. The two of you were so close that you could hold a magazine between the two of you. You can feel his breath on your cheek as you look up at him, biting your lip gently. “I really don’t know what I would do if we had never met that day at Hogwarts,” he recalls making the two of you chuckle. You remember when you met in the common room, them mid prank on a poor first year student as you had joined in on the prank. From that moment on, Fred was infatuated with you, much to your surprise. “And now we’re on our last year at Hogwarts and I’m just scared that I won’t be able to see you as much as I’d like to.”

Impulsively, you take his hand in yours. “Don’t say that,” you shake your head. “I’ll see you all the time. I’ll make sure of it. I can’t imagine living life without you, Fred, honestly,” you tell him, speaking so raw and genuine from your heart. You wanted to kiss him so badly, comfort him that there was no way he was going to get rid of you. He had you and there was no way that either of you were letting go of the other. You were so deeply connected to other that the notion of losing each other was nauseating.

Fred smiles gently before looking upward, you following his line of sight. Above you dangles a small bunch of mistletoe. Your heart stops and then starts beating impossibly faster. The both of you look back at each other, a little smile dancing on both of your lips. This was a good excuse as ever to share a kiss, you could just blame it on the mistletoe. “Mistletoe,” Fred breathes out with a light laugh, you joining. “I hate breaking traditions,” he teases you as you laugh.

“I hate nothing more than breaking a tradition,” you tease back.

Fred looks at your lips and then back at your eyes, waiting for you to do something. Gently you nod as Fred leans in closer and closer. It was like this whole scene was in slow motion as you both lean in, waiting for your lips to collide gently. You couldn’t believe this was finally happening after years of waiting and longing. You were going to kiss Fred Weasley.

“Oh, sorry,” a voice interrupts you both as you jerk away from each other. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something,” you look over to see Ron awkwardly standing in the doorway before darting away back to the group outside as the group yells at him, Ron yelling back he didn’t know in defense.

Fred huffs, “What a bloody moron.”

The moment was gone. It was over. Your chances of getting that kiss from Fred was gone. You both knew it. The two of you looked at each other sadly as you sighed. You gave him a look that said I wanted you to kiss me. He gives you a sorry look as you just stand there for another moment. “Stupid Ron,” you break the silence, making Fred laugh.

He pulls you into his side, wrapping an arm around you. “Come on, the fire is still burning,” he tells you, walking outside. “I’m not letting you get away so easily, no matter how much of an idiot Ron is,” he whispers in your ear, making you blush. What a flirt.

As you return to the group, everyone stares at you two as you walk back together. “Nothing to see here,” Fred dismisses them all as Ginny groans loudly. Fred pulls you next to him on the loveseat that was outside, not wanting you away from him now that Ron disturbed your moment. “You really are a moron though, Ron.”

Ron furrows his brows and raises his arm in defense. “What’s going on?!” he says, completely confused. Was the boy really this clueless?

“Oh, you’re bloody joking,” George says, throwing a pillow at Ron, everyone joining in, hitting Ron with a pillow, everyone erupting with laughter as Ron tries to defend himself.

Although the moment was ruined between you and Fred, this moment was heartwarming as you all picked on Ron before returning to watching the fire burn out.

-----

Two days later, Christmas morning rolled around and Ginny jumped on top of you waking you up, excitedly. “Merry Christmas, you animal!” Ginny hugs you as you groan, slowly waking up. “Mum made pancakes and there’s presents downstairs! Come on, (Y/N)!” she pulls your hands up and out of bed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you laugh.

Suddenly, every Weasley is up and down the stairs in seconds as everyone takes their usual seats around the table. Arthur proudly shows off his muggle radio and explains that muggles listen to Christmas music this time of year, him tuning it until pleasant music emits from the small box. Molly plates everyone a large stack of pancakes dosed in maple syrup. You watch as Ginny squeals in excitement, sitting herself down next to Harry as you watch with a smile.

“Merry Christmas,” George gives you a hug.

You smile at your best friend and squeeze his torso. “Merry Christmas, Georgie.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname you coined for him as you laugh. You see Fred at the bottom of the stairs as he makes his way to you. “Merry Christmas, Fred,” you smile.

Fred pulls you into his chest for a bear hug as you sigh in him. “Merry Christmas, darling,” he whispers into your hair, placing a gentle kiss on the top. You can’t help, but blush at the gesture before the three of you take your seats at the table. “Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast? Merlin, mum, you really pulled out all the stops this year,” Fred teases his mother.

Molly smiles, “This Christmas is special this year so that warrants a special breakfast.” Molly sends a wink your way as she hands you a plate. “Merry Christmas, darling. Eat up.”

Everyone munches on the delicious plate of breakfast food, complimenting Molly on how extraordinary the meal was. And that’s when the presents start to come out. Molly and Arthur hand out presents to each of their children as the impatiently unwrap them. Each Weasley gets a hand knit sweater with their respective initial on them as you giggle as Ron pulls his over his head. It was absolutely adorable that they all had matching sweaters. “And don’t think we forgot about you two,” Molly speaks as she hands you and Harry boxes.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, Molly,” you tell her as she insists to open it. When you open it, you see a navy sweater with your initial on the front. “Oh, I love it!” you cheer. “Thank you so much,” you beam. You really did love it, immediately pulling it over your head to wear it over your pajama top.

Molly claps as you do so. “Now, you’re officially a Weasley. No need to marry Fred anymore,” she teases as Fred nearly spits out his pumpkin juice. “What?” she asks. “Did I say something wrong?” You just blush a wild shade of crimson that matches Ron’s sweater as Fred excuses himself, making George let out a wild laugh.

As if the timing couldn’t be anymore perfect, an owl flies through the window with a letter in its mouth. Arthur gets up and retrieves the letter from the owl before it flies away. “It’s for you, (Y/N),” he smiles, handing you the envelope.

You furrow your brows, not knowing who it could be from. You rip open the seal of the envelope and peel the letter open which reads:

Dearest (Y/N),

Merry Christmas, darling. We miss you so much. We are so upset that we cannot be with you on your favorite holiday. But rest assured that we will see you soon after our trip comes to a close. We have beautiful gifts for you from the places we visited and we cannot wait to give them to you. Paris is truly the most beautiful place on Earth.

We hope that you are having a grand time with the Weasleys. Give them our love and gratitude for hosting you.

We are so proud of you and everything you have done at Hogwarts, love. You are truly remarkable. We love you so much and are so excited to be reunited with you soon.

All the love in the world,

Mum and Dad

XXOO

“It’s from my parents,” you tell the group with a smile as everyone softly smiles. You look at the Polaroid pictures that they attached in the letter. Your parents are smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre. “They’re in Paris. They send their love and gratitude to everyone. They said that they love me and miss me and they’re proud of me...” you trail off as tears start to form in your eyes. A lump starts in your throat and you become very sad and embarrassed at how you are reacting. You just miss your parents so much. “I’m sorry could you excuse me for a moment?” you ask as everyone nods, completely understanding how you feel.

You rise from the table and move into another room of the house, letting the tears slowly fall from your eyes. You are sure not to make any sounds, too embarrassed that you’re even crying in the first place. Sucking in a shaky breath, you try to collect yourself, squatting low, burying your head in your hands.

As you breathe in and out shakily, you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. “Hey, shhhhh, come here,” Fred’s voice says as he pulls you into him, as you cry into his jumper that his mum made. “It’s alright, darling, it’s alright.” He sits on the floor as you rest next to him, holding onto him tight as if he would leave you. But Fred wasn’t going anywhere. “I know you miss them, but they are right. They’ll be back so soon. You know that they love you and they’re proud of you. What’s not to be proud of? You’re brilliant,” he tells you, rubbing your back in circling, gently comforting you.

Moment pass and you slowly pull away from Fred, looking at his now tear stained sweater. “Oh, man, I’m a mess,” you wipe your tears away as Fred shakes his head, brushing your hair away from your face. “Sorry about your sweater, I can clean it up.”

“I like it better like this,” he says with a smile. You just laugh at him as you sniffle. “I have something for you,” he tells you as you furrow your brows.

He pulls a small box out of his pocket. You sigh, “Fred, I thought we weren’t buying gifts for each other this year. We said we were saving money to go on a trip after graduation.”

Fred shakes his head, “I couldn’t resist.” You slap his arm teasingly. “Open it.”

You slowly open the small box and your eyes widen. Inside is a small golden locket engraved with beautiful detailing. You open the locket and inside is a picture of you and Fred from last year in the common room, laughing on the couch together. The memory brings an instant smile to your face. This was the sweetest, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever bought for you. “Fred, I don’t have any words. This is beautiful,” you tell him.

“You like it?” he asks, nervously.

“Do I like it?” you laugh. “I love it. Thank you so much,” you tell him. “Could you do the clasp?” you ask, turning around and handing him the necklace. Carefully, Fred places it around your neck and clasps the necklace. You hold the locket in your fingers as you smile at him. “Why did you do this?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

Fred nervously gulps. “Because...” he starts. “You know, (Y/N)...like I said the other night...we’re close and I really cannot see myself without you.”

Your heart flutters as you look around only to recognize that you and Fred are in the same spot as you were the other night from the bonfire. Mistletoe dangles above you again and Fred follows the sightline. He stops talking and looks at you. This time no one was going to stop from you from doing this.

In this instant, you lean in and press your lips to Fred’s, connecting you two in a sweet kiss. At first, Fred is a little shocked, but takes no time in kissing you back, his hand cupping your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You hands cup his face as your lips move in sync with each other. His lips taste of syrup and you smile into the kiss. It just felt so right like this was how your first kiss was supposed to go.

Slowly, you pull away from the kiss, searching his eyes for what he was going to say. But for the first time in forever, Fred is speechless. “I hate breaking traditions,” you tease him, making him chuckle.

Fred shakes his head and kisses you again, this time more excited and passionate. His arms wrap around you, letting you know that you aren’t going anywhere. You were his now and there was no way he was letting you go. Not like you wanted to. This was home. The kiss is gentle, but loving and passionate. Your heart is beating so fast and your mind is reeling. This felt like a dream.

You pull away again from the kiss, pressing your forehead against each other. “Just so you know,” Fred speaks, “I was going to kiss you whether there was or wasn’t mistletoe.” You giggle at his antics, knowing that he was telling the truth. “This does mean you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he asks, genuinely asking, making you laugh.

“I hope so, Weasley,” you tell him. “That’s my present to you.”

He jokingly pumps his fist in the air. He places a quick kiss to your lips again. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” he whispers to you.

Smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt, you whisper back, “Merry Christmas, tiger.”

Fred pulls you up from the floor, giving your hands a squeeze. “And now to face the taunting,” he warns you. “Be prepared. But on a brave face. This is just the beginning. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into dating a Weasley.”

The two of you emerge back into the dining room, hand in hand making Ginny cheer and George stand up, clapping. “It’s a bloody Christmas miracle!” he yells, making you laugh as Ron just sits there, absolutely lost at what is going on, mouth full on pancakes. You blush wildly as Fred pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead. “Welcome to the family!” George mockingly yells, embracing you and Fred in a dramatic hug.

In this moment, you have never felt more at home. It was the most wonderful Christmas you had ever had and you couldn’t wait for more.

#fred weasley #fred and george #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x female reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine

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ratcatcher0325 · 3 years ago

Text

Nobody’s Fool (Final Chapter)

Chapter #50. Wow. This is where our story comes to an end. I think Penn’s gonna be okay, after all! Don’t you?

Quick Note: If you haven’t had a chance to listen to any of the music up until this point I HIGHLY recommend giving the last song a listen. It’s awesome and obviously inspired this whole story!

Previous: Chapter #49

Chapter #1 (In case you wanna start all over again)

And if you still wanna read more, I have 3 Bonus Chapters. They are rewrites of the first few chapters from Penn’s POV. Start reading the first one HERE.

CW: Adult language ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #50: Nobody’s Fool

Word Count: 3,087 Read Time: Approx. 25 mins

[Penn's POV]

For the first time in a long time, I was nervous to perform. Like, really, nervous to perform. Eveline had explained to me that millions…. Literally millions of people would be watching me live tonight. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. This was bigger than anything that had ever come before, by a long shot. The whole world was going to see me, little me, right before their eyes doing what no pet had ever done before.

When I really started to get fidgety I stopped and thought that alongside the millions of humans staring at their phones or laptops or T.V.’s on this night… there might be millions of pets, just like me, who caught a glimpse of the screen from their cage in the corner, or heard me speak from across the room. People like me, would get to see themselves reflected in my image. I tried to imagine my teenage self, tortured, terrified, nursing his fresh bruises from the day… I tried to imagine that kid getting to see someone like himself, happy, strong, and, most importantly, free up on the screen. What a difference that would have made for me back then. Maybe I could do the same for some kid out there right now.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so nervous anymore… I was honored to be here. As if on cue, a PA popped her head in to tell me it was time. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help pressing my hand to the glass. Before I had a chance to think, I was in Eveline’s cupped palm. She stared down at me, mouthing, “I love you…” as a crew member cued us to go on. I squeezed her thumb as she took her first step forward.

I could hear, through the muffling thickness of the backstage curtains, the affable and melodic voice of the host as he introduced me, “And tonight, we have a very, very special guest. So special, in fact, that he’s the first of his kind to be on our show. If you haven’t seen or heard of him yet, we’re sure you won’t forget him after tonight, after all, good things come in small packages, don’t they?” There was audience laughter and applause, “Over the last year, he’s become somewhat of an unlikely indie rock phenomenon, playing and writing his own music, and here to promote his first album release, please join me in welcoming….. Penn, ladies and gentlemen!”

Here. We. Go.

The studio lights blazed in all their blinding glory directly into my eyes, I stood, holding on to Eveline’s thumb for balance as I waved. The audience was ecstatic. Cameras were all around. I found myself sliding off of Eveline’s hand onto the hard, flat surface of Jackie Cohen’s desk. The studio crew had arranged for a proportional replica of the chair guests normally sat in to be made for me, placed just shy of Jackie’s right elbow. The man staring down at me seemed friendly enough. He had a drawn, thin face, with blue eyes and a shock of dark hair that was cut neatly and parted. He wore a simple grey suit. I offered my hand and he warmly accepted with just his finger. Everyone adored that. When the crowd’s noise finally died down, he cleared his throat and began.

“Wow! What a warm welcome! I’m amazed, for such a little guy you seem to already have a big following!! I mean, look at this face! Can, can we zoom in here?” Suddenly two fingers were pressing into either side of my face, squeezed between thumb and index, “You’re just the cutest little thing in show business, aren’t you?” He released me and I sort of stumbled back into my chair. My face burned hot. This isn’t how we’d rehearsed this. Before I could protest, he carried right along, “So, Penn, you were recently touring with the band Sticks and Stones…” cheering from the audience, “Oh I see we have some fans here today. But, you recently decided to go solo, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I felt I could make a stronger impact if it was just my voice—“

“Oh! Look at you using such sophisticated language! Did you rehearse in front of the mirror a whole bunch for this interview? He’s doing a great job, isn’t he, ladies and gents? Let’s give it up for Penn! Alright, it’s time for a quick break but when we come back we’ll get to hear a performance from the world’s tiniest musician, live, here in our studio! So stick around!”

Some crew member in the distance shouted that we had stopped airing for commercials. The second that we went off air, I stood up from my seat, “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Cohen? This isn’t going how we discussed… I thought I was getting a full three minute segment to talk about my advocacy and where the proceeds of my album are going—“ not only was he not listening to me, he couldn’t even bother to glance in my direction. Instead, as though he couldn’t hear me at all, he played some mindless mobile game on his phone. As I continued, he reached absentmindedly over my head for his mug, which he brought back towards himself, almost clocking me in the back of my head, if I hadn’t ducked.

Then, in the middle of my sentence he started speaking without looking up, “Sally? Can I get last looks? I’m feeling a bit of sweat in my hairline…” seemingly out of nowhere, a makeup artist appeared, touching him up. “Perfect, you’re a doll, Sally. It’s why we love you!” Dumbfounded I just stopped speaking. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes were on me as she squinted, taking in all my details.

Without asking, she shoved a brush, as large as my head directly in my face, poking me in the eyes, mouth and nose. I immediately sneezed from the sudden invasion into my nostrils. She looked disgusted as though she would need to go burn that brush now. “S-sorry…” I mumbled as she disappeared. We were nearing the final few minutes and as I tried to catch my breath and gather my thoughts, that massive mug came swinging back again, this time threatening to land directly on top of me. This host, whom I was coming to respect less and less, still refused to remove his eyeline from his phone, so he’d nearly placed his steaming hot mug of coffee on top of me. I yelped in surprise and narrowly sidestepped the incident.

No sooner had I landed on my feet from that ordeal, than I felt a tug on my collar as I began to be lifted off the ground. I whipped around, over my shoulder, to see what was happening to me, and realized the PA from earlier, again without asking, was plucking me up off the desk and into the air. She could tell I was a little frightened by her sudden movements and at least bothered to look in my general direction as she addressed me, “We’re sorry, but the rest of the interview has been cut for time. We are going to go straight in to the performance and that will conclude your time with us.” She said this as nonnegotiable fact. My heart sank, all while my brain raced at the speed of a bullet train. I had only about 45 seconds left to change, get my equipment and get settled on the stage. My heart was pounding.

I had decided that for the performance, I wanted to dress down from the suit I wore for the interview. I wanted to wear something similar to how I’d been dressed most days under Claire’s ‘care’. I wanted to look like the pets who would hopefully be watching this too. That was it, then. If all they were going to give me was this one song, then I had to bring my absolute best and hope this could still make an impact… however… small.

I tore off my clothes in a little alcove between the table that my set was placed on and the set itself. Hurriedly, I threw on gray pants, a white undershirt and black dress shoes. My heart thundering in my chest, I clamored on to the set, a sort of box that had been erected specifically for me. Instead of something silly and patronizing, they had actually managed to painstakingly construct a proportional studio space for me to perform in. The room was decked to the nines with details: wooden flooring, an ornamental rug, an entire grand piano behind me! This way, when they filmed me, the audience would see someone no different than any other human musician. They would focus on my sound. They could see me up close in all my minor details. They could recognize me as a person, an artist. This was Naomi’s stroke of genius.

I stood before my microphone, that familiar chrome gleaming in the lights. I’d wanted to wear my hat but was told it would cast too many shadows, so I laid it nearby on a perfectly sized three-legged stool to my right. Instead, I put on a pair of headphones, which, unlike the recording studio, were purely cosmetic and actually were just a tiny bit too large for my head, so I had to keep pushing them up to keep them in place. I rested my heels on the now familiar pedals of my drum and tambourine as I stared above me, waiting for the signal that we were live. If this was all I had been given, it was time to make it count…. The red lights of the cameras flicked on, someone signaled me with their hand and…. I began to play.

[LINK to Video] (Author Note: A chance to see Penn in action!)

My heart was practically in my throat when I began, but I just kept returning my thoughts back to some pet who might be watching, who felt worthless and alone just like I had. I thought about looking that kid in the eye and showing him what we were capable of, with just a little love and compassion in our lives. I thought about all of the humans who owned pets, who maybe were watching me perform right now and found themselves enjoying the music, idolizing the lyrics and arrangement of a mere little nothing like me. Maybe, just maybe they’d stop thinking of me, of us, as little nothings after all. Maybe Jackie Cohen would do the same.

I bobbed and bounced and picked and sang. I was on fire and I knew, the moment I finished the song, I’d done an excellent job. The studio erupted in applause. The second we broke for commercials again, that same PA returned, this time with a whole different demeanor. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she leaned down to me. “Wow! You’re pretty amazing… what’s your name again?” Even as Eveline offered her hand to me to take me backstage and leave, the host himself, stopped us and shook my hand.

“You’re pretty talented, there, squirt. Keep it up!” Well, that was something.

Obviously, the Jackie Cohen show had not turned out to be the advocacy launch we had hoped for. Although, the video of my performance soon went viral. Insanely viral. Upwards of one hundred million views viral. I continued to work a press circuit, I performed at live events, private concerts, answered internet Q & A’s, auctioned off autographed memorabilia… I did it all. But the thing I was most proud of, was the beginning of my foundation. With Eveline and Naomi’s help, I managed to found my own charity tasked with finding safe and loving homes for sick, injured or abused pets as well as bringing awareness to all of humankind about us as something more than just living dolls.

It was thanks to this organization that a true once in a lifetime opportunity came along. I was asked to interview with the BBC in conjunction with the European Union to discuss the legality of personhood for petkind. This, of course, was a legal long shot, and not even something on the books within the American government, but still, I felt strongly that I could be a face and name to this vital discussion.

The interview was to be held in Chicago. The night before, Eveline helped me to pack. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good! Great, actually. I know every single one of my talking points by heart. I feel ready.”

“That’s good. I know you’ll do amazing. I just wish Late Night could have been that for you…”

“I know. Me too. But we can’t look at it as a total loss. I’m more popular on the internet now than ever before because of that one video. That’s something. That has to count for something.”

I was suddenly wrapped all around by her warm, enveloping touch. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I love you, I’m proud of you and I’m gonna do everything in my power to help you change the world. Even if it’s one painstaking step at a time.”

The morning of the interview I felt good, relaxed even. I had written a song specifically to broadcast as part of the interview that I couldn’t wait to play. When we arrived on set, I sat where they told me to, let them adjust my microphone, my hair, my tie. The person interviewing me was a sharp, yet warm woman probably in her early sixties. She had a blonde bob cut sharply and precisely, her glasses balancing ever so precariously on the bridge of her thin nose. “How are you, Penn? My name is Charlotte. Is my team keeping you quite comfortable? Can we get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?” She was British. I politely declined.

“I want you to know before we begin that I’m just delighted to have you here. I think I can say with certainty you are the most unique interview I’ve ever had, in all my years in this business.”

Lights were flicked on, focal lengths set, cameras and sound rolled and suddenly it was go time.

“Penn, welcome to the BBC, on behalf of the United Kingdom and the European Union, we are delighted to have you. Now, for those who are unfamiliar, and there are less and less nowadays, please tell us a little bit about yourself, other than the obvious.”

“Thank you, Charlotte, for having me. It’s truly a great honor to get to speak about something so near and dear to my heart with you today. As you can see, and for those at home who can’t, I am actually a pet, so I’ve never exactly expected to ever do something like this, to put it lightly. My name is Penn and I am a musician, and songwriter. I love music with my whole heart but once I had the opportunity to pursue this dream, I realized I had to use it as a force for change and and a chance to make a difference. So I’m very happy to be speaking to you today, about that.”

“One of your videos, a live performance on Late Night Tonight has gone massively viral hitting over one hundred million views. Now what do you say to your detractors who are outraged by this performance? There are many who say the way the set is arranged and the video is shot, there was intentional deception involved in order to make you quote, ‘appear to be an actual person and not just a pet playing pretend’”

“But… I am a person. Just because I’m smaller in stature than the human race doesn’t mean I’m not otherwise in every other way wired just like them. Just like you all, watching this right now, I have dreams, just like you do. Fears. Wants. Needs. And, I think, most importantly, love. Just like you, I have the capacity for love, compassion and understanding. As do all pets. If you could stop for a moment and see us for who we really are, you’d begin to realize how twisted, sick and cruel it is to essentially enslave us for your own entertainment.” There was a palpable shift in the room. I knew I was butting right up against the line of acceptable levels of outrage. I thought back to something Travis had said to me a lifetime ago, when I had first decided to play in the band. “You can’t come flying out of the gate screaming about injustice. People won’t listen…”

He was right, of course. Travis was always right. I had to win humans over through adoration and empathy. “And that is why, I’m honored to be engaging with you today to discuss legislation that could radically change the way that humanity coexists with pets across much of the western hemisphere.”

“And I understand you’ve written a new, never before heard, song for this occasion?”

“Yes. I’d love to share it with you and the world. I hope that after today, if I can shift just one heart and mind, it will have been worth it….”

I shuffled from my interview chair to a new set, all white (I was told they were filming this performance in black and white) and sat down upon my drum kit. This was probably my greatest creation yet. This was the first song that I felt I was speaking not to humans, but pets, directly. I steadied my heart as my fingers approached the strings… and I played.

[LINK to Song] (Author Note: This is the final song I suggest listening to!)

I loved the soft, dreamy melody I had crafted. It gave an air of loneliness, loss and truth that I desperately wanted to get across. I sang about what it was like to be so powerless in a world designed to keep me restrained. I sang about my lack of agency. My fear of my own legacy. And finally, the most important lesson I had learned since that night in the snow in Seattle… that I was who I chose to be, never to be restricted by anyone else ever again. I sang the final stanza directly to the camera. I hoped the pets who were lucky enough to hear and see this would feel, for a moment, like a fellow pet was looking them in the eyes and acknowledging their existence.

As I relished in the drafty silence of the seconds after the final strum died out, I couldn’t help smiling. I, Penn, was here, and, against all odds, I was going to change the world.

The End.

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

Author’s Note: I can’t thank you all enough for coming on this 50 chapter journey with me and continuing to read, reblog, comment and like. It has meant the world to me that this little story has entertained you! And if you read all of it, congrats! You just read the equivalent of an entire novel about this dumb little cowboy and his friends! Thanks SO much for your dedication!

And don’t worry, I think Penn and Eveline and the gang are going to have more adventures in the future. I have a whole plot line for a sequel in my head. But for now, I’m going to take a break... because, phew! That was a lot of work!

By all means, please continue to submit art, asks and the like, if you feel so inclined!

#Go Penn!#Change the world!#Nobody's Fool #g/t related #g/t au #g/t #g/t community #g/t fluff #size difference #g/t writing #giant/tiny

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youngbeezer · 3 years ago

Note

hi!! can I please request something?

going to a lake house, maybe friends to lovers with bowen byram?

thank you! 💗.

A/N: HI IM SO SORRY THIS LITERALLY TOOK 4 EVER!!! i was having such bad writer's block with also zero motivation, but i eventually put a little something together and i hope whoever requested this first off actually sees this bc seriously its been a good month of this sitting in my inbox but also i hope you like it :)

Word Count: 2940

Warning(s): kinda angsty in beginning, curse words, ends fluffy !!!

masterlist || join my taglist

These next few days is either going to turn out to be the best week of the summer, or the most awkward week of the summer...

I’m currently stuck in a car surrounded by couples on our way to a lake house in Colorado. Somehow I ended up being lumped into this chaotic group of professional hockey players and their drop-dead gorgeous significant others.

About a year ago at my local salon, I just so happened to be seated right next to a woman named Grace, who I immediately hit it off with. We became fast friends and are now basically inseparable at this point. Her boyfriend just so happens to play hockey for the Colorado Avalanche, Cale Makar. Now I have also grown quite close with Cale as well, since I am always at their shared apartment for Grace. At this point Cale is basically third wheeling us, instead of it being the other way around. Therefore I was also always invited to team parties and get-togethers, which prompted more friendships with most of the guys on the team and their respective partners.

Someone I have surprisingly grown super close with is Bowen Byram. As soon as Cale introduced us two, his blue eyes and raspy voice immediately drew me in. Straight away we bonded over common interests and that night we talked for almost three hours. After that, we were thick as thieves. So thick that recently I have come to the realization that I have caught major feelings for him along the way.

It has only been a few weeks since I have come to this realization and it has already started to affect our relationship. I definitely started to ignore Bowen a little bit when I first figured out my feelings because I was scared he would somehow find out or I would just end up blurting it out at some point. And the last thing I want is for my silly feelings to ruin such a great friendship.

Thus why this week can either turn out to be the best or the worst.

I’ve decided that at some point during this trip I need to confess my feelings for Bowen. He’s also seemed to notice the shift in my attitude towards him. I have become more closed off and not as touchy as we used to be. Bowen and I are both very touchy/feely types of people. So what seemed like just some harmless cuddling and play wrestling with each other, to me did very little to quell down my feelings.

For example, this morning when we were packing up the cars for the trip a group of us are taking to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse, Bowen went to wrap his arms around my middle from the back and I subconsciously flinched away at his touch. I know he definitely noticed my mood shift from the defiant pout that was resting on his face. After that I did what I do best, and ran away to the other car that was driving up and basically begged Nate to switch seats with me.

Which now leads to my current thoughts. The entire car ride up I have been contemplating on ways I could tell him, but each scenario just ended up with him telling me that he doesn’t feel the same, and our friendship essentially being over. Obviously I was just overthinking just a little, but I’ve never been stuck in a situation like this before-- and now we are going to be stuck in a lake house together for an entire week, so I am going to be forced to face this situation whether I want to or not.

“Yo. Earth to y/n?” Tyson draws, trying to gain my attention. I snap out of my thoughts as soon as I hear my name, and bring my gaze to the rearview mirror to meet Tyson’s questioning look. “We’re here.” He announces.

Susanna, Mikko’s girlfriend, adds on, “You alright? You seemed kind of out of it the entire car ride.”

I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts and notice that we are indeed here at the lake house we will be staying at for the next week. I clear my dried up throat before croaking out a weak, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t like long car rides.”

Both of them nod, content with my answer and exit the car to join Mikko in unloading all of the luggage from the trunk. I take a few more moments to fully get my head together after dealing with all my jumbled thoughts throughout the entire three hour car ride.

Jumping out of the car, the first thing I see is Bowen letting out a yawn and stretching out. As his arms raise over his head, some of his shirt rises up with it and immediately my eyes are drawn to the small portion of skin and v-line that is in front of me. Bowen then notices my presence and makes eye contact with me, giving me one of his adorable little smiles. I advert my gaze as quickly as I can so my obvious ogling isn’t as obvious and go to finally retrieve my luggage.

Yeah this was gonna be a long week.

…

After everyone got pretty much all settled into their rooms, we all ended up coming back together to sit around the firepit to chat and enjoy some drinks. For this trip that Tyson orchestrated there are in total ten people staying in the house. Me, Tyson, obviously since it’s his house; Bowen, Cale, Grace, Alex Newhook, Mikko and his girlfriend Susanna, and lastly Nate and his supposed new girl who will be joining us later on in the week.

Apparently a group of the guys and their partners have been taking trips together at the end of the hockey season for a while now, and since growing closer with the team this year, I graciously got an invite.

Since it was getting later and a little bit more chilly, I grabbed a random sweatshirt that I saw already laying around in the living room before making my way outside to join everyone by the firepit. Getting closer I noticed that the only seat available just so happened to be next to Bowen.

Cale and Grace give each other a not so inconspicuous knowing look when they see me approaching. As soon as I sit down, a question is being thrown at me.

“Whose sweatshirt is that y/n?” Cale brings everyone's attention to me with a growing smirk on his face.

“I don’t know, I just found it in the living room.” I give Cale a questioning glare, trying to figure what his endgame is right now.

“It’s mine.” I hear that same raspy voice that I love and know so well. I feel my face start heating up at the idea of wearing Bowen’s sweatshirt. Am I wearing his name on my back right now, and I just didn’t even think to check earlier?

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I can give it back to you, if you want it.” I stumble out, now feeling awkward and a little embarrassed about how flustered I am getting over a simple sweatshirt.

Bowen gives me a little smile before replying back, “Nah, it’s fine. It looks better on you anyway.”

I clear my throat and stumble out an awkward ‘thanks’ at Bowen and then turn my attention to Grace right next to me so I don’t embarrass myself even more. What I don’t see though is the way Bowen's face immediately falls when I turn my back on him.

…

Around midnight is when everyone started to make their way back inside the house to start getting ready for bed. I was mindlessly scrolling through my social media, so I didn’t notice that mostly everyone had already gone inside.

“Y/n.” I look up at the mention of my name to notice that Bowen and I are the only ones left outside.

Also noticing the intense gaze I am receiving from Bowen, I quickly gather my things and stumble out, “Oh my gosh I didn’t notice everyone left already. I should head inside as well.”

Bowen is quicker though because he grabs ahold of my wrist, halting me in place before I make my very obvious escape.

“Hold on, please. Can you please talk to me?” Bowen pleads out.

“What do you mean? We’ve been talking all night.” I countered, trying one last time to get out of this conversation.

“We’ve been talking as a group all night yeah, but you couldn’t even make eye contact with me. You know what I mean. What’s been going on? Did I do something?” Bowen frowned.

At that moment I felt so guilty. I’ve been so focused on trying to ignore my feelings that I have developed that I ended up pushing my best friend away and hurting him in the process. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. I knew I would eventually have to have this talk with Bowen during this week, but I just didn’t expect it to be on the very first night.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s talk.”

I lead the way down to the dock overlooking the lake and sit down to dangle my feet into the water. I know for a fact that Grace and Cale realized that we both haven’t come in behind them, so they are most likely snooping by the backdoor wondering what we are doing.

Bowen joins me, after slipping his shoes off and dangling his feet in as well.

“What’s been going on y/n?” Bowen asks again.

“I-I think I’m in love with you.” I blurt out. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I await any type of response from Bowen. Taking a peek over at him, I see the pure shock on his face. Probably wasn’t the best idea to start off the conversation with that.

Taking his silence as a bad sign, I start spewing out whatever I can to try and calm the anxiety coursing through my veins. “I-I think I have known for a while and I just tried to ignore it, I guess. But then I realized that I was just pushing you away, an-and I never wanted to do that. Our friendship means that absolute world to me, and I would hate myself if anything I did, or-or my stupid feelings jeaporized that.” At some point during my little rant, a few tears escaped. I turn my head away as I try to hold back on a full on sob breaking loose.

“You think?” He eventually breaks the silence.

Confusedly, I turned my head back around and let out a strangled, “Huh?” I see the corners of Bowen’s mouth start curving up into a tiny smile, confusing me even more.

“You said, you think you’re in love with me.” He pointed out.

My eyebrows raise in question and I give him a little shrug, prompting him to elaborate more.

“Well… I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.” Bowen softly declared.

My breath catches in my throat and my mouth turns as dry as the Sahara Desert. Those were definitely not the words I was expecting to come out of his mouth. He chuckles at my surprised face and scooches a little closer to my body to wipe a stray tear on my cheek.

“Are you serious?” I whisper out.

“Of course.” He whispered just as softly back to me as his head inched closer to mine.

My heart pounds in my chest as Bowen’s hand comes up to cradle my cheek. All of our pent up feelings and emotions that we both have been too afraid to admit all come crashing together as our lips finally meet. He kissed me gently, almost carefully, but after all this time gentleness was not what I wanted right now. Bowen let out a low groan as I pulled him flush against my body, my fists bunching up the collar of his shirt.

Before this could go any further, we both pull away breathlessly, basking in what truly just happened-- just now realizing how much our relationship is about to change.

“Fuck.” Bowen breathed out, running his hands over his face. “If I knew that was what it was like to kiss you I would’ve blurted out my feelings the day I met you.”

My ears perk up at his last few words and it seems like he also realizes what he just admitted, as his cheeks immediately turn a rosy color.

“You’ve liked me for that long?” I bashfully question.

Bowen runs his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath of air before answering, “Yeah, I-I mean… yeah I have.” He stumbles out, awkwardly letting out a laugh.

I lean my head on his shoulder and connect our hands, feeling super content and never wanting this moment to end. We take a moment to just sit on the dock-- with our feet hanging in the water, hands intertwined; and bask in the feeling of finally letting our feelings out into the open.

“You know everyone in that house is going to have a field day when they find out.” Bowen mumbles against my shoulder, before leaving a lingering kiss on the exposed skin.

“Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if they all had a bet going or something.” I chimed. I raise my head that had previously been resting on Bowen’s shoulder back up to look at him, and see that he is already smiling at me. “What?” I drawled, feeling my cheeks heating up under his gaze.

“You wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” He asked hesitantly.

My cheeks now feel on fire as I ponder on how I want to go about this. I raise my eyebrows up at him in question as I ponder out, “Do you want me in your bed tonight?”

Bowen gives me an almost incredulous look as he voiced, “Of course I want you in my bed.”

I just give him a simple nod and push my body up in a standing position, reaching out my hand to prompt Bowen to join me. “Okay, let’s go.”

Bowen immediately shoots up from his sitting position, clinging onto my hand as we make our way back up the yard to the sliding glass doors of the lake house. Just as I predicted earlier, Cale and Grace were totally snooping. Actually, the entire house was snooping. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen trying to act casual as we walked in, but as soon as they noticed our conjoined hands, all hell broke loose.

“I fucking knew it!”

“Aw you guys look so cute.”

“Bout time.”

“Ha! Nate, you owe me fifty bucks.”

I looked over at Bowen with an unimpressed look, “Told you they probably had a bet going on.” Meanwhile Bowen has an incredulous look coating his face watching his friends freak out over his newfound relationship. Instead of questioning our oddball friends, Bowen just simply shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle.

“Alright I’m heading up, I can’t deal with these idiots right now.” Bowen gives me a quick peck on the lips before announcing his departure for the night. Most of the others also start making their way up to their respective rooms for bed, the guys putting on a show of making kissy noises and making a few chirps as they follow Bowen up the stairs.

Grace joins me by the counter, making a show of wiggling her eyebrows at me. I’m smiling like an idiot as Cale also joins us, chuckling at my lovesick expression.

“You’re welcome.” Cale smirked.

I scrunch my face up in confusion as I question him back, “For what?”

“For introducing you two, duh.” Cale teased. Grace smacks him on the arm with a tut, making a show of rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. “Alright, seriously I am happy for you guys though.” He eventually relents.

My cheeks heat up from the attention but also from the thought of Bowen and I’s new relationship. Grace grabs me by the shoulders and starts pushing me in the direction of the staircase.

“Obviously I’m happy for you too. All I’ve wanted is the best for you and I think Bowen is just that. And with that being said, go get your mans!” She sends me off with a quick smack on my ass. I giggle the whole way up the stairs on the way into Bowen’s [now our] room feeling extremely giddy and content.

When I enter the room, all the lights except for the bathroom are already off, and it looks like Bowen is already settled into bed. So, I quickly do my night time routine and change into my pajamas before making my way over to the bed I will now be sharing for the week.

Bowen is awaiting me with his arms wide open, which I happily cuddle into the second I am under the covers. He buries his head into my neck, leaving featherlight kisses here and there.

“I love you.” Bowen mumbles into my neck. I card my fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head as I mumble back those same words, in complete awe over how fast my life has changed in one night. We both knew that we would eventually be together, it just took a little time and a trip to Tyson Jost’s lakehouse for us to figure it out. This week will definitely be one for the books.

Taglist: @barzysandmarnersbitch @handwrittenheroes @hockeyplayerstories @barzy-xoxo @gnemgn @joelsfarabees

Tagging some mutuals as well so this doesnt flop,,,

@2manytabsopen @bb-nhlqueen7 @frederikanderson @simon-edvinsson @coltonndach @carepriceisgoodathockey @lovereadinghockeyy @pettypeteys @kentjohnsons @joekellys @mattybenierss

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so-writing · 4 years ago

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Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea- Matthew Tkachuk (8)

all parts in the master list

There was no fucking way you were hopping into the elevator and making your way up to Matthew’s place.

No, not a fucking chance, despite what you told him the night before.

Onyx was laying at the foot of the couch and rubbing his face against your feet as you started the next episode of ‘Vanderpump Rules’.

The bus ride home was confusing for you because Matthew was kind and, for the first time, he revealed a personal part of himself to you. He was reading the books that ‘Game of Thrones’ was based on and you were more than surprised by that.

His big smile when you started comparing the book to the show was blinding and you hated how you giddy you felt when he followed up in conversation.

“I mean I haven’t read a ton of books but I’ve heard that they’re always better than the screen remake,” he had said.

“Most of the time, yeah that’s accurate.”

That easy conversation turned into Matthew driving you home and you learning that the two of you shared a building.

Of course he lived in the top floor penthouse, of course his views were beautiful. Of fucking course Matthew Tkachuk had everything and more.

Onyx was laying between your legs as you sprawled out on the couch watching reality tv. The knock on your door was hard and scared the shit out of you.

“Oh my god,” you stood up and headed toward the door, “what?”

You didn’t expect to open the door to the unruly, red curls and blue eyes of Matthew Tkachuk, but there he stood.

“Hey,” he hesitated slightly, “I missed my boy.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Onyx.”

“Oh, your boy?”

“Yeah, we met and the connection was instant, we’re fucking besties.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you rolled your eyes but stepped aside anyway, “he’s just going to run away as soon as he sees you. Onyx hates people.”

You expected Onyx to bolt for the bedroom but he sat on the arm of the couch watching Matthew with big, curious eyes as he entered your apartment.

“Hey bud, you remember me?”

Onyx looked like he was about to take off, and he did, but rather than hide in the bedroom, he was nuzzling his face into Matthew’s shins. He began purring furiously when Matthew leaned down to rub behind his ears and scratch just above his tail.

“I am amazed,” you shook your head in disbelief at the interaction between Matthew and your cat, “he doesn’t ever do this. Literally, he never does this ever.”

“He trusts me and wants to claim me. I looked it up.”

“Really? You did research on cat behavior?”

“Yeah,” he blushed slightly and dropped his eyes to the floor, “I was curious. I’ve never had a cat.”

Silence fell between the two of you as you continued standing in the doorway watching Matthew love on Onyx.

“You know, Onyx might be interested seeing Calgary from above.”

Matthew perked up right away, smiling at you in a way that was so annoying you couldn’t do anything besides return it.

“If he comes up, he might like the views and he might not want to come back.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’ll want to come back. He does want the views though.”

The number of women that Matthew had seen in his apartment, taking in the views and trying their best to charm him, was foreign at that point. This was brand new, though.

He never expected to see this woman, much less a cat he didn’t know she had until recently, in his second home, surveying the view from above and maybe, maybe, not hating him as much as she used to.

“This is incredible, it’s crazy how we live in the same building but our views of the city are so insanely different.”

“Yeah,” he tried to be cool, “give me the boy, please.”

“Ugh, whatever.”

She gently set Onyx on the floor and watched as he practically begged to be picked up by Matthew before turning her eyes back to the views of Calgary below her.

This woman wasn’t the same one he’d known, and disliked, for two years. She was someone entirely different and he hated how drawn he was to her because, actually, she was the same woman and he wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

“You can’t have my cat, Tkachuk.”

“But he likes me so much,” Matthew pouted and you resisted the urge to find it adorable.

“He likes me more, I promise.”

“Fine!”

It wasn’t a serious response, Matthew set Onyx on the floor just inside your apartment and backed a few feet away.

“See you in the morning, I guess?”

“Yeah, obviously,” he playfully punched your shoulder, “we work together.”

“You gonna be nice to me from now on? Now that your best friend lives at my place?”

“Yep,” he responded as he popped the p, “g’night. Goodnight Onyx!”

You knew you weren’t into Matthew Tkachuk. He was largely a trash human and you had plenty of experience with him to back up that accusation.

Still, it didn’t stop you from thinking about him as you lay in bed with your wand pressed against your most intimate parts. It was purely physical, you told yourself, Matthew was hot but that was it. That was absolutely it.

Sleep overtook your body and when your alarm went off in the morning, you were groggy and irritable and absolutely not in the mood to go to work.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

“Hey,” you weakly greeted another staffer as you made your way into the arena.

“No sleep for the wicked?”

“None at all,” you smiled at her as she offered you a hot coffee and everything bagel.

“Today’s going to be rough on the guys.”

“Why?”

“They’ve been breaking rules, Chuky especially.”

That piqued your interest.

“What did he do?”

“He was treating one of the assistants like shit and it got back to Sutter.”

“Who was he treating like shit?”

You knew, obviously.

“No idea, but Sutter’s pretty upset and Matt is going to have to deal with that.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Holy fucking shit. He was sure he was going to fucking die.

As soon as practice ended, Matthew hurried off the ice and toward the toilets. It was a hard practice and he knew he was just barely going to make it to the toilets before he started throwing up.

His eyes watered as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl and when his stomach finally felt secure, he still found himself sweating.

“Hey, Chuk, you ok?”

“No,” he probably should’ve lied but fuck it, “no I’m not.”

“You know why this happened, right?”

“No, I’ve got no fucking idea.”

“The whole floor thing. You know?”

Jesus Christ. He knew he fucked up for doing that to her, but when was he going to finally stop paying for doing it?

“Yeah,” another wave of nausea washed over him, “yeah I know.”

You stood just outside the toilets in the locker room listening to him wretch into the bowl. It was hard to hear.

“Matthew?”

“Oh, shit!”

He jumped back in surprise and clutched his chest when he realized who had called his name, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. He wasn’t in a good state and it was very obvious. Matthew pushed past you in a rush and all you could do was watch as he headed back to the ice.

“Tkachuk is on fire tonight! Three goals and we’re only halfway through the second,” the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena and you couldn’t hide your grin.

Matthew was being bitchy to you at the moment but there was something there. The Flames won and you felt electric.

You were sure this was what he wanted. He’d been dropping hints for a week and you were tired of playing dumb. You were pretty fucking sure Matthew wanted you, almost as much as you decided you wanted him.

Now was the time to go for it. You knew he was home, the game ended hours ago, and you knew it was time to just fucking go for it.

So you knocked on his door and when it opened, you were met with the sight of a beautiful blonde with big eyes and a sheet wrapped around her body asking ‘who are you’ and all you could do was fucking run to the elevator and frantically press the button to your floor.

Who the fuck were you kidding? You didn’t have the body and face of a supermodel. Matthew didn’t want you. He never would.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matt tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years ago

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When The Sun Came Up, You Were Looking At Me (Prologue) // Ashton Irwin

It really cannot be overstated how excited @cal-puddies and I are for you all to finally start reading this fic!! I searched our chat and we actually came up with the skeleton idea for this sequel only TWO DAYS after Remember When We Couldn’t Take The Heat was posted LAST APRIL and we started seriously writing in SEPTEMBER. This is a long time coming. We hope you love it as much as we do and thank you again for encouraging us to continue this story!

Don’t forget we’re alternating chapters so the story continues tomorrow over on Cass’s blog. And of course, you can find links to everything as it’s posted in the masterlist linked below!

Warnings: Tension, both dramatic and sexual. Mild angst. Meddling but well-meaning friends. The first smut-free work Cass and I have ever written together (don’t worry, we more than make up for it the rest of the series lmao)

Word Count: 3455

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Let us know what you think!

The traffic light changes to green and you turn down Luke and Sierra’s street. You roll your eyes at the quickening of your pulse as you think about the party tonight; you’d give anything to skip it but you know Michael and Crystal really want you there and you can’t not show up for them.

You feel your nerves settle a bit as you step out of the car and see Sierra waiting at the door for you, happy to have you over to get ready together. She grins wide and pulls you into a warm hug, Luke quickly coming over to engulf you as well. Their excited greetings overlap as they literally smother you with affection and you can’t help but laugh at the fuss they’re making.

“You always disappear for too long,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

“Just needed some space,” you say with a shrug.

“You broke up with Ash, not us,” Sierra reminds you, squeezing your arm.

“I know, I know,” you nod with a weak smile.

Luke grabs the bag with your dress in it and takes it to their room while you and Sierra get a drink. “Thank god you’re letting me pre-game,” you joke.

“How are you feeling about everything?” She asks as you head back with her.

“Just doin’ my best to be OK,” you admit, without even thinking about Luke overhearing. “It was like… close to an entire year of my life you know? I know it doesn’t seem like much... I just wasn’t ready, you know? And I’m definitely not ready for tonight.”

Sierra sits on the bed, listening as you sit at her vanity, absentmindedly looking over the beauty products on it. “It was such an intense relationship, it makes sense you’re not over it yet, babe,” she points out gently.

“I should be over it, though, it was ridiculous. Our whole relationship was based on a foundation of fighting until we fucked to forget why we fought… it didn’t work, we never really communicated about anything.”

“Well. You already know I’m not a fan of how the breakup went down,” she shakes her head, plugging in the curling iron you’ve been gesturing wildly with. “It’s been a couple months now, you guys still haven’t even texted?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Please, we are the king and queen of Stubborn Town, I haven’t seen or heard from that man since I got the last of my stuff from his place,” you shrug. “I guess it still just feels… unfinished. I hate that.”

“I mean, it feels unfinished because you guys left it that way,” she says matter of factly. “You both decided you were done and then just… were? When you love someone, walking away like that doesn’t work.”

“I never said I loved him,” you glare at her through the mirror.

She settles behind you and starts sectioning off your hair. “Never said you didn’t either,” she teases.

Before you know it, 45 minutes have passed and Luke is at the door warning that he’s about to call the Uber; you’re deep into your girl talk catch-up and the knock on the door causes you both to burst into shrieks and giggles, scurrying around the room to finish getting ready.

Miraculously, you get yourselves together in time and as you stand in front of the house waiting for the car to arrive, Luke nudges you gently. “Ash is coming from a meeting on the other side of town, so you’ve got time to relax, he won’t be there for a while,” he reassures you. “And if you feel like you need to leave, let us know and we’ll come up with a reason to swoop you outta there.”

You put your arms around him and squeeze. “I’ve missed you too,” you say with a smile.

Luke tells you and Sierra how nice you both look as he ushers you inside the party. They both watch you scan the room, relaxing once you see Ashton hasn't arrived and then you all break off, making the rounds.

You greet a few people but end up hanging off to the side, keeping an eye on the door, nervously half-paying attention to anyone who happens to approach you.

You immediately tense when he enters. Luke moves to welcome him while Sierra comes to you, trying to be a silent support; her babysitting goes from feeling comforting to coddling very quickly and you urge her to go back to mingling.

You try not to stare but you can’t help it, you haven’t seen him in so long. Even before you were together, when you hated him, it was hard not to be drawn to him. He just has that kind of presence.

Luke hasn’t left his side since he walked in, chatting away, but you don’t think anything of it. That is, until everyone seems to be finding their place at the various tables and you’re still awkwardly standing to the side. You would typically sit with Luke and Sierra but they’ve made themselves cozy at a table with Ashton and Calum.

You head for the bar and before you can order, someone comes up beside you. You ignore them until you hear the soft “Hey” fall from his lips, in that lush, slightly accented voice you missed more than you’d care to admit.

You turn, fully taking him in for the first time tonight; his hair is different than the last time you saw him and he really seems to be feeling himself in his black pants and the lace button-up you used to make fun of. “Hi,” you respond, so quiet that Ash has to lean in to be sure he heard you.

“Grab your drink and come sit with us,” he says, waving encouragingly.

“Uh… that’s OK. I might leave,” you shrug.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous suggestion. “No you won’t. First of all, I know you came with Luke and Sierra and they’re not leaving. Second of all, you’d never let Crystal and Mike down like that. Just come sit,” he insists, gently tugging on the hem of your dress.

You melt a little inside. This was one of the reasons you liked him so much, he was always so confident that he knew you so well. But it’s also one of the reasons why you fought and he drove you crazy.

“Fine,” you sigh with a slight smile. He waits for you to order your drink, also making you crazy, like he can’t trust you’ll do as you say.

“There you are!” Sierra smiles as you take the seat across the table from her and Luke. Sitting between Calum and Ashton is a spot you were very familiar being in; they’d constantly lean over you to share a joke and then one of them would fill you in afterwards if you were lucky. Your heart breaks a little when you realize that's not likely to happen now.

You make small talk with Cal for a bit; you’ve missed his pinchable cheeks and his sweet laugh. You’d spent plenty of time with him when you were with Ashton but hadn’t really kept in touch since the split. He asks you about work and both he and Ash pay close attention as you chat about your job.

Sierra keeps a close eye on the two of you and notices how quickly you get reacquainted. The way Ash naturally rests his arm on the back of your chair. How when he started getting animated with a story, you knowingly shifted all the drinks over until he was finished. How he won’t let himself laugh at his own joke until he checks to make sure you’re laughing first. The hair toss you subconsciously give whenever he does make you laugh.

Later on, she catches him at the refreshment table serving your favorite dessert onto his plate even though it’s something he notoriously doesn’t like. She walks alongside him as he heads back. “You hate that,” she smirks, pointing at the offending dish.

“Oh. Right,” he says, realizing the old habit he just indulged. “She’ll eat it,” he shrugs, quickening his step to avoid any follow-up questions.

Crystal makes the rounds to thank everyone for coming and stops Sierra with a hug; they chat for a minute but Crystal notices she seems distracted and eventually follows her gaze over to your table. Cal’s deeply invested on his phone, leaving you and Ash chatting by yourselves.

Crystal lightly snorts and leans in to her friend. “What’s old is new again, I guess,” she cups her manicured hand over her mouth to disguise her words. “You think they’ll leave together? I was shocked when she told me they haven’t hooked up even once since they split.”

Sierra shakes her head firmly. “They’re both too stubborn to admit they want even that from each other,” she rolls her eyes. “You should’ve seen how nervous she was to come here tonight.”

“Oh, Ash too,” Crystal whispers. “Ever since we planned this, Michael must’ve gotten at least 5 texts from him casually trying to find out if she was coming.”

Sierra sips her drink, never taking her eyes off your table. “It ended so badly, I can’t get over how comfortable they are with each other… there’s still just so much love there.”

Crystal shrugs. “Well god bless them but think of how long it took them to actually get together,” she points out. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for them to figure out that they called it off too soon.”

You make light conversation with Ashton, trying to ignore the girls’ gabfest you see out of the corner of your eye; they were both supportive but clearly distraught when you told them about the breakup so you know they’ve got to be eating this up.

Calum announces he’s stepping away for a cigarette and you and Ash pick at your plates in silence for a few minutes, suddenly feeling the weight of having to interact without a buffer. Finally, he offers up a quiet, “You’ve been good?”

You answer perhaps a little too quickly, nod perhaps a little too vigorously, eager to mask any implication of hurt feelings. “Yep. Busy. But good.”

He fiddles with the tablecloth. “You know... I meant to call sometime but it never felt right and then things got crazy with the band…”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “I didn’t check in either. Didn’t think you’d answer,” you laugh weakly.

He smiles and you hate how warm you feel at the sight. “Why did I always assume you were a ‘fuck that guy, delete his number as soon as you’re out the door’ kind of ex?”

Your heart sinks and you’re not sure why; it takes you a moment to realize it’s because this is the first time you’ve actually thought of yourself as “his ex.” You steady yourself. “Usually am. Decided to be mature on this one. You’re still at the top of my contacts. Listed under ‘Asshole,’ obviously,” you giggle.

“Ah, my favorite of your pet names,” he laughs along with you.

You talk for a few more minutes until Crystal makes her way over; Ash slips away while the two of you catch up and shortly after, you get a text from Luke asking if you’re ready to go. Your eyes scan the room though you aren’t sure what exactly you’re searching for, because you’re totally fine leaving without saying goodbye to Ashton.

You're quiet on the ride back to Sierra and Luke’s and while you collect your things from their bedroom, she gently checks in.

“See, tonight wasn’t so bad,” she muses.

“No, it was OK. Good to see everyone,” you shrug. “...Ash looks healthy.”

“He looks good,” Sierra says pointedly. You say nothing.

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Luke asks, coming into the room and sitting next to his girlfriend on the bed. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here.”

“I’m fine, Luke,” you chuckle. You turn and hug them both. “I love you both, I’ll text when I’m home.” They respond by kissing the top of your head and you chuckle fondly as you leave.

“They seemed OK tonight,” Luke mentions while they get ready for bed.

“They were more than OK, those stubborn kids couldn’t have been more into each other,” Sierra rants. “I think they really miss it, they just won’t admit it.”

“Oh, Ash definitely misses her. I swear, he talked about her less when they were together,” he jokes. Sierra raises an eyebrow, which Luke takes as encouragement to continue rambling about everything Ash had told him. “He knows they fought a lot but he even misses that... he’s been saying he’s glad he never told her he loved her, though. Things would’ve been a lot harder. Messier. I dunno, he’s always asking about her.”

You get home and drop your bag right inside the door with a huge, exhausted sigh and pull out your phone to text Luke and Sierra before heading to your room. You throw open the closet and it only takes you a couple seconds to spot what you’re looking for: that hoodie that Ash left behind and you never bothered to return.

You stare at it for a beat and then leave to wash your face and brush your teeth; you already know what you’re about to do but you still try to talk yourself out of it. Back in the bedroom, you reluctantly grab the hoodie off of its hanger, change into it and climb into bed. You hold the sleeves to your face and breathe Ashton in; long, deep breaths, letting his smell fill your nostrils. You’ve done this more times than you’d care to admit these past few months; you miss him here, in your space. You curl in a ball and drift off, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you.

You’re woken up early by your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You see it’s Sierra and pick it up, groaning, making sure she can hear it. “S?”

“Hey babe… can we lunch?” She bubbles.

“You couldn’t have texted?”

“Sorry, Sunshine, just wanted to hear your lovely voice… and get a definite answer out of you. 1 o’clock, don’t be late!” She sing-songs, hanging up.

You check your notifications and your heart sinks, not seeing anything from Ashton. You weren’t sure why you thought you would. You curl up and go back to sleep for a while.

Sierra knows you well enough to guess you fell back asleep without setting an alarm and she starts blowing you up around noon. You text that you’ll see her soon and you start getting ready. You use the most fragrant soap you can find for your shower, ensuring the smell of Ashton's cologne doesn't linger on your skin.

You walk into your usual lunch place and easily spot Sierra on the patio. "Drinks are on their way," she shares as you take your seat.

You chat breezily about the party: how good the food was, how Michael's DJ setup was so much more elaborate than at the last party you attended, how much you loved what Crystal had worn. You wonder out loud if Cal had gone home with the girl he'd been making eyes at all night and Sierra seizes the opportunity to steer the conversation to her topic of choice.

"Speaking of making eyes," she takes a prolonged sip from her glass. "Things seemed a little intense with Ash last night."

You give her a tight-lipped smile, determined not to give her anything she can blow out of proportion. "I told you it was fine. Easier than I expected in a lot of ways, harder in others."

She places her hand on your arm from across the table. "I looked over a few times and saw him with his arm over your chair, you watching him talk… it was like we were back at that resort again," she says wistfully.

You evaluate her face for a moment. Since she's one of your best friends, you're used to being lovingly annoyed with her meddling in your life but sometimes you forget that it comes from a place of genuine love and concern for you. "Regardless of how things turned out, I'll always be grateful you forced me to stay on that trip," you smile. "That was some once in a lifetime kind of shit."

"From what I heard down the hall, sure sounded like it," she teases, grinning as you playfully shoo her hand off your arm. "That anniversary's coming up quick, isn't it?"

"Next week," you blurt, wincing at how quickly you answer.

"We'll have to think of something fun to do together," she declares carefully. "Not that you need it, but just in case you don't want to be alone."

This time you reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been around like I used to, S. I just… needed time," you admit. "It's still hard. Most of the time, actually. But being around you and Lu again feels good. I think I need the support more than I realized."

"Babe," she pouts. "We were there for you before Ash, during Ash and we want to be there for you post-Ash. We love you."

You feel better than you thought you would as you head back to your car. Being honest with Sierra - and yourself - was easier than you expected. You briefly think about texting Ash - nothing major, something chill like "fun catching up last night" - but think better of it.

Sierra gets to her car and immediately texts Crystal, who requested an update when she heard you were getting lunch. She suggests asking Cal’s perspective to get the full picture of where Ash is at, so Sierra calls him on the drive home.

“Hey Sweet Boy!” She greets him.

“Sierra!” She can hear the grin on his face at the nickname. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you how Ash is. I mean, I know what Luke tells me but I feel like he gives you more,” she explains.

“How do you mean? You saw him last night?”

“How has he been since the breakup?” She emphasizes.

“Oh… OH!! Oh! What are you planning? Please tell me you’re doing something, he’s making me crazy. I don’t know what came over him last night,” Cal babbles.

“I think Luke had a hand in that,” Sierra admits with a sigh. “She came over to get ready with me and I think he probably shared some things he shouldn’t have. You know how he is.”

“What’s in that beautiful brain of yours?” Cal murmurs, letting out an excited little laugh. Out of everyone, he tends to enjoy Sierra’s plans like this the most, especially when they aren’t directed toward him.

“I don’t know yet… I feel like we just need to get them talking alone again like they were last night, remind them what was there...” she muses. She talks through a few ideas with Calum and he’s on board for any of them.

By the time she gets home, Sierra is raring to go; she practically runs up the stairs to ask Luke for his help.

“Hey hun!” He greets her with a smile when she raps on the door to his studio. He moves the guitar off his lap, silently inviting her to come lay on the couch while they talk. “How was lunch, how’s our girl?”

She fills him in on everything: your mood, your conversation and the consulting she’s been doing among the friend group. Luke seems interested but about halfway through becomes engrossed in his phone and Sierra sits up, irritated. “Babe, you asked, are you even listening?”

He briefly looks concerned and then grins. “Sorry, just distracted by Ash blowing up the group chat, asking if anyone wants to go away next week so he doesn’t have to deal with their anniversary,” he proudly holds up his phone.

Her jaw drops at the opportunity that’s fallen at their feet. “What if…” She starts furiously typing into her phone. “Yes… that house you guys stayed at when you were planning the last album is free.”

“Palm Springs? OK, so…” Luke trails off, trying to follow her logic.

“Band retreat for the boys. Self-care trip for the girls,” she answers, shooting off texts to Crystal, Mike and Cal.

“That house really isn’t big enough for all of us,” he comments, still lost.

She finally looks up at him, smiling widely. “It’s a good thing they’ll be the only ones going, then.”

————-

Taglist is breaking the links in the post and I currently do not have the brainpower to figure out the problem lol. We’ll try again tomorrow but in the meantime, if you aren’t notified, you can always check the masterlist which will be updated everyday!

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @everyscarisahealingplace

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#5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fic #ashton smut #5 seconds of summer smut #smut #Kindahoping4forever #cal-puddies #cass & Crystal #the dream team 🦦🦦#When The Sun Came Up You Were Looking At Me #Feedback is appreciated #buckle up y'all this is going to be a WILD ride #Thank you for reading and we'll see you tomorrow!

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