#sighs. yeah okay for the shits and giggles i’ll tag those characters

[hershelwidget]

A collection of things I’ve screamed into the void with mild hope that the void would scream back (it did. on several of these)

I am so sorry but every single word uttered here is canon to YLS’s already insane lore. yes even the one about Jack Skellington. yes even the one about Dimentio. yes even the one that ties into MSM/TBoCI. yes ESPECIALLY the one about Captain Barnacles.

[ragingbookdragon]

I Won't Give Up On Us

Jason Todd x Reader Story!

Word Count: 12.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence, Canonical Character Death, Angst

Author's Note: I wrote this a few years ago I believe, but hadn't posted it back. So I edited (mostly) and fixed it for y'all! Enjoy! -Thorne

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She sat on the water-tower and watched as they moved across the rooftops; they stopped in the middle and began discussing something. The tall one looked down at the smaller one and nodded to the street. “Stay along the rooftops and check the streets while I look for Selina.”

“Selina’s not around here Batman,” she called coyly.

The two of them whirled around, their eyes moving up until they found her. “Kit.”

She stood up from the water-tower and spread her arms. “In the flesh, Batman.”

The young boy beside him took a step forward. “Where’s Catwoman, Kit?”

Her eyes flitted to the bright colored boy, and she grinned. “Careful Robin…foxes eat birds.”

Scoffing, he crossed his arms over his suited chest. “You wouldn’t do a damn thing to me.”

She raised an eyebrow and hopped down, landing in front of them. “You aren’t the only one with skills, Robin. And we both know who’s the better fighter.” She walked by them, stopping at the ledge before turning to Batman. “Selina had business elsewhere.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Dunno. She might be my mentor, but she doesn’t tell me everything.” Gesturing to him, she quipped, “You’d have better luck using those detective skills of yours to find her.”

As she started to walk away, she paused and turned as if remembering something and looked at Robin. “Do you always keep your wallet on you? Or is it just right now?”

“What are you talking about, Kit?” he questioned, brows furrowing in confusion.

She flashed a grin and waved a black leather wallet, enjoying the way his eyes widened at the sight, then patted at his pants; her tone was heavy with challenge as she provoked, “Catch me if you can, little bird.” That was all she said before taking off down the wall, running along the streets.

Robin jerked forward, seemingly forgetting that Batman was beside him as he hauled after her. “GET BACK HERE, KIT!”

Batman sighed as he watched the two teens chase each other, one continually shouting the other giggling, then a voice called from behind him. “They’re almost like a miniature version of us, aren’t they, Bat?”

He tipped his head to the woman standing on the other rooftop. “Selina.”

She smirked and turned, walking away. “Let’s play a game of tag, shall we?” He grunted as he began running after her.

***

She could hear Robin’s feet slam against the pavement with each step he took, and she huffed a laugh. “You’re not supposed to let people hear you, Robin! I thought Batman taught you how to be quiet!”

“I’m gonna be quiet when I get my wallet back from you!”

“Is that before or after I take the money inside?”

“DON’T TOUCH MY MONEY, KIT!”

“So touchy, Robin.” Her hands gripped the ledge as she pulled herself up and onto the rooftop; her feet carried her to the edge of the building, and she peered over it, mumbling to herself, “That’s a little too big of a jump for me to make.”

She turned around and was met by his chest as he slammed into her; her eyes widened as everything moved in slow-motion as they fell over the edge. The wind whipped by them as they fell, and she couldn’t stop the blood-curdling scream that tore through her throat.

An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, then the click of the grapple-gun sounded in her ears, followed by his low and confident voice. “I’ve got us Kit, don’t worry.”

Her hands clenched in his suit as the grapple hooked into a building, and they swung down to the roof below. When their feet touched the ground, she pulled away and slung her fist into his stomach. He bent over, holding his stomach and she exploded. “Are you insane, Robin! We could’ve died! How about next time, you watch where the fuck you’re running!”

She turned away and stalked off when a hand curled in hers. “Wait a second, Kit.” She paused, glancing down at him, then he rose and rubbed the spot she’d punched. “Damn, you’ve got one hell of an arm.” She felt the corner of her mouth raise and he matched her grin. “See…you’re not that mad at me.”

Scoffing, she retorted, “Considering the fact that we almost became a giant splatter on the pavement? I’m a little mad.”

“I had us.”

She leaned forward and poked his chest. “And what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

He paused for a minute, then laced his fingers with hers. “Then we wouldn’t have been able to go to prom in a few weeks.” He went quiet, then looked at her. “You are still gonna go to prom with me, right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, Jason…I am.”

Grinning, he nodded to the diner just across the street. “Wanna get some food?”

“Sure.”

They began walking towards the diner, sliding down the fire-escape and to the street; they crossed the street and stepped into the joint. When the food was ready, they took it back to the roof, sitting down on the ledge, eating, while cracking jokes back and forth.

(Y/N) was sipping on her milkshake when Jason went quiet, and she eyed him. “What’s wrong, Jay?”

He glanced at her then shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. You aren’t usually this quiet.”

Jason stayed silent for a moment. “…I’m going to Ethiopia soon.”

Her eyes widened, and she leaned close. “For what?”

His gaze seemed heavy when he looked at her. “I’m finding my mother.”

“I thought Catherine was your mom?”

Jason nodded. “She was…but she wasn’t my biological mother.”

“When are you leaving?”

“In a couple days.”

“You’re going to be back in time for prom, right?”

Jason snorted. “Yes, (Y/N). I won’t stand you up at prom.”

She grinned. “Good.” It was silent for a second, then she spoke softly. “Does Bruce know?” When he didn’t answer, she found her own, sighing, “Jason, it’s not a good idea to leave without letting Bruce know.”

He nodded. “I know…but Bruce isn’t who I need to tell right now.” He took her hand. “It’s you.” His other hand fumbled in his utility belt, and he pulled out a silver band that held a peridot in the middle; he held it out to her, and she took it, then stared at him.

“Jason…what’s this?”

“A ring.”

(Y/N) sighed and rolled her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. Couldn’t figure that out myself.” She paused. “Why though?”

“It’s a promise ring.”

She felt the breath leave her lungs and her eyes went wide. “A promise ring?”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I know we’re too young to get married right now, (Y/N). But I love you, and at some point, in my life, I that to become ‘our life’.”

(Y/N) was speechless at his confession, and she pulled off her mask, questioning, “Are you being serious right now? Because if this is a joke, after I beat the shit out of you, I will break up with you, and never speak to you again.”

Jason snorted. “I’m being one-hundred percent serious, (Y/N). I want to marry you someday, and this ring serves as a testament to that.” He squeezed her hand again. “So, what do you say? Wanna make a promise?”

(Y/N) felt tears gather in her eyes, and she shifted, wrapping her arms around his neck; she nodded, and choked out, “Yes!” She pulled back, pressing her lips to his; she murmured against his mouth. “Yes, I do.”

Jason grinned, and pulled her close, and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Jason.”

***A Few Weeks Later***

She walked into the apartment, closing the door behind her; she kicked off the black heels and began fumbling with the dress zipper. Selina tipped her head around the wall. “What are you doing home so early, hon?” She glanced down at her wristwatch. “Prom wasn’t supposed to be over until eleven. It’s nine.”

(Y/N) glanced at her as she pulled the zipper down. “Jason wasn’t there.”

“He stood you up?”

She shrugged. “If he did, he’d better have a damn good reason for it.”

Selina observed her for a few seconds. “Are you okay, hon?”

“I’m beginning to worry about Jason.” She sighed.

“Why’s that?”

“Because ever since Jason left for Ethiopia, he hasn’t sent me a single message.” (Y/N) paused and looked at her. “Jason isn’t one to keep me in the dark. He would’ve called by now.”

Selina moved forward and placed her hands on (Y/N)’s shoulders. “He’s probably spending time with his mom.”

(Y/N) stared at her before sighing, nodding, “You’re probably right.” She pulled away from Selina’s grip and moved to her bedroom, stopping as she closed the door. “I’ll go see Bruce tomorrow and ask.”

“You might not be able to find Bruce.”

She cocked an eyebrow at her comment. “And why not?”

Selina’s gaze turned solemn. “Something’s wrong with Bruce he’s becoming…ruthless and careless.”

(Y/N) took in her words and nodded. “I’ll see if I can find him. That or I’ll just ask Alfred. He’ll know.”

Selina nodded. “Goodnight hon.”

“Night Selina.”

***The Next Day***

She stood in apprehension at the view of the manor; no matter how many times she’d been there, she was still shocked at the sheer size of it. She stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell, then turned and stared out at the long driveway, listening as the doorbell chimed.

The door opened and (Y/N) spun back around, expecting Alfred to be there. “Hey Alfred, is—Dick?” She stopped and stared at him. “Holy crap! Dick! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Dick smiled at her and opened his arms. (Y/N) leaned in and gave him a hug before pulling away. “What are you doing back in Gotham?”

Dick’s face dropped, and he stared at her. “Bruce needed my help.”

“Selina told me he’s been on edge for a while. It’s good that you’re here to keep him grounded.”

Dick nodded and motioned inside. “Want to come in?”

(Y/N) nodded and stepped by him. “This place gets even cooler every time I come over.”

He chuckled. “It does, doesn’t it?” They stepped into the kitchen and Dick went to the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?”

“Did Alfred make any fruit tea?”

“I think he made mango and peach tea.”

“I’ll take some of that.” He pulled out a pitcher and poured each of them a glass; he handed hers to her and she sipped it. “Alfred makes the best tea, I swear.”

Dick smiled and sat beside her, giving her a once over. “You look good, (Y/N).”

She was surprised at his comment and pointed to herself. “Me?”

“Yes (Y/N). You.” He snorted.

“Thank you, Dick.” She smiled. “Don’t ask me for a loan though, cause I ain’t givin’ you money.”

Dick laughed at her and shook his head. “I’m not going to ask you for a loan, (Y/N).”

“Good…‘cause I don’t have a lot of money.”

The two of them let out laughs, and Dick’s eyes caught the ring on her finger; he nodded at it. “Are you wearing a ring?”

(Y/N) glanced down at it, then back to him and nodded. “Jason gave it to me a few weeks ago.” She twirled it between her fingers, and she felt a smile form. “It’s a promise ring.” (Y/N) paused, then looked up at Dick. “Which brings me to the reason why I’m here…is Jason still in Ethiopia with his mom? He hasn’t messaged me yet, and I’m beginning to worry about him.”

Dick’s expression gave way from surprise to pure shock, and he leaned forward, his tone laced with disbelief. “…Have—have you not been told, (Y/N)?”

She blinked at him. “Told what?” Dick went silent, and (Y/N) cocked her head at him. “What haven’t I been told, Dick?”

He stared at her with a face that made her heart thump ominously and his voice held a tone of solemnity. “…Jason was killed in Ethiopia a few weeks ago.”

(Y/N) thought her heart stopped as she breathed out the only word she could manage. “…What?”

***Part Two***

Noise. Everything that came out of his mouth was pure noise. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as she rose from the bar seat. Dick looked at her concerned and rose to follow her. “(Y/N)? Where are you going?” She didn’t respond, her feet carrying her towards the study; she entered the room and slid to the wall, moving the clock from its position. (Y/N) skipped the steps, moving as fast as she could into the cave.

She came upon him, standing in front of the Batcomputer talking to Alfred; he turned to her, and she let out a withering whisper. “Is it true?” His eyebrows furrowed and he opened his, but she cut him off, this time, her voice a screech. “IS IT TRUE?!”

He shut his mouth for a few seconds, then murmured, “…Yes he’s…gone.”

(Y/N) saw red and she flew forward, her fists pounding into his chest. “HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME! HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME!” Bruce didn’t respond, didn’t even react to her punches; he just took each blow. After a few seconds of continual punches, he reached out and grabbed her arms; (Y/N) struggled, thrashing against him. “Let go of me!”

He didn’t, instead he brought her forward and circled his arms around her; she struggled for a few moments, but then the realization set in, and she felt her knees weaken. They caved and she let him lower her down as she cried.

Her hands clenched in his suit, and she stared up at him, wailing, “What happened?”

Bruce’s eyes shut and he whispered, “Joker killed him in Ethiopia.” (Y/N)’s eyes momentarily widened, before shutting and she buried her face in his shoulder as she sobbed.

***

She cried for hours, and he sat with her on the floor of the cave the entire time; Alfred and Dick had gone upstairs earlier to give them privacy. (Y/N) didn’t feel like moving, didn’t feel like talking, but she forced herself to; she shifted her eyes to Bruce’s and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me he di—why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t know how to. I’ve been so occupied with Gotham that I didn’t have time.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He looked down at her and she felt tears gather in her eyes again. “I deserved to know. I should’ve been the first person you told.”

Bruce looked away but nodded. “I know…I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

“How’d…how’d he die?”

There was a pause, then Bruce’s voice came out no higher than a broken whisper. “It was my fault…I wasn’t fast enough.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Bruce.”

“Yes, it was. I told him to wait but I should’ve known he would’ve gone to save her.”

(Y/N) glanced up at him at the mention of ‘her’. “Her? Who’s her?”

“Sheila Haywood. Jason’s mother.”

“So, he found her? Did he save her?”

Bruce let out a cold laugh that unsettled her. “He tried to…only to be betrayed by her and given to the Joker.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and he continued. “He beat Jason to a bloody pulp…then blew up the warehouse they were in.”

“He…killed them both?”

“Yes.”

She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as the tears ran down her cheeks. “I thought he was still there…still spending time with her…I never imagined this would’ve happened.”

A comforting hand caressed the side of her head and Bruce apologized again. “I’m sorry, (Y/N)…I’m so sorry.” She said nothing and leaned her head onto his shoulder again and let the tears come.

***

The weeks after that were unimaginable, and (Y/N) couldn’t bear to bring herself to his grave. Too afraid that seeing it, would make it real. Make it true. But after wrestling with herself and telling herself that she owed it to him to go, she finally made her way over. Each step was heavy, and she found it increasingly hard to breathe as she walked; she stopped, a hand holding the cold iron. I can’t do this…I can’t…I’m not ready.

(Y/N) moved to turn when a hand rested on her shoulder; she looked up to see Dick smiling sadly down at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew at some point you’d go see him…I’ve been waiting to go with you.”

She reared back and glared. “How do you know I need someone to go with me?”

“Because you can’t even open the gate, (Y/N).”

She looked back to her hand, seeing it begin to turn a shade lighter from clenching so tightly; (Y/N) let out a shaky breath. “I need help, Dick. I’m…scared to go alone.”

“I’ll go with you.” He said, his hand shifting from her shoulder to her hand, and his fingers curled around it.

She glanced at him through the tears in her eyes. “You will?” He nodded and she stepped back, letting him open the gate.

Their steps were quiet as the moved through the cemetery, and eventually, her eyes landed on his headstone. (Y/N) pulled away from Dick and stumbled to the stone, dropping to her knees in front of it; her fingers rose shakily, and she placed a hand to it.

It was freezing, and it made her throat close as she traced the letters of his name. “I didn’t…I didn’t even get to say goodbye. The plane was boarding, and he could only wave as he ran to catch it.”

Dick knelt beside her and rested a hand on her back. “None of us did (Y/N).”

“I thought he was still in Ethiopia with his mom…” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him; (Y/N) wrapped an arm under his and around his back, resting her head against his chest. “I don’t know what to do, Dick.” (Y/N) gazed at her hand to the silver band resting on her finger and choked out a sob. “What do I do now?” She stared up at him, hoping he had the answers, but all he did was close his eyes and shake his head.

“I…I don’t know, (Y/N).” he whispered.

Her eyes moved back to the stone, and she felt the tears run down her face. “This can’t be real…he can’t be gone.” (Y/N) sobbed, and the words poured from her mouth. “We were supposed to go to prom. We were supposed to graduate and go to college. Move in together and get…and get…” She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘married’, and she felt Dick’s arms tighten around her and his head dropped to her shoulder.

Soon, she felt the material of her jacket go damp and he whispered, “I wasn’t the brother I should’ve been for him. God, I was so angry at Bruce that I stayed away from Gotham, and I never got to know him well enough as I should’ve.”

(Y/N) pulled back to look at Dick, and she took one of his hands; he met her eyes and she murmured, “You were enough, Dick. He knew you cared for him.” He nodded, and (Y/N) rested her head back against his chest. After a few moments, she whispered, “I don’t know what to do anymore, Dick. I can’t even bring myself to leave my room most days let alone putting on my suit on anymore.”

“Why not?”

(Y/N) let her eyes trace his name and she confessed brokenly, “Because I can’t be Kit without my Robin.” She shut her eyes and brought a hand to her face and cried into it. Dick said nothing, he just held her as she broke down, and he let himself break down too.

***Five Years Later***

She gripped the handle of her whip and followed after Selina as she stepped into the jewelry store. Her eyes moved around the room, then went back to Selina who was busy cutting a hole in the glass case. “Selina…what are we doing?”

Selina snorted. “I believe we’re stealing this six-million-dollar diamond and ruby necklace, (Y/N).”

“No. I mean what are we doing, Selina.”

She stopped cutting and rose, arching an elegant brow at (Y/N). “Alright. You’ve been acting like this for a few weeks now. In fact, it’s been like this since you’ve put the suit back on.” She motioned to (Y/N). “What’s up with you?”

Taking a few breaths of courage, she removed her mask and stared at her mentor. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

“And what does that mean?”

(Y/N) loosened the whip at her side. “It means that you’re breaking the law, Selina. And it’s wrong.”

Selina huffed a laugh and turned back to the case, beginning to cut again. “You’re a little old to be playing Cops and Robbers, Kit.” The crack of her whip sounded, and she watched it curl around Selina’s wrist; her eyes turned back to (Y/N), gaping at her. “(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “I’m not letting you take this Selina. It’s wrong.” Selina huffed a cold laugh and gripped the whip in her hand, tugging it roughly; (Y/N) flew forward and she landed at her feet. She looked up and saw Selina picking up the necklace, then glance down at her.

“All these years I’ve taken care of you. All these years that I’ve trained you and this is how you give it back to me? By turning sides?” Selina scoffed. “You can get the hell out of my place and find your own.” (Y/N) scrambled to her feet beginning to give chase; she ran past the alarm and threw an arm out, slamming her hand down on the switch. Selina glanced over her shoulder. “You little bitch!”

“I’m going to be a bigger bitch when I take that necklace back from you Selina!” The two of them slammed through the doors on the roof, hands and feet flying.

They both fought and (Y/N) felt Selina’s claws dig into her shoulder. She let out a cry and slammed her palm up into Selina’s chin. The older woman fell backwards, and (Y/N) watched the necklace fly from her pouch. Their eyes met and each of them scrambled, trying to reach it first. (Y/N) gripped the bolas at her side and slung them as hard as she could. They caught Selina’s ankles, and she dropped; she slid to her feet and scooped up the necklace, and she didn’t look back as she ran, hopping ledges and rooftops, listening to Selina cuss at her the entire way.

(Y/N) ran for what seemed like hours, and once she made sure she was safe, she sat down on a rooftop and caught her breath. Her hand shifted to her pocket, and she looked at the necklace. I could sell this if I wanted to. (Y/N) shook her head and shoved the necklace back in her pocket. No. I made my choice. No more stealing. She sighed and turned back to go to Selina’s apartment when she remembered that she couldn’t go back there. So where to now? (Y/N) looked around when a building caught her eye. I can go to him…he’ll help me. She began running again, moving in the direction of the manor.

***

Bruce stood in front of the Batcomputer, moving through the cases when Tim walked up. “Bruce? Can I help you with anything?”

“No. Go see if Dick or Alfred need anything though.”

Tim nodded and began moving when a figure came into view. “Holy crap! Kit?!”

Immediately, everyone was facing the entrance of the cave and they watched as (Y/N) stepped closer; Bruce rose from his seat and moved in front of her, noticing she was out of her suit. “What are you doing here, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes moved from his to the Batcomputer and she nodded at it. “Selina got arrested then.”

“You knew?”

(Y/N) looked at him and stepped forward, moving her hand towards him to reveal the necklace. “I came to give this to you…to return it.”

Bruce took it, looking at her curiously and the others stepped towards her. “Why’d you turn on Selina?”

She took a deep breath and held out her suit, declaring, “I don’t want to be a criminal anymore. I’m tired of breaking the law and seeing other people get away with it.”

To say that they were surprised at her confession was an understatement; Dick tipped his head. “But…stealing is kind of your thing? Why don’t you want to do it anymore, (Y/N)?”

“Because it’s not what Jason would want me to keep doing.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m ready to change but I don’t want to be a criminal. I want to be like you guys…” She swallowed thickly. “I want to be someone that would make Jason proud.”

They were silent for a moment, then Bruce took her suit from her and passed it to Alfred. “If you’re going to join us, you’ll need a new training regimen. We start at dawn.”

That was all he said before turning around, and (Y/N) called out to him. “By the way…Selina kicked me out. So…can I maybe stay here?” He waved a hand and (Y/N) let a smile grace her face.

“Welcome to the Batfamily (Y/N).”

(Y/N) glanced at Dick’s hand held outwards and she smiled, taking it firmly; he shifted and pulled her into a hug, listening as she giggled. “Thanks Dick.”

They pulled away and Bruce walked back over. “You need a new suit Kit. Yours is ripped.”

“Vixen.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Everyone has to grow up sometime. I’m not Kit anymore…I’m Vixen.”

Bruce eyed her before walking past her. “You prove to me that you can be like us, and you can be Vixen…until then you’re Kit.”

“Looks like you have a long road ahead of you (Y/N).” Dick remarked.

She nodded at him. “Right on.” She glanced over at Tim who was still wearing his suit. “Hey…Robin.” He turned to her, and his eyes flashed with fear as she stepped in front of him; (Y/N) pointed to the symbol. “Make sure you honor that uniform. Are we clear?” Tim nodded fervently and she reached up, ruffling his hair. “Good.” (Y/N) walked away and stopped at the stairs, glancing over her shoulder at him. “He’d be proud someone like you filled his shoes.”

“Are you okay with this, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes moved to Dick’s, and she nodded, her voice solemn. “Jason’s gone, Dick. I can’t change that.” (Y/N)’s hand rose to close around the ring on the chain at her neck. “But I can honor him by knowing that Tim’s doing a damn good job as Robin.” She began moving up the stairs and murmured, “And I know he’d be proud that I’m fighting crime instead of making it.”

***Part Three***

She hit the floor, listening as the sound echoed through the cave, and grunted, grabbing her side, the throbbing telling her she was going to see a black bruise soon. He shifted over and knelt beside her. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and clamored to her feet, assuming another defensive position. “Let’s go again.”

“This is the fifth time we’ve done this, (Y/N). Aren’t you tired yet?”

“Again.” She reiterated.

Bruce complied and entered an offensive stance. “Remember (Y/N), it’s not just about blocking each hit, it’s knowing what’s coming next.”

“Got it. Go.”

They circled each other for a few seconds, each of them wondering who was going to move first; Bruce shifted fast, and she readied herself for the coming blows. They came swiftly, and she reminded herself to focus on what he was going to do next. Who am I kidding? The man is unpredictable. (Y/N) kept up, and she saw him grin ever-so-slightly.

“Good. You’re keeping up well.” She blocked the palm he threw at her, returning it with a kick to his side, then backing up; he followed her. “Let’s see if you can go faster.”

“Wait don’t go faster! I’m barely keeping myself on track right now!” Bruce chuckled, but went faster anyway and (Y/N) found herself panicking as each fist came.

“Don’t panic, (Y/N). Focus.” She took a deep breath as she blocked his foot and he said, “When it comes down to a life-or-death fight, you need to be able to keep calm. If you let your enemy get the better of your fear and panic, it’s all over.”

“Is that how you felt when you fought Bane?”

He nodded. “I will admit, that was one of the most fearful moments of my entire life.”

“I imagine having your back broken is.” Bruce shifted again, and (Y/N) saw his foot fly. “Fuck.”

She saw it too late, and it hit her square in the chest; she dropped to the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs. (Y/N) put her hands to her chest and tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come in; her eyes widened in panic, and she looked up at Bruce who immediately moved to her side.

“(Y/N).” She motioned to her chest, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Just relax. The more you panic, the harder it will be for you to breathe.” She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down, then she inhaled deeply, feeling the breath expand in her deprived lungs. She let out a shaky breath and he asked, “Are you alright now?”

(Y/N) opened her eyes, and she jerked, elbow meeting his chest; Bruce’s eyes widened, and she shifted again, taking advantage of the opening he’d given her. The arm she’d hit him with came back and gripped one of his arms and she swung herself around it, placing her legs over his chest, as she pulled it back. Bruce’s back bent on the mat as he tried to move, but she tightened her grip on his arm and her legs, keeping him locked in place.

“Tap out.” He grunted and tried to move but couldn’t and she said again, this time firmer, “Tap. Out.” After a few seconds, she heard his free hand tapping the mat and she let go, rolling off. (Y/N) rose to her feet and crossed her arms, smiling triumphantly. “I win.”

Bruce climbed to his feet and stood in front of her, a hard look in his eyes. At first, (Y/N) began to panic at the look, then the corner of his mouth turned up and he passed her murmuring, “Good job.”

She turned around and watched his back in disbelief as he walked to the shower room and then turned to Dick who was walking over, a towel in his hand. “Did…did that just happen? Did he just give me approval?”

Dick snorted as he passed her the towel. “Don’t get used to it, ‘cause it probably won’t happen again for a long time.”

Tim walked up beside her as she laughed. “Here (Y/N). I got your water.”

She smiled as she took it from him. “Thanks kiddo.” (Y/N) drank from the bottle then glanced at Dick. “I thought you were supposed to be in Blüdhaven. Why are you here?”

“Bruce said there’s some new player in Gotham and I figured he could use a hand.”

“Yeah, that Red Hood guy.” She replied.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “Bruce hasn’t let Tim or me patrol since he’s come into town.”

“Is he that dangerous?” (Y/N) passed him and walked over to the Batcomputer, typing on it; a few seconds later, the image of eight decapitated heads appeared on the screen. “Holy shit.”

She nodded at his shock. “He’s effectively taken over the drug trade in Gotham City, and is waging a one-man-war on Black Mask.”

“Is he winning?”

“So far? It appears so.” She paused and clicked the mouse. “I can’t exactly condone his actions because he’s killing people, but he’s keeping the drugs away from children and schools, so I’m not overly angry with him.”

Dick hummed, glancing at Tim. “You doing good, Timmy?”

The young boy nodded with a smile. “(Y/N)’s been helping me a lot.”

“Shove off, Dick.” She muttered when she saw the look on his face.

He spluttered. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.” She moved towards the steps, climbing them towards the door.

Dick followed her. “Going to see Jason?”

(Y/N) nodded as they stepped into the study. “Didn’t get to see him last week because of exams.”

“How’d those go?”

She flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Passed with flying colors.”

Dick reached over and patted her head. “Good job, (Y/N).”

She swatted his hand but smiled nevertheless at his congratulations. “Thanks Dick.” He smiled as he watched her climb the stairs and move towards her room.

(Y/N) walked inside her room and closed the door, immediately stripping from the sweaty work-out clothes; she dropped them into her hamper and moved into the bathroom, stepping into the shower. Once she was finished, she pulled on her underclothes, then put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her eyes drifted to the zip-up hoodie in her closet; she pulled it off the hanger and slipped it on. Even after so long, it still fit her; she could faintly smell the scent of his cologne in it and she sighed, closing the closet, and moving to the door. (Y/N) walked down the steps and to the garage, grabbing her keys as she walked by.

***

The drive to the cemetery didn’t take long, and she stepped across the grass, still covered with dew. She pulled out the bottle of water from her bag, along with the old rag she’d grabbed; she poured the water on the rag then ran it over the surface of the stone, cleaning away the dirt.

“Sorry I wasn’t here last week, Jay. I had exams that week and I was too busy cramming. Honestly, it feels like a shit excuse on my part, but I know you’d understand.” (Y/N) grinned. “I remember how well you did in school. Right next to me, you were the best there was.” She pulled the rag away and wrung it out, putting it away, then she placed the vase of flowers at it, shifting it into place.

“I should mention that I passed my exams with A’s. (Y/N) (L/N) is one step closer to graduating. To be honest, school sucks. My nights are much more fun.” She snorted and pulled a photo album from her bag. “Tim helped me put this together a few days ago. He likes photography a lot.” (Y/N) opened it and reclined against the headstone. “You’d like Tim, Jason. He’s a good kid…smart, God he’s smart. Probably smarter than all of us…even Bruce.” She flipped the pages. “This is an old picture…the first gala you ever dragged me to.”

(Y/N) snorted. “I kept stepping on your shoes when we danced, but you just smiled at me…here’s you and I at the fairgrounds. I remember you threw up on the teacups because you ate too much. Ugh, that was so gross. Hilarious, but gross. Here’s that photo of you, Dick, Roy, and I at the pool. The chicken fight was fun and watching you and Dick pout because Roy and I beat you both was even more so.” Her fingers moved the pages, and she came across one of them; they froze on it. “…This was the last photo you and I took together. The Christmas party Bruce threw the year before you died.” A sad smile crossed her face, and she flipped the page again. “For now, that’s all we have.”

She closed the book and turned to the stone. “But I’ll make sure to take more photos so I can show you. Something tells me that the family is going to get a lot bigger in the future.” (Y/N) rose from the ground and collected her things, then stood in front of the stone. All at once, she felt someone’s eyes on her and immediately, she turned and eyes darting around, but saw nothing. Confused and unnerved, she faced the stone again. “I’ll see you later, Jason. I love you.”

(Y/N) quickly walked to her car and climbed in, pulling away from the sidewalk; she picked up her phone and pushed a button, listening to it ring.

Hello?

“Hey Bruce.”

What’s wrong?

“I think someone was around Jason’s grave.”

There was silence on the line, then his voice came over low and quiet. Why do you say that?

“Because it felt like someone was watching me.”

You sure it wasn’t someone else visiting?

(Y/N) huffed a mirthless laugh. “Bruce, I was the only person in the cemetery.”

I’ll see about putting up a camera in the quadrant that Jason’s grave is in.

“Alright. Hey…about patrol tonight. Can—”

We’ll talk about it tonight.

“Okay.” (Y/N) hung up and continued her drive towards Gotham University.

***

She stood in front of the Batcomputer, watching Bruce type away. “Have you found anything else about him?”

“Not yet. Dick’s going with me tonight, so we’ll see what it brings.”

“About tonight…Bruce, I think you should let me patrol again.”

“No.”

She sighed and leaned against the panel. “C’mon, Bruce. You can’t beat this guy on your own, not even with Dick’s help.” (Y/N) reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you, Bruce. It’s what you’ve been training me to do.”

“She’s got a point Bruce.” They turned to see Dick walking towards them, already suited up. “(Y/N)’s been working her ass off to get back into the field. And after what we saw this morning, she’s damn sure earned it.”

(Y/N) turned back to Bruce who took in Dick’s words, then he rose from the chair and began walking off; she sighed and scratched the back of her head. “I swear it’s one step forwards and two steps back.”

“Don’t take it too personal (Y/N). He’s just worried about the new guy.”

Her response was cut off by Bruce who stepped up to her. He held out a black suit with silver streaks on it; she eyed it. “What’s this?”

“That’s your new suit…Vixen.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she gaped at him. “Are you…are you serious right now?”

Bruce nodded. “Dick’s right. You’ve earned the name and right to start patrolling again.” He took in the joy on her face and thumped her forehead. “Go suit up. We leave in ten.”

She scrambled to the changing room and stripped her clothes, pulling on the new suit. It fit like a glove, and she admired the suit in the mirror. She pulled on the domino mask and walked back out to them.

Bruce handed her a grapple gun and motioned to a sleek-black bike. “New bike’s yours too.”

“Holy crap this is awesome!” she yelled, pulling him in for a hug.

“Are you done yet?” Bruce sighed, patting her head.

“Don’t be an ass, Bruce. Enjoy the moment.”

He let out a chuckle as she pulled away, then his tone dropped into a serious one. “Listen to me very carefully, I don’t want you engaging the Red Hood, understood?”

She tipped her head. “I get it, but why not?”

“He’s too dangerous and unpredictable. Leave him to Dick and me. You stick to South Gotham.”

(Y/N) nodded and made her way to her bike. “I’ll stay in contact. Good hunting boys.” She pulled off and drove down the ramps.

***

She stood along the ledge of the building, watching the city below her; the night hadn’t been busy, but it certainly stretched along. Her eyes followed the cars and pedestrians when a flash of red caught them. Holy shit! It’s him! He paused on a roof top, then kept moving; (Y/N) grabbed her gun and aimed it for the building he’d just left when she paused. Maybe I should call Bruce…I’ll just tail him for now and get Bruce information.

She nodded her head and fired, slinging to the other building. Her feet hit the top and she was thankful that her shoes muffled noise as she began running after him. Tailing him wasn’t so hard as he didn’t turn around; he obviously wasn’t expecting someone to follow him. (Y/N) followed him, then, she lost sight of him.

Dropping down into the alley she’d seen him drop into, she let out a ‘huh’ and looked around, whispering, “I don’t understand…he was just here?”

“You’re good, but you aren’t the best.” She spun around to see him standing in front of her; (Y/N) reacted, throwing a fist. He caught it, and she brought her knee up to his stomach; he must’ve been expecting it too because he blocked it with his palm. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Too bad pal. I’m on the job right now.” (Y/N) jerked her fist from his grasp and threw her other one.

He dodged each punch and kick she sent, and he sighed. “I’m not going to fight you.”

That made her pause and she stopped with her hands raised defensively. “And why not?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Kit.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Look you’re obviously new in town, so I’ll give you this one for free. My name isn’t Kit anymore. It’s Vixen.”

He leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest; he tipped his head back and flirted, “Vixen, huh? That referring to you growing out of Kit…or becoming a rather alluring seductress?”

(Y/N) uncurled the whip from her side. “Depends on who’s asking.” Whatever response he had was cut off as she cracked it towards him.

Quick as flash, and obviously well trained, Red Hood grabbed the whip and curled his arm around it, jerking it roughly. (Y/N) flew forward and he shifted, grabbing her wrists; he turned them around and her back hit the wall as he shoved her arms above her head. She thrashed until he murmured, “Stop moving.”

She yanked at his grip, then looked at his helmet; she spit at it. “Let me go you fucker.”

He chuckled at her. “Man, you’ve certainly grown a mouth.” He observed her. “Those were nice flowers you left.”

(Y/N) stilled at that and she stared wide-eyed at him. “…What?”

“A nice mix you had going. Forget-Me-Nots, that’s self-explanatory. Primroses for eternal love, Red Tulips for undying love, Rainflowers for atonement, and Sword Lilies for an August birthday.” (Y/N) felt the breath leave her lungs, and all she could do was stare, too stunned to speak. “You’re still holding onto him, aren’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed and she felt tears swim in her vision as she tugged at her arms. “You sonovabitch. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve visited his grave every week for the past five years, always bringing the same blend of flowers, and the same rag to clean with.”

“So, you’ve been watching me?”

“For a while…I wanted to know if you cared.”

“…Why?” His hands shifted, taking both her wrists in one, and the other went behind his head and pushed the button. She watched the helmet unlock and he pulled it off, dropping it do their feet, then he pulled the domino mask from his eyes and gazed at her. (Y/N)’s jaw went slack, and she could barely breathe.

“Because I still care.”

She could barely get his name out. “…J-Jason?”

His free hand came up and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “Hey (Y/N)…been a long time.”

Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and everything began to spin; the last thing she remembered was Jason calling out to her as she fell into darkness.

***Part Four***

Her eyelids peeled open, and she looked up at the ceiling blearily. Upon seeing that it wasn’t the ceiling in her room at Wayne Manor, shock registered in her brain, and she shifted to sit up.

A hand rested on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down as a low voice followed. “Don’t sit up too fast. You’ll make yourself sick.” She looked over to see him sitting there on the edge of the bed; his hand moved from her shoulder to the nightstand beside her. He passed her a warm cup, which she took lightly. “Here. You’re recovering from shock, something warm will help.”

She brought the cup to her lips, and the scent of freshly crushed peppermint leaves wafted up her nose. “Peppermint?”

“Peppermint reduces anxiety and makes you calm.” He nodded to it. “Drink.”

“Don’t be bossy…I’m doing it.” She took a few sips then handed it back to him; he took it from her and set it on the nightstand, then looked at his hands. There was silence around them, then she sat up, scooting closer to him. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” The silence he gave her made her heart wrench, and she reached out, curling her hand in his. “Jason?”

He finally looked at her, and she took in the sight of how clouded his teal eyes were. She rested a hand on his cheek, her thumb caressing under his eye. She stared at him, then whispered, “I don’t understand…how are you alive?”

Jason closed his eyes and shook his head murmuring, “I don’t know (Y/N). I remember everything coming back in the Lazarus Pit…but that’s about it.” She tightened her grip on his hand, feeling his thumb run across the back of hers. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to talk to you…but I didn’t know when to.”

“You could’ve talked to me at the cemetery.”

Jason snorted and glanced at her. “And send you into cardiac arrest where I was buried? No thanks.” (Y/N) felt the corners of her mouth rise and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his; they stared at each other for a few moments, then Jason reached forward and pulled her into his lap, burying his face in her shoulder. Her arms came up and wound around him, threading a hand in his hair.

“I’ve missed you, (Y/N).” he whispered, tightening his grip on her waist.

She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you too, Jason. Everyday you’ve been gone.”

They stayed that way for a while, simply holding each other, remembering what they had. (Y/N) pulled away after some time and took his face in her hands, observing him. She could tell how much he’d changed since they last saw each other those five years ago; he’d grown, and not just in his body and facial features. (Y/N) had seen the videos of him fighting; he’d become more skillful at fighting, deadlier too. Whoever trained him after Bruce had honed his senses to a razor-sharp edge. But what stunned her the most were his eyes. When they were younger, his eyes were always bright and full of mirth, always willing to spark some type of trouble…but now? His eyes were dark and cloudy, haunted by his past, a stark contrast from what she remembered.

(Y/N) reached up and twirled a finger in the tuft of white hair at his head. “That’s new.”

He smiled and nodded. “Was like that when I woke up.”

“Jason…what are you doing?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

(Y/N) shifted, pulling herself from his grip and rising to stand in front of him. “You know exactly what I mean.” She gestured to his suit. “This Red Hood business? Fighting Bruce? The war on drugs against Black Mask?” she shook her head like she couldn’t understand any of it—and for the most part, she didn’t. “What are you doing?”

Jason stood from the bed and wandered over to a table, his back to her. “I’m doing what Bruce won’t.”

“And that is?”

His hands shifted to the guns on the table, and he picked up a rag, beginning to clean one. “Controlling crime.”

“You’re not controlling crime, Jason. You’re acting like a mob boss.”

He snorted and glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe, but it’s getting the job done.”

(Y/N) thought her head was going to explode, and she crossed the room to him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face her; she glowered at him. “You’re not ‘doing the job’, Jason! You’re killing people!”

He jerked his arm from her grip and leaned in, his voice harsh. “Bad people! I’m putting down dogs that deserve it!”

“It doesn’t matter what they deserve, Jason! It’s murder! We aren’t executioners!”

Jason stood back up to his full height, and she watched his eyes turn to slits as he murmured, “I thought you of all people would understand why I’m doing this.”

(Y/N) thought he’d slapped her with how disappointed he sounded, and her voice turned incredulous. “Are you shitting me right now?” She reached out, her pointer finger jamming into his chest. “Don’t you dare turn this on me.” (Y/N) shook her head. “I left Selina and joined Bruce because I didn’t want to be a criminal anymore. I wanted to be a better person in your memory.” She stared into his eyes and spit, “You know damn well I’d never condone this…not even for you.”

“So, you’re choosing him over me?”

“Oh, don’t even go there, Jason. It’s not like that and you know it. Bruce helped me turn over a new leaf. He’s helped me become who I am.” (Y/N) reached out and took his arm. “Come home, Jason. Bruce and I can help you.”

This time, he gripped the hand that held his arm and he yanked her off. “I don’t need his help. Not when he did this to me.”

“Are you…are you blaming Bruce for this?”

“Of course I am! He left me to die!” The sound of a palm against skin echoed in the room and Jason reached up, holding his throbbing cheek.

(Y/N) glared as she whispered frostily, “He didn’t leave you to die, Jason! He told you to wait until he got back! I will admit that he wasn’t fast enough to save you, but he didn’t do this!” She tugged her hand away from his grip. “You’ve done this all on your own.”

His Adam’s apple bobbe4d as he swallowed, and he huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’ve changed, (Y/N).” He passed by her, muttering as he did. “You act so high and mighty, but you forget that you used to be a criminal too.”

She looked at him through the mirror beside her and she murmured, “I think it’s you who’s changed.” He turned and met her eyes and she added, “My Jason knew the difference between right and wrong.”

Jason flashed her a smile that made her stomach curl and he declared, “I don’t know if you know this, (Y/N)? But your Jason died.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and turned around, meeting his gaze. They stared at each other, and she affirmed, “Yes…he has.” Her hand reached up tugged at the silver chain around her neck; she walked past him to the door but stopped beside him. (Y/N) took his hand and placed the necklace in his palm; he looked down at it, then back at her, his eyes widening, and she hissed, “You can take this back. I’d rather die than marry what you’ve become.”

Jason’s hand curled around the ring, and he narrowed his eyes in amusement. “Don’t know if you know this, doll…but dying isn’t all that hard to do.”

(Y/N) glared as she passed him to the door, slamming it on her way out.

***

She wondered aimlessly through the streets, not caring where she was headed. After a few hours, a beeping sounded from her wrist; she raised her wrist and pushed a button on it. “Hello?”

Bruce’s worried voice came over the comm. (Y/N)? Where are you?

She looked around, taking in the view of the bay. “At the docks.”

Stay there. I’m coming to get you.

The call ended and she collapsed onto the bench, staring out at the water. Her hand reached up to hold the ring that hung at her neck but clenched around nothing. (Y/N) glanced down, then remembered where it went; tears filled her eyes and she reached up, covering her eyes as she sobbed.

A few moments later, the sound of the Batmobile pulling up came behind her, and then, a hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up, blinking through the tears to see Bruce frowning at her. “Let’s get back to the cave (Y/N).” She nodded and he helped her stand, walking her to the passenger side; she slid in and buckled the seat belt, staring out the windshield as he climbed in the driver’s seat.

The city passed them in a blur, and soon, they were back in the cave; Bruce turned off the Batmobile and they sat in silence until she whispered, “I know who he is.”

Bruce was quiet a few moments, then he murmured, “…I know as well.”

(Y/N) turned to him. “Ra’s brought him back.”

“It was actually Talia. Ra’s apparently called him a curse set upon the world.”

She huffed a laugh, but it was anything but humorous. “Right about now, I’m not sure whether I should agree with Ra’s or not…I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“How did you find out?”

“I saw him from the ledge I was on. I tailed him to an alley, and when he showed his face, I passed out from the shock.” (Y/N) looked at him. “Woke up and we got into it about what he’s doing…I left.” She paused. “How’d you find out?”

He sighed and reclined against the headrest. “We fought after I found Onyx, he revealed himself and...”

“And?”

“And after testing the coffin and the blood samples he left…it’s him.”

(Y/N) snorted and shook her head. “I could’ve told you that.”

They lapsed into silence, then Bruce murmured, “You aren’t wearing the necklace.” (Y/N) rested a hand along the base of her throat then shifted, climbing out of the Batmobile; Bruce followed her.

They walked a few feet, stopping in front of Jason’s old suit; (Y/N) stared at it, then turned to Bruce. “We made that promise when we were young and naïve…but now?” She turned around and began walking away. “I don’t think there’s a place for him and I in this world anymore. Not like this there isn’t.”

***Part Five***

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

His hands halted at her question but continued a second later. “You being there will only make a distraction.”

“Maybe, but it might also make him give in easier.”

He clicked the utility belt around his waist and looked up at her. “He had his chance to surrender when you two were together, (Y/N). Now I’m putting my foot down.”

She watched him move past her towards the Batmobile, and she reached out, griping his bicep; his eyes met hers and she said, “Call me if it gets bad.”

“It won’t.”

“It will.” (Y/N) squeezed his arm firmly. “And when it happens, you’ll need me to talk to him. We both know I’m the only one who can even begin to reason with him.” He said nothing, and she let go, watching him climb into the Batmobile and speed off.

After a few moments, she walked over to the Batcomputer and sat down, hitting a few keys until the monitor displayed Bruce’s cowl camera; she watched the scenes play in front of her, the mess with Black Mask, up until Bruce leaving to go find Jason.

Footsteps sounded beside her, and she glanced up to see Alfred looking at the screen. “So Master Bruce is going after Master Jason?”

(Y/N) looked back at the screen and nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm. And you stayed behind?”

She bit her lip, eying the screen. “…It’s not my place to get between them.”

“It’s not?” he almost sounded shocked at her admission.

“No. This is Bruce and Jason’s fight now. It’s dragged on long enough.”

Alfred watched her for a few moments before humming again. “Hmm. And here I thought Master Jason still held privilege in your heart Miss (Y/N). I must admit it is hard to see that you have moved on so soon.” It was all he said as he turned on his heel and crossed the cave floor, leaving (Y/N) with her thoughts.

She stared at the screen for a few seconds, taking in Alfred’s words before mumbling, “Ah fuck it.” She rose from the chair and made her way to the case where her suit was, reaching out and pulling it from its holds; she slipped it on and tightened the straps and belts, moving to her bike.

Alfred stood beside her, holding out her whip. “I do believe this is yours, Miss (Y/N).”

“Make sure to keep in radio contact with us…we might need you Alfie.” He nodded and saw her off.

***

(Y/N) arrived in the nick of time, seeing Jason and Bruce moving into fighting stances. She pulled out her grapple and swung up to the fire-escape, standing between them; they were shocked to see her there. “(Y/N)?”

She eyed Jason and squared her shoulders, her back to Bruce. “Enough Jason.”

He stood up straight and glowered at her. “Move (Y/N).”

“No.” she retorted; she wasn’t afraid of him. This was still her Jason. A little worn and little darker, and a lot more damaged, but still him. Still good.

“This doesn’t concern you. This is between me and him.”

(Y/N) shook her head and pointed between them. “This concerns me just as much as it concerns you, Jason.”

His response was cut off by Bruce who gripped her arm firmly. “You need to leave (Y/N).”

“I’m not going anywhere Bruce.” She looked between them. “I’m stopping this before it goes too far. Let this end so we can talk.”

Bruce squeezed her arm, his voice hardening. “Your place isn’t here right now, (Y/N).”

She gazed at him for a few moments, before jerking her arm back, this time turning her back to Jason, as if protecting him. “This is my place, Bruce. Right here. Between you,” She paused and glanced over her shoulder, catching Jason’s eyes. “And Jason.” His eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and she turned back to Bruce. “Fighting isn’t going to solve our problems. We’re all suffering from what happened in the past and what’s happening now. Stop this so we can help each other.”

Bruce went silent at her mini-speech, and she thought he was going to agree until he shook his head. “Jason plans on killing Joker…I’m stopping him tonight.”

Jason barked a laugh. “You can try and stop me.” The two of them shifted but stopped when the sound of a devastating explosion rocked the city, and an angry green light covered them; they all turned to the sight and Jason murmured, “That’s Blüdhaven.”

(Y/N) and Bruce’s eyes widened, and they both breathed in disbelief. “Dick?”

Jason chuckled at them. “My God…is Nightwing there? Imagine that. One son returns from the grave as another one enters it…what a fitting ending this has become.” Neither Bruce nor (Y/N) could form words as they watched in horror as the sister-city disintegrated before their eyes. “Good God, the ironies around. Here we are and you have to run to the site of an explosion to dig through the wreckage and find the body of your ‘Boy Sidekick.’ If he’s there, Bruce…you’re too late. Again.” Bruce shifted, starting towards Blüdhaven when a blast knocked him sideways. “No! You’re not leaving! Not now! Not this time!”

Bruce looked back at Jason, his voice and gaze pleading. “Jason. Please. I—”

Jason cut him off, his voice angry. “What! You ‘have to be sure?!’ Getting out of that alive would be one neat trick. It’d take a hell of a lot more than batarangs and a few escrima sticks to survive.” He paused, a smile playing at his lips. “If Ol’ Dickie is there. He’s dead. And if you leave…someone else dies tonight.”

(Y/N) shook herself out of her stupor and put a finger to her ear. “Alfred! Can you read me?”

“Yes Miss (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

“A nuclear bomb was just set off in Blüdhaven.”

“My God…Master Dick—”

“Send the Batplane to my location.”

She felt an arm curl around her bicep, and she glanced up at Bruce. “(Y/N) the Batplane wasn’t made to withstand such high levels of radiation. You’ll die if you’re exposed too much.”

Pulling her arm from his grasp, she began walking towards the ledge. “Alfred send the Batplane. Now.” She heard Alfred give her confirmation that it was on its way, and she turned to Bruce. “I’ll go find Dick…you end this here. Tonight.” Her eyes passed over Jason who wore a dark expression and the sound of the Batplane echoed in the sky.

She climbed in and spared them one last look before turning the Batplane away and flying towards Blüdhaven. She pushed buttons on the screen and talked to Alfred. “Alfred, scan for the tracker in Dick’s suit.”

“At once Miss (Y/N).” There was silence for a few moments then he came back over the comm. “I’ve got a location Miss (Y/N). But it isn’t the exact. Too much radiation interfering with the radar.”

“I’ll find him Alfred. Just upload his suit vitals into the system.” The sound of tapping came over and then a blinking line shot across the screen. “Alfred, how insulated is my suit to radiation?”

“As best as it can, be Miss (Y/N). Though with the lower half of your face exposed, you’re risking high exposure to the radiation, you’d be overcome with radiation sickness within the hour.”

“Does Bruce have any type of mask I can wear?”

“Check the bin beside you. There might be one.”

(Y/N) pressed a button, halting the Batplane and reached over, searching the bin; she pulled out a mask and fit it around her face, pushing the button on the side that sealed it. “Alright. I’m good.”

“Master Dick is in the outskirts of the city. Hurry Miss (Y/N)…too much exposure will kill him.”

(Y/N) disengaged the lock and began scanning the perimeter of the city for him. It took her about thirty minutes to find him, and when she did, she saw the radiation already beginning to affect him; she lowered the Batplane to the ground and ran out, crossing the street laden with debris until she got to him.

“Dick!” He turned in the direction of her voice, but she could tell he was disoriented; he staggered towards her, falling to his knees just as she reached him. (Y/N) caught his upper body before he fell over and she wrapped an arm under his and across his back, heaving him to his feet. “It’s alright, Dick. I’ve got you.”

He moaned trying to find his feet, and she began pulling him towards the Batplane. “Need…to check…for survivors.”

(Y/N) shook her head at him, heaving him closer. “We can’t do anything right now, Dick. We need to get out of here.”

“But…the survivors—”

“Dick. We can’t save them. I have to get you out of here before the radiation makes you sicker.” He relented his fight and allowed her to carry him to the plane; (Y/N) got him into a seat and strapped in, handing him a bag. “You’ll probably be sick for a while, so try to throw up in the bag.” He nodded weakly and she sat in the seat, then the Batplane rose and made its way back to Gotham. “Alfred, I’ve got Dick. Get some KI ready for him to take when we get back to the cave.”

“Shall I update Master Bruce?”

“Just tell him I got Dick and that he’s okay.”

“I will. Hurry back.”

“Will do.” The comm went silent and she glanced over her shoulder at Dick. “Dickie? You good?”

He was moaning lowly, but moved a few fingers, telling her he was. “…Where’s…Bruce?”

She felt her heart tighten, but she pushed it aside. “Fighting Red Hood.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“You…should’ve….stayed.”

“Stop talking Dick.”

“…M’kay.”

***

The rest of the ride was silent, and when she returned to the cave, Alfred was waiting for her with a gurney. They got Dick on it and wheeled him to the med-room in the cave; they rolled him onto the bed and (Y/N) gripped the zipper at his neck, pulling it down. Alfred helped her pull his suit off, and soon, Dick was asleep in the bed, the two of them resting in the chairs beside him.

“How did you find Master Dick?”

(Y/N) watched Dick’s chest rise and fall with each breath and she murmured, “Dick’s always put the safety of others above himself.” She glanced at Alfred. “I knew he’d try to help survivors in the area.” She rose from the seat and rested a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “I need to go find Bruce. You look after Dick.”

He nodded and she left the cave, climbing back into the Batplane and taking off.

***

She scoured the city until she caught Bruce’s signal; she tapped a few buttons, connecting into the comm. “Bruce?”

(Y/N). Is Dick—

“He’s fine, Bruce. I got him back to the cave.”

There was a pause, then Bruce’s voice came over relived. Good.

“Where are you?”

Delivering Joker to the Asylum.

“And Jason?”

Gone.

She paused, inhaling shakily before murmuring, “I’ll find him…you go back to the cave and see Dick.”

Are you sure?

“I need to do this Bruce. Let me.”

Be careful, (Y/N).

“Jason would never hurt me, Bruce. You don’t have to worry about me.”

…I always worry about you all.

The corners of her mouth rose, and she quipped, “Yeah, we know.” The comm went dead and she turned the Batplane in the direction of Jason’s apartment. She landed on the opposite roof and swung over, lifting a window, and slipping in.

(Y/N) crept across the floor, taking in the view of the small blood puddles on the ground. She followed them into the bedroom and saw him resting on the bed, a blood-soaked towel held to his neck; he was sweating and letting out low groans. (Y/N) walked towards him and reached out, her hand covering the one that held the towel.

His eyes snapped open at the touch and his other hand came up defensively; she caught it and his eyes widened at the sight of her. “…(Y/N)?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, pressing the towel harder to him. “Where’s your first-aid kit?”

He nodded towards the bathroom. “Under…the sink.”

(Y/N) nodded and rose, moving into the bathroom; she returned a few minutes later holding the kit and a bottle of alcohol. She took her seat back on the bed and moved his hand, pulling the towel from its position; she worked quickly, running the alcohol over it, and murmuring a soft “sorry” as he hissed in pain. (Y/N) dabbed the wound before pulling a needle and thread, suturing his wound.

After a few minutes, she pulled the knot and clipped the leftover string, running a pad of alcohol over it once more. She put everything away and found some washcloths, dampening one; then, she moved back to him and wiped away the sweat from his upper body before running the dry one over him, collecting the moisture.

(Y/N) could feel his gaze on her the entire time, but she refused to make eye-contact, instead murmuring, “Feel any better?”

He was silent a few moments, then he mumbled, “…Yeah.”

(Y/N) wiped her hands on the towel and rested them on the nightstand; she cleared her throat and moved to stand. “Then since you’re fine, I’ll leave.” She got to her feet when a hand curled around her fingers, and she looked down at him.

His eyes no longer held the fury they’d held earlier, instead, they begged for help. “Stay with me, (Y/N).”

She swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay here, Jason.” She started to pull away, but the hand tightened.

“Please don’t leave me, (Y/N).” he plead, and she met his eyes, shocked to see tears forming in them. “Please don’t leave me alone again.”

“Jason, I—”

“I need you…please.”

She stared at him for a few moments before nodding. “…Okay…I’ll stay.” (Y/N) moved, climbing onto the bed beside him; she rested her head on his chest, feeling his arm curl around her waist. “…You know he loves you…don’t you?” Jason didn’t say anything, she knew he wasn’t going to immediately, so she did. “There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t think about you…that he doesn’t think about how he failed you…that he was responsible for you.” She paused. “You claim he loved you like a son and left you…”

(Y/N) inhaled and lifted her head, locking eyes with him and she declared, “But you were—you are his son, Jason. And he loves you more than life itself.”

He swallowed thickly, and she watched him raise his hand to his eyes; his face morphed in agony and (Y/N) listened as he sobbed. She shifted, crawling up the bed and pulling him to her; his face buried in her chest and his arms wound around her waist, holding her. She raised a hand and gently ran her fingers through his hair, comforting him.

***

After an hour or so, they were still lying in the bed, Jason resting his weight on (Y/N) as she sat against the headboard. Her fingers still ran through his hair, sometimes lightly scratching his scalp, like she remembered he loved, and her other hand rested on his shoulder, gently massaging. They said nothing, just entranced in each other, until Jason broke it, whispering, “…I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “I am too, Jason.”

He tilted his head up, giving her a stunned look. “For what?”

“I turned my back on you…when I should’ve been there to help you.” She paused, looking at him. “I was wrong to damn you without trying to understand what you were doing, and why.”

He swallowed, nodding his head to her words; his gaze drifted to her eyes, and he mumbled, “I never meant to disappoint you.”

(Y/N) stared into his teal eyes, and raised a hand, gently brushing the hair away from the tips of his cheekbones, setting it behind his ear. “Neither did I.”

Jason swallowed and raised his weight on his forearms, crawling up her body. “I never wanted to be at odds with you...I wanted to explain everything to you…but I was scared of your reaction.” His face was in front of hers now.

She sighed, nodding, “I know.”

He went quiet for a moment, then reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing along it. “I still love you…and I want you beside me.” (Y/N) met his eyes, watching as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “Will you come with me?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere far away from Gotham.” He paused, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Come with me, (Y/N)…we can go anywhere we want.” Her hands came up and rested along his shoulders, gently pushing him away. His face twisted and he sat back, watching her rise too.

(Y/N) took his hands, brushing her thumbs along the backs of them; she met his gaze and she spoke firmly. “I’ll go with you.” His eyes widened and his face began to turn joyful until she said, “But you have to do something for me.”

“What?”

“A lot of the unnecessary killing has to stop.” His eyebrows furrowed and she squeezed his hands. “If you want me to come with you? To stay with you and to be with you? You’ve got to try.” (Y/N) pulled her hands back and sat up straight. “Jason, I know you do what you do because you think it’s right. And while I understand that there are some people who don’t deserve to breathe? They’re still human beings. Rapists and murderers, I can get behind your guns. But the petty drug dealers and small-time criminals? Jason, they aren’t worth the bullets you’d spend.”

He observed her for a few moments before reaching past her, opening the nightstand, and pulling something out; his hand was clenched and he spoke quietly, “When I first gave this to you, we were fifteen…we had our whole lives ahead of us. And when I was gone, you never stopped holding on.” He looked at her and said, “That kind of love isn’t something that just dies, (Y/N).”

His hand uncurled and the saw the familiar ring in his open palm. “When you gave this back to me…I was devastated. But…I think it started to open my eyes about us. And I think as long as you’re with me, I can get through anything.” He held out his palm again. “If I ask you again, will you accept?”

“Will try to honor my side of the arrangement?”

“I’ll…try to...I can’t make a promise to it though.”

(Y/N) nodded. “The fact that you’ll try is good enough for me.”

He took her hand and held the ring. “(Y/N) (L/N)…will you marry me?” Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded silently, too choked up to make words; Jason slid the ring on her finger and held her hand, his thumb rubbing the back of it. (Y/N) leaned forward and Jason pulled her into his lap, holding her to him. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Jason.” she whispered against his shoulder.

After a few minutes, she mumbled against his shoulder; Jason chuckled. “(Y/N), I can’t hear you clearly.”

She pulled back, giving him a smile. “I want to get married in Switzerland.”

“Why Switzerland?”

“So, I can shove you into the snow after you kiss me.” The two of them laughed and Jason shifted, wrapping an arm around her waist; her arms wound around his neck, and he gently lowered her back against the bed. They stared at each other until (Y/N)’s eyes darted to the side. “So…are you going to kiss me? Or are you gonna keep staring at me like a weirdo?”

He snorted at her question and shifted a hand, tracing her cheek. “Just thinking about how pretty you are, doll.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “When did you start calling people doll?”

“Kinda just caught on.” He shrugged.

“Mhm.”

The two of them laughed again, then Jason admitted, “I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve, (Y/N).”

She shook her head, threading her fingers in his hair as she said, “You are already more than enough for me, Jason…if anything, I’m not sure if I’m the one who’s deserving of you.”

“Will you stay with me?”

(Y/N) leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, and whispered, “Now and forever.”

[kylie-writes-stuff]

“wife”

pairing: corpse husband x reader (female)

words: 1,714

requested?: no (send some in tho pls :) )

plot/summary: felix invites his friend, y/n, to play among us when they need an extra player. her and corpse get along well

authors note: so this isnt that good and i know a lot of corpse fics use a similar plot. i just wanted to try to write for corpse. hopefully things i write for him in the future are better. let me know what you think tho! also i really wanted reader to be best friends with karl bc i love him sm. uh every swiggly line is like a small time skip. this was written late at night btw and i didnt take much time to go over it

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You sat up from laying down when you heard your phone ring. You looked at the caller ID.

Felix.

"What's up Felix?" You ask with a small yawn.

"Aww, how sweet," You hear in the background.

You giggle and ask, "Is that Sean? Hi Sean!"

"Yeah, we're playing Among Us and need an extra player. You down?" Felix explained.

"Sure, just give me a few minutes. See you soon, whore"

"Bitc-" You hang up before he can finish.

You got up and turned off your TV, going to get ready. 

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

You quickly tweet out that you're going live and say something on your insta story as well. You start your stream and slowly watch people flood in.

"Hey everyone! How are you guys doing?" You wave and smile, reading the chat.

"Everyone doing good, awesome! And i'm sorry to anyone having a bad day. I hope i can brighten it a bit!"

"Okay, sorry i didn't give you a further notice. I didn't even know i was gonna stream. Felix invited me to play Among Us so... here we are!"

You quickly join the discord and pull up the game, putting a cover over where the code goes.

"Hello?" You ask as you join the call. A chorus of greetings came your way.

"(Y/n)?"

"Karl!" You smile brightly.

Karl Jacobs was a good friend of yours. You would play on the Dream SMP sometimes. When you would, it would mostly be you being stupid with Karl and Alex, also known as Quackity. You were even a well know citizen of El Rapids.

"LET'S GOOOOO!" He yelled, making you laugh.

"Hey (Y/n), do you know everyone here?" Sean asks you.

"Um," You quickly scan through the names, "no, i don't think so."

You recognized names but you only personally knew Felix, Sean, Karl, and Ethan.

"Oh my god! Your voice is so cute!" Pokimane exclaims.

You giggle softly, "Thank you Poki!"

You're voice wasn't high pitched or anything like that, you just always spoke very softly and calmly. You were also a bit quiet.

Felix introduces you to those that you didn't know.

"There's one more person we're waiting for," He says.

While everyone waits, you and Karl run around each other's little characters and make jokes between yourselves. You mute yourself to read donations every once in a while.

You hear the discord chime, signaling that someone joined the call.

"WAIT CORPSE! DON'T SPEAK YET!" Felix yelled. "We have a new player. This is my friend (Y/n), say hi to her"

"Hello (Y/n)," Corpse said. You were taken aback by how deep his voice was but you didn't show it.

"Hi Corpse! Nice to meet you!" You said happily.

"Okay, how is she not freaking out?" Bretman said, making everyone laugh.

"Uh, (Y/n), do you mind letting me have black? It's cool if not.." Corpse asked gently.

"O-oh sure, no problem." You were usually black with the pink flamingo hat, but you ran over to the little computer and changed your color.

"Simp," Ethan mumbled, knowing you never switch from black.

"Thank you," He said, then the game started.

The word “Imposter” appeared on your screen in red, yours and Corpse's characters underneath.

As the game started, you thought no one could hear you so you spoke to your chat. "His voice was so deep, what the fuck? Holy shit that was hot, i'm gonna-"

"(Y/n)," Rae laughed, "You know we're playing proximity chat, right."

You blushed as you realized and said "Ha, anyways..." and ran to start faking tasks.

You ended up in electrical with Karl. "(Y/n)! My good friend, my buddy, you would never kill me right? Haha..." He said.

"Of course not, Karl! My good friend, my buddy. Why, I'm not even imposter," I said as i quickly dipped into the vent and back out, making him laugh.

I decided to show him because I knew Karl wouldn't say anything, and it's funny.

"Oh that's good then. Are you sure you're not imposter?"

"Mhm, pretty sure," You said, going back in. As you came out, Sykkuno walked in and froze.

"Uh, (Y/n)?"

"Fuck... Karl run! Go!" You said, Karl starting to leave. You walked closer and quickly killed Sykkuno then vented to security.

"That was close..." You told your chat.

You saw Corpse as you made your way around the map and walked into navigation.

"Hey, Corpse, how ya doing?"

"Ah you know, good. Just being crewmate and all."

You stifled a laugh, "Oh yeah I feel that, buddy."

"Yeah because there's no way that i'm imposter. No way i could be faking tasks and there's no possible way you could be the other imposter" He said quickly.

"For sure. Hypothetically speaking, though, if you were imposter, how many people would you have killed by now?"

"I would say probably around two."

"Interesting," You said right before a body was reported. It was Sykkuno's. Felix and Rae were also dead.

"WHAT!" Corpse yelled.

"Where was the body at?" Sean laughed.

"Uh I found it in electrical," Bretman said.

"I'm pretty sure Karl was in there earlier."

You calmly said, "It's not Karl, I was with him for most of the round."

"How do we know the two of you aren't imposters?" Sean asked.

"I was alone with him, he would have taken the chance to kill me."

"No, he's your best friend."

"He's also ruthless,"

"TRUE! SO TRUE!" Karl yelled.

"So skip?" Corpse asked.

Everyone agreed and the voting was skipped.

The next round, I spent with Ethan. He was pretending to be mad at me because Sean said Karl was my best friend.

"What happened to Blue Boi Buddies, huh?!" He exclaimed.

"Neither of our hair is even blue anymore!" You argued back.

You were in reactor with him when Corpse and Poki walked in. He hit the lights and you took it as a sign to double kill. He killed Poki, you killed Ethan, and the two of you made your way to electrical to help fix lights.

You and Corpse went the opposite direction of reactor after the lights were fixed, Karl going with you.

Poki's body was reported. That double kill only left you, Corpse, Sean, Karl and Bretman. You only needed two more kills.

"I still think it's Karl and (Y/n)," Sean said quickly.

"I was with (Y/n) the whole time," Corpse said, "In fact, I think it's you."

"That does make sense. Why so quick to accuse others, Sean?" You ask.

"It's not me!" He yelled.

"I actually agree with Corpse and (Y/n)," Bretman said.

"I was with you!"

We all voted for Sean, him voting for Karl. Sean was ejected.

When you load into spawn, you wait for the kill cool down and kill Bretman, saving Karl.

"Victory" appeared on your screen.

"God damn it!" Sean yelled.

"Good job, (Y/n)," Corpse said lowly.

You smiled, a slight blush on your cheeks, "You too Corpse."

"Their voices go together and they're a fuckin dream team? What have i done...," Felix sighed.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

A few more games went by. Most of them you and Corpse spent together, whether you were both crewmates or if one of you was imposter.

You really enjoyed his company and you actually got along with him pretty well.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

"(Y/n), before we get serious, I have one question to ask you." Corpse said as both of your characters stopped.

"What's that?" You giggled.

"Do you know Bingus?"

"Bingus? As in, our lord and savior, Bingus?"

You could hear the smile in his voice, "It's settled, you're my wife now."

This made both of you laugh and your chat go crazy.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

Eventually, people had to start leaving. You said your goodbyes to everyone and left the discord call and the game.

You set stream to where it was just your face cam.

"Guys, what should we do now?"

You saw some people asking what time it was for you.

"It's 3 AM right now... I’m not tired though.” You had been streaming for a few hours; You never even noticed how late it got.

People in chat were yelling at you to go to sleep, making you chuckle.

“How about we do a quick QnA, then at 3:30 I go to bed. Deal?”

You watched as the chat filled with questions. They obviously seemed to like the idea.

“‘Who is your best friend? Karl or Ethan?’ Neither, Alex Quackity. Next question.” You answered quickly.

You laughed, “I’d like to clarify that that’s a joke, i love all my friends equally.”

You answered more questions. Some were from new viewers asking basic questions, some were about future streams and videos. 

“‘How do you feel about people shipping you and Corpse?’“ People are already shipping us?” You laughed, “I’ve said before that I’m okay with shipping, as long as the other person is too. I think it’s funny.”

You continued to read chat. “Wait, we’re trending?”

You checked Twitter and “#(your and corpse’s ship name)” was trending in the US.

You laughed as you scrolled through the tag, “Oh this is so funny.”

“Fanart already?! You guys are so talented!”

You read chat, looking for more questions. You saw people telling you that it’s 3:30.

“Okay fine, a deal’s a deal. I hope you all have, or had, a great day and I’ll see you guys later. Depending on what time it is for you, you should also get some sleep. Stay hydrated, love you!” You ended stream.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

You scrolled through Twitter as you laid in bed, liking fanart and dumb memes. Also replying to a few of your friends��� tweets.

karl :) @/KarlJacobs_

@/(your username) what the honk ?

*clip of you saying Quackity was your best friend*           

You liked the tweet and replied, “karl no,,, look away,,,”

You continued scrolling, feeling your eyes get droopy. Your eyes fell closed but quickly opened when your phone vibrated. It was a DM. 

From Corpse.

You two had followed each other earlier.

Corpse: hey (y/n), just wanted to say you’re really cool and i’d love to play again with you soon 

You smiled, a light blush spreading across your cheeks, and replied.

You: i’d love to, corpse

Corpse: ok, see you soon ‘wife’

You: back at ya, ‘husband”

Corpse: :)

You: :)

[abovethesmokestacks]

Kiss Me

Title: Kiss Me

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Rating: T

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Very intense kissing? Some grinding?

I am back on my Henry bullshit, this time with the lovely Captain Syverson. As with my last Henry fic, this came about from a discussion with Brooke, which led to a personalized fic, and she graciously okayed me posting it as a reader insert for the rest of you to enjoy. Partly inspired by the video of strangers kissing for the first time. And if this guy were the one I’d get to kiss? Hold on while I go full koala on him.

The early afternoon sun had seemed blistering when she left her apartment, and the sundress had been the obvious option; light, breezy material, a pretty pattern that combined comfort and style. The sun had nothing on the man sitting down opposite her now, radiating a kind of warmth and confidence that had heat creeping up her chest and neck, her fingers fiddling in her lap.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, an audition call shared by a recent acquaintance on Instagram. Film majors at the nearby college needed volunteers for a course project, weekend appointments, no experience needed, come as you are. Sounded fun, her weekends were mostly open anyway. What could possibly go wrong. She had messaged the contact person, gotten an address and a time to show up.

The first shock, admittedly, had come as she was signed in, given a form to fill out, detailing the project. She. Was going to kiss. A stranger. In front of cameras. For a film project. 

“Miss? Are you alright?” The bubbly brunette who had signed her in, Abigail, according to the name tag tacked to her t-shirt, had looked at her, and she realized she must have made a sound.

“No! No, I'm fine, I- I just didn’t realize I’d- That this was-”

“Oh! Oh, you’ll be fine, there will be people in the room, you'll be safe as houses, darling, we won't say your names, that'll be up to you to share if you want.” The twang of her accent had was oddly comforting, but her heart was still racing, and suddenly, the handful of people lined up sitting in the corridor seemed all the more dangerous. She was going to kiss one of them. Fuck. Hastily, she'd filled out the rest of the form, handing it back and taking the number given, finding the nearest chair and trying to rifle through her purse as discreetly as she could for a chewing gum or a breath mint. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She had nearly launched out of her seat when her number was called, probably doing a credible impression of a deer caught in headlights. Abigail had smiled at her, motioning for her to follow.

“I promise, you will be fine. Our project manager wanted to explore the intimacy of the first kiss, what happens in those seconds before.”

“Why strangers?”

“It’s more… honest,” Abigail had said. “Couples know each other, know what to expect. They are comfortable. And it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing sweeter. I still remember my grandpa kissing my grandma goodnight when my brother and I would stay over when we were kids, the absolute comfort and love between them. But strangers, they don’t know what to expect. There’s a level of trust between them, courage to take the leap.”

That’s… She couldn’t decide if that eased her mind or set it racing even more. She’d simply nodded, letting Abigail lead her to a door a little way ahead, unlocking it for her.

“You can leave your purse on the table on the right when you enter. Then go sit in one of the chairs. I’ll bring the guy in shortly. The camera will start rolling as soon as he sits down, you can introduce yourself if you want, just your name, doesn't even have to be your real one if you don't want to, and you can share whatever else you feel comfortable sharing and then…”

“Then we kiss.”

It had seemed so simple, so straightforward in all its terrifying simplicity.

At first, there is only the outline of him, stark against the light outside the room and showing a muscular frame with tensed shoulders and a wary gait. Folding her hands in her lap, she picks at the fabric of her dress, folding the skirt into tight pleats between her fingers, following the man as he inches closer. Dark jeans that reveal long legs and thick thighs, a worn t-shirt tucked into them that stretches over a chest that is… impressive. His face, though… His face is what sets her heart fluttering all anew. A strong jaw, hidden under a neatly trimmed beard, a slightly pouty lower lip and a perfect cupid’s bow. His nose looks like it may have been broken once, but it’s been set pretty well, lends character to his face, enhanced by the clear blue of his eyes that focus in on her. His hair is short, curling a little at the ends, but kept as neat as his beard, almost like a military man, but she can spot no chain around his neck that would hold his dog tags.

And then, he’d walked in. 

She barely hears the murmur to her left when the cameras start rolling.

He doesn’t speak until he’s sitting down, gaze on her, softening a little as he holds out a hand.

“Ca- Shit, sorry. No names, right?” He looks at her, almost a little scared that he’s messed up, and it is far too endearing for such a rugged man.

Without hesitation, she gives her first name, her real first name, a little surprised at herself for offering it along with her hand. His hand is calloused, warm and big, her own palm almost drowning in his clasp when he takes it. “Nice to meet you.”

The man laughs, releasing her hand and relaxing in his seat. “Sy. Nice to meet you, too. Pardon me if I'm being rude, but you don't sound like you're from around here.”

“Here for work for the next couple of months. Gotta say, you've got a pretty good ear.”

His eyes sparkle, a smile tugging at his lips, and god, the heat rises in her again, different from the apprehension that had her worked up just moments ago. He is the kind of man that draws you in, that can make you melt with a look, and she is fading fast. She is going to kiss him. He is going to kiss her.

“I won't hold it against you," Sy quips, hands resting on his thighs, and god, she wants to feel them on her.

"Me not being from around here? Or are we talking about something else?"

"Well, I was thinking the first..."

His words trail off, the suggestion hanging heavy in the silence. It feels like it stretches an eternity between them, but it's probably no more than five seconds. She's about to ask if they should start, if she should move, but Sy is looking at her, gaze wandering, assessing. The way he takes her in,i's not objectifying or greedy, not judgmental. It's… curiosity. Assessing her, planning his move, appreciating her, and she can feel it, feel his gaze move up and down her face, when it dips down for a fraction to her chest.

Everything fades with his first move. There are no cameras, no people, no one but them. Sy moves slowly, deliberately, scooting to sit on the edge of the chair, knee knocking against hers. It's electric, making her flinch and gasp, and that seems to please him. His hand comes up to rest on her knee, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, locking eyes with her, willing her to relax.

"There we go…" Sy croons when she lets out a small sigh, his voice low and velvety. "Just relax. 'S just you an' me here. Don’t need to think about the rest of ‘em.. I'll be good, darlin', you can trust me. Isn't that right?"

She can only nod, inching towards the edge of her own chair, drawn into his warmth, the gentle timbre of his voice, the smolder behind the blue of his eyes.

"Yeah, that’s right, sugar. C’mon, come closer.”

His voice is hypnotic, not quite a purr, not quite a rumble, but it begs to be obeyed. She leans in closer, the two of them mirroring each other, and the tension is no longer in his shoulder, but sparking between them. His measured breaths fan lightly against her skin, and though everything in her should, by all logic, tell her to run, she finds herself relaxing. Sy’s thumb keeps working tight little circles, and he moves slowly, giving her plenty of time to see his intentions, and God, she welcomes it, tilts her head to welcome him.

It’s no explosion of stars or fireworks. His lips are a little chapped, but he knows how to kiss, working against her in soft pressure and the tease of his tongue along the seam of her lips. It’s not forcing the kiss, just giving her the option, showing that he is offering. When his other hand comes up to cup her cheek, she can’t help the needy whine that escapes her, and Sy smiles into the kiss, deepens it a little, swipes his tongue along her lips again.

She opens, happily surrendering, feeling him push back, soothing his thumb along her cheekbone. He kisses like she is the one thing he has been longing for, his happily ever after at the end of a long adventure. She kisses like he is the single point of stability in a storm, the one safe harbour in the entire world. Their spaces intertwine, slowly phasing and his one hand on her cheek is nowhere near enough. She pushes, Sy gives, and in one fluid moment and a happy sigh, she has straddled his lap, slinging her arms around his neck. She’s not letting go, not leaving this moment, and it’s almost like triumph when he embraces her, palms splaying on her back and she can feel the warmth through the thin material of her dress.

It’s a kiss for the ages, and they’re both hungry, both taking what the other gives freely. Sy’s hands wander, his fingertips teasing at the neckline to brush against heated skin, and she digs short, manicured nails into the skin of his neck, revelling in the groan he lets out. He pulls her closer, and oh. Her stomach does a somersault, a surprised giggle punctuating their kiss. Under her, Sy is hard, and the brief contact makes her all too aware of just how damp her panties have gotten.

There’s a less than discreet cough, and it pops their bubble, their gazes both snapping to the sound. 

Right.

The film crew are standing behind their gear, some squirming, clearly a little uncomfortable. Sy gives a laugh, and it’s hard not to follow. She still feels winded from the kiss, head swimming, and she touches her forehead to his, biting her lower lip.

“I think we… might have overdone it,” she whispers, lips brushing against his cheek.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sy agrees, his shoulders shuddering with poorly disguised mirth. He looks up at the film crew, “So, are we good?”

“Yup, great! We’re really- we’re good, you guys can, uh… Yeah. Good. Thanks. Um. Yeah. Great.”

They both laugh again at the awkward crew member, and she slowly eases off Sy’s lap. It’s too much of a temptation not to glance down, to raise an eyebrow at the visible bulge pressing against his jeans. He gives her a mock-chiding look before getting up himself, taking care to not face the crew as he falls into step next to her.

“Look,” he says as soon as they are out of the building, wringing his hands as he walks, “I know we just met, and that… that back there was for a project. But, god, sugar, you got my head spinning all kinds of ways, and I… it would be rude to ask to continue right away where we left off, much as I… god, I would really, really like to kiss you again, and… other things… But maybe you would be okay with a date? Anywhere you want. You can get to know me better. I’ll answer any questions you have, I’ll bring character references, I’ll pay for dinner and dessert, whatever you want.”

Halting, she tilts her head and looks up at him. The steely look that had assessed her when he’d entered the room is gone, as is most of the smoldering passion when their kiss had broken. It still lingers in his eyes, simmering behind the hope that made them glitter.

“You’ll answer any question?” she asks, smiling at the way he eagerly nods. “Is your name really Sy?”

“Yes. Well, technically. Syverson’s my last name, so Sy’s just a nickname.”

“And your first name? You started saying something else when you came in.”

“No, that was… I was in the army for a couple of years,” he explained, pulling up one of the sleeves of his shirt to show an army insignia tattooed on his bulging bicep. She bites her tongue, wondering if he had any other tattoos on his body, almost missing when Sy continues speaking, “-made it to captain before I got my honourable discharge. Just became a force of habit to introduce myself as Captain Syverson.”

“So, you’d bring one of your army buddies as your character reference?” She slows down to a stop, clasping her hands in front of herself. “I suppose now that you’re out of the army they wouldn’t feel as compelled to make you look good.”

Sy mirrors her, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped in front of him, and yeah, now she can see it, the posture. Definitely army guy. “No, no, god no! The guys in my unit would sooner throw me under the bus if I asked them to vouch for me in front of a pretty lady.”

“Oh, then who’d get the honour?” she asks, blushing at his compliment.

“When you signed in, there was a girl, right? Brown hair?”

“Abigail.”

“Abby,” Sy says, glancing back towards the building. “She’s my sister. Talked me into coming today, said they needed more people.”

“She must have something major hanging over you if she got you to agree to this.” Her voice is light, joking a she inches closer to him.

“Well…” Sy drawls, taking a step forward and gently grasping her hand, “I was promised a really good kiss.”

“A really good kiss, huh?”

Just like before, he makes the first move, hooking his finger under her chin and holding her still while he closes the space, capturing her lips in another kiss. It’s searing, slowly setting her afire, and she wants it, wants him, wants everything he’s giving and everything he’s offering. He keeps it short, and she can feel herself get up on her tippy toes to get more, and damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. She bites her lower lip.

“So how about that date, huh, darlin’?” Sy husks out, and fuck, she can hear the smile in his voice.

“I can pick the place?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And I can pick the time?”

“Any time you want.”

She reaches out, puts a hand on his neck, drags her fingers along warm skin and pulls him down to whisper in his ear.

“Your place. Right now. And dinner… is on me.”

[widowsofchaos]

Here With You

summary: The weight of drugs can break any relationships, but your love for him is greater.

pairing: Mike Weiss x black!reader

10. “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?”

12. “Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.”

Beta by @avintagekiss24 A big thanks to my good sis! Thank for being such a great friend on taking the time to help edit!🤍

warnings: fluff and angst.

a/n: this is 1/2 of my submissions for @angrybirdcr ‘s 200 follower challenge! I choose to write for Chris Evan’s character Mike Weiss. Great underrated film! Thanks for hosting, babe! <3 thank you for being so understanding on my lateness on my submissions! <3 sorry again for being late!

do not repost my works!

This wasn’t new -- this feeling of dread --- awaiting for the shit-storm of pain, and the rainfall of tears. A slow, and yet tender feeling like a blossoming bruise. The inside of your cavity feels shattered by every inhale of a strained wheeze.

Cloudiness floats around your skull like a haze, but you move on auto-pilot --- your feet move by the surge of determination, and commitment; a bitter-sweet twinge weighs on your tongue to witness someone you love fall apart at the seams.

It’s 3 in the morning now, the moon beams high in the inky sky. The apartment is blanketed by darkness, cautiously all lights are off. Chaos ensues, your heart lurches at the muffled vomiting, and whimpers from the bedroom down the hall. Your fingers tighten around the bucket, clutching as the plastic digs into your palm.

Two chilled soaked rags hang limply over your forearm. Breathless as your footfalls dash against the carpeting, bolting through the room to see Mike slumped-over the edge of the bed, his legs tangled in wrinkled sheets.

Drenched sweat soaks through two thick pillows --- now a bit flat, and wet --- blankets strewn around by fits of rage or Mike crying that his skin is too boiling hot. A lone lit lamp illuminates the room into a dim dewy yellow flourish --- an excess of light hurts Mike’s eyes, and gives him a migraine.

The bulb emitting makes his entire body shine by the sheen of sweat, shivering, and groans of your name slips from his quivering pink lips.

Half of his body leaning over the mattress, his trembling fingers shakingly gripping the carpeted flooring, as if he was trying to crawl his way out of bed. “I’m here, Mikey. I’m here.” A broken sob escapes your lips, as you gently fall on your knees beside him. Tears break its watery shield, and collide down your cheeks to see Mike crumble.

Drool pooling from his mouth, and puke residue sits at the corner of his lips. His eyes pinching shut-tight, crying at the pain, you shushing him as you caress his cheek.

With all your strength, with gentle hands, you push Mike over on his back, guilt coiling in the pit of your belly at him moaning. Your hands sliding underneath his armpits, you maneuver him -- twisting his torso, and legs so his body can lay horizontally on the bed.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Mike croaks, his voice was hoarse, and raw. You bundle a bit of your nightie in your hand, to wipe his mouth --- it didn’t matter, you’ll wash it later. “It’s okay. No need to apologize.” You stroke your knuckles sweetly against his cheek, reassuring him by touch and voice that you want to be here; to remind him you’re here for the long haul.

You kiss the crease between his furrowing brows, then your lips featherly trail upward, and kiss his forehead, with no hesitation to sweat sticking to your mouth. “You’re still a bit warm, but the fever is going down.” You spoke breathlessly against his skin, your lips tickling his skin.

Gingerly laying the rag on his forehead, Mike sighs in relief, his lashes fluttering closed at the cooling sensation surging through his buzzing head.

It’s been four days of Mike going raw cold-turkey. Four days of pure hell for Mike, and four days of pure grief for yourself.

In the beginning of this trial, when the drugs began flushing out of his system Mike wasn’t himself --- it was as if he’s a frothing beast scouting for substance. Screaming matches spewing from his irritation, itching between these four walls; Mike resembling a caged animal.

Pure rage masking self-hatred; anger at the aches deep in his muscles, pity at that maybe he can’t do this.

To accomplish sobriety.

Vomiting with his head limp, and deep in the toilet, hours of crying, and pleas for that one last hit --- Mike screaming for God to end him, and that he doesn’t deserve you. Cradling him in your arms, rocking him like an infant, as he sputters incoherent cries; speaking in hushed tones in his ear that you love him --- all his flaws, and scars.

What provoked his final decision to get clean, and start a new slate for one’s health, life longevity, and to keep your love --- was a discovery he dreamt to have long ago but felt he wasn’t deserving to earn.

“I’m sorry --- a-about the ca--r-rpet.” Mike whispers in choppy puffs, whining low. Jesus, this man is in pain, and he’s worried about you being mad at the carpet? You shook your head slightly, gesturing to him that you weren’t mad.

“Don’t apologize for that, it’s nothing. I’ll clean it later.” You spoke in a calm hush, as you placed the bucket on the floor, next to his bedside.

Your hand delicately pad against the clammy biceps with one rag, testing his bodily temperature, taking the remaining rag off of your slightly cold-numbing skin.

You kiss the corner of his brow, as you rub down his chest with the crisp rag, his lips part as an airy breath laced with deep relief escapes; as the refreshing fabric graces his flesh. His chest hair swirled a bit under the comforting circular motions.

Admiring his body, your eyes trace over every ink stroke of his tattoos adorning him. Sheen of water linger as you soothe Mike, silently reciting the Buddhist quote on his chest. Through the rag, you trace the designs of his tattoos by the tips of your fingers --- soft as petals.

Your hand travels the rag downward his torso to dull the slight overheating. Mike hums lowly with his eyes laxly closed shut, his breathing now ceasing into an easy rhythm. Memories begin flooding Mike’s head, as his breathing relaxes steadily. Recollections of how Mike and yourself met years prior --- four years to be exact --- at the hospital you work at.

It was a dark cloudy day, the outside world drenched with heavy pouring rain; the atmosphere was thick with dread, and scented with antiseptic. Sniveling, and irritated with a forthcoming migraine, the flickering lightening tube hovering above him was like a menacing tick, making him twitch internally; as he laid in the hospital bed.

Balling the white blue-polka dotted hospital gown into his fists, the fabric bundling between his fingers. Mike was silent, as he scanned his environment motionlessly.

Accidental overdose is the verdict. Sunken eyes with lavender hues, as the mulling cadence of ringing phones, bustling chatter of nurses, and squeaking footfalls of passing doctors flood the hallways.

A click of the door opening, and in all your glory, your hair tied in a bun with a few curls straying, wearing a purple nurse uniform, a clipboard clutched in your palm, Nike sneakers for comfort --- being on your feet all day --- and a name tag boldly showcasing your printed name.

In your palm, are clear bags of his folded clothing, and shoes. Nicely you place the bags at the edge of the bed near Mike’s feet.

“Hello Mr. Weiss. How are you feeling right now?” A melodic timbre that soothed Mike, lulling his weary mind to a blissful state. The concern didn’t go unnoticed, how you worded your question in the namesake of professionalism, and humane authenticity.

‘Right now?’ Usually people would ask how he’s feeling as if he wasn’t struggling prior with the question, ‘How are you today?’ and his usual response would be, ‘Shitty.’ sealed with a somber shit-eating grin, but you asked how he’s feeling right now, so you can help him, not analyze him.

You didn’t sound fake, nor condescending. Usually a lot of medical staff didn’t have much regard for addicts, nor at least a speck of pity or sympathy. Mike’s tongue was heavy, struggling a little to speak up.

Gaping his mouth open and closed, like a mindless goldfish. You peeked over your clipboard, with a sweet arched brow, giggling lowly to yourself --- your brown hues sparkling in amusement. It was a tiring day, so to see this man stammering over his words was beyond cute, and the highlight of your day.

“Are you okay?” You asked with a small curling smile, hiding your snickering behind the clipboard, with only musing eyes squinting in giggles appearing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m actually better now.” Mike perked up, coughing a bit as his voice was hoarse, bashful, and his pale cheeks dusting pink. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Why in the fuck am I floundering? Get a grip, Mike! Mike never stuttered around women, always flirtatious. This was new for him.

“That’s good. How is your body feeling after the sedatives? Any discomfort right now?” Your soft voice interrupted his rampant thoughts.

“Just a bit groggy, but what else is new?” Mike humorlessly chuckles, as he shamelessly eyes your body. You notice him checking you out, but you elect to ignore him with a warm smile — but you couldn’t deny, you’re silently enjoying his wordless flirtation; despite your fatigued stature, this man still saw attraction to you.

“I promise it’ll pass. Just get some rest, and stay hydrated.” With a flick of your carmine painted nails, you smoothly perked the clipboard on your waist as you unlatched the metal clip, retrieving a few handbills.

“Here I have chosen a few pamphlets for rehab centers, and a few numbers for therapy agencies.”

“I don’t need those.” Mike pushed your out-stretched hand gently away.

You arched your brow at him, clicking your tongue at his ignorance, “And why don’t you need them?” You inquire kindly, a cautious tone; not wanting to release this man from the hospital’s care, just to snort and shoot up into an early grave.

“Listen, I can tell you’re sweet. Too sweet for someone like me to be concerned with. I’ve tried to get clean, and it never works. It’s just not for me.” Mike hastily sits up, slinging his legs over the bed, flinging the thin blanket off of him, “It’s not worth it.” He mutters under his breath.

You were entirely taken back, wincing at how low he talks of himself. Intently watching this man hastily open the bags to get his clothes, the edge of his jaw pinched pink --- like ripe warm peaches. Was it due to embarrassment?

You place the papers on the bed, as you walk more closely to him.

“You are worth it.” You place his cold hands into yours, cupping as if you’re cradling. Trying to get to his eye-level, make him see that you were serious.

He doesn’t dare to glance your way, “Doesn’t matter.” Mike insists, slowly seizing his hands from your grasp, “Why bother trying only to fail? And then disappoint everyone all over again?” His nose was flaring, not wanting to lash his tongue at you, just at the idea of his addictions being the topic of discussion irks him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want help … it’s that hopeless sinking feeling, that he’s just incurable. A burden. A problem, masking pain with sarcasm and substance to numb it all. A demon clawing at his shoulder, spitting self-hate in his ear.

You’re just not worth the trouble, Mike.

As he stood up from the bed, stretching out his shirt, he noticed from the corner of his eye that you were staring at him worriedly. On instinct, pulling the mask down to cover his anguish once more.

“Wanna help me get dressed, sweetheart?” A curling faux self-confident smirk that was forced, you sniff out like a bloodhound. You immediately caught on the familiar behavior, a usual route for patients to cope out with defense mechanisms. You saw this tactic day in and day out.

But more importantly, it’s one you use too well.

“It may not feel like it now, but it’s not impossible. You’re not the first patient I had who felt this way.” You spoke with conviction, ignoring the insistent words ushered by doctors from the past that were ringing at the back of your head, you can't help someone if they don’t want to get help.

It’s not a martyr shtick, nor a God complex --- but how Mike looked so distressed and sickly as he was pulled in the hospital on the stretcher pained you straight in the heart, parallel to many others before.

“You never know if you don’t try.” You perk your hands on your hips, with an insisting stance. It wasn’t pushy, but Mike could tell you weren’t going to back down.

How you stood firmly with the hands perched on your curvous hips that strained subtly against the cotton uniform --- it was hot, how you stood your ground to him, yet no insulting persistence. Your bubble cheeks scrunching up so cutely. Mike just couldn’t help but be turned on, maybe it's your caring nature mixing into it.

Mike breathed through his nose, his head hung low, his hands sinking into the mattress. A sign of defeat, not entirely submitting, but how your words were honeyed with sterling sweetness got him to halt, and process how his life led up to here.

He glimpses through his long pretty lashes, “Alright --” He cheekily scans your name-tag, pretending he didn’t already memorized it from the moment you walked in.“Y/n. I’ll go. You’re pretty convincing. Maybe you should have been a lawyer too.”

“Oh --- you’re a lawyer, huh?”

“An unlikable one to be exact.”

You suck your teeth teasingly, “I highly doubt that. You seem likeable to me.” You pucker your bee-stung lips with jovial tease, as you tug on the curtain surrounding his bed to offer privacy, his eyes zero on your soft lips that glisten with chapstick sheen, his arms mid-frozen holding onto his articles of clothing.

“Now get dressed, and we’ll get you out of here.” You chuckle, only the shadow of your stihollute appears. Mike chuckles to himself, a little shake of his head, he liked you from the very start.

You knew the circumstances of dating an addict, from day one you knew the weight of his demons Mike carried on his back. He laid all his cards on the table, and you leaped into this life with him head-first.

But how could you not fall for him? His charm, his blunt wit, his intelligence, his kindness and that beautiful face? Only a fool would be blind not to be swooned off their feet for the one and only Mike Weiss. After the first -- rather intense --- first meeting, it was definitely not the last encounter for Mike and yourself.

After agreeing to go to a rehab program, Mike flirted with you immensely; along with requesting for you to accompany him on his first day. “For moral support.” he shrugged, a flirtatious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His first day was stoic, but with hushed side-commentary, and sly remarks. Muffling your laughter, you would poke his ribs, silently telling him to knock it off. It didn’t take long for an unusual friendship to develop. You really didn’t see it coming, and if Mike was to be honest, he didn’t either.

The realization of deep love was agnated to a love-drunk punch to the heart.

Days blurring into weeks into months with good morning and goodnight calls, late night conversations - those were the heart-shattering times. It was difficult for Mike to open up his layers, bottling his hurt inside to the point of shaking sobs at 3 am, clutching the phone.

Choppy incoherent words, spurts of feeling worthless. It began with you two having brunch which then led into dinner dates. Soon trust was earned, and you began hanging out at his house or your apartment.

A nurturing nurse and a sardonic lawyer becoming friends--his dry humor doesn’t rub you the wrong way, or how you don’t see it as obnoxious.

“Later when you take a shower, I’ll get you fresh sheets.” You murmur sweetly, as you finished massaging him. Mike slowly peels his eyes open, hooded and squinting. Your voice is silvery to his ears, it always appeases his darkest times --- like that hopeful light at the end of the tunnel.

Silently his eyes raked over your body, your hushed voice brought him back to reality. As he soaked in your appearance, Mike couldn’t stomach how tired you were, your eyes were droopy, your curls sloppily disrayed. As his eyes traveled from your exhausted face to your breasts that swelled over the past weeks to the ample bump protruding against your nightie.

Now entering into your second trimester.

Mike began silently crying, pinching his eyes shut as lone tears spilled down his cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. We’re getting through this, I’m so proud of you.” You kiss his wet cheeks, not minding the salty tears that kiss his eyes. Nimble sweet kisses, and cooing. You knew how hard he was working to get sober.

“You don’t need this shit.” Mike croaked, not daring to open his eyes, and see the pity in yours.

“Stop that. I love you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” You caress his cheeks by the gentle graze of your knuckles, shushing him. Lulling him to calm down from a pending panic attack.

You soft humming quills him, with only a sniffle here and there. You kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you.” Mike mutters under his breath. You giggle under your breath, feeling a bit bashful --- how can he make you so shy even after three years together?

You snivel a bit, biting back a sheen of tears, “And I love you too.” You’ll never get tired of saying that.

It’s been a long road, filled with bumps and turbulence. Many women would have left a long time ago, abandoning Mike at his lowest, but you just couldn’t. You’re too addicted to Mike, from the taste of him, to his scent, to the feel of his skin. His sharp tongue, and his humanity.

There was a moment in this journey that almost halted this life together, where you both had to address every bleeding crevice. It was a toxic mixture of your denial, and Mike’s instinct to push anyone close to him away.

It’s not that you didn’t want to help Mike, or face reality --- you were afraid. Scared that Mike was hurting himself, and all the progress you both built together was deteriorating at the seams, but then his honeyed words of promises of getting better would wrap your head in a rose-tinted daze.

Mike wasn’t trying to convince you, but himself. Just to chip off on the drugs, to keep himself afloat --- that this time it’ll be okay. He can balance his sanity, and his urges of substance that makes him feel ‘whole’. But that was just a temporary moment of brief delusion.

It was about three months ago, your shift at work was a tiresome blur, bustling on auto-pilot. The soles of your feet were aching, the nape of your back was droning in a dull pinch, and your eyes were slightly burning. Your worn body was screaming, and yearning for the comfort of your soft bed, and just to cuddle in Mike’s arms.

But there was a sense of … queasiness yet gleeful.

For days on end, you were puking in the early hours of the morning, your head hanging in the toilet. Waves of nausea, and finally, the nail in the coffin, you realized that your period was five weeks late. A hunch was hovering over your head, like a burning bright bulb. Finally, biting the bullet, and putting on your big girl pants, during a lunch break, you took a blood-test, and sent a cup of your urine to the labs for testing.

Once the results came back to you a few days later, you were speechless for the remainder of the day.

You were deary with worry, unable to conjure the words to form the discovery of yours. As you parked the car in-front of the house, cutting the engine off with the flick of your wrist, snatching the keys. Living with Mike has become a better part of your life, coming home to a person who loves you, and who would hold you, holding them. Grounding yourself back to earth in warmth, blending into one, melting your worldly problems away.

Reminding that you’re not alone.

With a groan, you weaved out of the car, locking it, and trekked up the walkway to the porch. Arching your arm, as your open-palm was rubbing your tail-bone as you waltzed to the front-door, thanking God and his angels that you were able to leave work early.

Dunking your hand in your bag, fumbling for your house-keys, mumbling under your breath as you blearily tried to conduct the proper way to tell Mike the truth, ansty and yet giddy at the toes --- to tell him you’re pregnant.

You always wanted a family, but over the years, the desired fantasy was slowly being strangled with dwindling hope, never really connecting to any soul --- until now, with Mike. Yawning mindlessly, you inserted a key into the lock, twisting, and opening the door.

“Mike, I’m home. I have something to tell you—” A cheery tone falters into silence.

Your foggy haze of exhaustion was smacked off your face, as you almost nearly stumbled off your own feet. Prejuticle vomit bubbling at the back of your throat, as startled eyes all look into you, you felt like a trespasser in your own home.

Witnessing a mass of people seated in your living room, snorting lines off the now stained and scratched coffee glass table, startled as they drink heavily and sloppily gulps liquor, as fogs of nicotine floods the air — staring at you with wide eyes.

Rooted in the middle sector of the couch, eyes bulging with fear, hot under the collar, was Mike himself, sniffling back remnants of coke deep into his nostrils, bare-chested in his red suspenders, and dress pants.

“That’s just great.” You mutter under your breath, a cracked sigh of breath; your jaw clicking to the side, Mike knows that tic very well. Your arms fall limply to your waist, as a gesture of defeat.

You walk away, exhaustion setting and resting in your bones, as your feet guide you upstairs. Begrudgingly so, an unbearable itch at the back of your throat, dying to just scream on the top of your lungs.

Scream and cry.

You can faintly hear Mike alert his friends to pack up and go, scuffling of footfalls and inebriated murmuring begin to flow out of the house. A few chuckles and finally …. it was silent, with the slam of the front door the only indicator that it’s just you and Mike — finally alone.

Fidgety fingers nearly tear the fabric off of you, tugging it off your body button by button with an edge of boiling rage, and a sheen of tears burning at the brim of your eyes. All the joy slowly zaps slowly out of your pores, now a dreary sadness now weighs on your shoulders.

Have I not done enough? To help Mike? Maybe my help wasn’t enough? Maybe his pain is too deep-rooted in him, maybe he has to push himself first to make the first move for recovery? Has he been lying all this time? Maybe he’s never been sober during the entire duration of the relationship?

You suspected it, felt the energy was off for quite some time, and yet you decided to play the love-sick fool dance the dance of denial.

A watery huff of a sigh. A dulling pain begins to throb and engulf your skull, an impending migraine just beyond the horizon. Clenching your jaw, nearly on the brink of grinding your teeth. A somber treading up the stairs looms near the bedroom, as you strip.

Dreading on what’s to come next, Mike was slowly walking to the bedroom, fearing a fight breaking out, worried that you’re going to leave him once and for all. But isn’t that what you wanted? For her to realize that you’re not good enough? Mike belittles and berates himself, as he is ever so delaying his steps.

Counting his steps like the sheeps to lull him at night, as he tries to collect his thoughts, already his tongue heavy with ale, ready to slur an apology. Trepidation beams at his brow, fearing the worse to come, that you’ll finally leave him.

His open-palm collides silently against the bedroom door, right on cue when he’s ready to push, he hears sniffles. Internally wincing at your pain, but like a bandage, he’s gotta rip it off.

Grovel on his knees, if he has to, kiss your feet like a goddess worshipped at an alter — anything for you not to hate him. Bringing strangers - swirly acquaintances - into your shared home, breaking your trust.

A creak of the hinges alerts you. Quickly wiping away your teary cheeks, you stand at your night-stand in nothing but your panties, straightening your hunched over form as you were sobbing into your folded clothes.

With a firm shove of the drawer, you close it, gripping your nightie in one hand, and the other clenching into a fist that hovers over your heart. Trying to level your breathing, not wanting to scare off Mike, you know that he’s hurting too.

You can feel his stare burning holes in the back of your skull.

“Mike, I’m just going to take a shower and head off to bed.” You turn your body around, now facing his mopey face, wanting desperately to just kiss him, and hug him. “I suggest putting a bottle of water at the night-stand to keep hydrated throughout the night, and a bucket to be precautious.” You force a forlorn smile, as you place the nightie on the bed.

Uncertain feet tap against the flooring, you walk hesitatingly at first, towards Mike, placing your palm on his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against his skin. A kiss on his lips, ever so featherly soft. “I’m not mad. We’ll get through this.” You rub the tip of your nose against his sweetly.

Mike knows you’re not mad, it’s beyond that. Mad is just scratching the surface, his heart aches to see your eyes watery, and nearly splotchy pink at the rims. “I hate it when you do that.” Mike’s hoarse voice makes you flinch, as if it grated against your ears.

“Excuse me?” Your nose scrunches up, as your cheeks puff out. “Hate what exactly, Mike? Me supporting you bothers you?” You move away from him, sniffing back your tears, shaking a little at the hands, the back of your knees collide against the bed, softly thudding yourself against the mattress.

“No. You pretending you’re not mad. Pretending that everything is okay.” His nose flares, his chest heaving. Wanting to scream, for you to scream. Just let it all go. Too much is bottling like a ticking time bomb.

“But I’m not mad.” You hiss through your teeth.

“Yes the fuck you are! Admit it! Stop acting like a martyr for one moment, and just say it! Say how you really feel! Say I’m a junkie!”

“Stop it, Mike! You’re just a little …” You trail off, biting your tongue, before anything stupid or insensitive spills out. Forbidding any word to spew out, and hurt him. No matter how infuriated you are, you just couldn’t lash out at him.

“Like what? Fucked up? News flash, Y/n, I’m fucked up. Stop acting as if you can fix me! You act like I can just pick up my mistakes and move along.” Mike shouts, now pacing, practically burning a hole in the carpeting.

“Shut up! I was going to say high!” You hastily stand up to your feet, “And I’m so fucking sorry, that me loving you is a fucking problem. That I see you as you are, a fucking human being, not some addict. Because that’s not what defines you, but you want it to be. You can’t stand to see yourself as anything but.” You cry, your hands not knowing where to put them at, just shaking in mid-air.

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Mike barks in your face, tears ready to fall down his stubbled cheeks.

“No it’s not!” You stomp your foot, your toes curling into the carpet. “You refuse to let me in! Instead you seek comfort in strangers, come together to get high, and fuck it all!” Your hand weaves in the air, angrily gesturing; harshly slamming against your thigh.

“You don’t even fucking know me!” By now, his nose is connected to yours. He doesn’t know why he’s screaming at you, lashing you with his insecurities, but how you just won’t admit that this isn’t helping you either. You’re hurting too.

Jesus, his brain is muddled. Fried. He wants to cry, and beg your forgiveness for what he has said, fall to his knees and just hold you, but instead, here he is, shouting at you. He doesn’t feel like a man, he feels lower than dirt.

“Then let me get to know you! You only feed me scraps, thinking that can subdue me, I want you to open up to me!”

“Why? So you can get some self-satisfaction by helping a charity case?” Mike growled, it was a watery one. “I told you from day one, I’m not worth it!” Mike thrashes trinkets off the drawer with his hand, products and little figurines collide on the floor with a thud, “You don’t need this shit! You don’t need me!” Mike screams on the top of his lungs, now hunching over, falling on his knees, as you sink into yourself; covering your mouth from sobbing too loud.

Have you been coming off as pretentious? Pushing him to keep positive, kind affirmations every-day, reminding him to eat healthy, telling him he’s great no matter what, hovering over him to keep sober? Hovering too much? Pushing too hard?

But you couldn’t help it … you love him too much.

“But I need you.” It was a pitiful sob, his arched spine quivering, his shoulders tense, his fingers digging into the cotton fibers. Slowly, you kneel down, your fingers tentatively rub between his shoulder blades; Mike savoring the touch of your finger tips against his clammy skin.

Seconds felt like minutes, biting your lip as you kept rubbing and soothing him, it always helped him calm down. Finally he spoke up, and what he will say will break your heart, “Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?” Mike choked on a sob, his head bobs a bit to sniffle.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Baby …” You cry, finally a heavy waterfall crashes down. Holding him, your chest against his sculpted back, “Please talk to me. I don’t want to lose you.” Wet little kisses on him, mumbling, “Please tell me.” Fresh tears water his back.

“I love you too much to pull you down. To my own hell. It’s not right. You’re too pure.” Mike picks his head up, your hands cup his cheeks. Your brows furrowing, shaking your head at him.

“I need you.” You whispered. “I will go to bat in Hell, for you. Sock Satan in the mouth if I have too.” You chuckle, and luckily, he chuckles too with that cute signature Weiss smirk.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I just …” Mike hung his head, sighing. Hating that he lied for months, he was doing good, he was clean for a period of time. But he got hit with a big case, and the stress got too much.

Drugs were easier than asking for help.

“Then why did you keep pushing me away?” You tilted your head, to manage eye contact. You never wanted to push him too hard just to open up to you. Knowing that it only could make him crawl deep inside himself.

“Because I couldn’t bear the idea of you choosing to stay with me out of pity or guilt.” Mike rubs his cheek against yours, “I never had anyone love me, never held anything good.” Mike blubbered.

“I love you for you. Flaws and all. I’m here for the long haul.” Blinking back wet lashes, you lean in more against his face, with a gentle squeeze of his cheeks in the cusp of your hands.

“I love you too.” It was simply sweet. Shy, even. Mike nudges his face against yours, his lips trailing down your pulse point. Your ultimate weakness.

Mike hedges himself at the knees, as he engulfs your nude body in his arms; as you wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss the joint of his jaw, and with ease, Mike lifts you by his palms on your ass, standing upward with you in his grasp.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper in his ear, “Come take a shower with me.” Caressing your face against his, Mike nodded silently. With quiet steps, and two hearts beating against one, Mike waltzes into the bathroom.

With his fore-arm holding you by the bum, his free hand unzipped himself, the click of his zipper made you quiver underneath your skin. His enchanting warmth shoved your secret in the back burner of your mind, but the journey of it twisting and morphing made you worried — slowly your concern of the possibility of losing the father of your unborn baby was temporarily replaced with touch starvation.

Like a balm to a gashing wound.

It was there but subtle, and quiet. Awaiting it’s time to arise at an unexpecting time, to snatch your heart and squeeze.

The shower was warm and inviting, it helped a little clear Mike’s stuffy sinuses. Your fingers twirling and massaging in Mike’s chest hair, as you both cling onto each other as a life-line. Mike kissed the middle of your brows, as his hands were unwavering from your body.

Silence --- the type that doesn’t need to be filled with unnecessary chatter --- comfortable --- speaking louder than words. His tears blending into the spraying water, and his small tremors were the signs that he was genuinely sorry; and with open arms, you forgive him.

Bathing each other has always been a favorite of yours, so intimate, the soapy sensation of wet skin, the intense eye contact — how perfectly his forehead connects with yours. How soft your touch is against his sex, coddling and cleaning him with care and precision.

Mike rubs the soapy sponge against the terrain of your shoulder blades, trailing down the arch of your spine leaving electric kisses down your spine. A breathy gasp at this welcoming intrusion of Mike seeping the sponge between your asscheeks.

Small lathery cadence intermixing with your wanton moans, as your fingernails scratch slightly against Mike’s back. Mike groaned, it felt so good — the smooth and slippery scratches made him hiss, it was a good pinch of pain.

Cheeky as ever, you slipped your hands to cup his his toned ass; Mike chuckled, mumurming under his breath, his pink lips against your soaked dome, “Greedy brat.” This wasn’t an escape from your issues, clearly both of you need to open the air to discuss your emotions --- a needed shower for two was a nice reprieve from the emotional turmoil.

To clear your heads.

After the shower, and moisturizing, helping Mike into bed, you were braiding your hair, but you were unusually silent. It was time to tell him … now or never. His finger curls against your bare back, fiddling with the thin silk straps against his tips.

You turn your face, your palm holding his fingers. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” Mike spoke quietly, as he laid his back against the headboard. His twirling fingers put you a little ease, but it’s not enough, you have to speak up.

“I have to tell you something …” You trail off, your tone puts him at unease. Your gaze is lowered, Mike shifts his hand away, and perks it underneath your chin.

Making you look at him, with a calm poker-face, Mike insists you, with the soft whisper of your name. Biting your lower lip, his thumb quickly tugging it down. “I’m — I’m pregnant.” Wide eyes gawk into Mike’s own widen orbs, wide as dinner plates.

His breathing got heavy, and soon choppy. You quickly put your hand over his heart, shushing him. “It’s going to be okay. Baby, it’s going to be okay.” A lone tear trails down your cheek, thinking of the worst, you believe Mike is going to bolt out of your life out of fear.

“Is that … ” Mike swallows, “Is that what you wanted to tell me earlier?” His chin wobbles, as you nod, unable to speak. His eyes lower to your flat tummy, hesitantly he cups your belly. His fingers caressing the silk clad skin, he began to cry. Just unraveling in your hold.

That night, you held him tight, and he clung to you tightly; his head laid on your stomach, his tears shedding against your nightie. Mike felt …. scared. Throughout the night, he would mumble that he wasn’t good dad material, but you always tell him, “You’re going to be great.”

That was four months ago, and throughout those four months, Mike was up and down, on and off of drugs, but finally … he stopped. He cried when he first heard your baby’s heartbeat, that’s when he began his rocky path back to sobriety.

Four months of self-hate, sometimes he would leave his journals open for you to read, he couldn’t properly express himself verbally, but in writing, he said it all. He was afraid of the rehab campus’, he preferred your expertise and comfort to nurse him back.

But he couldn’t do this to you, your pregnancy shouldn’t be a stressful one. He knows what he must do.

Mike opened his eyes once more, coming back to reality. Four months and he’s still here. “I’m ready.” His voice was small, yet confident. As if a surge of power consumed his body. His eyes shine with determination.

You were taken back, “Ready for what?” You ask nervously. You bite down on your bottom lip, a little habit you have yet to kick, you would bite your lip till it cracked and bleed.

“To go back to rehab. I gotta do this right.” You hold back a sob, kissing his forehead. “I want to do right for our baby.” Mike weakly smiles, you smile back. You can already envision your shared future, how Mike will protect and love your child. Happy and healthy, no longer fearing the shadow of death lingering near him.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as their daddy.” With the tips of your fingers, grazing his jaw, you lean down for a kiss. It’s a wispy yet passionate kiss. Sending electric waves down Mike’s spine.

“God, I love you.” Mike mumbles against your lips.

Mike Weiss, lawyer, ex-addict, a lover and a father. Oh, how lucky you are to have him, and how blessed he feels to have you.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

It’s Only the Beginning

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, oral fem recieving, fingering, beard burn

Request by @brokenheartscrybrokentears​: Are you still doing a requests? If so can you do a smutty request where she and Jensen are at a dinner and he is under the table?? Please please please..?? Thank you..

Summary: All you wanted was to enjoy a meal with your husband, but instead, he’s making a meal out of you.

give him an inch and he will take a yard @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​​ torture @spndeanbingo​​ accidental confession @spngenrebingo​​ “You have cream cheese on your face” “Wanna lick it off?” “Is that a dare?” @spnquotebingo​​

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

You and your husband have been so busy with life and work that you two never have any time for one another. It’s always been touch-and-go with a lot of things, so you were really looking forward to having a date night with him. You can tell work has been putting a damper on his mental health--always going to work with tired eyes and coming home with brittle bones and heavier bags underneath his eyes. It’s not fair how hard he works when he doesn’t get a lot of rewards for it. He says he doesn’t mind, but you can see past his tough exterior.

It was actually your idea to go out tonight, and you kept reminding him that you would kill him in his sleep if he tried to postpone or cancel on you. Knowing the threat was real to some degree, he made sure he was free tonight. This night was supposed to help him relax and get his mind off things, but instead, he’s made it all about you.

His chair across from you is empty, but his presence is still hanging over you, always reminding you that he has you exactly where he wants. Your face must be red at this point from how hard you’re trying to keep all your feelings and thoughts to yourself. Your knuckles are sore from how hard you're clutching the table cloth. You’re far enough away from other people for them not to know what is going on here, but you’re close enough that if you make a sound, they will definitely hear.

You’re trying so hard to act like everything is okay, but apparently, you’re not doing a good job. The waitress stops chatting with the bartender enough to notice you, and she heads over to your table with a concerned look on your face.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“W-why wouldn’t I-I be okay?” you stutter.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are squirming and almost at the brink of tears for the last twenty minutes. Is your husband gone?”

“No, h-he’s not finished,” you clear your throat to stop the moan from escaping.

You could have sworn you heard Jensen laugh, but it’s more like you felt it. This little bastard is going to get what’s coming to him soon enough.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N-No, I’ll b-be fine. My stomach just hurts that’s all. Cramps, y-you know.”

“I do,” she smirks so faintly you thought you were seeing things. “I’ll come by a little later to check on you, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sounds g-good.”

She leaves the table with a knowing look on her face, and you just know that she knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the only reason she didn’t try to stop it is that there wasn’t a lot of people in the restaurant to begin with. Maybe she wanted you to get yours. You have no clue why she didn’t stop it, but you’re glad she didn't.

You kind of brought this on yourself because you’re slapping yourself internally right now when you think back to the conversation that started this all.

“I have a confession to make,” you slur.

You were out with your girlfriends drinking and having a good time when your husband picked you up when your friends realize that you’re only going to get worse.

“What is that?” he chuckles as he drives you two home.

“You know what my biggest fantasy is? You know, sexually?”

“Are we really going there right now? All I’m going to do is put you to bed after I get you to drink some water.”

“I don’t want any water. I want you.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. You know this.”

“I didn’t tell you my fantasy though!” you hiccup.

“What is it?” he sighs and stops at a stoplight.

“I really want public sex. The thrill of it all turns me on. You know, not knowing if people know but knowing you could get caught at any moment. I want that,” you giggle.

Jensen just stares at you, not really paying attention to the light that just turned green. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the car behind him honk their car for him to start moving. He looks at you up and down before resuming the drive home.

“Just know you asked for it,” he chuckles mischievously.

Jensen’s words are replaying in your mind over and over again, always reminding you that you’re the one that put yourself in this situation. If you’d known that giving him this little bit of freedom was going to turn into this, you wouldn’t have done it--well, that’s what you want to tell yourself. You’re so lucky these tables have cloths that go all the way to the ground because if they didn’t, then you would for sure get caught.

Jensen’s hands grip your thighs tightly, spreading your legs wider so he can have more access to your dripping pussy. He’s been at this for twenty minutes, and he’s still not done. He wants to bring you to the peak as many times as he can before your body tells him that you can’t take any more. His tongue slides between your folds before plunging back into you. You let out a small squeak, earning a few stares from a few people around you.

S-sorry,” you whisper.

His fingers find your throbbing clit, and the sudden pressure on the bundle of nerves causes you to clench your thighs around his face. He’s been growing out his beard, so you know you’ll definitely have beard burn later on. He slots his shoulders between your thighs so they have nowhere else to go before paying attention to your clit once again.

He pinches the nerve bundle between his fingers, rolling it lightly. A surge of pleasure shoots straight from your core to virtually every spot in your body. Your knees jerk upward, hitting the end of the table with a loud thud. Your cheeks heat up, you’re afraid everyone is going to know just how flushed you are. This is complete torture, and he knows it.

Jensen is just basking in amusement and cockiness from how things are going, he decides to take it up a notch. He removes his long and wet tongue from your center, only to lick up to your clit. He switches places with his fingers so that when he cups his lips around your clit, he slides in two thick fingers.

Your channel stretches to fit him, and you place your hand over your mouth so muffle the moan you know is going to slip. He starts to recite the alphabet with his tongue, scissoring his fingers to stretch you for his cock later. He won’t take you in the restaurant because he wants those moans reserved for him and him only.

“Shit, Jensen, you need to stop,” you whisper, hoping that no one heard you.

Once he adds another finger, you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching. All the stimulation on your clit and your g-spot is enough to bring you right at the edge. Jensen knows your body more than you do, so he knows exactly what kind of strings to play to get you right where he wants. To put you over the edge for the fourth time that evening, he gives your clit a little nibble.

He knows that you don’t really like teeth being on your most sensitive area, but you also know that Jensen would never do anything to harm you. He is more than capable of experimenting with you on things, and this is one of them.

“Shit!” you exclaim loudly, covering your mouth when you realize what you have done. Everyone looks over at you, and you clear your throat before letting out your breath shakily. “I’m fine. S-sorry everyone.”

It takes them a few minutes to go back to what they were doing, all the while you’re coming down from your high. Jensen’s face must be covered with your release by now, but he’s brought a napkin with him to wipe away the evidence. You’re pretty sure everyone here knows what is happening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

Jensen finally pulls away from you, granting you a break for the night. He cleans you and himself up before peeking out from underneath the table to see if anyone is looking. When the coast is clear, he returns to his seat with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“If I knew I’d be having a second dessert, I would have not finished my meal,” he chuckles.

“You fucking asshole,” you hiss, not meaning it at all.

“You’re the one that asked for it. I’m just delivering,” he whispers and takes a bite of his cheesecake that has been left untouched until now.

“Everyone was staring. I won’t be able to walk out of here, Jensen,” you say.

“Then I did my job right.”

“Don’t look so smug. I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Game on then, sweetheart,” he laughs and takes another bite.

He holds out his fork for you to taste, and you glare but take one anyway. Your little activity has made you parched.

“You have cream cheese on your face,” Jensen notes and grab his napkin.

“Wanna lick it off?” you retort, not realizing what you said.

“Is that a dare?” he chuckles.

“No, never mind, it was a joke,” you say and wipe your own face clear of any mess. “You did enough licking for one night.”

“It’s so cute you think I’m done with you,” he chuckles and takes yet another bite of his dessert.

You stare at him, speechless, because how can he give you more than what he’s already given? Four orgasms in one evening and he wants to do more? He knows your body better than you do, so you trust him completely. Now all you’re going to be thinking about is what he’s going to do to you when you finally get home.

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[scarlettwitcher]

Úlfur minn Part One

Request: by @laneygthememequeen​: Hello lovely! I just saw that youre open to requests and are itching to write something for soft boi geralt! If you’re open to it, can I request a geralt x reader where reader seems like super innocent but is like an actual warrior/badass and he’s just like in awe. Or maybe where the reader is in like a dress for some reason and she usually doesn’t wear dresses because they’re inconvenient for fighting and ends up having to fight in the dress. take care and I hope you have a wonderful day💖

Summary: After Jaskier is finally able to convince Geralt to be his bodyguard for Pavetta’s betrothal dinner, shit goes down and Geralt has to make the decision of whether or not he should tell Y/n how he really feels.

Characters: Geralt, Reader, Jaskier, Calanthe, Eist, Mousesack, Pavetta, Duny, mentions of secondary characters in the show.

Word Count: 2336

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of guts, lots of angst, canon typical warnings, also the title is in Icelandic, it was just something cute for plot.

Author’s Notes: So, I’m not gonna lie, this one got away from me. I found that Episode 4, Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials fit this request perfectly. This will be a four part mini series. I’m actually really excited to release this to y’all. Million of thanks out to my girl @queenxxxsupreme​. She’s been such an amazing help with writing The Witcher. Everyone send her lots of love! I am accepting requests so please, send them in! If you’d like to be a tag as well, just let me know! Thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome!

“I tell you no lie. It swallowed the whole village, it did. Not a bone to be found!” The man took a second to breathe before scowling at another. “Of, don’t give me that look, shitling. That’s why we had to call him…” The man stood up for emphasis as he recalled the events he had witnessed earlier. “The White Wolf! And he stood in the middle of that frozen lake like he knew it was coming for him. The ice cracked open and a Selkiemore shot out! Oh, you’ve never seen one, but it’d take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil’s teeth!” You tried to stifle your snort as everyone gasped. You took a drink of your ale, quickly scowling at the cup for the foul taste. “And it… swallowed… that Witcher… whole!” 

“Oh, this is brilliant!” You giggled quietly to yourself as you heard Jaskier and slowly reached over, poking his head gently making him look up at everyone staring at him in confusion. “Oh, sorry. It’s just Geralt’s usually so stingy with the details. Uh… and then what happened?”

“He died.”

“Eh… He’s fine.”

“Look, I was there. I saw it with my own-” The door swung open, cutting the man off as Geralt slowly walked into the room, a thick awful smell filling the room. Everyone parted immediately, giving Geralt room to walk straight towards the man. Your eyes widened as you saw him, covered head to toe in guts and it took everything in you not to rush to his side to see if he was okay.

“See?” Jaskier let out a loud laugh and you elbowed him as you stood, making your way over to Geralt, touching his elbow gently before moving to the other side of the tavern, knowing Geralt would make his way over there.

“Oh… What’s that stench?”

“Selkiemore guts. Had to get it from the inside. I’ll take what I’m owed.” 

“Toss a coin to your witcher. O, Valley of Plenty o-oh-oh” As you heard the song leave the bard’s lip, you smiled softly to yourself knowing how much Geralt hated it. Soon everyone joined Jaskier and cheered as they were now monster free.

Once Geralt received payment, he made his way over to you, laying his sword on the table as you smiled up at him and pulled out your handkerchief that you always carried with you and started to wipe his face. Geralt watched you with a reserved softness that he only had for you. Before either of you could get a word out, Jaskier approached behind the both of you.“You're welcome. And now, Witcher, it’s time to repay your debt.” The bartender handed Geralt a mug of ale but before you could advise him not to, he took a sip, and immediately spit it out to the side, getting some on your pants as he stared the bartender down with what could be called rage. “What debt, you’re probably asking yourself in your head right now. Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve made you famous, Witcher. By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin, but instead, what I’m asking for is a teeny, teeny-weeny little favor.”

“Jaskier, let the man breathe would you. He’s covered in guts.” The Witcher shot you a soft glance. He’d never admit it to anyone but he loved the way you cared about him. He never knew how you could be so kind, caring, and...innocent.

“Y/n, please. Geralt’s already ready for the nex-”

“Fuck off, bard.” You giggled as Geralt gave you a side smile and Jaskier rolled his eyes at your antics. He knew you both had some kind of feelings for each other but would never admit it, because frankly, you both were stubborn idiots.

“Listen Geralt, for one measly night of service you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of-” You watched in amusement as Geralt turned around to leave, showing he didn’t care for what the bard was offering. “Fuck! Food, women and wine, Geralt.” 

This made Geralt stop in his tracks before slowly turning to look at the bard. Jaskier’s eyes drifted to you for a second, a bit of guilt creeping in as he saw the way you had momentarily slumped into yourself at the mention of women. Geralt sighed before nodding once, making his way out of the tavern, you and Jaskier following him in haste as you made way to an inn. Before long, you had rented a large suite for the three of you. You walked into the bathroom and prepared a bath for Geralt as he silently followed you into the room, carefully stripping himself of his clothes, not wanting to drop guts on anything else in the room. You knew what he was doing and instantly turned your back to him, feeling your cheeks heat up. You already saw him shirtless and felt the need blossoming in your chest like it always did when you saw him or any part of him. 

“You didn't have to.” 

“I w-wanted to. It gives me a chance to see how you are. Besides, Jask has been on you since we left the tavern and we have a few minutes now, Úlfur minn.”

“You worry too much.” With that, Geralt slowly sat inside the tub. You finally turned around to look at him and it took every ounce of strength of your being to not look down. He knew he was affecting you as your cheeks turned a darker red and smirked as he watched you.

“A s-simple thank you would've been nice.”

“Thank you Y/n.” Geralt mumbled softly. You felt yourself melt at the way he said your name and cleared your throat, moving around the room, getting the necessary items to help him wash off the monster guts now dried on his skin and hair.  You grabbed a chair and sat behind him, laying the objects on the floor. You rolled the sleeves of your shirt (or in this case, Geralt’s shirt that you suspected he never noticed you took) and scooted closer to him. If he didn't stink so much, you could have sworn on your life you would've laid a kiss on his head. Before you could even do anything, Jaskier barged into the room and grabbed the bucket of water you had on the side, dumping it on Geralt's head. He grunted angrily at Jaskier as he looked up at him with disdain. 

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night body guarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?”

“I’m not your friend.”

“Oh. Oh, really? So, Y/n is your friend but I’m not? Do you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom or even Y/n?” You looked at Jaskier with confusion as you looked down at Geralt and you could’ve sworn he sunk a bit in the tub as he remained quiet and watched Jaskier, his eyes watching his every move threateningly. You took this opportunity to grab some soap and rub it into his hair, washing away all the grime he had. Geralt immediately relaxed under your touch and even leaned into your hands, relishing in the way you dragged your fingers in his hair, grunting quietly when a finger got caught in a knot. He would never say it but this was one of his favorite things: when you played with his hair.

“Yeah, well, yeah, exactly. That’s what I thought. Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance!” Geralt watched unfazed as Jaskier threw salt into his bath and you smiled proudly at Jaskier’s confidence and even did a tiny fist bump in the air for him to which he responded back with a tiny, dramatic bow.

“How many of these lords want to kill you?”

“Hard to say. One stops keeping count after a while. Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes.” Geralt scowled at him, already regretting the decision he knew he was going to have to unwittingly take. You scrunch your face at Jaskier, wondering how he could sleep with so many women, how the both of them could. You would never admit it to the Witcher but it always pained you to watch him walk off, knowing he was in search of a warm body for the night. Jaskier always consoled you in those dark nights but after a while, you became used to the pain. 

“Ooh, yeah, that face! Ohh! Scary face! No lord in his right mind will come close if you’re standing next to me with a puss like that.” Geralt grabbed the mug of ale you had brought him earlier, bringing it to his lips, but before he could take a sip, Jaskier had plucked the cup and moved it away from him. “Ohh, on second thoughts… might wanna lay off the Cintran ale.” Geralt groaned and you moved your hand quickly to his back, gently massaging him. It worked and he relaxed once more under your touch. Jaskier could only watch in amusement. You both acted like a couple but were just friends. ”A clear head would be best.”

“I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry. I’m not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men.” 

“Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time." Geralt glared at Jaskier before leaning into your touch once more. “Ugh, is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous? Actually, I’ve always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?”

“Yeah. When they slow and get killed.”

“Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this… monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

You knew Jaskier was poking the bear. This wasn't the first time the bard asked Geralt this and probably wouldn't be the last but you hated how Geralt responded every time. You always scolded Jaskier when he asked the Witcher this. Jaskier was the only one who knew of your feelings for the big, white haired man and had bestowed the honor upon himself of getting you two together. But it never worked. It just confirmed your fears over and over. Geralt didn't feel anything for you other than strictly platonic emotions. Jaskier looked at you with sympathetic eyes before they dropped down to Geralt. He saw the conflict behind his eyes. His answer was always you. He wanted to tell you but since the first time you met, you made yourself perfectly clear that you only wanted to be friends. Ever since, he's got amazingly well at hiding his feelings for you. “I want nothing.”

Jaskier could only internally groan as he wanted to scream at the both of you. “Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you.” Jaskier stared at you as he spoke and your eyes widened as you shook your head violently. Jaskier sighed as he looked at Geralt. You looked down at your hands, thinking of an excuse to get away from the two men. You didn’t notice the way he turned to look at you, his eyes softening. He turned back around to Jaskier, his face hardening quickly.

“I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me.”

“And yet…” You stood up so quickly, the chair you were sitting on fell back onto the floor. You almost ran out of the room, feeling your eyes hot with unshed tears. Jaskier sighed and shook his head, pointing towards the door where you had run out of. “Here we are.”

“Hm... Jaskier, don't start with this again.”

“If only you could see the way she looks at you.”

“I said don’t.” Geralt needed a distraction as his head was now invaded with thoughts of you. The way you ran out because of his words gave him just a little sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything Jaskier bugged him about, day and night, was true. “Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?”

“Ah. Well, uh, they were sort of covered in Selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway you’re not going tonight as a witcher and neither is Y/n going as the healer she is. I’ve got clothes for both of you, don’t worry about it.”

With that, Jaskier took his leave into the next room where he found you sitting on the bed with your head in your knees. He slowly approached you and rested a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at the bard, red rimmed eyes, staring down his sad ones.” I didn’t think he'd answer so….I’m sorry Y/n.”

“I-it’s okay Jask. You’ve just been wrong. He really doesn't even look at me as more than a friend. That's all I am, a friend. Besides, he doesn't want a prude like me.”

“You're not a prude Y/n.” You stood and took a deep breath as you walked around the room with pensive thoughts clouding your head. “Look, I was able to get you a rather beautiful dress and I might've bedded a hairdresser...She agreed to help.” You frowned at Jaskier as you quickly shook your dress.

“Dress? Oh no, no, no. I don't like dresses. You know this Jask.”

“You're gonna have to deal with it Y/n. If Calanthe can wear a dress, then so can you.” You groaned loudly at him as he laughed softly. You nodded at him to show you the dress and thus, you all prepared to attend the dreaded event.

*~*

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[starrynite7114]

everything is you: one

A/N: Happy Sunday everyone! Hope you all are having a great weekend! Wanted to share this with you all as it’s a story I’ve been working on. It’s honestly taking over my life a bit, but I hope you all enjoy it! 

This may or may not be inspired by the Boyz II Men song. I love my 90s music and I heard it and then boom. And it also may have been inspired by a korean drama called ‘Fated to Love you’, at least the character of Alena. 

Should have three requests out before I update this and things you never knew! That’s the plan and I plan on sticking to that plan. Snapshots should be update soon as well!

Masterlist

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tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansimaginez : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon : @sesamepancakes : @getyourcrayoncas : @nich0lasmatthews : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @nakusaych9 : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @samcrobae​

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment below or message me! <3

Credits to the original GIF creator!

Alena groaned as she heard her phone rang for the umpteenth time. 

It was a Saturday.

She was allowed to sleep in.

Her eyes opened wide then when the day sunk in. Picking up her cell phone, she sat up and saw multiple missed calls from Angel, EZ and Felipe.

She clicked on Angel’s name, cursing under her breath. 

“Where the fuck are you?” Angel growled out.

“I’m so sorry Angel,” Alena groaned as she laid back on her bed. “I had a late night at work and I missed my alarm earlier.” She looked at the clock beside her bed and it read ‘10:35am’.

He sighed. “It’s fine, I was just worried. You didn’t even text me querida.” 

“I,” she bit her lip, internally groaning for forgetting to do such a simple task. “I thought I did. Sorry my-“

Angel cut her off. “Your co-workers took advantage of your kindness yet again and you did their work while they went out to party.” 

Alena hated how well Angel knew her. But she nodded her head meekly as if Angel could see her. 

“Cruz is looking for mama.” 

She smiled thinking of her son. Well, technically, Cruz wasn’t her son. Cruz was Angel’s son with his ex-girlfriend, Valeria. The woman didn’t want Cruz so she put him up for adoption without even telling Angel. She told him that she would rather he be in the system than have a father like him. That she wanted no reminder of him in her life. When Angel went to the orphanage to retrieve his child, they gave him a difficult time due to his criminal background along with his history with the Mayans. They told him he didn’t have enough stability to care for a child. 

Typical systemic bullshit. 

Alena had a good job, or well, a respectable job that people would see as stable. Being Angel’s friend, she offered to pose as his fiancé so that Angel could get his son. It was a fight, but eventually they were able to bring Cruz home and Alena has been taking care of Cruz with Angel ever since. On his birth certificate, it was Alena’s name that was on there along with Angel’s.

One may wonder why would Alena even adopt a child that wasn’t hers? 

Many people, including her family, have called her insane and too kind to help Angel out the way she has been doing for the last few years. They were never together and were only friends, yet, they were co-parenting.

But Angel saved her all those years ago when she was merely sixteen years old. Things would have been different if Angel wasn’t there.

Alena moved to Santo Padre with her mother when she was eleven years old. She lived in the apartment building down the street Angel’s home. She was EZ’s age, so she ended up being in the same class as him. For lack of a better term, she was EZ’s rival when it came to academics. She hardly participated in any clubs, sports or any activities, but when it came to academics, she definitely rivaled EZ. Angel always teased EZ that not even his spooky gift could beat Alena. Due to living in the same neighborhood, they always seemed to walk home together and she eventually befriended EZ then Angel. 

They weren’t her best friends, but she definitely considered them good friends. Her best friend, Carla, was EZ’s current girlfriend. Carla moved to Santo Padre at the age of fifteen and became a part of the triplet with EZ and Alena. Once EZ was out of jail, their feelings became more apparent especially since Carla stuck by EZ. Though, they couldn’t lay blame in Emily since EZ did push her away. 

She adopted Cruz four years ago and now, she was his mother and she wouldn’t do a thing to change it. Her and Angel co-parented well. Their schedule never veered from the usual, but she usually was in San Diego during the week and from time to time Cruz came with her. Mostly, he was in Santo Padre since Felipe could watch him when Angel was working. Angel insisted that she didn’t have to take care of Cruz, her helping him get his child was enough, but she grew fond of the child. 

She would do anything for Angel and now she would do anything for Cruz. They might not be blood, but he was her son.

“Shit, okay, let me just change into some clothes and I’ll head over.” Alena maneuvered out of bed. The guilt seeping in that she didn’t come home last night as she intended to do so. 

Well, she didn’t go over to Angel’s.

“Don’t bother,” her room door opened and the giggle that flooded the air made her smile.

“Mama!” Cruz greeted her, jumping on her bed. 

“Baby!” She opened her arms as Cruz jumped into them. Looking up at Angel, he leaned against the door frame and smiled at her. “I’m really sorry.” She pouted. 

Angel groaned. “Please don’t do that, you know that pout makes me powerless.” Alena laughed at his words. “I know, it’s fine, I know how you are.” Angel sighed walking over to sit at the edge of her bed. “Really wish you wouldn’t let them walk all over you.” 

“It’s not a big deal, I was staying late anyway and they didn’t anticipate it to be busy yesterday.” Alena’s eyes were focused on Cruz who was cuddled into her arms.

“That’s not the point Lenny.” Angel hated how kind she was, it was the reason she was stuck in California in the first place. She was going to Europe, Paris specifically, to become a curator for the Louvre, an opportunity that came once in a lifetime, but she stayed in Santo Padre, and was doing scut work. It upset Angel, but she wouldn’t leave, because if she did, Angel wouldn’t be able to have Cruz and she didn’t want that. It was Angel’s chance to be a father, to have a family.

“How was last night?” Alena knew how difficult it was for Cruz to sleep when he knew she was coming home.

“Awful.” Alena noticed the dark bags under Angel’s eyes. “He wouldn’t stop calling for you. And I tried calling you but your phone was off.”

“Sorry, I forgot to charge it and I just,” she kissed the top of Cruz’s head as she felt his breathing even out indicating he was asleep. “I’m really sorry Angel.”

“Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Angel moved so he was sitting right beside her. “I’m going to have to either buy you another phone or those power banks.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You have to start saying no querida, you’re not getting paid enough to handle everyone’s load.”

“I just want to help.” Alena laid down with Cruz in her arms. 

Angel followed suit, resting his hand behind his head. Even though they didn’t start off tangled in one another, eventually when he woke up, he knew Alena would be wrapped around him with Cruz in between them. They had a weird dynamic, Angel could recognize that, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Baby, just say no next time. It was their work to do, not yours.” Angel turned and wrapped an arm around Alena and Cruz. “We’ll just take a nap then we can head over to Pops, family dinner.”

“Isn’t family dinner usually tomorrow?” 

“Two nights of family dinner, didn’t want to argue with the old man.” 

Alena laughed. “Okay, we got to stop by the pharmacy, Cruz needs a refill on his inhaler.”

“I already got it.” Angel closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, I know you’re tired, sleep in for once.”

Alena closed her eyes, kissing Cruz on the forehead one last time before her world went dark. 

=============

Later on that night, Alena was relaxing on the recliner at Felipe’s as Angel and Felipe grilled outside. She knew their relationship had been tense, however she knew they were trying to work it out. With EZ out of jail, she knew the dynamic would change. Angel always felt second best to EZ, but not to her. 

He was number one and he knew that. 

“Mama, do you have my crayons?” Cruz came up beside her, EZ following behind.

“Yes bubba, they’re in your bag remember? We packed it together.” She ruffled his hair, kissing his cheek.

“Oh yeah! I’ll go get it tio!” Cruz ran to Angel’s old bedroom where you had dropped off his things. 

EZ looked down at Alena and smiled. “Nice to see you relaxing for once.”

“Your father and brother won’t let me do anything.”

“Well you do everything for everyone else, hard not to spoil you.” EZ was still in awe that Alena took the mantle of mother for Cruz. He was always close to Alena and remained close to her while he was in jail. Besides Carla, she was the only woman in his life that he didn’t push away like he did Emily. He felt terrible for doing so, but he didn’t want to make her wait. When his father informed him that Valeria left Angel after informing him she was pregnant and that she was giving the child up for adoption, it broke EZ’s heart for his brother. He knew for a fact that Angel would be a great father. From what Felipe reported to him, Valeria was a grade A bitch. But then Felipe told him that Alena adopted Cruz to help Angel and that she was going to be Cruz’s mom.

EZ would say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. Alena had always placed Angel on some pedestal after he saved her all those years ago. He understood why she did, but he just didn’t think her gratitude would be this great. When he got out of prison and saw their dynamic, he was in awe. Cruz may like Alena a little more than Angel and it was slightly laughable. Not in a malicious way, but Alena wasn’t his biological parent, but he was so attached to her.

“Is Carla coming?”

“No, she’s working a late shift at the hospital.” EZ wished Carla was here, but he knew how short staffed it was and she had a four day break after this stretch of days. 

“Mommy, do you want to draw with me and tio?” Cruz cake running back, his bag in his hands. 

“Mommy is resting little man, we talked about this.” Angel answered for her. She looked up and found Angel walking in from the kitchen, trying to shoo Cruz and EZ away.

“No! I haven’t seen mommy and I want to play with mommy.” 

“Cruz,” Angel sternly called out his name. “Do you want mommy to get sick?”

Cruz looked up at Alena, a pout on his cute face, and shook his head. “No daddy.” Alena got sick easily and Angel tried to make sure she didn’t over exert herself. She tried to give her all to Cruz, but he knew how exhausted she was even though she didn’t complain.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. It’s just coloring Angel.” She hated seeing Cruz pout. 

“EZ take Cruz.” Angel waited till they were outside before he crouched down beside Alena. “Listen I get it, you want to do everything with Cruz and you suck at saying no, but you can’t let Cruz have everything. I’m tired of being the bad cop.” He teased her.

Alena laughed. “I play the bad cop during bed time especially when you want him to stay up with you. We take equal amounts of sternness.” And they did. They were a team and sometimes, Cruz needed a stern answer from both of them. They tried to assure Cruz’s happiness, but they didn’t want him to not have boundaries or manners when it came to certain things. Bedtime was bedtime. Playtime was playtime.

“You okay? You want something to drink?” Angel asked as he stood up. 

“No, I’m okay. Can I bake the brownies now?”

“Nope, keep that cute ass of yours on that seat.” He winked at her. “I’ll bake the brownies.”

“No, Angel you literally don’t know how to bake.” Alena countered.

“It’s just following instructions.”

“My exact point.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny.” Angel chuckled. “It’ll be fine mi dulce.”

“Hey, wait, did you submit the application for Cruz’s school?” Alena called out since Angel went inside the kitchen.

“Lenny, would you stop? I got it, remember? You literally told everyone at the club to make sure I didn’t forget the deadline.” Angel found it annoying, but Alena knew him best. Every fucking turn he made, he had one of his brothers reminding him to submit Cruz’s application. Then his pops would text him. Then EZ would bug him, it was hard to miss the deadline. At the same time, he chuckled at the thought because no one knew him like Alena did. 

“Okay, I just, maybe we shouldn’t start school. Cruz is five, maybe it’s better for him to stay home for now.” Alena bit her bottom lip, unsure if she truly wanted to enroll Cruz to school.

Angel chuckled, helping Alena up so he could sit on the armchair. He pulled her to him, letting her sit on his lap sideways. “We talked about this, it’s gonna be hard, but Cruz needs to go to school. It’ll make it so much easier for us when it comes to childcare and he can meet kids his age.” He thought how insane it was that Alena was so involved in Cruz’s life but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Cruz was Alena’s son, even though he hears how the people around town slightly mocked Alena for her choices, there were more people who supported her. He always referred to her as his partner because in all intents and purposes, she was his partner. 

“You’re right.” She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just, what if he gets bullied? Or he doesn’t have friends?”

“Have you met our kid? He’s too cool to not have any friends.” Angel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s going to be fine.”

“Okay, but if he comes home crying even once, heads are rolling.”

“Okay mama bear, calm down.” Angel kissed the top of her head, laughing against her head.

Felipe called the two to come out, finding Alena sleeping in Angel’s arms. He gestured for Angel to come out, which he did after waking Alena. Once Alena was awake, they both made their way outside with Cruz already seated, Angel and Alena sitting on either side of him. EZ and Felipe sat across from them. 

EZ always found it fascinating when they all ate together. If there were carrots, Angel would put the carrots in the salad on Alena’s plate, not liking carrots since he was a kid. But Cruz would then put his little carrots on Angel’s plate, thinking they were just exchanging carrots. 

“Cruz, that’s for you.” Angel placed the carrots back on his plate.

“You put your carrots on mama’s plate.”

Angel looked over at EZ and Felipe who both had an amused smile on their faces. Angel grumbled as he took some carrots back. Alena laughed at the two, shaking her head. Her boys were too much at times. 

“Alena,” Alena looked over at Felipe. “Your mother came by the other day, she said you haven’t seen her. Are you avoiding her?”

She smiled sheepishly, letting out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, she just,” she looked over at Angel who was waiting for her to answer as well. He had gotten a few teasing text messages from Michelle, questioning as to why her daughter hasn’t come to see her the last four months. “My mom has been trying to set me up on dates with her friends' sons and I just don’t want to deal with it is all.”

Angel almost choked on the carne asada he had shoved in his mouth while EZ smirked. Felipe tried to hide a smirk, his eldest obviously bothered by the possibilities.

“And has she found a rightful match for you?” EZ loved watching Angel squirm. He missed this. He never thought he would miss his obnoxious older brother and Alena, he missed her too. He missed their academic competitions and how much she pushed him. He missed cooking with her on Friday nights, the Korean cuisines she would make were amazing. But mostly, he missed just being around both of them. He wasn’t exactly incredibly shocked that Alena stepped up to the plate. Her and Angel always had a connection, ever since she was eleven years old. The younger sister they never had, well, for EZ at least she was. With Angel, the lines blurred so long ago. “I’m sure your mother at least has fifteen candidates for you.”

“Cielo, don’t leave us hanging, how many candidates does she have?” Angel’s smile was tight, which made EZ even more amused to tease his brother. 

Angel only called her cielo, sky in Spanish, whenever he was trying to tease her or when he wanted something from her. Sunshine was reserved for when he was secretly annoyed with her, which she deciphered over the years. Lenny when he was frustrated and Alena for everyday things. She liked it when he gave her a Spanish nickname cause he just sounds so good speaking Spanish. 

“Um,” Alena opened her mouth to reply when Cruz got her attention.

“Mr. Vic is calling you.” Cruz held her phone up, which he had in his hands.

Angel raised an eyebrow at his son’s words and Alena excused herself.

“Who’s Mr. Vic?” Angel asked Cruz.

Cruz looked up at his father. “Mama’s best friend. He takes care of me whenever mama has to go to work.”

Angel looked at EZ and his father, who shared the same look as him.

“Is he nice?”

Cruz nodded his head, shoving a carrot in his mouth. “He makes mama laugh.”

Angel had never heard of Vic before. Tonight was a night of revelations.

And he was not liking it one bit.

Alena sat back down, apologizing for taking the phone call.

“Who was that?” Angel questioned.

“Just a friend, he takes care of Cruz. Remember, I told you about him, Victor. He was just checking if we were still going to this museum next Saturday with Cruz.” Alena was certain she mentioned Victor to Angel before, but with so much going on, he most likely forgot. 

“The museum?” Angel knew that Alena absolutely loved art, just like him. It’s what made them bond as strongly as they did. They would borrow one another’s materials, paint together. The third bedroom at their house was an art studio because she wasn’t sleeping in that room alone, it would be confusing for Cruz. But he did remember her mentioning Victor. He wasn’t even sure why he would think Alena would bring anyone around their child without checking with him.

“Yes museum, we’ve been planning for a while. You have a run to Vegas then right?” Alena wasn’t sure why she was nervous or she felt that she had to ask permission. It was mostly for Cruz since in all technicality, he was Angel’s son. She was like a glorified babysitter. Well, she was more than that, but at times she couldn’t help and feel that. People would always ask her who’s cute kid Cruz was whenever she was in San Diego and in Santo Padre, people would always come up to her saying how they admired her for stepping up to the plate. And of course there were the ones who gave her the oddest look, like she committed a crime by helping Angel. 

It was hard to push those looks aside at times because there were so many times she wished Cruz was truly hers. But she didn’t want to dwell on that.

“I do, I just thought we would spend the day together before I left.” Angel knew he was being a dick, but he did intend on doing that.

“Oh, we can do that, not a problem.” Alena enthusiastically agreed. “I can reschedule for Sunday.” She quickly shot Victor a text before continuing to eat.

EZ looked at the victorious smile on Angel’s face. He chuckled at his brother’s reaction, shaking his head. “So how many has your mother found for you?”

“Ten.” She murmured.

“What was that?” Angel asked. He heard, but he wanted to make sure he heard correctly. 

“Mommy said ten.” Cruz answered.

Felipe and EZ laughed while Angel rolled his eyes.

“And how have you been keeping your mother at bay?” Felipe knew how pushy Michelle could be, especially with Alena since she was too kind for her own good.

“She’s been ignoring her.” EZ cackled. “Alena, your mother is going to ambush you soon.”

“No actually,” Alena looked over at Angel. “I told her I was dating someone, which I’m not. But it’s keeping her at bay. I’m almost sure she set up a dating profile for me.”

EZ laughed harder. This situation was too funny. He loved Alena’s mother. She was tough as nails, but was also the sweetest woman he’s met.

“Why doesn’t she busy herself with your brother?” Angel wiped Cruz’s cheek. 

“My brother is, well, he’s been with Mina for years. I’m technically the only one without a commitment.” Alena knew her mother meant well, but she didn’t exactly have time for dates with Cruz and Angel taking up her time. 

“You do, it’s me and Cruz.” Angel stood up. “Anyone want a drink?” Felipe raised his beer indicating he wanted another while Alena just requested for water.

“I’ll come with.” EZ stood up, following his brother in the kitchen.

The two brothers entered the kitchen, Angel grabbing a beer for himself and his father.

“Hey, if you’re not happy with Alena being set up, why not just ask her out?” EZ grabbed a beer as well.

“Ask her out? For what?” Angel gave his brother a questioning look, making his way back out, but EZ stopped him.

EZ made a face, chuckling at his brother. “Oh, we’re still in denial. Haven’t you been in denial for like seven years?”

“Drop it Ezekiel.”

“Look, I know you don’t think you’re worthy of her, but you are. Alena is playing mommy to your son, no questions asked or expecting anything in return. You’ve protected her since she was fifteen years old, kept men away from her and kept her safe. Don’t let the voices get to you Angel, you obviously like her.”

“Well, you’re wrong, I don’t.” Angel pushed pass EZ, halting his movement when his eyes landed on Alena. 

She gave them a small smile, and moved past Angel. “Sorry, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Did you,” Angel wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t mean for Alena to hear any of that. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Any of what?” She gave him a questioning look. “You two are so weird.” She laughed, making her way to the bathroom.

But she did hear. She always knew Angel wasn’t interested in her but hearing it was definitely much more hurtful. It was okay, she knew her role in this whole situation and she was fine with that.

Anything for Cruz.

=============

Alena finished her skin routine, putting on her glasses as she walked out of the bathroom. Angel was already on the bed, Netflix ready to go. Cruz was knocked out in his room after a fun night with abuelito and tio.

She slipped in on her side of the bed, keeping her distance from Angel. The lines blurred between them time to time since Angel was very affectionate. He loved cuddling, but after what she heard, to protect her own heart, she wanted to keep a distance between them.

Angel knew Alena heard him. After she returned from the bathroom, he could tell that she was distancing herself. Her attention was solely focused on Cruz and rarely acknowledged him unless he specifically called her name. He hated it when she closed him off but would still smile at him and be very polite. He wanted her to lose it one time, but at the same time he didn’t.

They always said it was the quiet ones.

“Hey, about earlier,” Angel scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to start.

“You don’t have to explain anything.” Alena cut him off before he could speak further. “It’s fine, we’re a good team Angel, we’re both here for Cruz.”

“It’s more than that, you’re one of the most important people to me.” And it was true, she was. He’s known her for quite some time and it was hard not to be overprotective over her. Alena always wanted to help everyone with no questions asked. She was a genuinely kind person and people walked all over her often. He tried not to, and he was successful most of the time, but sometimes, she pushed him to let her do things for him and he just didn’t want to argue with her.

She wouldn't even look his way and it upset him.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She placed her hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “I don’t expect for you to have feelings for me and we’re friends. Things can get blurry at times because of the dynamic we have. You don’t have to explain anything, we’re good.”

“Alena, don’t brush this off. It’s not that I can’t have feelings for you, our situation is just complicated.” Alena was a beautiful girl, he just, he doesn’t even know what he wanted.

“Angel, don’t worry about it, we’re good.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

Angel didn’t want to push her, so he let it go and just returned her smile. “What are we watching?”

“Lucifer?”

Angel put Lucifer on, Alena situating herself against the headboard. Looking over at her, he knew their situation was highly ideal, and complicated as fuck, but he wouldn’t trade it in the world.

But things were bound to change, they always were.

[amintyworld]

Doubts - Beginnings Part 4

WATERFALL (Part One), SUNSET (Part Two), SECRETS (Part Three)

A/N: Guess who back, back again-! Anyway, thanks to all the support in the last three parts, this series has been such a blast to write! I’ve finally decided on a name for it - Beginnings, so that’s what they’ll be titled with from now on to avoid any confusion. As always, links to the last three parts are above. I hope you enjoy! - Minty

TW: Surprise Pregnancy, anxiety/worry, blood/gore, alcohol/drinking, implied major character death, sickness, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

--------------------------------------------

They started construction on a house around a 15-minute walk from Phil’s house, on a hill that overlooked the waterfall in the distance. They didn’t know what they were doing, but Phil did his best to help out when he could and give advice, having been in a similar situation not too long ago. Wilbur went out searching for jobs when he could and managed to get gigs every now and then as he saved up cash to get everything they needed. It was a new feeling for the couple - Wilbur’s constant worry over his girlfriend, and Sally’s determination to not let the pregnancy control her. All in all, it was a bit of a frazzle. Tommy and Tubbo were a bit off-put at the fact that they’d be uncles at such a young age - nonetheless, they tried to take it all in stride.

Phil answered a lot of questions in the following weeks from his two younger sons, who didn’t understand how it all worked. A good example could be just last week when Tubbo gave Sally ginger ale and straw, leaving Phil slightly confused until he figured out Tubbo was trying to help her out since ‘her stomach hurt’. Tommy’s confused ideas of helping were a bit more out there than his brother’s - the Carrot Incident was a pretty good example - but it was clear that their hearts were always in the right place. 

Technoblade was distanced and tried not to get too involved but helped out when he needed to - he told Phil that this was more Wilbur’s responsibility than his, which Phil couldn’t deny. The pig hybrid still hung around the couple and even eased their worries when he realized how absurd some of Wilbur’s concerns became - “You’re reading too much on those books, Wil. Just because it could happen doesn’t mean it will!” Technoblade was always available to talk and support his brother, who became a bit of a mess from it all. 

Still, they were a happy family who was nothing but excited for the baby’s arrival - they were going on five months, and things had been going smoothly… at least, mostly smoothly.

----------------------------------

Wilbur pulled up the covers on the bed as he left a tender kiss on Sally’s forehead. She smiled, yawning. “Wake me up for dinner…?”

“Of course, my salmon. You rest, I’ll make sure Tubbo and Tommy are quiet.”

Another yawn escaped the shifter’s lips. “You tell them if they wake me up they’ll be dealing with a very pissed off pregnant lady who…*yawn* won’t hesitate to kick their asses.” Wilbur giggled softly, brushing the hair out of his girlfriend’s face in a simple loving gesture.

“Get some sleep, okay?” Wilbur said. “I won’t be far.”

“I love you, Wil.”

“I love you too, Sally,” Wilbur said, turning off the lights to darken the room as he gently and softly closed the door behind him. Over time, most of his worries had eased, thankfully - but a few lingered in his mind that fizzled around his brain. Wilbur tried to push them away as he moved downstairs, resting his head against the counter for a brief moment, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he ran his hands through his hair once again. He had a gig later that night, but his body craved rest. Wilbur chose to ignore it, there wasn’t much use anyway. If he napped at this point he’d miss the job altogether, and he needed the cash. Bored, trying to distract himself, he pulled out his notepad and flipped to a fresh page as he rhythmically tapped the pencil against the paper, willing himself to focus his thoughts.

It felt strange to Wilbur to stare down at a blank page and not have anything to write. It was hard to describe how he felt, much less think of rhymes. So much was overwhelming his emotions and feelings, still, he tried to focus and scribble words across the page. Maybe if he wrote it all down, he’d feel better somehow - it always worked for him before. His notepad held all the times he was happy, all the times he was sad, upset, angry, confused… all hidden in words like a code only he could understand. It was the closest thing to a journal or diary that he owned, one of his most prized possessions.

Maybe it’ll comfort him now.

I’m struggling to breathe

Keep going

Protect her

Push forward

Wilbur looked down, his mouth turning down in distaste - this wasn’t exactly the lyrical poem that he usually formed. There was, as always, some truth in the words. It felt like he was ranting, almost. It didn’t make sense.

Everything will be okay

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed in thought at what he wrote. He was trying to reassure himself, but… it felt wrong.

Will everything be okay?

“Uh-oh, the notepad’s out,” Phil said jokingly from the doorway as he carried in what looked to be a large basket filled with the garden’s harvest - wheat, carrots, and potatoes. He quickly noticed Wilbur’s distress, his smirk quickly disappearing. “Wil? Wil what’s wrong?”

Wilbur sighed as he read the words staring up at him over and over. “Nothing really. Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“I see,” Phil said, not believing that for a second as he set the large basket down on the counter, methodically moving to store up the food. “You look tired.”

“I feel tired,” Wilbur said, finally closing the notepad as he let out a soft chuckle in the suffocatingly silent house. “Got a gig in an hour, though.”

“You need to sleep, Wil.” Phil scolded, his gaze stern.

Wilbur waved him off. “I’ve got a lot I need to do. It’s no problem, anyway - the club’s gonna close up in a few days, and then Jay said I might not get another job in at least a month while they restock for summer.” Phil gave him a look, hand on his hip as Wilbur held up both his hands in surrender. “I’ll get some better sleep then, I swear.”

“Good,” Phil said, his gaze softening as he turned back to the basket. “Are you heading to Melrose’s place tonight, or TBO?”

“Melrose. She needed me last minute to fill a half-hour slot, promised to pay double.” Wilbur said as he got up from the stool and stretched, heading over to grab a cup of lukewarm coffee that was left in the pot from the morning. Hey, coffee was coffee, and he needed to keep the sandman at bay - double pay was no joke, and with his earnings tonight he’d finally be able to get everything they needed for the new house and for the baby. He needed to go, and he had to do well.

“I hope she doesn’t expect to keep dragging you out last minute.”

“Hey, as long as it pays well-” Wilbur shot thoughtfully as he sipped his coffee. The two turned their attention as Technoblade entered the house, his weapons, and clothes covered in blood, a few of his kills on his shoulder. Phil grimaced. 

“Techno, I told you not to track blood in the house, go around to the back-!” The smell of rotting and decay, potent, filled the boy’s noses as they pinched them, trying to get rid of the scent. Technoblade silently turned around, going out the front door again. “You better shower and change before dinner, don’t forget!” Phil called as Techno simply waved his hand.

“Yeah, yeah…”

Wilbur quickly chugged the last of his coffee as he put the mug in the sink and quickly followed his older sibling. The night was cold as he pulled his jacket closer around him, walking around toward the back of the house. The sky was quickly turning dark as the day began to end, stars not quite appearing just yet. Techno sat over the two dead sheep he’d brought into the house earlier, the nasty musk somewhat masked by the cold wind. The pig hybrid was focused as he ran his blade along the belly of the kill, carving and cutting out sizable chunks of meat which he began to wrap in some jungle leaves for storage. Technoblade liked hunting, and no one could deny his skill, knowledge, and precision of it. He was patient and always waited for the right moment to strike, always hunted smaller game because he knew others were too big to carry back home. The prey always usually went down in one hit, and if that didn’t do the job Techno would usually hold the creature down while he made a quick jab toward the skull. He pig prided himself on his hunts, which provided the majority of their meat for meals ever since the town decided to enforce a livestock tax on the people to raise a little extra coin.

Setting the packages aside, Techno looked up to notice Wilbur staring at him silently. “Uh, hey Wil. Whaddya need?”

“Can’t I just check on my sweet older brother?” Wilbur smirked, and Techno huffed, amused.

“You can, but you and I both know you don’t.” Technoblade joked as he walked past him, heading toward the river with Wilbur close behind, grabbing a cloth and his bloodied weapons along the way. The pig hybrid took a breath as he turned to look at his brother. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing important, really,” Wilbur said. “I’ve just been worried, I guess.”

“About Sally?” Technoblade asked, kneeling down beside the river beginning to scrub his weapons clean. “Don’t tell me you’ve been reading those parenting books again, I’m telling you they’re shit-”

“I’m worried about myself.” Technoblade’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at his brother, slightly shocked at the intensity in his voice as he sat next to him by the riverbank. Wilbur took a deep breath as he tried to release the stress from his mind, looking into the clear running waters. “What if I mess up, or… or I can’t be a good father? What if I’m the one who’s not ready, you know?”

“This has all been your decision, Wilbur. Your life. I can’t tell you that everything will be sunshine and rainbows because to be completely honest Wil, I don’t know.” Technoblade said honestly, moving to place his clean sword on the grass and moving to grab his axe. “But I don’t think you should be worrying so much about the future. Live in the moment, in the now. If things go bad, you’ll know what to do Wilbur. Trust yourself.”

“But what if I-?”

“Nope. No more worrying.” Technoblade said, cutting off his brother. “Just focus on right now, and as cheesy as it is, have a bit of hope.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“I’m wise beyond my minutes, young one,” Technoblade smirked as Wilbur laughed. Techno began to wipe off his face and neck of blood, rinsing the cloth in the river as he went. 

“Do you have any parenting wisdom to place upon me?” Wilbur asked, half-joking.

“I mean, It’s not really my department. Kids aren’t really… they’re not my thing.” Technoblade said with a little shrug of his shoulders. “But if I had any advice to give you, it would be that if you have the same patience and love Phil had for us, I think you’ll do just fine.”

Patience and Love. Live in the moment. Trust yourself. His worries seemed to melt and dull in his mind, and he felt a lot better than he did earlier. “Thanks, Technoblade.”

Technoblade just saluted his two index fingers with a smile before moving to get up, ruffling Wilbur’s hair. “Be good to the little scamp, this family’s already crazy enough.”

-----------------------------------

Wilbur zipped up his guitar case as he grabbed his keys and the small bag of coins. Looking out the window, he could see the nightclubs and bars, restaurants and torched streetlamps slowly flicker to life, glowing against the dark sky. Like a whole new town lying just beneath the surface, revealed in the darkness. Sally walked over with his gloves and scarf, a gentle sad smile on her face as Wilbur took the wool gloves and pulled them on.

“Every time you leave, I miss you just a little more.” Sally said, wrapping the scarf around Wilbur’s neck and folding it neatly in front. “Do you have to go?” Wilbur warmly smiled as he gently cupped her cheek.

“You know I’ll never be far, my salmon.” He kissed her forehead tenderly as he brushed a bit of stray hair behind her ear. “You’ll close your eyes and when you wake up I’ll be right by your side, you’ll barely even notice I left.” Sally leaned in closer as Wilbur wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, his chin resting gently on her head. As they pulled away Sally’s eyes looked up to his, a worry and fear behind her gaze that seized Wilbur’s heart.

“Promise you’ll be safe?”

“When am I ever not safe?” Wilbur asked, leading Sally to cross her arms and look at him with a slight pout that made Wilbur laugh. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

With one final goodbye kiss, Wilbur shut the bedroom door behind him again, walking downstairs. He noticed Tommy sat on the couch, head in his hands and his blonde hair messed. He looked over to his younger brother, gently propping up his guitar against the stair railings. “It’s late, what are you doing up?”

“Nightmare.” Tommy mumbled, slightly sleepily.

“Do you... wanna talk about it-?”

“I’m not seven anymore, Wil. It was just a stupid nightmare, I can handle it on my own.”

Wilbur was quiet for a moment, processing what Tommy said, how he snapped at him. He sighed before looking over to meet the teen’s eyes. “If you’re sure you’re alright…?” Tommy nodded before Wilbur pulled him into a small hug, Tommy’s hand held onto his arms around him in comfort as he smiled slightly despite his current state.

“Heh. Thanks, Wil.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, right?” Wilbur smiled as he pulled away. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be off.” Wilbur said, getting up from the couch to grab his guitar once more, throwing the straps over his shoulders. “That gig won’t play itself.”

“Good luck, Wil.” Tommy called before Wilbur turned, his heart warm and happy, giving him a smile and thanking him before taking his leave into the cold night air.

------------------------------------------------

“Thank you, you’ve been an amazing audience!” Wilbur said as cheers erupted from around the pub. Moving off the stool, he grabbed his guitar by the neck and sauntered offstage, feeling happy with his performance. Within 30 minutes he managed to squeeze in four songs, which to his delight the crowd seemed to enjoy - at Melrose the tap was never empty, and as such the crowd was easily angered by the slightest things, or even nothing at all. The only somewhat mishap during his slot was when a bit of beer had splashed against his clothes thanks to a patron who had a little too much. They were quickly shown the door and the night resumed its somewhat peaceful pleasure.

He walked up to the bar and sat in the corner with his guitar, watching the next musician take the stage - it looked like a band from the amount of people. Wilbur knew he wouldn’t get paid in full until the end of the night after each performance was done, Melrose wanted to make sure they held up their end of the bargain instead of running off what the money. He had at least another hour in here before closing.

“Are you drinking or not?” Wilbur looked up to the bartender as he stared down at him, expecting some kind of response. He wasn’t exactly a big drinker, quite the opposite - the only times he’s ever drank were with Phil and Sally. Sally, once when they were both eighteen just to try it out - he winced remembering the monster hangover the morning after. Phil around a year ago when he turned twenty-one and they both shared a few beers together in celebration. Both times he’d gotten tipsy pretty easily, either because he wasn’t exactly used to drinking yet or because he was a natural lightweight, who knows. Either way, he wasn’t exactly going to risk getting drunk right now.

“Uhm, I’ll have a club soda, thanks.”

The bartender gave him a once-over, put off by his request before slightly shrugging his shoulders. “Suit yourself, buddy.”

“Alright, we’re Black Rose and we hope you enjoy the set! This first song is called ‘Sleepless’.” A guy spoke into the microphone, turning to his friends with a smile before counting them in as the music began to blast through the pub. It was a nice tune, and Wilbur found his foot unconsciously tapping along with the music. He closed his eyes and let the sound fill his ears as they began to sing the chorus. It felt right. There was a kind of emotional distress behind the singer's voice, in the twinge of his tone or in a voice crack or two that almost felt like magic.

“And I’m not going blind, I just keep falling, falling behind; 

Time goes slow and fast, my heart’s pumping and my head has crashed; 

Sit in silence and pretend like your demons are your friends; 

Your thoughts are racing while you’re pacing, it’s all in your mind, sleepless~!”

“Hey Wil, you got a minute?” Wilbur jolted back at how close the voice was, as he looked over to see none other than Melrose - her blonde hair flowed down her back messily with a ruby red dress that complimented her blue eyes. She pursed her lips into a line, a signal she was thinking as her pen tapped against the clipboard in her hand. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine. What’s up, Mel? Hope my performance was up to par.”

Her lips formed back to a comfortable smirk. “Performance was great as always, Wilbur. You never cease to please.” Her eyes turned down toward her clipboard. “Though I’m afraid I can’t say the same for everybody. Tips came up a little short thanks to a few blanks, I’ve got to decrease your pay for tonight.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed. “Mel, you promised.”

“Look, Wil I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.” Melrose let out a sigh, rubbing her temple in frustration. “I’m barely making enough to pay as is.”

As she turned to leave, Wilbur quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Mel, you don’t understand, I need the cash.”

Melrose sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t we all.” She snapped slightly, yanking back her arm. “I told you I can’t do anything-”

“Rosie, come quick!” One of the bodyguards interrupted as he approached with a sword slung over his back. “Charlie’s getting wasted in the back, someone gave him vodka…”

“Goddammit, not again. Can’t that bastard ever get sober?” She huffed, giving Wilbur one last look before slipping back into the crowd. Fuck. Well, there goes a whole extra gig’s pay - with the pub’s restock he won’t be able to pay off everything now even if he had work twice each week...dammit. The due date was in April, he still had time. He could probably get another job while the pub’s down, he’ll have to check the town bulletin on his way home later. He turned back to his club soda, letting out a defeated sigh.

Guess I’ll be away from home more than I thought. 

A scream from outside quickly tore Wilbur from his thoughts as he turned toward the sound.

-------------------------------------

Philza was a light sleeper. Being on the road and sleeping the wilderness had always made him jump at the slightest hint of danger, a sort of survival instinct that developed. It only increased when Techno and Wilbur came around, for the first time in his life he had someone else to protect and look out for than just himself, more he could lose. He guessed that’s why he jumped the gun a bit at teaching them how to fight so early - If he couldn’t be there in time, he wanted for them to be able to protect themselves. Even so, his instincts from way back then never stopped, which was most likely why the head of the family was awake now.

Muffled sounds came from below him, shuffling. Something was here, and whatever it was it wasn’t good. His heart beat quicker as adrenaline rushed into his veins. He grabbed his sword, leaned against the wall, and crept down the hallway silently. It was dark in the house, he could barely see a few feet in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He couldn’t hear the noise anymore, which only heightened his senses as his heart beat faster.

Then, a groan which sent him backing up - that was much, much closer than before. Suddenly, he bumped into something that grabbed his arm and without thinking he swept his feet under whatever it was, sending them to the floor. “Ugh… hey to you too, Phil.”

He looked down and noticed his oldest moving to stand back up from where he fell against the floorboards, rubbing the back of his head. “Techno…?” He asked before quickly helping him up. “What are you doing, you scared me!”

“I was checking out the noise, same as you.” Technoblade said before readjusting his grip on his own sword. “Remind me to never spar with you when you’re in attack mode.”

“Will do.” Phil smirked. Both quickly tensed as they heard shuffling and groaning from down below, clear enough for the two to recognize the noise instantly. They looked to each other, eyes wide. Zombies. Where there’s one there’s bound to be more around in minutes. “Get Tubbo and Tommy, I’ll get Sally.” Technoblade nodded before turning and rushing off behind Phil as he rushed toward the end of the hallway, toward Sally and Wilbur’s room. Phil didn’t know how they managed to have a breach in the walls, but however it occurred it meant one thing - the next ten minutes were the difference between life and death.

He entered the room to see one of the rotting creatures standing over the shifter, who decked it clean across the face, her ears scanning her surroundings, green goop covering her hand. She turned to face Phil, who rushed forward and pushed his blade through the zombies’ skull, killing it for good. Both panted heavily as Phil checked her over, worried. “Are you okay, did it bite you?”

“No, no. I’m good.” Sally reassured him as she looked around the room. “Where’s Wil?”

“I...I don’t know, but... I’m sure he’s safe, wherever he is.” Phil said, trying his best to push his own worries out of his mind.

“Wait, he’s not back yet?” Sally’s eyes grew wide at the realization as her body tensed in worry. “He’s out there, with… with…”

“Wilbur knows how to handle himself.” Phil reassured her, worry growing in the back of his head and forming an uncomfortable spot in his stsomach. “For now we need to be more worried about ourselves - If we’re going to survive until morning we need to barricade the house, and fast.” Phil said, grabbing her by the wrist as they rushed back out into the hallway, Phil chopping another zombie’s head clean off its skull as they rushed past it toward the stairs. He could see Tommy and Tubbo wielding their swords as they tore through zombie after zombie in the living room, somehow making it into a sort of game as they smiled and laughed. Technoblade, on the other hand, moved chairs and tables against the two doors to block them watching his back as a zombie stauntered toward him, and he swept his legs under the creature and quickly curb stomped its skull, slimy green goo flowing into the wooden floor. Phil tossed Sally an axe that she caught quickly, feeling the weight in her hands and happy to have a weapon. “Clear out the ones inside.”

“Got it.”

Tommy jumped from the couch onto a tall zombie, piercing it through the chest and pinning it with his sword to a nearby wall. “Ha! Top that, idiot!” He shouted trumphantly toward Tubbo, who’s eyes lit up competitively as he attempted to hack a nearby zombie in half and managed to get his sword stuck.

“Uhm…”

Sally rushed in, ignoring the tender soreness in her tired body as she hacked the zombie’s head clean off with her axe as its body slumped to the floor. Quickly and effortlessly, she pulled out the lodged weapon and handed it to Tubbo. “Be more careful, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah…” Tubbo said sheepishly as he took his weapon back and Sally rushed to finish off Tommy’s pinned zombie. With a few strikes, it was down. Tommy grabbed his sword to get it free, tugging harshly to no avail. He got more anxious with each tug as Sally faceplamed.

“You stupid-” She muttered, handing him her axe. “Finish off the last two with Tubbo, and try not to lose another weapon, okay?” Tommy huffed in slight protest before Sally gave him a look and he rolled his eyes, taking the weapon and running off.

“I don’t think it’s gonna hold!” Technoblade yelled as he threw his back against the door, pushing it closed against what must have been around twenty zombies pushing and trying to get in with any means necessary. Sally looked over to Phil, who looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan, any plan at all. “Phil?”

“Phil, what do we-?”

A loud crash erupted - a broken window. Danger. Phil’s grip tightened on his sword as he began to shout orders. “Tommy, Tubbo, hold the back door NOW! Sally, stay behind me.” Phil’s tone was tense and sharp, and the two teen boys rushed like mice to do as he asked. “We just need a little more time, it’s gotta hold a little longer…” At this point, he was hoping for some kind of miracle. This wasn’t just a regular breach - this was a massacre. Rushing forward, he pushed the shadow in the dim light down to the floor, and quickly raised his axe to bring it down when-

“Wait wait wait-! I’m not one of them!”

Phil’s eyes squinted in the light to find… Wilbur. He looked like a mess, his clothes torn and ripped with green slimy goo staining the fabric. Phil’s eyes watered in relief as he quickly pulled his son in for a tight embrace, helping him up off the floor. “Thank god, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Good to see you too, Dad.” Wilbur smiled before the two let go, his eyebrows furrowed and his tone more serious. “These aren’t regular zombies, they’re stronger and more resilient. Last I checked they were taking down the square one house at a time, and from the looks of it most of them were not prepared for a visit.”

“...Fuck.” Phil cursed under his breath, his mind beginning to race once again. Did they have a chance?

“I ran as fast as I could to get here, I was so worried…” Wilbur said as Sally rushed forward to embrace him with a smile, running her hands down his face and through his hair, afraid she’d lose it again. Wilbur, in turn ran his hands down her arms, his smile brightening that it was real and alive and here-

“Good to see you’re not dead, Wil.” Tommy huffed against the door as the monsters on the other side growled and moaned, pushing their weight and strength against it. “But we have a bit of a situation here!”

“We need to get out of here.” Wilbur looked over to Phil. “If we stay any longer, we’ll be trapped. Once we’re out of here we can run into the forest to hide and wait out the horde.”

“But both exits-”

The two elder brothers looked at their father and answered at the same time in surprise. “The second floor window.” They turned to each other, sharing a brief smile. Technoblade looked over to Phil once more, his mind and heart racing as the voices in his head boomed louder, and he tried his best to ignore their shouts. 

“Look, it’s risky, I know, but we’ve gotta try. We don’t have time.” He winced and grunted as the zombies on the other side of the wall grew more violent in their animalistic attempts to break in. Phil looked at his family’s faces, hints of fear and uncertainty in their expressions. Tommy’s arm went to stop Tubbo from falling over at a particularly forceful blow, and as Tommy’s nerves increased he could see Tubbo holding his hand and giving it a squeeze. Technoblade’s heels dug into the wooden floor as chairs, tables and wooden boards began to splitter under the force of the creatures outside. Wilbur pressed a soft kiss to Sally’s forehead as Sally’s hand drifted to her stomach instinctively at this point, her eyes filled with nothing but worry. He knew this was crazy, but if it meant that there was a chance they’d be safe, he’d risk it.

“Alright. Wilbur, make sure the window’s open and we have a clear way down. Everyone else, get ready to run.”

----------------------------------------

Wilbur’s heart stopped as he saw the creature’s teeth sink into Phil’s neck as he let out a scream in agony. Shit, shit, shit… he didn’t know where they came from, they blocked the stairs as they ran up, why didn’t he see it?! The zombie that bit Phil fell to the ground with a thud as Phil’s own blood seeped down his shoulder and stained his shirt. Techno stilled as he made eye contact with his father, who looked sad, knowing his fate. “Phil, I’m so sorry, I-” Wilbur trembled, his hand reaching out toward Phil, not knowing what to do, what to say. Phil’s head shook back and forth slightly before pushing his sword into Wilbur’s hands.

“You two need to go. Now. Before you lose the chance.”

Technoblade was stone faced. “Phil, we’re not leaving you-”

“There’s no time to discuss this, I said GO-!” Phil shouted sternly before going into a coughing fit, holding himself steady against the wall. Wilbur stepped forward, wanting to grab his hand, help him before Phil recoiled. “Wil… Techno… you need to go, that’s an order.” Silence fell over the two brothers, not wanting to leave their father. “Look, they’re not going to attack me now but they will attack you, now MOVE IT!”

Shuffling and groans grew behind them as Phil winced, feeling the infection flow through his body. They needed to get out before he turned, they needed to live, he wanted them to live-

“But what about you?”

Phil looked over to his sons with a sad smile. “I think I’ve taught you both enough to know what happens now.” Suddenly it felt like all the air in the room vanished. “Now do me proud and show me what we do if someone gets bit. Show me what I’ve taught you.” Phil could feel himself getting lightheaded, he was going to pass out, but he couldn’t… not until they both were safe.

Wilbur didn’t know what to do as he looked to Techno then to Phil, who slowly lowered himself to the floor, his back leaning against the walls of the home he built for them. Techno’s fists tightened as he turned to face his brother. “Techno…?”

“Get somewhere safe, okay?” His voice was heavy, serious. “Promise me you’ll get somewhere safe.”

“I… I will, I promise.” Wilbur said, trying to look at his brother to see if he had any plan. “But what are we going to-?” Before he knew what was happening, Techno shoved him through the window, closing and locking it firmly behind him. Wilbur began to panic, realizing what Technoblade was doing and trying to find some kind of grip before he slipped off the roof and landed in the bushes, pain and bruises blossoming on his body. Tubbo helped him up off the ground as Tommy’s eyes looked up to the window, confused. 

“Where’s Phil and Tech?”

Tears pricked at the edges of Wilbur’s eyes as he felt his heart begin to throb without them here. Why, why why… Why did he stay? Why didn’t he let him stay? Why wasn’t he careful enough? It’s all his fault-

“Wil…?” Tommy’s voice wavered. “Where’s Technoblade and Phil?”

At that moment, Wilbur knew things changed forever. Phil and Techno were gone, they were gone and they were never coming back. He told Technoblade, he promised him that he’d get all of them somewhere safe, and with a heavy heart Wilbur knew it wasn’t here, not anymore. He wasn’t going to lose anyone else, he was going to protect them. He was going to protect all of them, if it was the last thing he’d ever do. That very moment what Techno said to him finally made sense.

‘If things go bad, you’ll know what to do, Wilbur.’

Right now, he wanted, more than anything in the world, to get them out of here. Tubbo and Tommy shared awkward glances as Wilbur took a deep breath for a moment, sniffling and wiping the tears from his eyes. Sally looked towards him concerned as Wilbur slid his hand into hers, looking towards his brothers with the same look and tone Phil had. 

“We need to go. Now.”

[onceuponastory]

Coming Back Home - Chapter Five: The Time of My Life

“So I'll tell you something This could be love, because I've had the time of my life No, I never felt this way before Yes I swear, it's the truth And I owe it all to you” - (i’ve had) the time of my life: bill medley and jennifer warnes (aka the song from dirty dancing)

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable…until her sister asks her to show Nick around town…a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? (based on prompt by @orphicodysseywrites​)

Tag List: @shinydixon​, @baker151910​ and @thesundrop​. Let me know if you want to be added!

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol

Note: I’m so sorry this chapter took so long! I’ve been super busy during Christmas because I work retail, and when I got home, I was so drained and unmotivated to write something, but here we are! I hope y’all enjoy the emotional roller coaster this chapter will take you on ;) Also, this chapter has some parts told in Nick’s POV for the first and definitely not the last time

Read the other parts / Read this story on Wattpad!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Nick or his character! I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all see the movie if you can, because it’s adorable!

Later That Day

“How about this one?” Nick suggests. I scrunch my nose up. We were both trying to figure out what song to dance to at the wedding. Yes, we’ve left it late, but given everything that’s happened since we got here, can you blame us?

“Absolutely not.” Nick sighs. “What?”

"It’s a fun song! It’ll get people dancing.”

“Nick, even though we both look good, I don’t think dancing to Sexy and I Know It will be a good idea. Unless we want to give our great aunts a heart attack.” Sighing, Nick nods, crossing it off his list. “Now, I have made a playlist for this very occasion, so let me put it on...” I announce, crossing over to my phone.

“Of course you have. Katie’s told me about how many playlists you have Y/N. How many do you have now? Fifty?” Nick teases. Ignoring him, I hit play. Soon, the sounds of Waterloo by ABBA fills the room. Nick gives me a look. “ABBA? Seriously?”

“What do you mean, ‘seriously’ ?!” I ask. “They’re iconic! This song won them Eurovision!”

“That’s true, but no. No ABBA." I roll my eyes.

“No taste.” I shake my head. Ignoring me, Nick hits skip. The Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing starts playing. Nick and I look at each other. My mouth drops open, and he raises an eyebrow. “What?! This song is iconic! This scene is iconic! Patrick Swayze is an incredible dancer in this scene!”

“That’s true. He’s a great dancer. But I’m not that good.” 

“I can’t judge that Nick, I’ve never seen you dance.” Nick laughs.

“That’s a good thing. You’ll see at the wedding.”

“Come on! Get some practice! Dance with me.” I urge, holding out my hands. “Please?!”

“Oh, no. Did you hear what I just said?” Ignoring him, I take his hand, gently leading him into the centre of the room. “Y/N. I’d only ever do something like this for you, but I’m telling you that I’m going to stand on your feet and you will regret ever asking me to dance with you.” He sighs, taking my other hand. I start dancing, whilst Nick stands there, awkwardly moving. 

“See! This isn’t so bad!” I smile. “I’ve had...the time of my life....” I start singing. Nick laughs. “I get to endure your dancing, and you get to endure my singing. It’s only fair.”

“Guess that’s true. In that case, I should dance properly.” Nick moves closer, places his hand around my waist, and takes my other hand in his. I gasp. Did not expect him to be so close. Nick twirls me under his arm. 

“I’veeee, had the time of my lifeeee...” I sing to myself. Nick laughs. “What? I know I’m not that good at singing, but this song is SO good, can you blame me?!”

“You’re not that bad.” Nick smiles, continuing to twirl and dance with me around the room. “Do you even remember the dance from this film?” He asks.

“Kinda? To be honest, all I remember is the lift. You don’t have to lift me by the way.” Nick frowns.

“I think...he dips her like this.” Nick mumbles, and before I can even do anything, he gently but effortlessly dips me. I let out a little squeal, and he quickly pulls me up, asking if I’m okay. Still breathless, I can’t even reply.

“For someone who says he can’t dance, you’re...really good.” I gasp eventually.

“Guess I’m full of surprises.” He grins. As the song draws to a close, Nick continues to hold me close. It was nice...really nice. I could stay like this forever. The music changes in the background behind us, but neither of us notice. “So...” Nick begins. “Which song do you think we should choose?”

“Well, if we pick this one, everyone will expect you to lift me.” He nods. 

“We could try if you want?” He asks, dropping his hands to my waist.

“No, no, no, no, no, NICK!” I squeal as he lifts me off of my feet. “I’m ticklish! No!” I start giggling and squirming, so much so that Nick drops me. As I fall, so does he, and he lands on top of me.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice husky. I nod, breathless. He moves some hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes. “Good.” He smiles. His face has never been so close to mine before. I can see little flecks of gold in his eyes. They’re beautiful...like he is. Nick sits up and gently helps me up onto my knees. “Sure you’re okay?” He asks, and I nod again. 

“Nick, it’s okay. Honestly. Thanks for today, though.” I smile, scooting over and hugging him. “Sorry you had to endure my singing though.”

“Sorry you had to endure my horrible dancing.” Nick replies. The two of us sit there for what feels like forever, but is probably just a few minutes, holding each other. Reluctantly, I pull apart.

“I better go. Katie wanted me to help finish up some of the stuff for the bachelorette party.” I announce, getting up and picking up my phone. “Bye, Nick.” I give him a small wave before walking out of the room. As soon as I’m out of his eyeshot, I lean against the wall and sigh. What is it with me these days? I had suddenly started to feel an intense desire to stay close to Nick, and spend as much time with him as possible...but gotten way more awkward at the same time. Sighing, I walk upstairs to meet Katie.

It’s probably nothing...right?

~~~

A Few Days Later: The First Night of the Bachelorette Party Weekend - 6 Days til the wedding.

“Okay, so this is the number for the hotel, even though you’re not meant to be texting or calling me....but I won’t tell!” Katie talks to Adam as I carry my suitcase towards the stairs. It’s finally here: the bachelorette party. Katie, the rest of the bridesmaids and I were travelling to a nearby town to go drinking and dancing. To save driving back to Saint Chase in the middle of the night, we were all staying in a local hotel. Sighing, I pull my suitcase towards the stairs, ready to walk down them one step at a time, whilst also trying to keep a hold on my other bags. I stifle a yawn. Since Katie and I were going down early to set up the hotel rooms, it meant we all had to get up super early, and I was nowhere near close to functioning. Not that I was usually, but today was worse.

“Need some help?” Nick asks suddenly, popping up behind me, causing me to jump and almost lose my balance. My suitcase is close to tumbling down the stairs, nearly taking me with it. But Nick holds his hands out and catches it as best as he can.

“Shit, Nick! You need to stop sneaking up on me like that!” I scold. Even though I liked seeing him, I did not like it if it meant a heart attack came along with it.

“Sorry, I just saw you were struggling, and I saw those stairs, so I thought I could help.” He shrugs. I sigh. I mean, he was right. I did need help.

“...Yeah, you’re right.” I nod. “Can you take these?” I ask, passing him most of my bags.

“God, what is IN these things?” Nick asks as he gets increasingly more laden down. “I thought you girls were only going away for the weekend?”

“Yup.” I nod, popping the p. “These bags have our sashes, some balloons, other accessories like the mini veil and tiara, headbands....the photo booth props....” I trail off when I notice Nick looking at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “Yeah, bachelorettes are intense. And Katie and I are going down early to set up, so I have to bring everything now. Hence...all this.” I gesture around with my free hand. “And this suitcase has our makeup, outfit changes, and spares, just in case.” Nick still looks horrified. 

“We’re just gonna stay here, play some video games and drink some beers.” He states, making me laugh.

“Welcome to the world of the bachelorette party, Nick. Trust me, I was the same when I first started planning. Now...I am the master.” I strike a pose, and Nick laughs. “And besides, if you think this is bad, wait till you see our stuff for the day of the wedding.” Nick’s eyes go wide again, making me laugh. Nick helps me down the stairs with everything, and he and Adam help Katie and I pack the car full of our things.

“Okay, that’s us all loaded up! Bye, handsome.” Katie tells Adam, pulling him into a kiss, whilst Nick and I stand around slightly awkwardly. 

“Well, uh...have fun. Be sure to...show me pictures?” 

“Only if you show me some from the bachelor party too.” Nick nods. “Well...bye Nick.” I smile, giving him a small wave and walking towards the car. 

“Y/N, wait!” He calls, and I turn around. He walks up to me and gently takes my hands in his. I immediately feel shivers up my arms. Nick speaks again, his voice now hushed. “If you have a nightmare again, or if you need someone to talk to, give me a call, alright? Doesn’t matter how early or late it is. I want you to know I’ll always be there for you.” I feel tears rising in my eyes all over again.

“Nick...are you sure?”

“Positive.” He pulls me into a hug before I can even react. “Have a fun weekend.” He whispers, squeezing me so tightly that I swear my heart stops. In a good way, though. Nick and I pull apart, and as I gaze into his blue eyes, I realise that I don’t want to go. Even though I knew I had to support my sister, and I knew I did want to go....a stronger part of me just wanted to stay and hang out with Nick.

“Come on, Y/N!” Katie orders. “We need to go if we’re going to have any chance of setting up before the girls arrive!” Blushing slightly, I turn back to Nick. 

“Bye Nick.” I smile. He wishes me goodbye, and I get into the car besides Katie. The two of us wave as we pull out of the driveway, Nick and Adam waving us goodbye as we go. As the house fades out of view, the feeling from before, the desire to stay, returns. I try and ignore it, but it’s intense. “What is wrong with me?!” I think to myself. Whatever it is, I better forget it soon, or I’ll be thinking about Nick for the whole night.

~~~

That Night

Pushing open the door to the karaoke bar, the six of us walk in. 

“YAAAAAY! KARAOKE!” Katie calls, slightly tipsy already.

“I cannot believe you’ve talked me into this. I’m not even that drunk or a good singer!” I hiss. I know I’ve already sung in front of Nick, but this was different. I was comfortable with Nick, but there were people here. People who could hear me. People who I don’t know.

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun! And don’t you worry, once you get some more shots in you, you’ll be right up on that stage.” Sam grins. Sam was another member of Katie’s bridal party. Altogether, there was me, Caroline, Sam, Sam’s wife Vanessa, and Katie’s college roommate Brooke. I was so thankful that Katie has such a small bridal party. It makes my life so much easier. 

“And besides, you don’t have to be a good singer...to be honest, most people aren’t.” Brooke smiles.

“If you say so....” I mumble. The group of us sit in a booth and order some drinks to get started. I’m going to need a lot more of these to get through this karaoke. If they think I’ll be up on that stage, they have another thing coming.

~~~

Two Hours Later

“Cause tonight for the first time....just about half-past ten....for the first time, in HISTORY....it’s gonna start raining meeeeeen!” I sing into the microphone. The girls cheer from the table. “IT’S RAINING MEN!” Brooke and I both sing/shout into the microphone, our arms around each other.

“I mean we’re gay but yessss!!! Love that!” Vanessa and Sam shout. It turns out it only takes a few more wines to get me up on the stage. Who knew? Brooke and I continue the song and finish to thunderous applause, mostly from the rest of the girls. 

“You’re right!! That was so fun!!!!” I grin, jumping up and down. “I’m sorry for doubting youuuuu.” I pull Brooke into a hug, which she returns. The two of us sit back down at the table. “Katie! Katie! Did you see me?!” I ask. “Wasn’t I good?! Can you believe....Nick had the cheek to say I wasn’t that bad. I’m a star in the making.”

“Who’s Nick?” Sam asks. 

“Well. He’s Adam’s best man. And he is cute as hell.” I grin. Fumbling with my phone, I open instagram to Nick’s profile. “SEE?!” I exclaim, showing them my phone screen. 

“Babeeee, your thumb’s in the way.” Katie tells me, trying to swat it out of the way. I move it, and soon a chorus of ‘awwws’ and ‘wows’ fills the air. 

“You’re right, he’s gorgeous!” Brooke nods. 

“Right? I wish he could see me now. I’m so hot.” The girls agree. “Wait. Katie...I have an idea.”

~~~

A Few Hours Later

Nick’s POV

Yawning, I put my phone on charge and place it on the nightstand. The boys and I had had a fun night together, but I was exhausted, so I decided to go to bed. As I close the curtains, I hear my phone start buzzing on the nightstand. I pick it up, and a bunch of text notifications from Katie pop up on the screen. Chuckling to myself, I open the texts. If I know anything about Katie, I know she’ll most likely be drunk by this point. A picture of Y/N flashes up on the screen, accompanied by a text saying: 

“LOOK HOW GORGEOUSSSSS MY SISTER LOOKS!!!!!!! BET YOU MISS HER, HUH?!” and about a million emojis. I tap on the picture of Y/N, enlarging it. Katie obviously took it whilst she was getting ready, unbeknownst to Y/N. She’s smiling as she applies her makeup, and is looking over at one of the bridesmaids, probably laughing at a joke or something. I smile. She looks so...natural? I’ve been so used to seeing Y/N being fake happy to appease either myself or her sister, and seeing her naturally, with a big smile on her face, not knowing anybody’s watching or taking her photo...she looks beautiful. I mean, she always looks gorgeous, but this time...she looked even more gorgeous. Radiant even. I didn’t even know that was possible. And Katie was right. I do miss her. It was crazy, I’ve only known her for two weeks at this point, but she was quickly becoming someone I cared about, and someone I wanted to see after the wedding. I mean, we had almost kissed...which I initiated...and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished that we had kissed. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting her that quickly. 

I scroll down, and notice a video, which Katie has helpfully captioned with “4 u ;)” I hit play. Y/N Is standing by a karaoke machine, wearing a black sequined jumpsuit, a pink maid of honour sash, and a tiara. She looks great.

“This is for youuuu Nick!” She calls, sounding pretty drunk, pointing directly into the camera. The music starts playing, and I start laughing as soon as I recognise it. It’s Dancing Queen by ABBA. Of course. Y/N immediately starts singing and dancing around the stage. She told me earlier on she couldn’t sing, but she was actually pretty good. I find myself softly singing along as she sings. Soon, the song ends, and she takes a bow to thunderous applause from the bar. She comes running up to Katie’s phone. “Were you filmin?” She asks, before looking right into the camera. “NICK! I hope you enjoyed that, even though you have NO TASTE!!! See you on Sunday!” She blows a kiss to the camera, making me smile. “...Oooh is that more champagne?” She asks, immediately walking away, making me laugh. I type out a text to Katie:

“You’re right. She does look gorgeous. Tell her I enjoyed the song. Enjoy the rest of your night girls x” I put my phone back on the nightstand and get into bed. Sighing, I look up at the ceiling. What is it with me? Y/N has been occupying my thoughts ever since she and Katie left, and I have no idea why. “You know why, you idiot.” Part of me tells myself. “It’s because you like her.” No, that can’t be it...can it? I mean, I had almost kissed her. Oh shit. Maybe I did like her. I prop myself up on my elbow and pick up my phone again. I start scrolling through my photos from the past two weeks. Y/N’s in almost every one. I feel butterflies within as I see her face smiling back at me. Oh god. I think I do like her. But there’s no way she feels the same. 

~~~

The Next Morning

Y/N’s POV

Groaning, I sit up in bed. My head is starting to pound. Getting out of bed, worming my way around the pairs of heels and accessories left on the floor, I walk into the bathroom, gasping when I see myself in the mirror. My mascara is running, my eyeshadow is smudged, and there is glitter all over my face. Sighing, I get undressed and hop in the shower, letting everything wash away with all the soapy water. Once I’m out, I hear Katie’s voice from the other side of the door, and she frantically knocks. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you in there?!” She asks. I open the door and see her shocked face on the other side. 

“What? Do you need to puke?” I ask, standing aside.

“NO! LOOK!” She thrusts her phone at me. I take it and look down at it. It’s displaying her texts to Nick. 

“You sent him the video of me singing karaoke?!” I exclaim. Katie frowns. 

“You told me to? And no! I don’t mean that!!” She snatches her phone back and scrolls down. “Look what Nick sent!” She orders. Taking the phone back, I read the message.

“You’re right. She does look gorgeous.” I immediately block out the rest of the message. Those words replay in my mind. Nick....thinks I look gorgeous? Katie is staring at me, clearly waiting on my response...but I can’t think of anything to say. My mind and my heart feel like they’re racing at 100 miles per hour. I mean, it’s not like he outright admitted he was in love with me or anything...but in a way...he kind of did? Holy shit. I don’t even know how I feel about him. I mean, we have almost kissed already, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Who am I kidding, of course it means something. It means that I must like him too, or I wouldn’t have almost kissed him. My mind immediately flashes back to the times people thought Nick and I were boyfriend and girlfriend, or telling us we would make a cute couple, how I didn’t want to leave Nick for this weekend...and realisation dawns on me. The reason why I liked being told that, and why I enjoyed being with Nick...is because I wanted it. Do I...like Nick? As in...like, like? ...I think I might?

“Y/N...are you okay?” Katie asks. “You’re kinda spaced out.”

“Yeah, I’m wonderful.” I lie. I feel like my world has been turned upside down, or like the rug has been pulled out from under me, and I might collapse at any moment. Katie raises an eyebrow.

“Y/N...you promised me that if something’s going on, you’d tell me what it was. I can tell something’s up, and I want to know what. Please? You’re my sister. I want to know if something’s bothering you.” She reminds me, and I sigh.

“Fine. We’ll go for some coffee before brunch, and I’ll tell you. Now, will you PLEASE let me get dressed in peace?!”

~~~

Later

I take a sip of my coffee, letting it soothe me and my slowly developing hangover. Katie sits across from me, looking expectantly as she waits on me admitting what’s been going on with me...that I think I have a crush on Nick. Sighing, I meet her gaze...and start telling her everything. How close we’ve grown, how everyone we’ve met thinks we’d be cute together, our almost kiss, how excited I was to see him again, and...how I think I’m falling for him. When I’ve stopped, Katie stares at me silently for what feels like an eternity. I knew she’d need some time to process this...but not this long. “Uh...Katie?” I start, and she immediately cuts me off.

“I KNEW IT!” She gasps, letting out a squeal that makes some of the people in the coffee shop stare. I flush pink, but she doesn’t even notice. “God Y/N, I thought it was going to be something worse than this.” She admits. She sees my pink face and continues. “Y/N. A few days ago, I told you that I’ve seen how happy he makes you, and how it’s like when Adam and I first met. It’s SO OBVIOUS that you like him. Actually...” She giggles, stopping only to take a drink of her coffee. “I didn’t tell you, but last night you were talking about him all the time. Like for the whole night. I think the rest of the girls were too drunk to notice, but I wasn’t. Every five minutes, it was ‘do you think Nick would like this?’ ‘Nick said this...’ ‘Nick said that...’ ‘He’s so cute!’ ‘I want Nick to know how cute I look tonight!’ And now, he does! All thanks to me.” She grins triumphantly. “But seriously Y/N. It’s so obvious. To be honest, I knew that you probably liked him from that first meal in the diner, when you kicked me in the shin.”

“Sorry about that by the way.”

“No, no, don’t be silly! It’s fine. You did that every time I almost spilled your crushes to Grandma. I know you too well. BUT, I did NOT know about this almost kiss though!!!” She squeals again, thankfully quieter this time. “My sister’s getting with the best man!” I quickly shush her.

“No! Nick cannot know. At least, not yet.” She frowns at me. “For one, I have no idea if he even likes me in that way, and second, I am not doing anything to jeopardise your wedding.” Katie scoffs.

“Who cares about my wedding?! My big sister’s finally found the one!” 

“Okay, that’s a bit much, I don’t even know if-”

“Oh, please. I have a feeling that he likes you too, and that you two will be happy for many years to come.” She taps the side of her head as if she’s made a breakthrough, before going back to her coffee. “So...when are you gonna tell him?”

“Katie, did you not hear what I just said? I’m not going to. At least not yet. I do want to know if he likes me back, but I don’t want to take away from your wedding.” She reaches over and takes my hand. 

“Y/N. As your little sister and the bride, you have my blessing to declare your feelings to Nick before my wedding. Seriously. It’s okay. I just want you to be happy.” I smile.

“Thanks sis.” I sigh. She gets down off her seat and hugs me.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you too.”

“...Oh by the way, when I said ‘who cares about my wedding?’ Yeah, well I still care about it. Even though you have my blessing, please don’t let anything go wrong.” I chuckle.

“I won’t. I promise.”

~~~

The Next Day: Sunday - 5 Days til the Wedding

Nick’s POV

Adam’s practically bouncing on his heels as the two of us wait on Katie and Y/N coming back from the bachelorette party. It was cute, though. I had seen his relationship with Katie grow over the years, and was honoured they asked me to be part of their special day. It was so clear how much they loved each other. 

“Dude, calm down.” I smile. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Sorry.” He blushes. “I’ve just been missing Katie, and it’s so close to the wedding now, I’m just...I’m excited to be her husband! I’ll try and calm down.” I smile.

“It’s okay. I just don’t want Katie to come home and find out her fiancé got so excited I had to scrape his body off of the ceiling.” Adam and I laugh.

“So...how about you and Y/N, huh? You excited to see her again?” I nod. Of course I was. “And then you two can finally have that talk.” I frown, looking at him. Did he...did he know? “Oh please, Nick. I’ve seen the way you talk about her. You don’t make it very subtle. You like her, don’t you?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Not as a friend, as in...that way.” 

“How did you know?” I ask, not even trying to deny it. He chuckles. 

“It’s pretty obvious dude. Both Katie and I have noticed.” Before I can even say anything, he holds his hands up, stopping me. “Don’t worry. Katie and I don’t mind if you and Y/N get together. We just want you both to be happy.” I stand there in silence for a while, not knowing what to say. I mean, he was right, of course...and he gave me his blessing to be with Y/N if it came to that, so what was the issue? Well, of course, she might not like me back...but it was worth a try. “Are you going to talk to her?” Adam asks, looking at me expectantly. 

“...I guess?” I say before even thinking about it. Adam grins and pulls me into a hug. 

“Good luck.” He smiles. Yeah, what could possibly go wrong? Oh right, everything. Soon after, we hear a car pulling up to the house, and we open the door to see the girls getting out and unloading their suitcases and bags. My stomach twists into knots. Katie and Adam spot each other and immediately run into each other’s arms. Walking past them, Y/N walks into the house, standing in the doorway. 

“Hey, Nick.” She smiles softly. The sun behind her illuminates her hair, backlighting her in a golden glow. God, she’s gorgeous. 

“Uh...Hi!” I gasp, quickly realising I hadn’t replied to her. The two of us stand awkwardly silent for a few moments.

“WELL uh, I think I’m going to take these upstairs.” Y/N suddenly announces, making her way towards the stairs. 

“Need a hand?” 

“No! I mean uh...no, I’ll be fine. Thanks Nick.” She walks upstairs, leaving me frowning in the hallway. Why is she being so weird? You don’t think she...oh no. Does she know? Does she know that I think I like her? Does she not feel the same? Oh god, she doesn’t. That’s why she’s so awkward around me. Well, more so than usual. Katie walks into the house and gives me a hug. She winks at me as she also heads upstairs, confusing me even more. What is going on with those two? Sighing, I decide to make us all some tea. As I sit in the living room, drinking my cup, Y/N comes and sits beside me on the couch. “Oh! Thanks, Nick.” She smiles, taking a cup of tea. “So...did you have a nice weekend without us?” She asks. No. I missed you too much. I want to say, but instead, I say:

“Yeah! It was good. We just played some video games.” I immediately curse myself for saying I had a good weekend without her. Now she’ll think I hate her. However, Y/N smiles at that.

“That’s good. Katie told me you saw my karaoke video. Did you like it?” 

“Yeah, I did. You know, you told me you couldn’t sing, but you’re good.” She laughs.

“I don’t think so, but thanks Nick.” She smiles. She glances up as Katie and Adam walk into the room. “I need to talk to you later.” She whispers, before greeting them both. My stomach starts twisting again. Oh god, she’s going to tell me that she doesn’t feel the same, isn’t she? Dammit. Why do I always fall too hard for a girl then end up disappointed? Katie and Adam continue talking to us both, too caught up in the excitement of seeing each other again even to notice how silent Y/N and I are. The atmosphere is shattered by the sound of a car pulling up outside. The four of us look at each other, clearly confused. Nobody else is meant to be staying here now, just us four...so who’s that?

“Did one of your groomsmen forget something?” Y/N asks. Adam and I shake our heads. “And it’s not one of us, because they’re staying in the local hotel, right, Katie?” Katie huffs. 

“It better not be one of them, because I TOLD THEM this house didn’t have enough room for anyone other than us.” A knock sounds at the door. Huffing again, Katie gets up. “Let me handle this.” She sighs. “If it’s our flower vendors, I swear to god, I told them to deliver stuff to the VENUE, NOT HERE.” We hear her voice disappearing down the hallway, and the three of us go back to our tea, expecting Katie to reappear moments later with a quick explanation. Sure enough, we soon hear: “What are YOU doing here?!” Y/N places her cup down and gets up.

“I’ll help her deal with this. Don’t want any issues, like last time.” She gives me a knowing look, and I chuckle lightly. Adam and I go back to scrolling through our phones and drinking tea, until the sound of “Oh, my GOD!” cuts through the air. Frowning, Adam and I look at each other. That was Y/N’s voice. The two of us get up and walk towards the front door. A man stands in the doorway, looking at Y/N and Katie. He hasn’t noticed us yet. Y/N is holding Katie’s hand, clearly squeezing it for dear life, but neither of them says anything. Either to us, the man or each other. Their faces are pale. The man looks over at Adam and I. 

“Ah! Hello there! Now, which of you is the groom?” He asks. 

“Um, I am?” Adam frowns. The man smiles.

“I see! Wonderful to meet you!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but who are you? Can we help you?” I ask. The man chuckles.

“Of course! Where are my manners?!” He asks. “I’m Robert Miller.” He gestures over at the girls, still ghostly pale. “And these two lovely ladies...are my daughters.”

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fiancé: Chapter Four

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts​.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Can I Tell You Confidentially, Ain’t You Sweet

MONDAY

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Steve mutters, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, Sam the other side.

  Staring down at the seemingly growing crowd, his agitation is growing with it, but all he can think about is how you must be feeling.

He’d nearly hurled his phone into the God damn Reflecting Pool when Fury had told him.

“Now, hang on a second, what?”

“This is a great opportunity to find out who these guys are and stop them, Steve.”

He’d scoffed, a hand on his hip as he’d paced. “So we’re putting a civilian’s life in danger, my civilian friend’s life in danger, who not only has absolutely no training in any kind of operation but is also just an innocent human being?”

A sigh had come through the line. “Steve... What these groups are talking about doing is getting worse, and they’re recruiting, not just people to assassinate you but for other operations as well around the world.”

His jaw had moved as he’d stopped, staring into the water. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nick, I can’t see—”

“This isn’t a request, Steve, it’s an order.”

So here he is, a soldier with his orders, putting his friend’s life on the line for his own... And even though they’d appeared to give you one, you hadn’t really had much of a choice.

He hates it. But... as Nat had said, you couldn’t be safer. Part of him was actually relieved that you would now officially be under the watchful eye of SHIELD and the best agents he’d ever known, especially after the letter he’d received.

Sam shifts, mirroring Steve with his folded arms. “Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he murmurs. Shaking his head, he looks to him. “Only for six days, man. Just keep tellin’ yourself that, six days.”

Steve releases a breath, a muscle in his jaw moving. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing goes to shit in six days, huh.”

—

“I’m coming over the moment work finishes, if I can get out of the damn building.”

You lick your lips, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you carry a box to your bedroom door.

“Uh, actually, Bridge’, I’m packing right now.”

“You’re packing? Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re eloping, I want to be there!”

“No, no, we’re just moving in together.”

Just.

“Oh my God, your place or his?”

“Uh... a new place.” You lift a suitcase onto your bed, unzipping it.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, actually, Steve’s chosen a place.” You move to your wardrobe, stare at it for a second and then grab an armful of clothes and turn, dropping them onto your bed.

“Ugh, it’s like he’s gifting you an apartment, that’s amazing. Oh, Y/N...” You pause your half-hearted folding of a sweater at Bridget’s sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking your lips, you place the sweater in the suitcase. “Well, we’re... we’re such good friends that we wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out so it wouldn’t be weird with our friends or for anyone. And, you know... the whole world seems to think it can be involved, as we’d, uhm, as we’d expected.“

You hear them hiss. “I know, I can’t believe what some people are writing, it’s such trash.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t dared to check the notifications that have been making your phone buzz, even as you’ve been speaking to Bridget, and their angry tone doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

As you fold another sweater, you hear the clicking of a computer mouse on the other end, and then Bridget gasping. “Oh my God, is the ring really from Tiffany’s?!”

“Uh...” You glance at the ring on your fourth left finger. The ring Nat had removed from a box she’d taken out of her coat pocket and unceremoniously handed to you, telling you to put it on. You have absolutely no idea where it’s from. Does SHIELD just have a storeroom full of these? Does Nat? “... I don’t actually know, Bridge’, but, you know me, I’m not really bothered by that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, I know. Is it new? Old? What does it look like?”

You continue to stare at the alien object. “It’s... silver. And new. Got a diamond in the middle, three smaller ones either side, going down the band.”

“Ugh, simple and elegant, love it. Can you send me a picture?”

“As soon as I’m done packing.”

“Good. And let me know where you’re moving to, please! I want to drop by unexpectedly every day.”

“Oh, I will as soon as I know.” Having finished folding, you zip the suitcase up and place a hand on it, exhaling a short breath.

There’s a small pause.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just...” You rub your forehead before making yourself smile even though they can’t see it. “... This is just all happening so fast and it’s a lot, truthfully.”

“Oh, I bet. You know we all love and support you here, right?”

That makes your smile soften. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re still okay for drinks with me and Doll’ on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” 

I fucking hope it’s okay, I know I’m gonna need those drinks and giggles. 

“Good, we’ll blow off some steam then.”

Hauling the suitcase off the bed, your eyes dart to the door as someone knocks on it.

“Come in,” you say, raising your voice slightly.

It opens and Sam appears, smiling. “Hey, you ready?”

“Just about.” You pass the suitcase to him, him lifting it like it weighs nothing, and the expected sharp inhale comes from the other end of the line.

“Is Sam there?” Bridget whispers.

Your lips twitching, you nod as you say, “Yeah, Bridge’, Sam’s here.”

The man of the moment pauses, looking back at you as his lips lift higher. “You’re talkin’ to Bridge’?”

“Yep.” You have to control your smile.

“How, uh, how’re they doin’?”

“How are you doing, Bridge’?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slightly as you hear them clear their throat.

“Uh, tell him I’m fine, thank you... And that I would like to have a secret engagement with him,” they finish in the quietest of whispers that has your lips twitching again.

“They say they’re fine, thank you.”

Sam nods, pauses for another moment before he moves to turn again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, a wholesomely sneaky idea coming to you. “Sam, why don’t I give you Bridget’s number, then you two can plan the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties together?”

Bridget’s almost squeal of an inhale gives you their answer as Sam looks at you and grins. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Oke doke, I’ll give it to you in a bit.” You smirk to yourself as Sam heads into the hallway.

There’s half a second before Bridget launches into a speech. “Oh my God, I love you so damn much, I’m gonna throw you the best damn party ever, I’ll get you whatever you want, whoever you want...”

Okay, maybe I can joke about with this situation now... Just with myself.

—

It takes you twenty-five minutes to pack. You haven’t packed much, only what you need for the week, and any food that will be going out of date soon, and it isn’t like you are actually moving out, so... the essentials it had been. Like you’re going on holiday. A bizarre, unwanted holiday. Nat has assured you there’s towels, cutlery, glasses, bedsheets, etc, all at the new place, you just need your clothes, toiletries, laptop, phone and anything else you might want to entertain yourself, her words. The last part had made you think of the box you keep under your bed, an array of toys you’ve accrued over the years inside.

... I mean... This is going to be a very stressful week... I’ll take just one... The silent, water-proof one.

That had disappeared into your backpack after you’d, quickly as you could, fumbled with the box and pulled it out and your toy cleaning wipes, sweating slightly as you’d heard the three of them moving around outside your door.

I will not humiliate myself further this week, no thank you.

Well, Nat would probably just nod in approval, Sam would probably actually do the same or just not even react, but Steve... There’s some things that you didn’t talk about, no matter how close you are.

Pulling your coat back on and the bag, hoping Nat doesn’t want to rifle through it this time, you step out of your bedroom, closing the door.

“So, what now?” you ask as they turn to you, Steve carrying your suitcase, Sam holding two boxes in his arms, Nat typing on her phone.

She slips it into her pocket and clasps her hands together as she speaks, “We leave, quickly and safely as possible. Sam and Steve are gonna take your things and Steve’s and head down to the parking garage, Sam’s got his car there, and they’ll come a little behind us. You and I are gonna head out the front, draw some of the crowd away and head to the new place.”

“Right.” You can’t work out if this is nice or not, having someone else take over and make all the decisions. At any other time, you’d be railing and demanding an input, but with this situation...

Carry on, Nat.

“All right, let’s go,” she says, as if having heard your thoughts, and moves to the door, peering through the peep-hole, checking the hallway, before she opens it.

“See you later, Y/N,” Sam says with that lovely warm smile of his as he heads out and, actually, between remembering the people who are now going to be looking after you and having decisions taken away from you, you’re starting to relax a little.

You meet Steve’s gaze and smile as he raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, a smile pulling at his own lips.

“Yeah, I’ll put the kettle on,” you reply, making his smile widen a little more.

“I look forward to it.”

You watch him as he heads out and into his own apartment, Sam having already opened the door. As he closes it, Nat steps out into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow, and you obey. Pulling your door shut, you lock it and turn to her, your keys disappearing into your coat pocket and you zip it closed.

As you both head down the hall, she pulls her phone out and starts typing again, her thumbs moving rapidly. You press the button to herald the elevator, and grip the straps of your bag, staring at the closed outer doors.

You try not to think about anything in particular, but you’re definitely feeling a lot more mellow. 

Just six days, I can do that. Six days is fine, it’ll fly by. I just won’t watch the news, stay off of social media as much as possible and keep my head down with whatever Nat plans for us to do. Steve’ll want that, too, it’ll be fine.

Cheered by your new resolve, you breathe a little easier as the elevator arrives and you step in after the doors open. Nat presses the button for the ground floor as she steps in and glances at the ceiling corners, probably looking for bugging devices.

Pushing her phone into her pocket as the elevator begins to descend, she leans against the back wall, folding her arms and looking at you.

“We’ve got a couple of agents in the crowd and in the building along the street, so don’t worry, we’ve got eyes from every angle.”

“Okay,” you answer, having to stop yourself from saying ‘thank you’ because you know she’ll just smirk and arch an eyebrow.

She pulls the sunglasses down from her head to settle over her eyes once more and you raise your eyebrows.

“... Can I ask, what’s with the glasses?”

“They scan people’s faces, log and check them on a database we have.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Facial recognition.

That unsettles you a bit.

Licking your lips, you look back at the doors. “Where is the new place?” you ask after a moment.

“Other side of town.”

She doesn’t elaborate. You don’t know why you even bothered asking.

The elevator slows and she straightens, glancing at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, clinging onto the calmness you’d felt only minutes before.

The doors open and you both step out. Aaron is stood close to the door, his hands on his belt, frowning, and there’s another guard with him, one you recognise as usually taking the night shift. Aaron must have called him... and as your eyes dart to the windows, you can see why. The faint, jolly music is still playing and it’s a bizarre juxtaposition to the muffled shouting and screaming from outside because the crowed have spotted you now. People are trying to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, craning their necks and shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at you, filming on their phones and trying to take pictures.

Aaron turns to you and gives you a small smile as you approach, Nat a step ahead.

“How’re we looking?” she asks him and from his blinking and surprised expression, you guess he isn’t one of the eyes she was talking about.

“Uh, well, no-one’s tried to get in, yet. Someone seemed as if they were about to follow someone who lives here in, but other’s started yelling at them that we could then call the police, so, seems like they’re seasoned.” He glances at you, giving you another smile.

You return it because, God, he’s probably not trained for this, and he’s such a nice guy.

“All right, well, they should go soon once they realise Steve and Y/N are moving.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks rather crestfallen as he meets your gaze again, and you don’t quite know what to do, but it’s left to you to say something because Nat’s moved off to the other guard.

Lying to him almost feels as bad as having to lie to your friends. He’s been working here for quite a few months now and he’s always ready to have a goofy laugh with you, especially when you come back from after-work drinks. It was always nice, too, to come back from a shitty day and see him, smiling and asking you how your day was.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day,” he’d always say back, to the point where you both just ended up saying it together.

Do you just say bye? Do you give him your number, or promise to add him on Instagram or Facebook?

Yes, please.

Yeah, all right, you have a tiny bit of a crush on him, but it’s fine and you won’t ever act on it, so it’s fine.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say to him, offering a slightly sheepish smile.

Why am I apologising.

He smiles quickly, a beam that you’d come to enjoy seeing. “Well, I wish you luck with your new life, you two always seemed happy together, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out.” He laughs and you make yourself join in.

Oh, it’s because it’s not truuueee...

“Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate that.” You pause for a second before continuing as you don’t know what else to say, “I’ll see you around.”

He nods. “Yeah, we follow each other on Instagram, so...”

“Do we?” Oh God, that’s embarrassing, as is the tone of surprise you hadn’t quite managed to stop. It’s like you’ve forgotten about him or don’t care, oh my God...

“Yeah, we...” He pauses to let out a chuckle. “You just took my phone that one time, when you came back from a friend’s birthday party, and followed yourself on my account, then promised you’d follow me which you did, so...”

Dolly’s birthday party. Tequila shots.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry, I remember.” Your face feels too warm. “Well, I’ll make sure to say hello.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and takes a breath before clearing his throat “Goodbye, then, good luck with everything.”

“Thank you,” you answer, but he’s already turning and moving back towards the other guard, Nat giving him a brief smile as they pass each other and she returns to you.

Arching an eyebrow at you, a smirk hints at the corners of her mouth.

“Already initiating an affair?” she murmurs as she places a hand above your backpack, gently guiding you towards the door.

“Shut up,” you mutter, very much aware of how warm your face still is.

Her mood shifts the moment you’re in front of the door, the other guard gripping the handle, ready to open it.

“Okay, just keep moving towards the car, all right, don’t worry if you feel me pushing you, just keep your feet moving, and look straight ahead.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and from the corner of your eye you see her nod.

The guard opens the door and steps out, pushing people back, and then you’re out and through the door.

The moment you feel the cold air touch your skin, it’s pandemonium. People scream, cameras flash, and questions are yelled at you, so many you can’t even make them out properly. You keep your feet moving but your eyes are darting all over, trying to take it all in, there’s so many people. Your anxiety comes flooding back as the guard and Aaron try their best to keep people back and Nat keeps pushing you forward, silent. You just can’t believe they’re all here, in the freezing cold, just to see you.

Well, not just you.

“He’s not here! He’s not with her!” you hear a man shout next to you, making you flinch.

Suddenly, your hands are on Nat’s Corvette and you’re fumbling for the handle. Finding it and tugging it open, Aaron has to really push against a group beside you to allow you space to open it and so you can get in. With your bag still on your back, you slide into the seat and call a “Thank you!” to Aaron. He doesn’t get a chance to turn and acknowledge it as Nat closes the door and the group surges slightly, trying to press against the car. Keeping your eyes down, you lean forward to slide your backpack off and drop it between your feet.

Your hands shake slightly as you buckle your seatbelt, so you clasp them together in your lap once you’re done. It takes Nat a few more moments than last time to get round to her side, but then she’s there, swiftly getting in. Slamming the door shut, she secures her seatbelt and turns the engine on, the sound of it, luckily, making people step back.

Within moments, she’s pulling you both away and down the street. Staring through the wing mirror on your side, you’re grateful for the first time for her speed, knowing by the time the group scatters and gets into their cars or news vans that you’ll be blocks away.

Closing your eyes, you try and cheer yourself.

The hard part’s over. That’s it. You did it.

—

The hard part is definitely over.

This is the fanciest fucking place I’ve ever seen in my life.

You don’t think your mouth’s closed once from the moment you stepped into the building let alone your new penthouse.

It’s huge. All open-plan and white or stripped wood furniture, lush, thick, beige carpeting throughout, except in the kitchen where it’s polished stone, and the bathrooms where it’s white tile with thin flashes of gold. The dining room is decorated to a show-room standard, with a long, glass table and white cushioned chairs, cutlery set out waiting to be used. The living room, with its two ridiculously comfy beige couches, darker than the carpet, with terracotta blankets draped over them, a huge TV, brick fireplace, and intricately carved coffee table, meets the floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass door that opens out onto a balcony and a view of the city. A swinging chair and four, regular, but as equally comfy-looking, chairs are on it with a stone table, and to the right there’s a pool and more couches and a firepit. To the right of the living room area, behind a door, is a gym room, complete with, what you assume is state-of-the-art, equipment. The kitchen is to die for with its black marble counters and island, accompanied by stools to sit at, and the huge silver fridge and the white beech-wood cabinets and the bedrooms...

There’s two, one’s going to be yours, the other’s Steve’s. You very much agreed with Nat when she said, as you were the first here, that you get first pick but, truthfully, you’d have been over the moon with either of them. The one you have chosen, though, is the first one you come to after walking up the stairs. The king-sized bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever lain on, and the grey and white striped duvet and sheets are so soft. The wardrobe is a walk-in, you have your own en-suite, featuring a clawfoot bath, a huge shower and an ornate sink, and the windows in the bedroom are also floor-to-ceiling, the view gorgeous.

Maybe this will feel like a holiday, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, oh my God, even the toilet paper is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, I never want to leave...

As you finally pull yourself out of the room, you lean against the landing railing, gazing down at the open-plan floor below. It looks even more gorgeous from up here, perfect, coordinated, a dream.

Nat stands by the balcony door, talking to someone on her phone, and as you practically float down the stairs, she brings it to an end and hangs up, pushing it into her jeans pocket as a smile begins to form.

“So, everything is satisfactory for you, ma’am?”

“Oh, Nat, this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.” Crossing the room, you sit on one of the couches, leaning back and looking at her. “How did you find this place?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the window. “We keep a few places on hold, just in case.”

Your head tilts forward, your eyes widening. “This place is a safe-house?!”

Her lips twitch. “Not anymore. Clint’ll be pissed.”

Before you can respond, the front door opens and you both turn, watching Steve and Sam enter. Sam lets out a whistle as he walks down the short hallway, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, can I move in?”

Grinning because this feels good, this feels nice to find it exciting rather than terrifying, you raise your eyebrows. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind, there’s probably room for ten people here.”

“Yeah, Sam snores, so I don’t think so,” Steve quips as he passes the other man, setting the three suitcases, one of them yours, he’d been carrying down by the kitchen archway. He seems just as impressed, though, if a bit more quietly so, his eyes roaming the interior. They arrive at you.

“You happy with it?” he asks, and it makes your chest ache with how sincerely he says it.

“Are you kidding me?” You maintain your grin, wanting to keep the tone light. “I can probably sleep in the wardrobe I have up there and there’s a pool outside.”

“It’s winter, Y/N,” Sam says, but he’s craning his neck to peer outside as he puts your two boxes on the kitchen island.

“It’s heated,” Nat says casually, making you and Sam gasp quietly.

I’m never leaving.

“Right,” Nat continues, moving away from the window as Sam takes her place, her arms still folded. “There’s food in the fridge and cupboards, plenty of towels in the downstairs bathroom cupboards, there’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, too, and I’m gonna advise you to not order take-out this week for safety purposes.”

If that’s the sacrifice I have to make to live here then fine.

“Steve, come with me, I’ll show you how the machines work, Sam you take Y/N’s things upstairs and help her unpack.”

“I know how a washing machine works, Nat,” Steve sighs even as he follows after her.

“Oh, not this one, trust me.”

Your gaze darting to meet Sam’s, you both grin.

“Please show me this wardrobe, I’m dyin’ to see it.”

Rising off the couch, you gesture towards the stairs with a flourish of your arm. “This way, then, please, sir.”

Striding across the floor, he grabs your suitcase in one hand and manages to carry both boxes in his other arm before turning to you. “Take me there, ma’am.”

You feel like a giddy child as you both head up the stairs, nearly running.

Nat shakes her head as they listen to you both and she meets Steve’s gaze, her lips twitching. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Even though she knows you nor Sam will be able to hear her in the bathroom she and Steve are stood in, she still softens her voice. “You okay, old man?”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other. “Yeah. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning against the washing machine, instructions forgotten, and she knows not needed. “I know this isn’t exactly how we planned on locating these guys but we couldn’t let this opportunity go—”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, a note of exasperation to it. “Fury said the same thing.”

She looks at him, the tightness in his jaw, despite how relaxed he appears. “She’s going to be safe,” she says gently after a few moments. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but we’re doing this for her, too.”

That makes him stiffen slightly, but she knows he needs an objective for this, something to fight for, something personal, his own life not being enough. He nods after a short pause, then his eyes meet hers and he gives an easy smile.

“You gonna show me how to use this thing or what, huh?”

—

You wish Nat and Sam could’ve stayed longer. Could’ve helped you both settle in, maybe even shown you how to operate the TV, even though you knew... Could’ve stayed longer because they helped to keep the excitement up.

The moment the door closed after they’d said their goodbyes, barely an hour after they’d arrive, said adamantly to call if either of you needed anything, and that the building was already being watched by agents, silence descended.

You’d both been stood by the front door to bid farewell, Steve holding it open, and you’d watched them cross the small circular foyer to the elevator that only someone with a passkey could get into and come to this floor with. You, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only people to have one. As the latter two disappeared, the elevator doors closing and Steve closed your own door and the silence came, you just looked at each other. You couldn’t think what to say, not quite in the mood to crack a joke, some of your energy having left you. Steve had appeared to feel the same way, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave a light smile.

As the silence went on a second too long, you had returned his smile, though wider, and made some excuse about having promised to video call Dolly and Bridget to show them the place. He’d just nodded and joked about keeping out of the way.

You hate this. Hate that there’s some kind of... disconnect between you two now, though, you hope, you’re the only one to feel it. You don’t want to become awkward strangers to each other, you don’t want to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed every time you want to speak to him because how the hell are you going to get through the week? Or beyond it? You know it’s all your own doing, your own insecurities and embarrassment holding you back, but you just need... a few minutes to adjust.

The video call with your friends doesn’t exactly help. They’d gasped and squealed at everything you’d showed them, so delighted and excited for their friend, and you don’t know where you’d found the energy from to be ‘on’, to be at their level, and the level of an excited, engaged woman. You had quickly excused yourself after half an hour, though, saying you and Steve still have some things to unpack. 

You hate lying to them. You hate it so much.

You'd felt tears pricking at your eyes as you’d waved goodbye, catching their blown kisses like you usually would but unable to return them with quite the same goofiness. If they’d have asked, you just would have said you were tired, which wouldn’t have been a complete lie.

When you end the call and drop your phone onto your bed, you close your eyes, wiping at them after a moment to eradicate any stray tears.

Six days. Just six days. And it’s to help save your best friend’s life.

Changing into a sweater and pyjamas trousers, you leave your room, your phone held in one hand. A quick glance around as you descend the stairs shows no sign of Steve, but as you reach the bottom you hear sounds of a machine in the gym room despite the door being closed. You leave him to it, knowing he’s probably got his own adjustments to reckon with.

Despite his status, he’s still a private guy, and he probably hates the limelight now being shone on him once more.

There comes the guilt again, gnawing at you from the inside, and swiftly comes the challenge that without your lie you wouldn’t be able to help SHIELD find whoever wants to hurt him... Then comes the sadness, anger and helplessness.

You sit on the nearest couch, grabbing the remote, and turn the TV on. The channel you’re on is showing an advert, so you skip through until you land on a talk show. You pause for a moment, before lowering the remote.

“... also have a statement from June & Mayflower Publishing,” a woman is saying, text appearing on the screen beside her.

You don’t bother to listen properly or read it. Nat had called Yvette while you’d been packing, and she and her assistant Alice had drafted a statement saying the whole company was delighted. She’d sent it to you while Nat had been driving you here to read beforehand but you’d just replied to the email saying it was fine, you trusted her.

You tune back in when a man speaks, and a weird feeling rises in your chest as a picture of you and Steve, from probably only a few months after you’d moved to D.C, walking in a park and smiling, pops up on the screen.

“Y/N has actually been sighted with Steve before, they’ve actually been neighbours for three years, isn’t that romantic?”

“Awh, so cute!” the woman says, beaming.

“I know, right? People were asking if something was going on, we were desperate to know if our boy in red, white and blue had finally found the one again, but after months of quiet speculation we all knew they were just good friends.”

You wouldn’t have exactly called it quiet. You can still remember the shock and surprise of leaving your building and someone coming up to you to ask questions about you and Steve every other day, but it had soon faded, and had been nothing compared to what you’d experienced today.

“Now what we’re all desperate to know is is it going to be a winter wedding?”

“Yeeesss,” the woman says, clapping her hands together. “Now, some of us may think that that’s unusual but they are becoming more popular, and if the wedding of the century is going to a winter one, then, well, cancel Christmas, wedding planners, you’ve got work to do!”

As they laugh, you cringe, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Unused to wearing a ring the size of the engagement one, it keeps catching on it.

“Now, we have Chrisse Christianson on the line from Chrisse’s Boutique, the store that specialises in all things weddings right here in New York, hi, Chrisse, have you been contacted by the couple?”

“Hi, guys! No, I haven’t been contacted yet,” she laughs, the trilling sound echoing across the studio, “but as Steve is from here we’re hoping they decide to shop local, and—”

As the gym room door opens, with lightening speed you change the channel, landing on a documentary of some kind.

Clearing your throat and lifting your head, you smile at him as he steps out... and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling him. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, beads of it trailing down his neck and temple. His muscles somehow look bigger, straining under the sleeves of the shirt. You swiftly lift your eyes as you catch yourself, and his warm smile is what sets off the fluttering in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door.

“Hi,” you manage to say nonchalantly.

Glancing at the TV screen, he then looks back to you. “Dolly and Bridge’ okay?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you smile a touch wryly. “Can’t tell if they’re more excited about the engagement or the apartment.”

He chuckles, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. You have to stop yourself from watching his muscles flex. “Well, they’re only human.”

Your smile softens as you exhale a laugh. As he crosses behind the couch to the stairs, your eyes return to the TV, but you hear him pause on the bottom step.

“Hey, after I shower I’ll cook us something to eat, okay?”

You look to him, your smile returning as you nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He nods and ascends the stairs, and you make yourself look back at the screen.

Well, there you go, you’ve spoken and it wasn’t awkward. Hey, you’d even laughed. That was good, fine. It would just be a little weird adjusting, that was all.

You focus on the documentary, which you realise is about birds. You focus very hard on it.

—

Cutlery quietly clinks against plates, the only sound that fills the air of the penthouse. Usually when you both cook together one of you will put music on, more often than not the playlist you’ve curated together over the years that holds a charmingly eclectic mix of music ranging from the 20s to now. Today, though, neither of you felt much like listening to any.

You’d just stayed on the couch, anyway, when he’d reappeared, showered and dressed, and cooked, almost frozen to the spot and staring at the TV screen. It was nice to drift away for half an hour or so, be distracted by something. He’d gently called you when the pasta dish was ready, and you’d both decided to sit at the island, something too unspokenly formal about the dining table.

And so silence has fallen.

Steve watches you as you both eat quietly, your head slightly lowered. The only thing you’d said was how good it tasted after your first mouthful, and he’d thanked you. You haven’t said another word since. He himself is slightly slumped in his chair, his shoulders down, his arm resting on his thigh, back a little curved. You’d laughed the first time you’d seen him with such an unsuperhero-y posture, fully relaxed. He’d just smiled, and you’d realised over the years that that was how Steve Rogers sat and how he always had, even pre-serum, almost like his body was curving in, protecting himself.

Your fork lowering onto your plate pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you. Running a hand down his mouth, he clears his throat.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

You just look at your plate for a moment as you push it away, your hands clasping together in its place. You’d known this was coming the whole time you’d been eating, before even. Taking a breath and exhaling it, you swallow before you finally look at him. His features don’t change, just watching you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, about all of this,” you say, your voice just as quiet as his. “For what I said at the party, all of this, I just...”

“Why?” he asks when you don’t carry on.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a faint expression of surprise. “I used you. I used you to get back at someone who doesn’t matter, and I hate that I did that, I hate it. It’s what everyone else does to you, they use your status and the symbol of Captain America, they take advantage of it, I’ve seen people do it, they pretend they’re your friend just to get something, and I never wanted to be the person that did that, I’m so sorry, I’m your friend because I like you, not because I want to look important or have some kind of status, but that’s what I wanted in that moment, I wanted him to look at me and think I was important and he’d missed out, and I could do better than him and now I’ve just thrown that all away, I’m a hypocrite and I’m so sorry.” You stop abruptly and inhale a slightly broken breath.

He didn’t interrupt you as you got it all out to him, finally, his expression didn’t change, he just sat quietly and listened, knowing the thoughts have probably been rolling around in your mind incessantly. His features soften now, though.

“Y/N...” he says after a moment, “... It was a bit of fun.” You just look at him, your lips slightly parted. “Sure, it’s spiralled, and here we are, having to pick out cake decorations...” He trails off with a smile as you exhale a laugh, your own smile finally breaking out across your features. When he continues, he’s still smiling but his tone is sincere. “I know the kind of person you are, Y/N. I know when I’m being used, despite how old I am I’ve still got all my marbles, but it was just some fun, and I was glad to do it for you, he seemed like an ass.”

Your smile has lingered, your shoulders relaxing in relief as you inhale a breath. “Yeah, he was.” Shaking your head, you look at him. “God, you’re just...”

He arches an eyebrow, his head tilting. “What?”

Your smile widens. “Incredible, Steve Rogers.”

He chuckles, his hand falling into his lap. “You are, too. And Y/N, you are important—”

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, feeling your face warm. You can’t bear to hear one of his pep-talks now, it’ll just make you feel like even more of a child for having done what you did.

Mercifully, he takes the hint and leans his elbow on the island, his fingers brushing over his lips. There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“Look, I’m not the best at all this undercover stuff, I’m quite bad at it actually, I’m surprised Nat hasn’t entertained you with the tales, but I think having to do it with you will make it a little easier.”

Your gaze lifts to him, the heat lingering on your skin, and you smile softly. “Well, thank you. You, too.”

You want to cry. You have some kind of emotional release from the day, but you know that would just make him feel guilty.

You attempt to lighten the tone again, raising your eyes to take in the penthouse once more. “So why don’t you live in a place like this?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Your apartment’s the same size as mine, but you probably have ten times what I do. Don’t give me that look,” you swiftly continue, the corners of your mouth lifting, “They published it, and I couldn’t help but accidentally read it, and I’m just saying, why do we split the bill.”

He arches an eyebrow, a smile threatening. “Because you insist.”

“Well...” You scoff, raising your eyebrows. “I’m gonna stop insisting.”

He chuckles and shrugs, his hands clasping in his lap. “I like my place. And where could I find a better neighbour, huh?”

“Oh, well...” You shrug a shoulder as you smile faux-demurely, shaking your head. “You couldn’t, so, good.”

“I know, I know, God’s gift,” he concedes with raised eyebrows, his smile betraying his tone. Moving off the stool, he takes your plate and his and heads to the sink, placing them in and turning the tap on, letting the water run over them.

Placing your arms on the island, you exhale a long breath. “So... How are you gonna spend your first afternoon here in paradise?”

The corners of his mouth lift as he turns the tap off and leans against the counter beside him, his hands in his pockets. “Think I’m gonna give Buck a call, and Nat, see what’s goin’ on. You?”

You wrinkle your nose, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m technically not working just yet, so, I’ve got a few things I want to take care of and send to Yvette, then...” You shrug again. “... The shower in my room looks great, actually, so I might spend about three hours in there.”

“Yeah, mine was life-changing, so...” He smiles as you laugh, sliding off of your stool.

“Oh, good, maybe I’ll spend four hours in there, then.” Tugging your sleeves over your hands, you grab your phone and return his smile. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah. Don’t work too hard.”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

And there it is again, that weird, unfamiliar awkwardness returns, not too overt, but definitely there. As you climb the stairs, you once again hope he doesn’t feel it, but, you are relieved that you got out what had been rattling around in your mind since the morning. Relieved that he was so understanding, too, but when is he not? That’s what you lo— admire about him so much. Empathy is seemingly a rare trait these days so it’s nice to be reminded that people do have it. And, oh, you’d had a normal conversation. You almost laugh at the boost it’s given you.

You push him, the day, everything out of your mind, though, as you enter your room and close the door. Taking your laptop from your backpack, you turn it on and sit back against the luxurious cushions on the bed, closing your eyes for a few moments to get your brain into work-mode. 

This will distract you for a good few hours, be something that you can handle and focus on.

Opening your eyes, you sign into your laptop and straighten your back.

Oke doke... Hello, my actual life.

—

You manage to waste more than a good few hours sending emails, receiving them, taking calls, approving events and posts, planning out the next few months of what you want to get done and make public. You ignore the emails that have ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’ in the subject line, hoping people will just think you’re too busy being desperately in love to reply to all the well-wishers. It’s almost bliss, to lose yourself in your work and think of nothing else, even though you do have to block a few numbers from tabloids every half an hour or so.

As darkness falls, though, and everyone else ends their working day, you force yourself to send your last email, to Yvette, explaining, as Nat had asked you to, that you would be taking the week off. Yvette already knows, of course, but Nat had requested you to do it just in case someone hacked into your emails, or the company’s. Shutting your laptop down and closing it, your gaze drifts to the window. The sky is an inky black, and the bedside lamp you’d turned on an hour or so before illuminates the room in a warm, gentle glow.

Moving off the bed with a slight, stiff, wince, you pull the curtains closed, and take a moment to let your thumbs caress the silver, velvety material.

Ugh, just perfect.

Blowing out a breath, you turn back to the room.

What now? 

...

Time for that shower, I think.

You take another moment to once more take in the beauty of your bathroom, before you open the shower door and stare at the buttons because it has buttons and not knobs and taps like you’re used to. Thankfully, they’re easy to understand and in seconds a warm stream of beautifully pressured water is pouring down onto the floor.

You dart back into the bedroom to grab your phone, wanting to play some music, and as you wander back into the bathroom, you unlock it. As you search for your desired playlist, an Instagram notification suddenly appears at the top of the screen. It’s a message—

You pause.

A message from Aaron.

You feel your face heating up, and it’s not from the steam of the shower, as you tap on it to open the app and read it quickly.

Hey, I hope you’re settling in okay, and your new door guys aren’t as funny as I am.

You smile, quite touched by the sweetness of it. Your thumbs start to move before you can stop them.

Hi, thank you so much! It’s all fine here, and no, they certainly aren’t, so you can rest easy.

Feeling faintly like a giddy teenager as you quickly close the app in case he comes online and sees you’re active, (and oh my God, did I reply too quickly?), you start your playlist and place your phone by the sink. After undressing, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, and spending a moment considering if you should remove the ring in case you damage it but deciding to leave it on, you step into the shower and are unable to stop a soft groan as the warm water washes over you.

This is so much better than the water in our building... then again, it’s not hard to beat it.

You take your time to shower, washing every inch of your skin with the new bottle of body-wash that was already in there and smells divine. When you finally turn the water off and step out, you pull a cream, fluffy towel from the nearby rack and it rivals the bed in softness. After patting yourself dry and moisturising with the new pot of cream that was in one of the cabinets under the sink, and comes from that fancy shop you and Dolly go into every month for samples, you wrap the towel around yourself, take your phone and head into the bedroom.

Checking for notification as you sit on the bed, you find Aaron has answered.

Oh, good, to both of those. My reputation remains intact.

Your teeth graze over your lower lip as you reply.

Absolutely, I’ll let them know here that they seriously need to do better.

Being on the app reminds you to make your account private as, oh, boy, strangers commenting on every single photo you’ve ever posted is overwhelming. You’re about to exit out of the app when you decide to have a look at Aaron’s profile. It’s a standard grid, photos of him at bars or parties, by the looks of it, selfies, photos of him at the gym...

Wow... His uniform kinda hides those muscles.

Stop it.

Locking your phone, you lie back on the bed, not quite ready to change just yet.

God, that was a good shower.

Wonder if Steve’s shower was really good. If the water pressure was good like mine, not if he had a nice time, if he just really enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing lightly.

Your eyes drift to your backpack on the floor.

Where your toy calls quietly to you.

... This would help the unwinding to continue.

Moving off the bed, you reach inside your backpack and grab the toy, pulling it out of its drawstring bag.

It’s one of your favourites; smooth, rose-gold silicone, medium length, a ribbed shaft, silent, different speeds and patterns, water-proof, you can use it anywhere, anytime, and do whatever you want with it.

Lying back again, you shift into a more comfortable position and close your eyes, your thumb finding the familiar button to set the vibration at the first, low speed.

You think about what you usually do when you can’t be bothered to look a stimulus up online; a faceless mouth on your neck, on your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples, on your thighs, hands pulling them apart, gliding down to your wet pussy lips, caressing and stroking.

A rush of breath escapes you as you glide the head of the vibrator up and down your cunt, your hips jerking slightly at the initial contact. You’re wet already, and you hum gently as you stop at your clit, leaving the vibrator there.

Your free hand tugs the towel open so you can reach your breasts, your fingers going between your nipples and, tugging and pinching them along with your fantasy. You increase the speed by one as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure thrumming throughout your body.

... And you can’t stop yourself from not thinking about it anymore.

You picture Steve in the shower. 

You’ve thought of him a couple of times before while masturbating, accidentally. Like when you've been drunk he’s just slipped into your mind... or just at the last second when you're coming his face has appeared in your mind and his name from your lips. You just can’t help it.

The faceless mouth and hands become his as you rock your hips, quiet moans sounding from your throat. He whispers your name into your ear, telling you how good you feel, how wet you are, what a good girl you are, how he can’t wait to sink his cock into yo—

Two gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapping open, you stare at the door.

Steve.

Oh my God, it’s like I summoned him.

“... Yeah?” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, your voice just a touch higher than normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh...” You’re off the bed in seconds, the towel falling to the floor as you thrust the vibrator behind one of the many pillows and clear your throat, “... Hang on, two seconds...”

You can’t answer the door to him in just a towel, you can’t, where—

You find the robe you’d spotted earlier, still hanging on the back of the bathroom door and grab it, pulling it on and tying the cord tight.

God, that’s soft...

Clearing your throat again, you take a breath and open the door, smiling widely as your eyes fall on him.

“Hey, sorry, I just had a shower.”

He takes an almost involuntary step back, his back straightening. “Oh, sorry—” 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You’re still smiling, and he’s returning it, albeit a bit softer and less forced, his eyes on yours.

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie? I can make some dinner for us while you change?”

He’s just so fucking nice, how can I think such filthy things...

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right, I think it’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“All right, I’ll get thinking.”

I hope I don’t sound as manic as I feel.

You watch him descend the stairs for a moment before you close the door and lean against it, closing your eyes.

Oh, God...

It’s good actually, that he turned up, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, it’s wrong, he’s your friend— 

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.

Opening your eyes, you exhale a long breath and move towards your new wardrobe, finding your pyjamas.

Right, now to just get through the evening without any awkwardness... and the rest of the week.

Okay.

Right.

Fine.

Perfectly easy.

— 

Comments, reblogs make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

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[huihuiheart]

Stole My Heart - D&D Series

Don’t @ me about the dumbass title okay?

Series Pairing: reader x Knight! Chan, reader x Dark Prince! Hyunjin, reader x Thief! Felix, reader x Fairy! Jisung 

This chapter will have Chan and Felix, but will pretty much be Felix focused. With a tiny character reveal in it (in a way) so pay attention.

Genre: Angst? (I don’t think it’s true hardcore angst), Fluff, Smut (Switch!Lix)

Word Count: 3,010

Warnings: Kinky? The last one turned out much softer than I anticipated, so we’ll see if this one is the same way or not.....Basically Felix is just being a little shit in this....which really ain’t wrong but anyways...., unprotected sex, marking, bondage, spanking?,  degradation(very very light?), orgasm denial, overstimulation,  oral (female rec), cumplay, probably some other filth too...

Previous Part ____ Next Part

Chan woke you late into the night, giving you an apologetic look, “Sorry....we have to go now though. I already have everything ready.” He says handing you a smaller bag as he slings a much larger one over his shoulder before offering you his hand to lead you out. “Just follow my lead.” He whispers before slowly peeking his head out the door and slipping out leading you by the hand. He weaved through the gloomy run down halls in this part of the prince’s castle before slipping past the guards into the dungeon.

Felix hearing footsteps looking up in shock to find you and Chan looking right back at him, “Well...guess the prize for recapturing me the quickest goes to the lovebirds hmm?” He playfully rolls his eyes with a small smirk.

“Do we look like we’re here to capture you?” You quip back as Chan tosses him a pair of clothes to disguise himself in.

Felix’s toothy grin only grows further, “Oh...I get it, little princess wants out of the cage.....I’ll help but I have conditions...I’ll let you know after I change.” He eyes you complacently before winking, “You can watch if you want princess.”

You sneer at him for that your jaw clenching as you quickly turn your back, Chan giving him a threatening look. Felix only got more under your skin when you heard him laugh, followed by the light sounds of cloth being tossed around.

“Alright, now onto business.....I am a thief after all, so it’s not like I’d just do this for nothing now would I?” Felix coyly inquired. You felt a growing desire to punch Felix square in the jaw, sure the Felix you know could be cocky, and tease, one might even say he could be a little shit, but he wasn’t nearly so unbearable as this!

“How about to spite Hyunjin?” Chan offers thinking Felix might like to toy with the dark prince. 

Felix hums in thought, “I guess that’s a start, but not enough......however as it stands I’m not quite sure what you’d have to offer me. So I’ll help, but I get to tag along until I’m repaid what I feel is worth my help.”

Before Chan can say something to argue you quickly speak up to agree, “ That’s fine, just hurry up and lead the way.” 

This Felix may be hard to handle, but if he was with you then that means he’s not being killed for his crimes. Who knows what that would mean in real life, but if you ever wanted to see your Felix again you were going to keep this one close and safe just in case to be sure you’d get your boy back, even if it was going to be a rough ride along the way. 

Felix nodded and started to lead the way, as you glanced back to give Chan a scolding glare as he mumbled about ways to get rid of Felix once you were all out of here. Upon reaching a window Felix opened it and peeked out sitting on the sill and offering you a hand, “Alright princess you’re up first.” 

Only once he helped you out did you realize how high up you were and how dangerous this plan really was sticking close to the building with a small whine, “....L-Lix.....I-I’m not good with heights...”

Felix smirks at the sound you make laughing lightly and following close behind leaving Chan to follow behind you both, “It’s alright I won’t let you fall.” 

Despite his smug assurance he carefully keeps an eye on you and keeps his word, holding your hand to stabilize and guide you along the way until you made it to a less cared for part of the castle. 

“They don’t guard as much here.” Felix tells you and Chan before looking at Chan, “We’ll have to climb down, but then Y/N can jump down to us. This will be the easiest place to slip down and try to get past the walls, there’s a weak area where a service gate used to be.”

With that Felix started down leading the way for Chan so that he wouldn’t fall,  motioning you down before Chan was entirely stable onto the ground, so that he could be the one to catch you when you jumped. You knew he did it on purpose, but you also weren’t sure how much time you had left until you all got caught, so you jumped anyways. Felix smoothly catching you and settling your feet carefully on the ground before once again taking the lead on where your small group of three needed to go.  Felix led you to the far edge of the castle and peaked his head out before motioning for you to stick close to the building.

“Stay here I’m going to go get the guard to move then I’ll have you guys follow.” Felix tells you before slipping through the opening and past the wall. For a bit you heard and saw nothing causing Chan to become worried that Felix had just left.  Right as Chan was getting ready to go though there was a crash and when you looked around the corner there was a chest that looked like it had been dropped out of the castle causing it to bust and scatter coins and gems everywhere giving a good distraction for you and Chan to slip out the same way Felix had before, where you found the boy waiting for you leaning against the run down wall. 

“We can go on foot, but as soon as Hyunjin finds out we’ll have trouble with his men since they have horses. We might stand a better chance of that if we hide our scent so their dogs can’t find us. But or best bet would be to hide our scent and try to find a faster way to travel.” Felix advises and he leads the way through the forest just outside the castle. Despite the dark Felix had no problems making his way through the forest, knowing it like the back of his hand after all the times he’s broken into, and out of, the castle.

You looked to the side and saw a flittering blue light, it was a deep blue and yet glowing bright as it danced through the dark forest, vaguely you heard Felix and Chan’s voices but you were so transfixed on the light that you almost started to follow it until Chan gently grabbed your arm to drag you along the way. You gasped watching the little light flicker out saddening you a bit as you focused back on the boys again following them into the morning light. You changed clothes again, each of you hiding your clothes off your path somewhere to hopefully throw the dogs off a bit until you reached some stables.

Chan sighed softly, “Do you think we’ll be able to afford them?”

“I think you can likely bargain with these, but I can’t cause I’m wanted.”  Felix holds up a pouch of gems and gold, which he snatched from the chest before it crashed out of the castle.  

“Alright Y/N and I’ll-” Chan started and you sighed softly to yourself when Felix cut him off already preparing yourself to stop the potential fight before it officially started.

“Y/N can stay with me, I have a hideout not too far away we can wait for you at. I’m not dumb enough to let you both go over there just to be left.” Felix counters with a bite, and you had to admit that Chan probably would have done that to him.

You find yourself agreeing before Chan can shoot back with a harsh tone to mach Felix’s, “That’ fine. Just go get the horses Chris, we’ll be waiting for you.”

Felix rambled off some general directions to his hideout before grabbing your hand and racing off to his hideout giggling mischievous as he knew Chan would struggle to find you both after those “directions” he gave. You found yourself rolling your eyes and pinching his side as you pulled you into a small home that on the outside looked to be abandoned a good ways away from the village. 

Felix yelped at your pinch before laughing, “Aw don’t tell me you’re defending him right now? He’s so strict~ I can’t believe you’re with him, do you even have any fun?”

“Oh so this is just fun to you?”You scoffed, “ Listen here brat!  Chris and I have plenty of fun when we aren’t worried about babysitting your ass!”

Felix snickers with a smirk, “ Yeah okay, maybe it’s a little fun....but you and I we could have some real fun...” he slowly stalks closer brushing his thumb over your cheek as he cups your face, leaning in with that shit eating grin, “What do you say? Might even pay me off for helping.....besides we have time to kill until lover boy figures out where we are~”

In a flash you had a firm grip on his jaw replacing his smirk with a gasp, causing you to be the one with a smug grin now, “Fine, you want to have fun baby boy? Let’s have fun~”

You pushed him back with your grip until you could toss him onto the bed. Making quick work of his clothes and licking your lips, “Look how pretty your skin is....it looks so fragile....” 

You lean down licking over his abs drawing another gasp, one almost whiny in nature from his lips, before biting down hard on his hip, not even wasting time to tease that before slowly moving on from that mark back up to leave smaller love bites and hickeys until something you see in your peripheral catches your attention and you smirk again. Leaning in to give Felix a short teasing kiss, pulling away with his bottom lip between your teeth and a small growl. You gently grip his hair to guide him to the position you want, sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread and arms behind his back.

“Close your eyes and stay like that baby boy I have a surprise for you~” You purr kissing his temple before pulling away to quietly grab the rope with some of his thieves tools. Coming back to tie his hands behind his back. Felix gasps turning towards you as his eyes snap open wide, resulting in you slapping his inner thigh and gripping the base of his cock lightly, “You just can’t behave your bratty ass hmm?”

“Why don’t you make me? After all what would be the fun in just giving in?” Felix smirks before quickly shutting up and even blushing just slightly at the sight of you stripping before him, unable to do anything but look on. Of course you didn’t know the little plan he was already concocting in his mind at the sight of you.

You chuckled humorlessly and straddled his lap, letting just his tip brush against your folds until you could draw a small whine from him, it being enough to urge you to slowly lower, taking him in inch by inch.  Felix trying to throw his head back in a quiet moan with his eyes screwed shut. 

You gripped his jaw again growling lowly, “Oh so now you want to close your eyes?” You mock grinding your hips just a little before stilling again and lightly slapping his cheek, “ Now you don’t get to, you better keep your eyes on me~ And when your close you better tell me~” 

Felix’s brows furrow as he tries to focus on keeping his eyes on you, it proving to be harder as you start to bounce on his cock. Setting a fast pace for your own pleasure,letting his dick hit all your deepest spots each time you drop your hips again. Soon you’re leaning forward against his chest as your hips continue to work you both towards your highs, low pants and moans filling the room with each even small movement you make. As you lean against him though Felix looks over your shoulder his gaze dropping to your ass as is bounces each time you drop back down causing him to let out a loud moan wishing he could grip it and guide your movements, the sight working him up further. Feeling his cock twitch and him get louder at the sight of your ass, you start to drop down harder, letting out a louder, whinier moan yourself at how his tip hits so deep now with more force. 

Felix almost loses it at the sound you make, “F-Fuck Y/N~ I-I’m close~” He moans. His voice and your own high being so close almost convince you to give in, but your plan was to teach him a lesson and that’s what you intended to do as you suddenly pull away, gripping the base of his cock just to be safe. A smirk graces your lips as you revel in his whines and the slight noticeable and needy squirm of his hips before you’re gripping his hair again, and laying back now.

“You want to cum, then beg for it~” You tell him with a smirk and as he opens his mouth your grip urges him between your legs, “With your actions.”

You then let go of him and let him do the work now, your hands gripping at the pillow under your head as Felix wastes no time with teasing. Seamlessly he switches between licking and sucking on your clit, and fucking his tongue as deep into you as he can, curling it to search for the spot that would drive you crazy. When he finds it your head is thrown back in moans eyes screwing shut as he easily uses that spot and the sensitivity of your clit to draw your high out, leaving you to squirt onto his face, your thighs, and the sheets.  When he didn’t stop after you came, still lazily lapping at your clit your eyes shot open, prepared to stop him as overstimulation. Opening your eyes though you were met with a smirk, one that you didn’t understand the reason for until you saw the ropes that had been keeping his hands behind his back cast aside. 

“My turn~” Felix’s voice is smooth as he grips your wrists pinning them above your head as he hovers over you, “You should have just let me cum Y/N, maybe I’d go easy on you if you had~” 

Felix chuckles at your whimpers when he grinds against your still sensitive core before suddenly thrusting into you and settling on a rough pace, rubbing at your throbbing clit with his thumb. He was looking forward to getting you back for denying him, but was planning on doing that in an entirely different way that you had done. Moving his thumb only for a moment to spit at your lower half, his thumb helping it to mix with your juices. Your sensitivity and how worked up Felix was meant that neither of you lasted long, Felix giving you a minute as he stilled cumming inside of you as your pussy clenched sporadically around him, drawing out every drop and filling you with a satisfying warmth. Just because he came though didn’t mean he was done with you though.

“Keep your hands to yourself unless you want them tied up....and if that happens I’ll leave you tied up for Chris to have fun with when he gets here.” Felix firmly warns as his fingers replace his cock inside of you, chuckling as he feels you clench around them, whining at his words, “Oh? Seems like you’d like that huh?”

Felix’s teasing along with the feeling of his fingers got you worked up again far too easily, becoming putty beneath him at the simplest of things at this point. Your brows furrowed though as you felt him curling his fingers not to hit your spot, but to draw his cum back out of you. Your confusion was short lived though as you saw him leaning down to lick up everything that he fingered out of you moaning against your pussy lips at the taste, before fingering more cum out of you, using his other hand to pin your twitching hips and softly hushing your whines at the sensitivity, “Baby if you keep whining like that you won’t be able to hear the pretty sounds your dirty cunt us making right now~ And  I might not be able to every stop if you keep it up.”

Part of you wanted to push and see just how long Felix could go for, but another part of you wasn’t sure if you could handle that and still walk later to get moving, so you bit your lip to keep quiet as he switched between fingering and licking your core.

“As sweet as you taste anyways, I think we taste far better together......would you like a taste?” Felix smirks at you licking his upper lip clean of cum to put on a show. That smirk only growing as you break and give a small whine nodding softly. Felix responds by leaning down and licking up some more letting it rest on his tongue as he comes back up to face you. His hand leaving your hips to grip your jaw like you gripped his earlier and coaxing your mouth open, letting his tongue lull out so it could drip down into your mouth before his grips leaves and his lips are on yours, tongue battling with yours as his fingers seek your pleasure now, slowing to gently ride you through your high when it hits, you squirting and trembling beneath him. Felix breaking the kiss to let you catch your breath before jumping away a tiny bit when you both hear someone clearing their throat. Chan standing in the doorway, eyes dark with lust and jealousy as the look he gives you makes heat spike and pool in your gut yet again knowing you were in for it now.

____________________________________________________________________

That’s it, have fun with that ending guys! Hehe

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit,  happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   ​ @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd​

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Fifteen

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU 

All characters belong to SJ Maas! 

Feysand and Elriel

Author’s Note: Enjoy a bunch of fluff written kinda quick and stay tuned for the announcement for my next fic! Can’t believe only the epilogue is left of this story:) 

Masterlist Link !!! 

FIFTEEN!!

~~~Feyre~~~

“Love the room.”

Having just dropped my suitcase and swim bag on the floor of my new bedroom, I turned to find Rhys leaning in the doorway. 

“Thanks for letting me move in,” I responded, lugging the suitcase from the floor to the bed, ready to start unpacking. 

“Are you ready for training to start again tomorrow morning?” 

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Mr. Still-Slightly-Out-of-Shape. I’m kicking ass right now, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

Rhys slumped down across my bed, his black hair a rumpled mess. 

“Please. Give me one more week and I’ll definitely be traveling to our next dual meet.” 

I gave up on packing and sat next to him. He placed a warm hand on my back, moving it back and forth across my t-shirt. I shivered slightly. 

“Coach is going to announce the rest of the team going to the Conference Championships by the end of Christmas break.” As hard as I tried to keep my tone even, I knew my voice shook as I said what I’d been thinking about for the past month. 

His hand stilled on my back. 

“You’re not worried that you won’t make it? You just got back on the travel team, Feyre. That basically means you’re going.” 

“Yeah, but we don’t know that for sure. I sucked at Conference last year, remember? And I’ve sucked ever since.” I stood up and grabbed an armful of rumpled clothes out of my suitcase. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I padded over to my dresser and shoved the clothes in. I remained there for a moment, staring at the top of the dresser.

“I’m pretty sure those were dirty,” Rhys’s voice came from right behind my back, making me jump and spin around to face him. 

“Ohmygosh you scared the shit out of me,” I breathed, eyes still on the floor between us. 

“Feyre. Look at me.” 

I bit my lip and raised my eyes to his. 

“You’re going to make that team. And if you don’t, it doesn’t change who you are. I’ll love you just the same, if that helps.” 

In some ways it frustrated me that him saying those words was nearly enough to make me feel better. I hated that I was worried about this, that I would be so massively crushed if I didn’t make a stupid sports team. But in most others, I was overjoyed to hear it. My swimming, be it good or bad, didn’t define me as a person. As long as I was giving it my all, day in and day out, the rest was out of my hands. And I cared about swimming, and wanted to be good, even if I’d lost sight of that drive for a while. 

I really wanted to make that team. 

“Besides,” Rhys continued, his hands coming to rest on my hips. “I should be the one begging you to accept me whether I make the team or not. My injury has really pushed me to the bottom of the barrel.” 

I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. “Thank you. And you know you’re going to make the team. Injury or not, you’re too damn fast for Coach to risk not taking you.” 

He buried his face in my hair. “True.”

I pulled back and smacked his arm. “Watch out, I think your head just swelled to twice its normal size, you humble man.” 

He raised his hands and backed away a few steps. “I speak the truth, and nothing but.” 

I smiled. 

“And that applies to everything I just said about you, Feyre. You deserve to go. You’ve improved so much over the past few months. Especially when I was out of the picture.”

I frowned. 

 “In fact, maybe I should just go…” He continued to back away, aiming for my bedroom door now. 

“Shut up. Get your stuck-up ass back over here!”

“No, no! This is what’s best for you, Feyre darling. I’ll just bid you adieu, and maybe we can talk after Conference. I think that’s the best plan.” He stepped into the hallway and out of view. 

Arms crossed, I stormed into the hallway. I knew he was joking but I could feel my blood boiling. I turned right, aiming for the stairs I was sure he’d be walking up at that moment, and ran straight into a wall of muscle.

I stumbled backwards, but Rhys seized my wrists before I could get very far.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” He kept his grip on my wrists firm.

“I know, but that doesn’t make you any less annoying!” I gazed up at him, breathing heavily, glaring. Keeping my wrists in his grip, he leaned down and brushed a featherlight kiss to my lips. 

“Do I annoy you when I do this?” He pushed me against the wall, both my wrists now pinned above my head by one of his hands. The other he placed on my waist as his lips met mine briefly, oh so briefly. “Because I can stop, if you want me to.”

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, his lips barely a millimeter from mine.

He kissed me again, his free hand roaming up and down my side. “But I thought I bothered you, Feyre darling,” he purred, his breath hot against my neck as he trailed a line of kisses down my shoulder, pulling the collar of my t-shirt back as he did so. 

I managed to shake my head. “No.” 

“Good,” he said brightly, letting me go.

He pushed off the wall and strode briskly into my bedroom.

“What the hell?” I shouted.

“Love you,” he called. “Now come unpack!”

“I take it all back! You win the prize for most annoying boyfriend-slash-roommate ever.”

“Then why are you following me into your bedroom?”

“Dammit,” I muttered, closing the door behind me. 

-----

~~~Elain~~~

Ten minutes into the movie, Azriel and I were wrapped up together inside an enormous quilt and several fluffy blankets. A bowl of popcorn mixed with M&M’s rested between us. My head was on his shoulders, his hand on my thigh. It had been a few weeks since my concussion and this was the first movie I had been allowed to watch since. I hadn’t been able to use my phone or look at any screens per the doctor’s instructions. I was lucky I’d been cleared to focus on things close to my face just in time for school to start tomorrow. And thus, with my “staring at things” privileges returned to me, I planned on staying in that comfy spot on the couch until the end credits rolled when…

“I have to pee.”

I slowly turned my head to look at him. “You did not just say that.”

“I’m sorry, I do!” He started shifting under the quilt but I just nestled closer to him. 

“Nooooo. Why didn’t you go before?”

“What am I, five? I didn’t have to go then!”

“If you weren’t before, after saying that you’re definitely five now.” 

“Just stop the movie so I can go!” Azriel glared at me stubbornly. 

“You have chocolate on your face,” I said, reaching up to rub my thumb against his chin. “Such an adorable five year old.”

“Where’d we land on that movie?” He asked, batting my hand away, but not until I’d removed all the chocolate.

“You should have gone before. Go now but I’m not pausing it! It’s your fault for never having seen Jurassic Park before.” 

“My mother hated anything that had to do with dinosaurs, okay? I never got around to it! Please pause it. Please?” 

“What will you give me?” I said from the corner of my mouth, my eyes locked on the TV even though I had long since shifted my attention away from the screen and toward my immature boyfriend instead. 

“I’ll make it worth your while. Trust me. But please pause the movie--and rewind it a couple minutes. I've missed everything.” 

I made a large show of sighing and reaching for the remote that lay a few feet to my right on the couch. “Fine. Go on, then.” 

He was up and out of the room in a flash. He must really have had to pee. 

Not two minutes later, he was back. 

“DId you wash your hands?” I goaded from the couch.

“Oh my God, Elain, yes I did! Drop the five year old thing.” 

“Okay, okay, it’s dropped.” 

He sat back down, covering himself with the quilt. 

I giggled. He poked me in the side. 

“Okay really. I’m done. Can I press play now, dear?”

“Yes!” 

But after only five more minutes of watching, Azriel, his arm around my lower back, started rubbing small circles on the outside of my thigh. I kept my gaze locked on the screen. After I didn’t respond, he grazed his nose up the side of my neck, kissing the small patch of skin behind my ear. 

“Azriel.”

“Hmmm?” He pressed another kiss just below my ear, then another and another, trailing farther down my neck. 

“You’ve gone twenty-one years without seeing Jurassic Park. Think you could wait another night?”

“I’d hazard a guess and say I could survive another several nights with you and without the movie.” He murmured, now making his way down the skin of my chest that my v-neck left exposed. 

“Alright then.” I shut the TV off and moved the bowl of popcorn to the other side of the couch. 

Azriel pounced. 

He laid me back on the couch and hovered above me. He paused an inch from my lips. “You’re sure? Not five minutes ago you were yelling at me for making you pause the movie for two minutes. . .”

His hands started tugging down my leggings. 

“You must be mistaken,” I breathed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. 

His hand pushed mine away. “I’m pretty sure you’d rather watch that movie right now than do anything else. Or have anything else. . . done to you.” He cocked an eyebrow. 

I pulled him down on top of me.  “Shut up about the movie already,” I said, and kissed him. 

His tongue swept in as his hands made short work of my underwear. I now wore only my pajama t-shirt as his hands drifted toward the exact spot I wanted him to focus on. Our kisses became frantic, heated, before he lowered his head over me and made me forget entirely about the movie.

------------

TAGS

@queen-of-glass​ @fabfire​ @sleeping-and-books​ @aknymph​ 

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 11

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Snuggles and Pastries: An Interlude

Notes: Jagged ships it.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

------------

Adrien woke to find that he’d moved close enough to Luka in the night that they were snuggling, one of Luka’s arms over his chest, and Adrien’s head tucked against his chest. Their legs were tangled together. He’d never experienced this sort of thing before.

And it was wonderful.

Luka was warm and soft, and while Adrien was worried he’d be offended or embarrassed, he wasn’t inclined to move.

He was halfway back asleep when Luka’s phone alarm went off, and the other boy stirred.

Adrien felt him grope for the phone and the alarm silenced… but Luka didn’t move further, just settled back with a soft sigh.

Adrien figured it was only a matter of time before Luka woke further and pushed him away. He felt selfish as he stayed still and tried to enjoy the closeness.

Nino had once called him “touch-starved,” referring to how he liked being close to people, and he wasn’t wrong; having been starved of people and with an unaffectionate father did that, apparently. He craved it. An arm around the shoulder, hugs… anything, really. This, though, was a special sort of torture—accidental instead of on purpose, the sensation without the meaning.

“Why so tense?”

Luka’s voice was so unexpected Adrien couldn’t stop himself from jerking back, gasping.

“Shit.” Luka propped himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You okay?”

Adrien nodded. “Y-yeah. Sorry. I guess I snuggle in my sleep.”

That got a soft chuckle. “You aren’t the only one. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know, but…” he sighed. “I don’t want to cross your boundaries.”

“Hey, I like cuddling. It doesn’t have to mean anything sexual unless the participants want it to.” Luka smiled. “And anyway, it’ll give everyone the idea we want them to have.”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. I just hope I’m not inconveniencing you. I mean… I know you’re interested in Mari, and if you’re fake-dating me, you can’t real-date her.”

Luka sighed softly. “Marinette’s heart is elsewhere, Adrien. And she may never see me the way I see her. And, anyway, I want to help you.”

“I know… but last night you said Mari does what you do—hides her feelings,” Adrien bit his lip. “I just… let me know if anything bothers you. Your feelings matter, too.”

The soft look Luka gave him made his heart flutter a bit.

“Thanks, mon étoile,” Luka murmured, pulling him into a warm hug. “It’s… not easy, but I’ll work on letting you know.”

This snuggling was real, and Adrien let himself relax, snaking one arm around Luka. He was drifting off again when Luka’s phone alarm went off again.

“Secondary alarm,” Luka told him. “We’ll have to get up if Jagged’s going to have time to do your kohl.”

Adrien grumbled, but grudgingly extracted his limbs from Luka’s. “Do you think it’s okay to wear the jeans I wore yesterday for photos?”

“Probably not. Wear one of the distressed pairs—it’ll piss your dad off more, you wearing clothes with holes in them.”

That got a giggle from the blond. “‘We are not paupers, Adrien. You will dress appropriately,’” he mocked, using an approximation of Gabriel’s voice. “That’ll be perfect for the media frenzy.”

After they’d gotten video of the three of them jamming and posted it to social media, Jagged had sent hotel staff to get pajamas for the two of them. Fortunately Chloé hadn’t started pounding on the door until after those were delivered, so they had all ignored her. Adrien hasn’t been ready to face her, or to put Luka through that. She could see him in the morning like the rest of Paris.

It didn’t take either of them long to dress, and then an espresso-chugging Jagged demonstrated on himself how to apply kohl before doing it for Adrien.

“Decided less is more for you,” the rocker said. “Just enough to make your eyes pop. Makes you look like… I dunno. Otherworldly or whatever.”

In the mirror, Adrien could see what he meant. The kohl lining his eyes contrasted the green in a way that made them almost gem-like, giving him a fey appearance.

“I like it,” he said. “Should I wear the leather today, or the hoodie?”

“We want to sneak you into school, so the hoodie might be better,” Luka said. “So we don’t get intercepted.”

Jagged grinned. “You’ll both be in the limo and we’ll pull right up to the school. The leather gives a bigger statement.”

Adrien pulled on the leather.

“And we’re picking up Marinette, as well,” Penny added. “I’ve called her, and asked her if she’ll dress up for effect.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked. “Father might go after her.”

“He does, he has me to contend with,” Jagged muttered. “And anyway, we gotta get you in some of her designs. Even if your bullshit underage contract—which I bet wouldn’t hold up in court given the fact that it was forced on you by your shithead dad—says you can’t model for anyone else, Instagram isn’t a modeling gig.”

Luka patted his shoulder. “And she wants to, anyway. You know how stubborn Marinette can be.”

Adrien smiled, thinking about that. “She really is. It’s endearing.”

“Sometimes. Other times you just want to help her, but she won’t let you.”

He felt his smile fade, reminded of what Lila had done, how Marinette had shouldered it all herself.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Definitely. She does do that.”

Luka offered a wry smile. “We’ll help her. And we know Jagged and Penny will too.”

“Damn straight,” Jagged said. “And we best get going.”

Adrien blinked. “Um… Shouldn’t M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng also be part of this?”

“Penny called them earlier, while you two were still cuddling, and they are. They got part-timers who’ll cover while they go to the collége with us. Lawyer’s at the bakery already. Tom and Sabine have breakfast waiting for us, even.”

Jagged chuckled. “Oh, and I’ll send you lot the picture I took later. Cute as hell, you two are. Might be good for Instagram, eh?”

Adrien felt his cheeks heat, and Luka had a blush that he was sure matched his own.

“Anyway, Penny’s waiting in the limo with Fang. Got André to clear the route through the hotel to the limo, so we’re good.”

He handed each of them a pair of sunglasses—replicas of the ones Marinette made for him. “Ready to do this in style?”

They made it to the bakery without issue, and were joined by Marinette, Tom, Sabine, and a stern-looking woman in a skirt suit.

Marinette was wearing ripped fuchsia leggings and a pair of black high-waisted shorts with two rows of silver buttons. Her top was a crop-top, a long-sleeve black fishnet over a pink sleeveless shell that matched the leggings. All were obviously her own design.

She blushed when she saw Adrien and Luka staring. “Um, I designed this but hadn’t had a reason to wear it yet. Though I put the rips in the leggings last night before bed. Figured it was more rock ‘n roll, and I can make another pair later.”

“Definitely,” Jagged told her.

Tom handed out pastries from a large box while Marinette passed around coffee. Jagged showed Sabine how to pet Fang—who was pleased with the attention.

“Kagami’s meeting us in front of the collége, too,” Marinette told them. “We’ll be able to greet her and then she’ll confirm our story to the press.”

Jagged turned to Luka. “After your public goodbye to your boyfriend, the limo’ll take you home. Anarka knows what’s going on, too. Been harassing the paparazzi—she’s good at that. Bet she’s run some of ’em off.”

Luka nodded, then pulled Adrien and Marinette in for a hug. “We can do this.”

A flash surprised them, and Sabine lowered her phone. “You do. And we have your backs, kids.”

Adrien took a bite of his pain au chocolat, glad Marinette had thought to bring his favorite breakfast. He was ready for this—as ready as he could be.

It was time to meet the press.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Three, “The One Where It Happens”

*Gifs not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 12.3k words

Warnings: Sensitive topics

Music Inspo: Lay Down Beside You by Carl Storm (click to listen, this song is too perfect for this chapter)

                                         SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

I worry. I fear. I cry. I doubt. I struggle for breath. I grieve. I sob. I ache. Because I love. No, not loved. I love.

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

Life has many ways of testing a person’s will - either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen at once.

- Paulo Coelho 

+

Today had seemed like a dream, and I was unsure of when I’d get used to that, or when I’d get used to all of this. If I never did, I’d be okay with that, because she just keeps amazing me with every step I take. I never want this dream to end, if it is one after all.  

Speak of an angel, and there she is, I think. The thought races to the front of my mind, pushing all of the others aside. She’s always managed to be very good at doing that, I recall. 

“I’m gonna get going then,” she announces, clasping her milky 

white hands together in front of her after walking back into my office. 

A sad smile finds its way to my lips as I admire her, wishing I could spend the rest of my days memorizing every detail of her. The little tan birthmark beneath her eye that she doesn’t cover up anymore, much to my happy findings. The sparkle in her eyes, the left one scattered with more indigo flecks. The always waves in her dark chocolate hair. Her braided silver ring that I’ve never seen her without, always playing with it mindlessly. 

“Harry?” she hums. I blink, focusing my eyes back on her. 

Becks. My lovely Becks. Maybe even . . my girlfriend? Impossible although it had seemed, my lips reach higher elevations on my cheeks at the thought. I don’t let it run away from me, although I’m itching to let the question leave my lips. 

There’s always tomorrow for that, I decide silently as I adore the invisible inquisition toying with her eyebrows. 

“Alright?” Becks asks, taking another step forward until she arrives at my desk. 

“Ya, ‘m great,” I confess softly, pushing at the lip of my desk to get to my feet. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she ponders nervously, a fire sparking in her cheeks as I near her figure dressed in a sleek black pantsuit. A cream chiffon blouse falls under the hollow of her neck modestly, adorned by the opal necklace I haven’t seen her take off since our first date. Yet another confirmation that that night was real, and so is all of this. My bloody God, I wonder when I’ll ever be able to believe it. 

“I dunno,” I giggle, my hands finding their way into the conversation with a shrug of their own. “Jus’ so happy lookin’ at you . . You make me happy, Becks . . Very.”

The dimple finds its place in her left cheek again, and I know then that I’m fucked all the more. A similar sound flows from her lips, and I wish it didn’t have to come to an end as my palm slips into hers. 

“You make me happy too, Harry, so happy,” she titters, peeking up at me with those goddamn blue eyes. The very blues that could send me whizzing off into another oblivion, and I’d feel honored for it. I’m given just enough time to catch the glint in her eye, wetness sitting there in the corner before she looks away again. “Today made me so happy.”

“Me too, bug. I can hardly believe I get t’ do this e’ry day . . with you,” I snicker happily, tugging on her hand until my arms are surrounding her shoulders. 

“Neither can I,” she concurs, the words tickling the skin peeking out from my hardly buttoned shirt. A second of wetness tickles the skin there when my hand comes to cup the back of her head, pressing a kiss below my thumb a moment later. 

“Call me when ya get home, will you? We should FaceTime and watch anotha episode, if yer not gettin’ too sick o’ me yet.”

“Never,” she sighs, nudging my chin towards the sky when she lifts her head. It falls now, to find her moist blue eyes searching for me. It plummets further until my lips catch the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye, kissing it away. “I could never get sick of you.”

“‘s gonna be quite a long time befo’ I get sick o’ you, bug,” I murmur against her cheek, the traces of orange blossoms marking her skin. I can almost taste it on my lips when I leave a kiss there. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, yanking my eyes to her grinning lips that I envelop with my own. A ‘good’ brushes against her pair between moments of adoring her top lip between mine. The tip of her nose leaves lazy circles drawn on my skin while I sketch my own onto her creamy skin. The moment couldn’t last long enough. I wish I could freeze it in time and enjoy it for longer before my lungs begin to burn for air. 

“Drive safe,” I whisper against her mouth, saying goodbyes into her hair with the motions of my thumb. 

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get home, it shouldn’t take me even fifteen minutes to get there.”

“‘Kay, ‘ll talk t’ you soon then,” I smile, touching my lips to her button nose. “Boops.” 

“Now, don’t stay here too long, boss. You’re going to turn into a workaholic or something, Harry,” Becks taunts with her flushed lips drawing me in. 

“‘ll try not t’, that’s all I can promise.”

A laugh joins her answering nod before she surprises me with one last kiss, making me want to take back all of the words I just said, and spend a few more moments kissing her. Minutes, maybe. 

“Night, Harry.”

“G’night, Becks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later . . my love,” I divulge, enjoying the pink that rises in her cheeks at the mention of the simple words. Simple, yet oh so true. 

“Bye, my Harry,” she echoes, squeezing my hand one last time on her way out the door. Her azul blue eyes meet mine over her shoulder when she pulls my door closed, decadent lips curled into a smile just for me. Lips that I already want to have touching my own again, dark chocolate waves I want to be losing my hands in, and that laugh I want to be pulling from her lips. 

It’s never long enough with her, but I get to do today all over again with her tomorrow. The day after that, and after that. Stolen kisses in the copier room, her head on my shoulder while watching FRIENDS at my desk, those pretty fingers dancing along my tense shoulders, and a closeness between us that I’ve longed to have for so long. Too long. 

A closeness with her that I never want to lose.

+

The very last unanswered email is whisked away with a whoosh. Finally, I have that done. With it, it drags my eyes to my wrist that vibrates with an alert. A premature smile graces my lips until it falls at the sight of a different name, not the one I was expecting. 

“What’s takin’ her so long?” I mutter as my eyes flit over Myles’ text, some joke about firing me if I keep staying past five o’clock. 

“Bastard,” I sigh with a shake of my head, pressing my palm to the screen as the time repeats in my head. 

5:26 passes. 

Then, 5:36 passes too as I wait for her to reply to my texts, or to call.

Reckon she should’ve been home by now, having left at 5, I wonder silently, aware of the thrumming of my heart. I’m sure she’s just making something to eat. 

Yeah, Harry, that’s it. 

Why am I worrying so much? 5 o’clock traffic is a bitch, anyways. It’s what made me late to our date the other night, so I should know. 

“She’ll call soon,” I mumble aloud, crafting a quick text to her, adding to the others I’ve already sent her tonight.

i think today may have been my favourite w/ u so far ;) xo

hurry up slowpoke

rebecca ann ur slow. im kiddin. drive safe bug xo

Sighing, I turn back to my iMac where I already have the next episode of FRIENDS queued up, waiting for her. 

A new bloop! sounds when an email arrives in my inbox. Clicking on it, I begin to absorb the words until my office phone interrupts with a loud bringggggg! 

“This ‘s Harry,” I say automatically, and am answered with an eerie silence. A darkness trickles into my chest at the little sounds accompanying it. The pangs of worry return, demanding to be felt amongst the mix of it all. “Hullo?” 

“H-Harry, this is Skye,” a shaky voice replies at last. 

“Hi, what’re you doin’ callin’ me main line?” I joke, hoping to add a lightness to the atmosphere that so direly requires one. The fear threatening at my edges gains strength when I make out the likeness of it in her voice. “If yer lookin’ fer Becks she left half an hour ago, reckon she’s home by now.”

“No, s-she’s not,” she says. I hear it, and I immediately wish that I hadn’t. Denying it with a shake of my head, it doesn’t disappear that easily, the crack in her voice. “She . . d-didn’t make it home, Harry.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Skye? I jus’ saw her half an hour ago,” I contend, rushing through my words as my back straightens to full attention. 

“I know . . I just talked to her on the phone f-fifteen minutes ago, but Harry . . ,” Skye continues, words wandering away from her. They’re kidnapped by the tears that I finally acknowledge in her voice, and now echoing on the line. “S-She was in . . an accident.”

“What . . What kinda accident? ‘s she alright? W-Who told you this? That can’t be right, I jus’ saw her,” I argue, losing my footing quite immediately. 

Rising to my feet, the words are too close for comfort and my knees threaten to give out on me. A hand races to my hair, carding heavy strokes through it that tug hairs loose, but I disregard the pain. Another form of it demands to be felt inside of me, next to my heart that climbs in speed with every moment absent of words. An absence of Becks being okay. 

“I don’t want it to be real either, Harry, b-but an officer just rang me. H-He said a car ran a light and h-hit her . . not long after I got off the phone with her. It was right behind the driver’s side and . . it doesn’t look very good,” she reveals, sobs growing thicker in her voice. My feet run rampant circles around my office as my fingers tug violently at my hair. 

“This ‘sn’t funny, Skye, if yer pullin’ me leg,” I begin with a forced amusement, but it doesn’t make it very far. I don’t make it that far until I fall onto the sofa, my words crashing into loud sobs that steal my breath away. “I jus’ got her back . . I can’t lose her ‘gain,” the confession comes, drenched in tears that shake my body. 

“I know,” she agrees with echoing devastation as tears paint the inside of my palm clung to my face. “She’s been my best friend for t-twenty-one years, Harry. I-I can’t imagine my life without her, and I know she’d never want to imagine a life without you.”

My head shakes rapidly from side to side as the tepid wetness paints stripes down my cheeks, escaping from my eyes that I press shut painfully. Whimpers flee from my lips, the very ones that were just kissing hers thirty minutes prior. 

This can’t be happening. No, I can’t lose my Becks when she just found her way back to me. 

“No, no . . no, no,” I sob, each utterance becoming more indiscernible with the emotions consuming them. “Not my Becks,” I mutter, air escaping my lungs with such force that leaves me dizzy in the head. 

“She’ll be okay, she’s strong, Harry. She’s made it through so much other shit. N-Not this sort, but . . . she broke her leg riding bike one time when we were eight, and she was fine. S-She cut her finger cooking once and drove herself to hospital all herself,” Skye reveals, the trembling words doing nothing to calm my heart that I’m afraid may bound from my chest at a moment’s notice. 

“Strongest person I know,” I concur, a hiccup rattling my voice that fights for composure. “W-What’d they tell you . . ‘bout Becks?”

“They’re taking her to uh, King’s Cross hospital. Reckon there’ll be a waiting room I can meet you at while s-she’s in . . surgery,” Skye explains, and my head rushes up and down with nods now. I shakily get to my feet and take a step towards my door, but once again, I don’t make it far. A wooziness falls over me, and I grab the arm of the sofa just in time to recover. “They said they stabilized her and she was breathing and everything, b-but surgery was in order. Car was totaled, though. That’s not good . . No, that’s not good,” she cries, words falling harder and harder the more she goes on. With every one that she speaks, my sobs thicken and louden against the confines of my palm. 

“Don’t say that . . D-Don’t, she’s gonna be okay. She has t’ be,” I defend, wishing more with every second that I believed my own words. If the words themselves could wish it into existence, I’d speak them over and over until it came true. 

“I’m sorry,” she confesses breathlessly. “I’ll uh, meet you there. C-Call me when you get there. It’s the . . hospital on the west side of town, not too far from you, I reckon. She’s probably . . already there,” Skye finishes before the dial tone drills into my ears, and I’m left listening to my unsteady breaths. 

The phone plummets from my hand to meet the floor with a crrrrrunching sound, but I don’t even care. There’s so little I care about in this moment, because my thoughts are consumed by her. They’re racing, demanding, and making me sick. My chest trembles with another intense sob as my palms press against my eyes. Strands of my hair are taut around my fingertips, my scalp searing with pain. 

She’s become all I’ve cared about in these last few weeks, and it’s been magnified within moments now.

“No,” I cry, salt water dripping over my lips and plummeting from my chin. “Becks, no.”

Sniffling, it’s suddenly impossible to ignore the rock sitting in my gut. Jumping to my feet, my hands fall as I cross the room and fall to my knees harshly. The cold, granite tiles dig into my boney limbs as I retch into the bin. Grouting in the tiles leaves marks on my skin when I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth moments later. 

Sweat beads on my forehead as the room spins around me. Tears press harshly at the back of my eyes when I envision her standing in front of me, kissing me goodbye just moments ago, it seemed. Shakes overwhelm my body within seconds, and my knees kiss the tiles once more. The coolness is welcomed by my flushed forehead as I curl into myself, her smiling face captivating every thought I have while my body convulses with a new sob. It takes the last ounces of strength I can find to pull myself up to a kneeling position, then to plant one foot against the floor, and another until I’m standing. 

“‘m comin’, Becks,” I mumble, voice breaking from the first word. Wiping under my eyes, I rip open the door. Feet pounding down the hallway, I sniffle as another warm stripe cascades down my cheeks. A second and third accompany it when I pass her office, and I yank my eyes away, knowing that I can’t look. I’ll collapse to the floor again if I see her name sitting there on the door, waiting for her to return tomorrow morning. 

Patting my pockets hastily, I yank my ring of keys from the fabric only to drop them. Cursing, I bend down to pick them up before rounding the corner. I’m almost knocked off my feet by Myles who skids to a halt. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t think I could be hurting more until I found the look that dawns on his face. 

“Hare, what’s wrong?” he demands, grabbing my bicep. 

A sob revokes my words and a hand flies to my mouth. Eyebrows falling, tears interrupt my voice as the explanation plays on a loop between my ears. 

“Becks, s-she . . ,” I try to say, but a shake of my head places a gap in between my words. “Was inn’a accident. I have t’ go t’ her . . tha hospital. I wanna be there when she wakes up, and-,” now, I cut myself off abruptly. Tears blur my vision, and soon I’m seeing stripes. A feeling surrounds me, and I find that it’s his arms crushing me in a hug. His name drops from my lips in a choked sob. 

“You’re not driving anywhere like this. I’ll take ya, Hare,” he murmurs into my ear, out of place back rubbing following his words. “I’m so bloody sorry, mate. Fuck, I just saw her when she left.”

“So did I. H-How can it be real? I just . . . I jus’ got her back, My’. She jus’ came back t’ me and we jus’ started datin’ finally . . I can’t fookin’ lose her all over ‘gain, not fer real this time . . I don’t think I could live inn’a world that she’s not in, Myles,” I confess into his shoulder, clutching onto him. My chest expands and falls against his, convulsing with every worst case scenario that sends tears flying from my eyes. 

“It’ll be okay.”

“Don’t fookin’ say that, ‘coz what if it ‘s not? What if she’s not okay? What if she . . d-dies, My’? I can’t-,” the words run away from me, and for once, I’m thankful for it. They’re drenched by too much reality, more than I can stomach.

I don’t remember following him down to the parking garage, or getting into the car. The next thing I know, my head is tipped against the frosty glass window in his BMW, the lights of London cloudy from behind my eyes. 

“I jus’ bloody saw her, and I kissed her and hugged her,” I whisper, watching the words fog up the glass, if only for mere seconds. A warm tear dives from my chin, crashing onto the v of my chest. 

‘I knows’ answer me back, as well as squeezes to my arms when I least expect them. It all runs into a blur - the traffic, snow fluttering against the windows, and the pounds of tears I shed into the air. Most of all, the thoughts running rampant within me hardly make much sense by the time we’ve parked. The one thing that’s clear as day is how my heart swells with bittersweetness when her face swims inside of my skull, and the love that pours out from it for her. 

I already know that I love her, and it only makes me hurt a million times worse. 

“She’ll likely be in surgery for a good while, it’s a rather long affair, Hare,” Myles announces as the automatic sliding doors open for us, greeting us with a burst of hot air. 

“I know . . Skye said she’s in tha waitin’ room erm, on tha second floor,” I respond, reading from my phone. My eyes fill with more tears as I swipe a finger under the both of them, sniffling. 

“Here, I see a lift.”

Relief ironically escapes me when we finally find Skye bouncing her legs up and down in a chair, arms wrapped around herself as she stares at the floor. It takes her a moment to look up after saying her name, but with her disarray of colorful hair, I reckon she’s the best person I can relate to on this entire floor. 

“Hey,” I whisper when I embrace her, surprising myself at the same time. A shy ‘hi’ fills my ears as her thin frame greets mine. Her shaking arms squeeze me around the middle, and I linger there for a few seconds than necessary before pulling away. “Has anybody came t’ talk t’ you?”

“No, not yet. I just checked in with somebody when I came in, and they said to come up here. S-So, I did, and the nurse’s desk told me somebody would come when they have news. Whenever that is,” she sighs, flicking a thumb below her eye to catch a tear that strays from her waterline. 

“D-Did ya call Robbie and her dad?” 

“Yeah, just now. Robbie should be here soon, and Chuck was just about to leave . . I figure he won’t get here until she’s out of surgery, even though we don’t know how bloody long that’ll take. But, he’ll be here i-in a few hours,” she answers, her voice catching on the last of her words. 

“I’m gonna go and find us something to drink,” Myles interrupts, nodding his head down the hallway. I mirror his actions, grateful for the offer as I clear my scratchy throat. It dried up the second those very words rocked me to the core. 

Silence ensues as I fall onto the lumpy sofa beside her, a telly across the room murmuring softly in the background. Magazines lie open in front of us on the wooden table, chairs and more chairs surrounding us. 

“I wish somebody would just tell us something,” she groans beside me, wringing her hands in her lap. A sob stills in her throat and I watch her face collapse along with it. 

“I can go and ask, ‘m antsy too. Only been here a minute and already I am,” I suggest with a tough swallow. The lump in my throat greets me again as she shakes her head ‘no.’ 

Folding my hands together, they come to sit against my mouth as I now bounce my knee. Eyes flitting in every direction, I will a nurse or doctor littering the halls to wander over to us with their bloody clipboard and lab coat. 

“Find anythin’ else out tho’?” I pipe up, dropping a hand and letting it squeeze hers. I’ve only met this woman a handful of times, and yet, I know that she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. She’s the only other person who could understand how I’m feeling right now, because she’s the only other person in this damn hospital who loves Becky too. At the same time, my actions are unprecedented and alien to me, this entire situation is. 

Tears arrive in my eyes as I wait for her voice to make a choppy return, “Just when I got here and checked in, s-so to speak, that she was in surgery. They didn’t say what for really, I suppose only the team working on- with her knows,” she explains, and now, I’m the one nodding. A long breath spills from my lips, and it does next to nothing to calm the thrashing of my heart, and the onslaught of my mind. 

The reality of the situation brings my head into my palms again where I spill silent tears, accentuated by the whimpers of my lips. My entire body shakes with every sob, every sob that yearns for my arms to return to her. My eyes to see hers again, those baby blues that now, I can’t stop imagining my babies having one day. That painful thought makes them come harder now while I struggle for air, lungs burning for other reasons now, like nonexistent children that I very well may never have with her now.

Fuck. 

I wish more than anything that I could be back in my office an hour ago, annoying her with kisses as she finished up an email. What I’d do to have my lungs burning in need of the air filling hers, and not for the air around me that may not even hold her life anymore. 

No, I can’t think like that. If I entertain that thought for a millisecond, there’s no going back. 

“You know, you’re her whole world and always have been. She couldn’t shut up about you lately, a-and all of your dates. When I spoke to her on the phone r-right before . . . she was saying how amazing of a day she had had . . with you. She couldn’t wait to do it all over again, she’s so mad about you, Harry. S-She even wrote you this letter once saying how she-,” Skye divulges, the words filling my ears. Instantaneously, they want nothing more than to spit them back out. 

“Don’t! Don’t say all o’ that. D-Don’t say it in past tense, or like she’s not . . g-gonna be able t’ tell me all ‘bout it. We can’t act that way . . She’s gonna be okay, she’s gotta be okay,” I insist into my hands, struggling for breaths. Lifting my head, I turn it away from her and towards the window, my lips squashed into a line. Briny tears drip over them as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hiccups finding their way into the air. 

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“I c-can’t talk ‘bout her like she’s- like that. I can’t t-think ‘bout her like that . . her not bein’ here anymo’,” I exclaim, shooting to my feet in order to change directions. 

I thought I couldn’t believe my life earlier today and the direction it’d taken, and now, I can’t believe it one bit. I don’t want to, and I wish I didn’t have to. I thought that I was living a dream today, and now, I know that I’m living a nightmare. I didn’t want to wake up earlier, but I need to now, more than anything. 

I want to open my eyes and find her curled against my chest, snoring peacefully with her body warming mine. Like last night, a moment I could live in for forever. 

A vibrating in my pocket barges into my thoughts, and I’m unsure whether to welcome it as I reach for it. The same ringtone by The Cure sings from around my wrist, and my heart only falls deeper when I see the name claiming it. It sends a wave of relief throughout my body, but it only lasts a few seconds. The only name that could make it permanent is far from an option, and here I am, still wishing for it with my own two eyes. I wish that she wasn’t in an operating room somewhere in this same building, and instead her voice was singing from my phone. That’s how it was supposed to be, anyways. 

“Mum,” I answer softly, steps halting in the hallway. A sob freezes in my chest at the thought of having to speak truth into the nightmare I’m living. 

“Harry honey, what’s tha matta?” my mum responds, worry rocking her voice. 

“‘s Becks. She-,” I confess, but I can’t say it. I want nothing more than to say something else. When she asks if she’s alright, I want to say yes, and it sends wobbles down my legs knowing that I can’t say that. I can’t say it, because I don’t know it. 

“It’s okay, love, take a deep breath.”

“I can’t,” I weep, a wail escaping my lips, muffled by my palm. The tear stained skin flies to my hair that I tug at, ignoring the throb of my head hitting the wall of the hallway. “I can’t breathe, mum . . I can’t not knowin’ if she ‘s okay.”

“Oh, darlin’. What happened to her?”

“She w-was . . . inn’a car accident,” I admit breathlessly, sucking in lungfuls of air that don’t do a thing. A fire still lives deep down inside of my chest, and it was born the moment I heard Skye speak those words. “‘m at tha hospital now waitin’ t’ hear sumthin.’ Her best friend’s here with me, but, mum. ‘m so scared . . that ‘m gonna lose her fer real,” I whimper, swiping my tongue across my trembling lips wet with tears. 

“Oh, Harry,” she sighs, my sadness mirrored in her voice. “I’m so sorry, love. Do they know the extent of her injuries?” 

“I dunno, all they told her friend ‘s that she’s in surgery. We’re waitin’ fer sumbody t’ tell us mo’,” I answer, hiccups stealing my words away from me. “I hate sittin’ here not knowin’, I should go and ask . . but ‘m afraid t’. Mum . . ,” I trail off, weakness overwhelming my body that sags against the wall. I’m not even aware of the people walking past me and the hush of voices, but I couldn’t care less. 

“Breathe, honey, please. Everythin’ will be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, but it will.”

“Ya can’t say that! Ya dunno if ‘s true,” I exclaim, anger seeping through in my voice, but it’s misdirected. “I jus’ want this all t’ be a dream, I don’t want it t’ be real. I can’t think ‘bout it . . ‘bout her . . dyin’.”

“Shhhh, love. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. But, God, mum . . I love her. I already know I do. I know it sounds bloody mad seein’ we’ve only been on two dates, but-,” I begin, but she interrupts me, reminding me of where I get my love of it from. 

“No, it doesn’t sound like that, honey. I know how you’ve felt ‘bout her these last few years, she’s been all you could talk ‘bout,” my mother says, and the only relief that I’ve seen is offered in her voice. 

“I love her, mum, and she m-might-,” I try to say, but I can’t spit those words out. I don’t think I ever could, and my desire to avoid them for the rest of eternity trumps all else. 

“Do you think she feels tha same way ‘bout you?” she asks calmly. A huff passes my lips, and I breathe in through my nose slowly. It doesn’t make a difference when a melancholy wave knocks me over. 

“Y-Ya . . I think I know she does now,” I whimper, my voice drowning in the tears. 

“And does she know how you feel ‘bout her, Harry?”

“Ya, reckon she does. I haven’t been able t’ stop lovin’ on her since our first date. And n-now . . I may neva get t’ kiss her ‘gain or hug her or . . ,” the sob leaves more trails of tepid tears on my cheeks. My thumbs press against my eyes, willing the tears to abate, but they don’t obey. Not one part of my body has obeyed my commands since I heard those nightmarish words. 

“Then it sounds like she has somethin’ to fight fer, love. It’s not tha ‘end all be all,’ but tha will to live is a powerful thing, son,” she tells me, the first licks of ice calming my feverish heart. 

“I hope yer right.”

“I’m your mum, I’m always right,” she quips, and the first hint of a laugh graces my lips. It’s gone as fast as it came, stolen away by another round of whimpers shaking from my lips. 

“Everythin’ will be okay, son.”

“And if they aren’t, and . . . she d-doesn’t make it, mum?” I sob, the words finding their exit between sobs that rip from my chest. Pain soars through the tear at the uttering of the words that I have to acknowledge, and wish that I never had to think. 

“Then mumma will be there att’a moment’s notice fer ya,” she replies, and I wish I didn’t hear the crack in her voice. It’s the very one that tore open the slit that the tears poured out through. This all started with the crack of a voice. “Lemme know if you want me to come, Harry.”

“B-But I jus’ got her back, mum. I can’t . . She can’t . . ,” I fail once again, and this time, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to ever have to say that word again, I’ve already uttered them one too many times. 

“You’ll never lose that love ya had, Harry. Trust me, I know ya can’t. I miss Robin every bloody day, but his passin’ didn’t take away our love or tha memories we made . . I know that your love with her only jus’ started, but ya had somethin’ special. I can already see that, darlin’, and you’ll never lose tha memories you made with her, and tha love that ya made together . . Think of those happy times ya had with her while you’re waitin’ for her to be outta surgery. After that, ya should get some rest, love. Sometimes surgeries can take long, and that’s okay, ‘cause you want tha doctors to be thorough and to do all that they can fer her. And they will do all that they can to save her, Harry . . It’s almost six o’clock, love, and even after her surgery is done, it takes a while to come outta anesthesia. It’ll be a long night. Try to get some rest, son, I’m sure she’d want you to,” she explains to me, and suddenly, I wish I could get a hug from my mum. 

The thought propels me into others, wishing I could hide in the arms of another. She’s always been my very favorite hiding place, and another wave rocks through me at the thought of never getting to escape to her arms again. Her smell sends my heart spinning as I drop my phone back into my pocket, aching to have her hair tickle my nose with the scent. Placing my palms against my eyes slick from crying, I hiccup in between tears. Uneven breaths pour in and out of me, and for a second, I can remember the traces of her weight in my arms. The smell of her orange blossom shampoo, the taste of her cherry carmex chapstick, and the strokes of black and gray ink along her wrist. 

“Becks, please be okay,” I mutter underneath my breath. My scalp sings with pain when my fingernails dig into the skin, making me realize this is all real. It’s not a dream that I can wake myself up from, because my life became a dream and then fell away into a nightmare. 

“Harry!” somebody calls my name. I don’t know how much time has passed, standing there in the corner of the hallway pouring my eyes out into my hands. 

It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus ahead of me, and for a fleeting second, her face appears in front of them. Blinking hard, I rub a knuckle against my eye, and she’s gone in a flash. Instead, I find Skye waving me back over to the chairs where a tall man in navy blue scrubs stands in front of her. 

“Coming,” I answer, clearing my throat as my feet remember how to work. The tingles that had settled into my sleeping limbs disperse as I take long, hurried steps until I’m at her side again, trying to forget the words she had said earlier. 

“Is this everybody?” the man says, tanned arms crossed over his chest. 

“No, wait!” another voice pipes up, and I spin around to find Robbie rushing towards us. “I-I’m her brother,” he continues, voice shaky with emotions. His eyes briefly meet mine before he stops at my side, engulfed by a hug of Skye’s. 

“Hey,” I mumble when he pulls away with a nod, his fist brushing along one of his cheeks. The greeting is difficult as my eyes are met with pain and striking similarity. Her very same baby blue eyes sit before me, as well as the wavy dark hair, and a distorted version of her lovely facial features. 

“Hey, Harry,” he returns, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat after his words. 

When his wet eyes meet mine, more unspoken words pass between us including ‘thank you’s and silent understandings. My squeezing grip is met by his taut arm when I watch the shiny tears fill his eyes. He nods back at me, quivering lips absent of words while another tear breaks free from his Holte Blue Eyes. Those goddamned eyes tear another rip into my heart at the mere sight, drudging up the wishes they conjured within my mind just last night. 

Styles babies with Holte Blue eyes. 

Please, God. Please let that still be a truth. 

“Now that we’re all here, I’m Jack. I’m sorry for the circumstances we’re meeting on, but I’m a nurse on your uh, family member’s team. Rebecca was in a serious accident, and we’re doing all that we can. She went into surgery around ten minutes ago, as soon as she got here,” the towering man explains, achieving the closest thing to quieting my mind. I’m just afraid that when he stops talking, my skull will be vibrating with more thoughts, and far worse ones. “She suffered some fractured ribs that unfortunately pierced her spleen, causing internal bleeding. That is the most urgent of her injuries, but rib fractures are incredibly painful. They can make it hard to breathe deeply or to cough properly, sometimes leading to chest infections. In the accident, she also fractured her ankle, but we’re not entirely sure of the extent of it. Due to the impact of the other car hitting her and the location of it, her right arm was broken and . . Grade 2 concussion . . amnesia,” a cloud passes over my ears then, and I turn away, soon falling into a nearby chair. 

Worst case scenarios bloom within the attic of my body, spewing tears onto my cheeks. Waterfalls cascade down them, fueled by the replaying of the man’s words between my ears. Fractured ribs. Internal bleeding. Chest infections. Amnesia. Broken ankle. Concussion. Broken arm. The tears come harder at the realization of every word, and how they laden my heart with further darkness. It falls into the recesses of my chest with each passing moment, the obscenities that left his mouth acting as the anchor that yank it down, further and further. 

I don’t hear my name the first few times, or register the hand on my shoulder. Swarms of possibilities that I can’t welcome lift me from my seat and down the hall once again until I repeat the past, and ram shoulders with Myles. My eyes fly to his surprised face, but it’s ephemeral before he’s pulling me against his front, and his hand is pressed against the back of my head. 

“She’s gotta be okay,” I plead into his shoulder, finding fistfuls of his blazer in my hands. “B-But internal bleedin’ . . amnesia . . broken bones . . a concussion . . infections. My’, I can’t do this,” the revelation feels prickly on my tongue as I fight to flight. 

“You can do this, Hare. You have to. Becky, she- she needs you to, mate,” he insists, hands waving stripes against my back. I shake my head back and forth into him, refusing to believe any of this. 

“No, this can’t be real. It can’t. I jus’ saw her, I jus’ kissed her and hugged her,” I weep, repetitive begging pouring from my tongue. My hands let go and I push at his chest for escape. He only holds me tighter within his steely arms, and I make out the first of his tears. “I shoulda told her that I loved her, I dunno if she knew. I shoulda told her,” I relent, my body becoming pliant against his. 

“She knew, Harry. I think she knew, mate . . You showed it to her in so many bloody ways, you didn’t have to say it. She knew it, she saw it. You’ll get to tell her, and hear her say it back,” he tells me, but my head hasn’t stopped shaking in denial. “Her friend over there is almost smiling, I think. The nurse is too, it looks like maybe it’s not so meek after all, Hare. It looks like she might be okay.” 

“This ‘sn’t funny, Myles, I swear t’-,” I wail, breaths filling my lungs and refusing to remain. A ‘no’ fills my ears, and I’m forced to turn around when he pulls away at the sound of my name. Yet, he’s not the one saying it. 

“Harry!” Skye calls, and her hurried steps follow her voice. Smearing the tears from my eyes, I gulp and find the bravery to look up. Becky’s best friend in the whole entire world stops in front of me, eyes rimmed with red. “They sound hopeful,” she reveals, the smallest spark of a smile sitting at the edge of her lips. Robbie stops a step behind her, shoving hands into his pockets while a tear falls from the slope of his chin. 

“Really?” I croak, stepping away from Myles until his arms fall from me. She answers with a nod and a rosy smile blooms on her lips before my eyes. 

“Yeah, they said her vitals are becoming more stable which is good. They’re amazed that her injuries weren’t worse, they said that she got lucky,” she explains, and it sounds like music to my ears. The first good thing I’ve heard tonight, albeit this whole affair only taking up the last hour of my life. It’s felt like days on end, not mere minutes. “I’m gonna go and call Chuck to tell him.”

My nod answers her words and Myles leaves with a pat to my back, “I’m gonna go and check on coffees again, maybe food later when you’re feeling like eating,” he announces. My hand finds its way to my curls once again, surely free of snarls now after the number I did on them. 

“It’s good to see you here. Well, not good given the reason why, but you know what I mean.”

Looking up, I find Robbie’s bleary blues pointed at me. I do all that I can, and that’s a nod. 

“You too,” I manage at the last moment, patting his arm awkwardly. His feet wander back over to a line of chairs, and I follow him. Falling into the one left of him, a hushed silence surrounds us. 

“Did she ever tell you that she has ‘feelings’ about things?” Robbie mutters, a sniffle interrupting his question at times. 

“Ya,” I sigh, my bottom lip numb from my teeth pressing into it from all directions. “Good and bad feelings.”

“Yeah . . I got one that I couldn’t shake tonight,” he reveals. His eyes flooded with glassy tears surprise me again, and I almost see her sitting in front of me. A memory from one of our times at the hospital threatens to break loose from the confines of my mind, but I hold it back. “So I rang her, she was just leaving work . . with you. She sounded so happy, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten it. Now, I know . . ,” he finishes, an ironically melancholy laugh bringing his revelation to an end. “Twin intuition, I guess.”

“Ya,” I mutter again, unsure of what else to say. I can’t figure out what to think sitting here in my puddle of tears, let alone something something to fucking say. 

“I hated hearing that bloke say those things, detailing all of the shit that happened to her,” Robbie notes aloud, and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from my hands when I hear the unmistakable sound of tears letting loose. “But I mean . . it helped, and I think I have a feeling she’ll be alright.”

Conflicting tears run races down the slopes of my cheeks, drenching my eyelashes with liquid sadness. It does little to calm the hammering inside of my chest, but the mannerisms of hers I hear in his voice magnify it just slightly. The brash taste of iron spills across my tongue, and I release my bottom lip from its grasp, but it’s too late because the blood is flowing. My hands blur beneath my eyes, the shocks of baby pink and pastel purple burning in my eyes. The very fingers that she held between her own so delicately just last night, swiping the nail polish brush over their naked canvases. Every other is a different pastel wash of color, and I can still picture the bright yellow and teal that I had painted on hers. 

The warm metallic taste concentrates on my taste buds when my lips press together harshly, few salty tears finding their way into my mouth with my new sob. 

“Yer sista, she- I-,” I stop quickly, not even sure of what I’m saying. I could tell a thousand stories, but I can’t decide which one is right. 

“I know, believe me,” Robbie insists, and at last, I glance over to him. Her dark chocolate locks fall over his forehead, longer than from the first and only time I met him at my firm years ago. The fringe tickles at his eyes, and he pushes it out of his face. “You have something else, you two. I’ve only been telling her to jump your bones for the last two or so years,” he divulges, and a laugh so out of the ordinary adorns my lips. It sputters to a stop, feeling wildly inappropriate, but it comes back to life when a similar one echos from beside me. 

His eyes meet mine briefly, and hold me there looking into her blue eyes as we chuckle together. It doesn’t necessarily feel right, because it feels oh so very wrong. When that thought worms its way into my attic, the sound floats away from the both of us quickly. 

“I heard it all, you know. Your story’s out,” he tells me matter of factly, but the sarcasm can’t find a place in his voice. It falls away, forgotten. “I told her it was about goddamn time you two started dating. She should’ve listened to me sooner, but no, she’s too fucking stubborn.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” I hum, running the pad of my thumb over the glossy nail polish. If I focus hard enough, blocking out the ringing of the phones and Skye’s hushed voice, I can hear her laugh in the recesses of my mind. Laughing about messing up my pink thumb last night, alarm raised in her honey-like voice. “‘m not much betta, ‘m afraid. I didn’t even get t’ ask her on tha first date, she beat me t’ it.”

“I heard . . That sounds like her, always gotta be in control. She had to do everything first when we were little. Talk first, walk first, ride a bike without stabilisers, or graduate bloody uni first,” Robbie remarks, dragging the sole of his Old Skool mustard Vans along the edge of his leftie. “I dunno how she’s gonna fair having her dominant arm in a cast, she’ll throw a fit.” 

“Oh, I know. They betta make it purple,” I comment, and he snickers beside me, the tears still falling although silently. 

“She’ll make them do it all over again if they didn’t do it right the first time. It better look all perfect for Ree.”

His tears drill into my ears, yanking at my heart, but a small relief accompanies them. He’s not using past tense, and although hardly noticeable, it makes this bearable. I’ve spoken to the bloke only once in my life, and she was there beside me then, but I find it easier with every second. Save for the moments I peek at him and see traces of her painted all over him. They aren’t bleeding twins for nothing, I admit quietly, even noticing them wearing the same brand of shoes. A pang attacks my heart when I see him spinning the braided silver ring around his middle finger, and too quickly, I could picture it being hers. 

“D’ya think she’ll . . ,” I begin, but it feels wrong from the start, and I wish it’d never begun. With a shake of my head, I pick off a piece of purple nail polish from my pinkie. The action ricochets around in my chest, and I blink hard at the searing action. No, I can’t, because there’s a chance that she won’t be there to fix it. 

“It sounds rubbish, but our feelings are always right, Ree and I. With our dad, her with you, and me knowing something was going to happen tonight. Now, I think it’ll be okay. Stupid, I know, but I just do. I-I can’t . . . can’t think about her not being okay, she’s my . . . twin sister. I don’t want to think about it,” he confesses in between scattered tears, words growing thick and indistinct. 

“Neitha can I,” I admit, my chest falling at the end when more tears break loose from their gates. “She can’t leave, n-not this early. There’s so much I want with her still. She’s made a damn good lawyer already, and I know she’d make a betta mum and-.”

“She will, there’s nothing she’s not good at,” Robbie concurs with a sad smile adorning his face. I blink, and it’s gone as soon as it had come. “She always got back up after she fell too, on our bikes, ice skating, or even with leaving uni and then going back. Working at your firm too, you could even say. I just- I really want to believe that she’ll get back up from this too.”

“Me too . . mo’ than anythin’,” I agree aloud, shuffling my gray rose ring up and down the length of my finger as I picture the flower that adorns her wrist. “I need Becks t’ be okay.”

+

Phoebe and Joey flit across the screen in front of me, laughs and smiles shared on their faces. My head falls at the realization that those are the furthest things I could feel right now, or do. Licking my chapped lips, another tear graces my tongue. They’re fewer now, however long it’s been that I’ve been sitting in this chair. Asher waits with wandering eyes a few seats over now, and somehow, I’ve only said two words to him. It sends crashing pain through my insides to look at Robbie, her literal twin, but when I look at Asher, avalanches of grief fall inside of me. 

The images in front of me spark memory after bittersweet memory, and they try to whisk me away to a time where I was sitting in a chair like this and she was at my side laughing. Shaking my head, I find it in my hands once again, their three voices murmuring off to the side while devouring subs with Myles. 

Somehow, it’s already late. The sky is pitch black outside, and the stars twinkling somewhere that I can’t find. My eyes droop and yawns leave me occasionally, but sleep couldn’t be further away. If it was knocking at my door, I’d ignore it then too. There were few updates, and each one sounded more hopeful, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up. I’ve done that far too many times concerning her, and nine times out of ten, it left me broken. I hope that I can curb that if maybe I don’t get excited, and yet, saying goodbye to the hope fuels the fire killing me off on the inside. 

I want to turn it off, but I can’t find the remote. I wish I could turn all of this off, but I don’t know how. I can’t let myself fall asleep. No, not until she wakes up, and they just left minutes ago saying she was done in the OR after a successful surgery. I was surprised by how little it had phased me, seeing how Skye jumped to her feet and Robbie was all smiles. Myself though, I couldn’t seem to find one anywhere. I can’t find him. Me. I felt Myles watching me, and worrying. I knew she would be doing the same thing if this was all different, and I couldn’t count how many times I had wished for that truth by now. 

I wished that this could all be different, and alas, here I am too scared to believe it could be. The fear debilitates me with every waking second to believe that things could be okay. I’m so afraid to believe that she’ll be alright, because this all seems so sick and that it changes with every corner I turn. 

The rest of the episode passed before my absent eyes, and then Skye was coming back from seeing her in Recovery. Tears plastered her cheeks now, more than before, and they didn’t shy away from mine either. 

“You should go and see her,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be honest, i-it’s awful seeing her like that, b-but . . . it’s her. She’s okay.”

Words flee from my lips, replaced with an adamant shake of my head. I can’t even meet her eyes, because the only ones I can see are Becky’s. Now, I try to push them out of my head as I stare at my feet, the splashes of pink and purple begging for my attention. The color I so deeply crave is only within her eyes, and with a whimper, I try to will the image back to me. I fail, and the tears fall harder down my cheeks, making me wish I could be peppering kisses along hers. 

I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing, or where I’m going. The instructing words from before repeat between my ears, pulling my feet around a corner and then another. They take me left, and then right. A long hall appears in front of me, and then I’m searching the walls. Numbers climb and climb until I find the very ones I’m looking for. A sob splashes against my palm when it comes to my lips, pressing hard against my mouth. 

208, it reads but that’s not what I see. 

February 8th is what I see staring back at me. The day of our first date, only three days ago. How in the hell has it only been three days since? How in the living fuck has it only been three hours since all of this has happened? 

My feet freeze in their path, and I ignore the nurses and doctors passing me, zig zagging from room to bloody room. Beeping wanders into my ears, and I painfully wonder which one is hers. Which one of those beeps is from her heart? Will it come to an abrupt stop and bring people rushing to her? Can she even hear it? No, she probably can’t, she’s still ‘asleep,’ or so they said. 

I don’t think I’m ready. No, I can’t be. How in the bleeding world could I be ready to see what I’m about to witness? I couldn’t ever be ready for this, and I never wanted to be. I never wanted to be having these thoughts living in my head, more than mere doubts and nightmares planted there randomly. Alas, I know why they’re there, and not for the reason I think first. No. 

I worry.

I fear.

I cry.

I doubt.

I struggle for breath.

I grieve.

I sob.

I ache. 

Because I love. 

No, not loved.

I love. 

All of these emotions and signs of pain course through me, one after the other, because I love that girl lying in that bed just behind those curtains. I love her, and I’ve known it all along. It’s what brought me here, in every way possible. It’s what propels me forward when the nurse at the computer nods, sliding open the gray curtain. It’s what pulls my eyes to the bed, and to the false sounds of breathing. Love is what wrenches the sobs from my chest at the appearance of wires, tubes, and machines hooked up to her. Love is the force that spins me around and makes me shoot down the hall, crumpling to the floor once I reach the corner by the vending machine. Love is what fills my tears that carry images of her lying in that bed fighting for her life. Love fights within myself as my entire body is racked with sobs while I curl into a ball, wishing that seeing wasn’t believing. 

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips. 

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

+

My eyes continue to play tricks on me, but once I blink back the swarm of tears drowning in them, I find that this actually can get worse. Far worse. Their familiar glances shoot over to me and I don’t return them, ignoring the tears staining my skin. They disperse, but he remains there in the center of the waiting room, eyes on me. When I meet those sad blues at last, the newest sob is welcomed by my lips. In a blur, his arms welcome me and I let them. 

“It’s okay,” he croons against my ear, but my head shakes ‘no’s’ again and again into his unfamiliar shoulder. 

“But ‘s not. She’s not okay . . doesn’t even look like her in there. There’s so many wires and tubes and-,” my ragged breaths cut me off in time as his large hands clap against my back. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s a fighter, Harry, always has been. She’s already fighting hard, I see.”

“I wanted so fookin’ badly t’ think that this was all a dream, b-but then I saw her and . . . ‘s not,” I whimper, a new smell surrounding me as I clutch onto the back of his cold windbreaker. 

“Boops has been a fighter ever since she was born, Harry. Did she ever tell you that?” 

“No . . tell me what?” I return, my heart crashing around wildly inside my ribs, about to break free at a moment’s notice. 

“Her and Robbie had to stay in the hospital for a week after they were born,” Chuck narrates, his large palms pressed to my trembling back. “Not Ree, though, she was in and out. It only took her four days to figure everything out - how to breathe properly, eat, and even shit. But Robbie, he took a week. She was smaller too, but somehow she beat all the odds. They say that there’s typically a smaller twin who doesn’t get as much nutrition and the like while in the womb. They don’t have as good of chances thriving outside of the womb, but lookie there. Ree amazed us all, and she’s continued to do so ever since, Harry. I don’t think she’ll disappoint us today either, son,” he finishes, pulling away to cup my face with his palm. The Holte Blues stare back at me, and I catch her features mirrored in his. He nods at me with lips pressed into a flat line, and I see the tears welling in front of the blue as he pats my cheek. 

“Yer daughter, Chuck, I-.”

“I know you do, that’s why you’re here . .That’s why you’re so scared, and I’m rather damn positive she does too,” he returns, ending his words with a wink. 

I love her . . more than there are stars in the sky, and more than there are beats of my heart.

+

I had lost track of how many episodes I had watched of The Office on the telly, but it was wasted, because the images cut in and out in front of my absent eyes. The voices of those around me trickled through when I wasn’t battling with myself. I had long since ignored the gurgling of my stomach, and the buzzing of my phone. The only thing that finally woke me from my drowning senses was when Skye rushed into the room, jittery from the four coffees she'd downed. 

“She passed her vent test to come off it and is breathing on her own!” she exclaims, rather close to jumping for joy. Robbie soon finds himself caught in her embrace, and during my escape, I whiz past them and down the hall. 

“Becks,” I mumble under my breath, scratching at my cheek as the first new tears in the last half hour arrive in my tired eyes. I ignore their trailing voices, and the new sounds I’ve been drowning out. 

I rush past people and their stares, prying and not. Their eyes question me, and I don’t stop, craving the eyes that I’ve been without for far too long. Her blues. But I don’t find them when I delve into that room for the second time in three hours. Yet, I’m met with something miraculous all of the same. 

Most of the wires have disappeared from her body, and the tubes previously hidden in her throat are as well. The first hints of relief wash over me when I take another step, and then another until she’s within reach. It’s not the same and not how I pictured it, but there she is, just a step away. I’m so fucking glad it’s not like one of the ways I had thought of. Her skin is warm underneath my lips, singing praises behind my eyes. The splashes of blues and reds painting her face pull thick streams of tears onto my cheeks as I press kisses to hers. Steady breaths of hers tickle my skin, sprouting the first smile in hours on my lips. 

It’s my Becks. 

It’s her, my girl. 

Prickly stitches smatter her skin in places, but I avoid them as I run my fingers through her hair, brushing it off of her angelic face. A whimper escapes from my lips for a second, silenced by my hand as her face grows hazy from interrupting tears. My tears fall onto her ghost like skin, the remnants of orange blossoms speckled here and there. 

“‘m here, and yer alright. Everythin’s gonna be alright, my Becks,” I murmur against her forehead, peppering kisses to the freckles hidden amongst her skin. “‘m not goin’ anywhere, bug,” I finish, voice catching on the last word when I’m reminded of her saying the very same thing to me earlier today. “And neitha are you. Y-Ya keep yer promises too . . dontcha, Rebecca Ann? . .  An episode o’ FRIENDS came on earlier in tha waitin’ room . . it was our favourite one, ‘Tha One at tha Beach.’ I didn’t wanna watch it without you . . it hurt too much t’, b-but I shoulda known it was a sign that you’d be okay. And now, here ya are, me li’l fighta.” 

“I think . . I think I love you, Becks . . I dunno when I even decided that, seems ‘s been that way fer a while,” I confess into her hair, finalizing my words with another peck to her dark chocolate waves. “Please wake up so I can tell you, li’l one . . ‘ll be waitin’ here ‘til ya do.”

The only response I receive is the steady beating of the monitors sitting at her side. I watch them, sniffling, entranced by the numbers that vary only a few. A calmness washes over me as I lace my fingers with those of her left hand, careful of the wires, while watching the steady numbers. My eyes flit back to her, hidden underneath plain white blankets, and the pain makes a return to me once again. I know it’s all masked under there, the multitudes of stitches, casts, gauze, and brokenness. Injuries that I can’t fathom, no more than when that nurse breathed life into them in the waiting room.

“Ya said yest’day at me house that it was scary t’ admit how ya felt ‘bout me, and bloody hell, ‘s this scary t’ admit t’ you . . Last night I was thinkin’ ‘bout what our kids would look like. ‘m gettin’ ahead o’ meself, I know, only been on two dates so far,” I laugh ever so softly, thumbing at my ticklish nose while the whispers drop from my lips. Circles and curly mazes are left on her hand where my thumb draws them gently, even her name left there in invisible ink. “I hope mo’ than anythin’ they’d have yer gorgeous blue eyes, and prolly some perfect combo o’ our brown hair . . I hope they’d have yer cute li’l dimple, and yer beautiful laugh. Bet they’d be smart like you too, bug, and have yer drive t’ neva give up on sumthin’ . . I dunno if we’d be here if ya hadn’t given up on me . . and I promise you ‘m not ever gonna give up on you, Becks. Never . . ‘ll tell ya ‘bout all tha rest when ya wake up in tha mornin’. Sweet dreams, sleepyhead,” I announce, swallowing against my throat akin to a dessert.

Antiseptic and unfamiliarity greets my nose when I lay one last kiss on her forehead, careful of the nasal cannula across her cheeks. The feet of the metal chair squeal when I pull the chair closer to the bed, her hand limp in mine. Shocks of teal and yellow prick at my eyes, bringing the smallest of smiles to my face with a harsh gulp.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, my eyes scan over her obsessively, and lovingly. Underneath the strange blue gown, her chest rises and falls while her fingers remain warm in mine. I settle into the chair, adjusting it until I can lay my arm on the empty patch of bed at her side like a ninety degree angle. There, I lay my head, lulled into a quick sleep by her slow breathing, finally assured that she’s alright.

Only because of that, am I alright too.

+

My dreams had whisked me away, but it wasn’t for nearly long enough. I couldn’t know how long it had been. At the same time, it was too long and yet, not long enough. I didn’t know that I’d be grateful for waking up, and yet at the same time, the bittersweetness would make me yearn for my ignorant dream world once again. 

I’m woken by the feeling of something touching me, and as I slowly come to, I find it’s somebody playing with my hair. As sleep begins to drip off the edges of my subconscious, I can only wonder who that could be, until I suddenly know. My eyes fly open and flit to the face peering down at me. Her’s, and yet, it’s not. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmurs in a scratchy voice, propelling my body upwards within a second. 

“B-Becks!” I stammer, blinking hard in between rubbing at my eyes quickly, trying to decide if what I’m seeing is real. I find it hard to figure out what I want to be real, glimpsing again the bruises and cuts brandishing her face. 

“Hi,” she whispers, trying to smile, but I see that she doesn’t have it in her. 

“Becks,” I croak, tears tugging at every breath of the word as my arms go around her, and my face dives into her hair. 

“Ouch, careful,” she protests, and profuse apologies fill the air around us. “It’s okay,” she insists, the wires getting caught between us and my body surrounding hers. 

I back up instantly at the sound of her painful words, but it’s the very last thing I want to do. Touching her and wrapping her up in my arms has been the only thing I’ve wanted to do this entire time, ever since I got the call. Reality blanketing me sends thick sobs from me, and into her hair that doesn’t even smell like her anymore. The smell of orange blossom and vanilla is absent, and it continues to make this entire thing worse. It makes it too surreal, more real than I can handle. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she hums gently, a crackly sound to her labored voice. Her hands although dainty before, leave ghostlike trails on my back, adding another tally to the surrealness board. 

“D’ya rememba w-who I am?” I ask hurriedly, pulling away to find her exhausted eyes searching for mine. A corner of her chapped lips just barely curls into her cheek, the always present pink color fleeting in the moment. 

“Of course, you’re . . my Harry,” she mumbles with a long, tired blink. The mere five words pull thicker sobs from my lips. I just glimpse the beginnings of tears in her eyes when I return to her arms that beckon for me. 

“‘m so glad yer okay, Becks, so glad. I was bloody terrified ya wouldn’t be,” I confess into the warm crook of her neck, finding a trace of her fruity-vanilla scent tucked away there. 

“Me too, Harry,” she comments a few seconds too late, marked by a clearing of her throat. Although I’m not much better, I hear the evident struggle in her voice like she’s woken up after sleeping, but I know that the raspiness clouding her voice isn’t from that. It’s from the tube that was shoved down her throat to breathe for her, and probably caused the worst sore throat in existence. 

She hardly feels the same, body marked by wires and tubes, a scratchy gown, and an abrasive cast all along her right arm. Prickly threads dot her body in places where the glass left cuts too deep to leave, and the antiseptic smell of a hospital sticks to her all over. I want to hold her against me, to squeeze her all over until I know that she’s real and that this isn’t just a dream. The kiss I press to the top of her head is marred by the smell of iron, and the crusty feeling of blood hidden among her hair. The next one I leave on her forehead is better, and the warmth of her skin under my touch scores a point for reality, although a harsh one. 

“D’ya rememba . . what happened?” I wonder aloud, painfully. My heart, too shocked from the last several hours, doesn’t even budge when the sight of her again astonishes me. Her swollen left eye is surrounded by blue and purple bruises that paint her face in places. 

She nods her head up and down, until her face creases with presumed pain and she stops. My hand covers her entire cheek that I rub with the pad of my thumb, back and forth, back and forth. 

“I don’t know. . I only remember saying goodbye to you, and then . .  talking to the nurse now. I’m glad that’s the last thing . . I remember,” she replies slowly, the words fleeing her lips at times. 

“Y-yer amazin’, y’know that?” I sigh, the tears ever so present, and I’m unsure of when they’ll ever make their departure. A laugh tries to sound from her lips, but not even within a few seconds, her face is overcome with anguish. “Hey, are ya okay?”

“It hurts, but she gave me something.”

“Where’s it hurt, bug?” I question, eyes dancing across her body mostly covered by the thick hospital blankets. 

“Everywhere,” she exhales, sounding short of breath. My lips stray to her forehead once more to leave a peck there, unsure of what more I could do. “Mostly my head . . arm, and tummy.”

“Ya, that’s . . . where they cut ya open t’ fix ya up. And . . ya got a pretty nasty concussion, and a broken arm. It was a good thing ya were wearin’ yer seatbelt, love,” I tell her, struggling to resist covering her in kisses. If only that were the antidote for fixing all of this, for fixing her. I would do it in a heartbeat if it made all of this go away, as if it never happened. 

“Always,” she almost smiles, making my heart flutter. A smile tugs at my lips as I admire her, sure I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, or bittersweet. She adjusts the nasal cannula feeding her additional oxygen, and I just hope it’s enough. I hope that this is all enough, and that so am I. 

Her heavy eyes drift closed, but the second they do, they flutter open again. They wander back to me and a stronger smile pulls at her lips, mimicking the same motion on the strings of my heart. 

“Don’t fight it, baby, get some rest,” I coo, stroking my fingers through her hair to move it away from her face, careful in doing so. 

“I’m okay . . I want to stay with you, Harry,” Becks admits gently, licking her dry lips. A sound of disbelief leaves mine. 

“Always so selfless, you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she yawns, wincing again at another wave of pain, making me step forward. If I try to again, there aren’t any more that I can take, regardless of the wishful thought that I have to slip into bed with her. “I can’t imagine how . . upset and scared you’ve been,” she apologizes, reaching a hand out to find mine, and it causes my heart to seize with a dose of happiness. 

“No, don’t you apologize. None o’ this ‘s yer fault, ‘s tha asshole who hit you whose fault it ‘s. Yer doin’ so good, Becks, ‘m . . . so fookin’ happy ya came back t’ me . . so proud. My Becks,” I say, smiling through the tears washing out my words. I see the smallest hint of the dimple in her left cheek when they round out from the tiniest of smiles. 

“I’ll always . . come back to you, Harry,” she smiles, and I give in, dipping to press my lips to hers. She may smell different, feel different, and even taste different, but the kiss makes me sure that this is my same Becks, and that this isn’t all a dream. Regardless of the fact that I wish it all was just a made-up dream that I could wake up from, I’m okay with the fact that it isn’t, as long as my girl is okay. 

Finally, she’s my girl. 

And finally, she’s okay. 

My Becks.

+

A/N: Hello, lovely people! Okay.... I am SO sorry for that, but thanks for sticking through it.. I promise Becks will be okay, I would never break up Hecky like that. I apologize for no real content warnings, I didn’t know how to do that without ruining the chapter... Also, please cut me some slack if I get any medical things wrong or they’re unrealistic, I’m not a doctor and I’m doing my best with what Google can give me and from personal experience in hospitals. Thanks SO much for reading all this way into the story, I mean it when I say I’m excited for you to see what’s going to happen! Feel free to visit my askbox if you want to talk after this rollercoaster of a chapter, I feel you. I’d LOVE to talk to anybody about Hecky anytime, or if you want a sneak peek of next week’s chapter lemme know! Make sure to check out the Hecky playlist - although it’s long, I think it has some great tunes on there that remind me of our fav couple! I admittedly had it playing the whole time I was making pasta the other day :P Have a great day, ily c: