#spent like a solid hour only fixing the colors on this my head hurts

[cubedmango]

end of the world with you

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

Another Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Summary: You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: grief

Theme: Angst, Fluff

A/N: I have been working on this one all day, and I think it’s alright! It’s my first oneshot on this account, so please go easy on me! I hope you enjoy!

(Shoutout to @theloveclub-18 for the idea! I super appreciate it!)

“Thank you all for being so open this evening. I hope to see you all next week. Let the healing continue.”

As various people mumbled back “let the healing continue,” Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes.

It had been six months since Vision’s death, and four months since she had started attending a grief group recommended by Bucky. She had tried to insist to him that it was useless but he begged her to try it out. Now, here she was, four months later, still feeling as broken as she had the day she watched the love of her life be killed. Twice. One might ask why she continued to attend the sessions weekly when she felt she hadn’t made any progress. Why had she spent 16 of her Wednesday nights at a grief group when she felt it was pointless? The answer is simple: the food.

The session always had a table full of freshly baked goods from Sugar, Butter, Flour, a bakery just down the road from the community center holding the sessions. Every week, Wanda would sit through listening to people talk about their heartbreak, and, when pushed to confront her own trauma, reluctantly share just enough to satisfy the facilitator. And she did it all just to have a few moments of sheer joy, letting whatever delicious creation the bakery had provided that week wash over her taste buds and temporarily take her away from this cruel world that had ripped her love from her.

Wanda grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the table full of goodies. She had been running late today, so she didn’t get a chance to grab anything before the session, leaving her options limited. There was only one cookie left, but as she reached for it, her hand brushed against someone else’s, causing her to pull her hand back quickly.

“I’m sorry-”

“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have-”

“Please it’s all yours-”

You cleared your throat and shot her a sheepish smile before extending your hand to her.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wanda looks at your hand skeptically and you awkwardly retract it when you realize she won’t be shaking it.

“I’m Wanda,” she says hesitantly, her eyes flashing to the cookie, and then the exit.

You tried again. “So you like the cookies here too?”

She meets your Y/E/C eyes impatiently before sighing.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab one next week, though, I really gotta go,” she says, starting towards the exit.

You watch her leave, intrigued by the girl, before you snap back to reality.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda is almost to her car when she hears footsteps behind her and quickly turns around, her eyes glowing red.

You stare at her, wide-eyed, the remaining cookie in your hand.

“Shit, Wanda, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to give you this.”

Wanda sighs, her eyes returning to their normal color. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Remorse fills her face. Her grief had caused her to be angrier than usual, leading to her powers flaring up accidentally. And now she had frightened this woman who was just trying to give her a damn cookie.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Thank you for the cookie. I promise I’m not always scary I just, I-”

You stopped her. “Hey, it’s fine. If I heard someone running at me in a parking lot in the middle of the night, I would be on edge too. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. Plus, you’re...well...here,” you paused, gesturing to the community center the two of you had just come from, before continuing, “so I think it’s safe to assume you aren’t having the best time. I get it. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”

Wanda was at a loss for words. She had nearly struck you with her powers and here you were, looking at her with a gentle smile and no fear on your face whatsoever.

After a few minutes of silence, you awkwardly placed the napkin-wrapped cookie on the hood of her car, before stepping back and smiling at her yet again.

“I’ll see you next week, Wanda. Have a good night,” you say, waving at her before you walk out of the parking lot and down the block.

*****************************************************************************************************

Only, you didn’t see her in Group the following week.

After leaving the community center, you were about to head down the block when you noticed her car in the parking lot, with her in it. You gently approached her car, tapping on the window quietly in an attempt to not startle her.

She looked up at you with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, before rolling down her window.

“May I help you?”

Her tone was much harsher than she intended, and she winced at it, but you merely smiled at her, unaffected, before digging through your bag and pulling out a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

“They had leftovers tonight, you want some?”

And you had shocked Wanda yet again.

“Sure.”

You reached forward to hand the cookies to her through the window when Wanda decided to take a leap of faith.

“You can come sit in here and share them with me, I wouldn’t mind some company,” She says quietly before adding, “I’ll warn you, though, I’m a bit of a trainwreck right now.”

You laughed softly before opening the door to the passenger side of her car and sliding in. You looked at her with soft eyes.

“Trainwrecks unite.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda told you everything that night. She told you about Vision, about her love for him, and his for her. About how he was the first since her brother died to look at her like a person, and not a monster. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the desperate need for it to end.

And you listened. You watched her intently the whole time. You held her hand comfortingly as her body wracked with sobs. You were there. And that night, you didn’t know why, but you made a promise to always be there for the beautiful redhead with the lost hope.

That night was the first time since Vision’s death that Wanda slept soundly through the night. No nightmares. No suffering.

It had been three months since that night. Since then, it became a habit for the two of you to spend Wednesday nights following group sessions in her car, chatting about anything and everything. And Wanda had to admit, she was okay. For the first time since Vision’s death, she didn’t wish she could join him. She didn’t want to stay isolated in her room. She wanted to live. She wanted to show people the kindness you’d shown her. She woke every Wednesday with a smile, and you on her mind.

*****************************************************************************************************

This Wednesday, you appeared nervous as you got into the passenger side of Wanda’s car.

Wanda noticed this right off the bat.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You start fidgeting with your fingers and look down at your lap as you respond. 

“Yeah, I just...I have to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad.”

Wanda looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend, I could never get mad at you. What is it?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at Wanda, before asking the question.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened and she froze.

You tried to dig yourself out of the hole.

“Nevermind, forget I said anything, I never should’ve-”

“No.” Wanda said quietly.

“What?”

“No. I can’t. God, I could never love you.”

You felt your heart shatter in your chest.

Wanda quickly realized the weight of her words, and tried to fix them, “Y/N, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I-”

“It’s fine, Wanda. I have to go.”

With that, you scrambled out of the car and walked out of the parking lot and down the block, with tears streaming down your face, and your heart broken.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda couldn’t believe she had said that. The truth is, she didn’t know if she had room in her heart for more than one love. She had loved Vision. He was everything to her. Could she also love you?

For the rest of the week, Wanda was beyond conflicted. She knew she had to apologize to you, but she didn’t want to do so until she had sorted out her own feelings. You deserved a solid answer.

It was Tuesday night. She would see you again tomorrow. And she still didn’t know. She tossed and turned that night for hours before she finally fell asleep, you and Vision occupying her mind, per usual.

She was in a field of flowers. It was beautiful. She thought about how she might like to show it to you. And then she heard someone. Someone she thought she would never hear from or see again.

“Wanda, darling.”

“Vision?” She spun around, and there he was, smiling at her.

“It’s okay, you know,” He said. Wanda was confused. He continued, “The feelings that you’re feeling. For her. It’s okay.”

She laughed, “You always did know me better than I knew myself.”

Vision smiled softly at her.

“Vision, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t let you go.”

“Wanda, no one is asking you to. You can move on without letting my memory slip away from you.”

Wanda nods softly, thinking intently about what he said.

“Tell me about her,” he encourages.

Wanda smiles.

“She’s so gentle. And so stubborn. I almost hurt her when we first met but she didn’t cower. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t look at me like a monster. She made me laugh for the first time since you...you know. She fidgets with her fingers when she’s nervous. She does this adorable head tilt when she’s listening intently. She’s patient. She’s kind. She’s...she’s everything,” Wanda realizes, awestruck.

Vision approaches her.

“You love her.”

She looks at him, concerned. “Is that okay?”

He merely smiles. “Darling, of course it’s okay. She sounds wonderful. You deserve her. You deserve love, even if it isn’t with me. You deserve happiness.”

Wanda grabs his hands. “Thank you, Vision. For your love. I think it will always be a part of me. But I’m ready to move on. I love her. I’m ready.”

Vision squeezes her hands gently. “That you are, Wanda. I’ll always love you. Now go. Go to her.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda shot up, breathing deeply. This time, she only had one person on her mind: you. “I love her,” she whispers softly to herself. She smiles, but it quickly fades when she remembers the words she said to you last week. She had to make this right.

*****************************************************************************************************

She arrived at Group early, noticing with a frown that the snack table was empty. She knew she would need some baked goods to give her the courage to approach you, so she approached the facilitator, Mindy, and cleared her throat to get Mindy’s attention.

“Um, hello, ma’am, I was just wondering where the goodies are? They’re usually here by now,” she said.

Mindy smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, dear, but there won’t be any baked goods today. Y/N called me earlier, and told me she wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Y/N? What does she have to do with-” Wanda pauses. Holy shit. You were the owner of Sugar, Butter, Flour. You had been the one making the goodies that fueled her to keep attending the group. You had been the provider of her temporary escape from the world. You did that. It truly was always you. She had to find you.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mindy asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, there’s something I need to do. Thank you for your help, ma’am.” And with that, she sprinted out the door, got into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to find you. And then it started raining. No, not just raining. Pouring. This made it incredibly hard for Wanda to see where she was going, but she was determined.

As she drove, she realized something. She had told you everything about herself. You had listened, asked questions. But she never once asked about you. Hell, she didn’t even know you baked for a living until 15 minutes ago. She didn’t even know why you attended the grief group.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had driven all the way to the park at the edge of town, until she saw you. You were sitting on a bench, in the pouring rain, sobbing and shaking. Her heart broke at the sight. She quietly got out of her car.

“Y/N?” She called your name softly, approaching you with caution.

Your head snapped up.

“Wanda?”

She smiled weakly at you, and suddenly your eyes filled with more tears as you began to shake again.

“I tried to go to Group and act like everything was normal, I really tried, Wanda, but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

Wanda rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug, holding you tightly as you sobbed.

“It’s okay, malyshka, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Breathe, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m right here, I promise.”

She continued to hold you and speak comforting words to you for what felt like hours, until your sobs eventually died down, and you pulled away, sniffling. You looked up at the sky as if just remembering it was pouring, before standing up from the bench.

“Sorry about that. We should probably go inside, it’s pouring, and I don’t want you to-”

“I love you,” Wanda blurted out, leaving you speechless. She stood up and took your hands, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when you don't pull away. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for not admitting it to myself, or you, sooner. Me saying that I could never love you? That was the grief speaking. I shouldn’t have let it control me like that. And I’m done. I’m done letting it control me. The truth is, anyone would be lucky to love you. And I do. I love you. I love your smile, I love your kind heart. I love your baked treats, which, by the way, I just learned were yours about an hour ago,” She says, and you let out a wet laugh. “I shouldn’t have said those things,” She continued, “It was wrong. I’m in love with you. And I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance, because-”

You cut her off by smashing your lips against hers, and without hesitation, she kissed back, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. The two of you only pulled away when you let out a violent shiver because of the rain. She looked at you concerned, but you merely laughed, pulling her in for another kiss.

*****************************************************************************************************

“Detka, I’m home!” Wanda called out, wondering where you were. Her questions were answered when a delicious smell hit her. She walked into the kitchen and smiled adoringly at you. You were moving around the kitchen, flour in your hair, and batter all over your clothes, completely in your own little world.

“Detka,” Wanda tries again, and you spin around, holding a spatula out in front of you as a form of defense.

“Shit, Wanda, sorry, you scared me!” You said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“My how the tables have turned,” she says teasingly, before removing the spatula from your hand and licking it.

“Wanda,” you pouted, “I was using that! Now I have to wash it!”

Wanda kissed the pout off of your face, before smiling at you triumphantly at doing so.

“Or, you could stop baking for the night and come cuddle with me and watch Bewitched,” she suggested, giving you those adorable puppy dog eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You know I can’t resist that face. Okay. Give me 10 minutes to get showered and then I’ll join you on the couch.”

“I’ll be counting!” She called as you made your way to the bathroom.

It had been 5 years since that night in the rain, and as she sat down on the couch, gazing down at the wedding band that adorned her left hand, she still couldn’t believe how she had gotten so lucky to find another love. You were beautiful, kind, and patient, and she loved you with every ounce of her heart.

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” You asked with a smile, before settling down next to her on the couch and curling into her side.

“You. It’s always you,” she replied, kissing your temple.

You smile lovingly at her. “I love you, Wanda.”

“And I love you, beautiful girl.”

And as the two of you sat there, snuggled up, and watched Bewitched, both of you were so grateful that Wanda had made room for another love.

[fruitcoops]

Can I please ask for some protective Cubs and/or Coops. I adore these boys and I love the fics where they always have each other’s backs. It could be a similar situation to Remus and that Stan guy or something different. No pressure or anything and if you don’t vibe with this prompt don’t stess bestie

Yes, I love protective Lions! For the anon whose meds got mixed up: I'm so sorry that happened, and I hope this provides the comfort you were looking for in the form of Cub lovin' <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for panic attacks, forgetting to eat a healthy meal

It was Sirius who noticed first. Then Remus. Then Finn.

He was still kicking himself over that one, to be honest.

Sirius moved like a solid wall, murmuring in quiet French as he led Logan out of the gym and into the hall with Remus hot on their heels. A pang hit Finn right in the heart—I want to understand, he thought, fervent and afraid as he set the jump rope down. I would build the Tower of Babel again to understand how to help.

His pulse picked up; sweat itched at his forehead even after he stopped exercising. “Something’s wrong,” Leo said under his breath as they hurried into the hall.

Obviously, Finn bit back. He should have known since the second Logan started snapping his fingers in a nervous tic, should have seen the fucking signs—

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously from the weight bench where he laid. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Just—just hang on a second.”

“Respire.” Sirius sat crosslegged across from Logan, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned his head against the wall about ten feet from the door. “Logan, respire.”

A gentle but firm hand moved Finn out of the way by his shoulder; Remus slipped past them with a cup of water. “Drink this,” he ordered as he took Logan’s twitching hand between his own. “Open your eyes if you can.”

“Gonna throw up,” Logan managed, his voice high and reedy.

“Lo?” Finn’s mouth was dry. Logan hadn’t had a panic attack since their last year at Harvard together—he barely remembered what to do.

Logan’s chest caved at the sound of his voice, and one pale green eye cracked open to stare at him in sheer terror. “Finn. Finn, it’s happening, I don’t know what to do—”

“Move.” Finn’s throat hurt, but his brain kicked into autopilot. I can fix this. “Leo, get some damp paper towels from the break room. Cap, give him space.”

Leo disappeared from his stunned place by his side; after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius held his hands up and backed away. Logan was still gripping Remus’ hand with white knuckles. “How do I help?” Remus asked as soon as Finn knelt next to Logan.

“Grab some more water, and granola bars.” Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and cupped the side of Logan’s face. He had never allowed himself to do it at Harvard, but Logan always came back to himself quicker with a grounding touch. “Logan, can you look at me for a second?”

He shook his head. “Gonna throw up.”

“Alright.” With a shaky exhale, Logan leaned into his palm. “There you go, good job. Are you still dizzy?”

“Little bit.”

Past adrenaline rush, past collapsing, moving through dizziness. Finn ran through his mental checklist like it was just yesterday that Logan had crumbled after a bad game in from of scouts. “Cap was right, you need to breathe. I’ll do it with you, okay?”

He watched Logan’s chest move up and down, erratic at first before slowing to match Finn’s steady pace. Something damp and cool brushed against his free hand and he pressed the paper towel to Logan’s forehead, then kissed Leo’s cheek in gratitude as he sat down. “What happened, love?”

Logan swallowed hard and licked his lips, but his eyes were opening. “Dunno. I was almost at the end of my reps. I was fine.”

“Did you eat?” Sirius asked quietly to his left, waiting with his arms crossed. Despite his stance, he didn’t look angry.

“Bagel for breakfast. Coffee.”

His mouth tilted down. “That’s not enough.”

“Desole.”

“We’re not upset,” Finn assured him, sliding the makeshift washcloth to his temple. “Just worried.”

“It’s really warm in here,” Logan panted. His pupils had dilated so far they almost masked the green entirely. Past dizziness, into dehydration. “Is anyone else warm?”

Finn’s sweat was already cooling on his body as he handed him the water glass. “Drink.”

In twenty seconds, half of it was gone. A decent amount spilled over the front of Logan’s shirt from his shaking hands, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Leo’s whole face was lined with concern. “Better?”

“Oui.”

Finn glanced up at the others and gave them a quick nod. We’ve got him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Remus passed him a couple energy bars before heading back into the gym. Logan’s breaths were coming easier; they waited in silence until the rest of the water was gone and his face regained some of its color. “You can’t skip breakfast on heavy workout days, Lo,” Finn said, folding his legs under himself. “You know that’s how these get triggered.”

“It’s been long enough that I thought I’d be alright.”

“Does this happen a lot with you?” Leo asked. Insecurity flickered over his face and Finn felt a stab of guilt.

Thankfully, Logan shook his head. “Not for a while. They used to, back in school.”

“Then why’d you skip breakfast if you knew it might happen?”

“I slept weird. Didn’t wake up hungry, and by the time I was, we had to go.”

“We can take another five or ten minutes to make sure you eat instead of having a panic attack.” Just to make that extremely clear, he added in his mind. “For future reference.”

Logan’s nose twitched as he looked toward the gym door. “Sorry for interrupting your practice.”

“Health comes first,” Leo said firmly. “Practice won’t ever be more important than your safety.”

“It’s our job—”

Finn held his hands up in a timeout motion. “Panic attacks aren’t something we fuck around with, remember? The guys will understand. Coach will understand. Besides, we’re your boyfriends. It’s our job to take care of you when you’re feeling shitty.”

Logan looked between them, sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on both their shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Leo said into the soft skin of his neck with a light kiss.

Finn rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand and buried his face Logan’s slightly-sweaty curls. “Love you, three. Ready to head back in?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass in squats.”

Leo snorted. “Bold of you to assume Cap’s letting you near anything heavy for the next 24 hours.”

“That assumes he lets you in the gym at all,” Finn amended.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m sure he’ll believe you, after you’ve been cleared by every doctor in a four-mile radius.”

“I’ll make him let me in.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Finn laughed. He internally cheered at the rosy splotches of temper that lived a semi-permanent life on Logan’s cheeks.

Leo nodded. “A true battle of wills.”

Logan’s jaw ticked at the side. “You’re the worst boyfriends ever.”

“Nah, we’re just protecting you from your big bad older brother who is fully capable of banning you from the gym if you don’t play your cards right.” They heaved him to his feet by his hands; if Finn spent a little extra time dusting his back and thighs off, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Are you done?” Logan asked with clear amusement written all over his face.

“I’m protecting the booty,” Finn said solemnly. Next to him, Leo fought a valiant battle against the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s a very important booty, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Pancake O’Hara.” With a playful smack to his—admittedly lacking, in comparison—rear end, Logan strolled back down the hall to the gym and pulled the door open.

“Yoga mats,” Sirius said without preamble. Leo clamped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in Finn’s shoulder.

“But—”

“Yoga mats. If you even breathe on the weights, I swear to god I’ll sit on you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius narrowed his eyes down the hall. “You two have absolutely no excuse to chill out here. Congrats, Harzy, your rotation for the bench press just started. Knutty, Bliz is waiting for you by the ice baths.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned.

Even Sirius looked sympathetic as he moved aside to let Logan in. “It’s only fifteen minutes. You’ll sur—Logan, put that down!”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 31: Counsel of a Witch

Summary: Jamie turns to the bookstore owner in search of help

Read on AO3

Read chapter 31 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 31

***

Jamie was at the end of his rope. With every passing hour, he watched Claire get worse and worse. She was pale, drawn, with dark circles stark under her eyes. Her ashen skin, so different from the soft gleam of its usual pearl, made him want to break down sobbing. She was so different from the vivacious faerie he’d come to know. It broke his heart to see her despondence, and he loved her far too much to endure her suffering in silence for even a moment more. 

So he decided to turn to the one place he might find help. 

The bookstore owner. 

It seemed foolish— bordering on mad— to go to a complete stranger for help on the love of his life. Only this Geillis seemed to be the only one besides Claire herself that knew anything about the Fair Folk. Jamie couldn’t simply take her to a hospital. Going to Geillis was the only thing he could think to do. He was out of options. 

He sat then on the couch, with Claire draped over his lap like a flesh and blood blanket, having just arrived at a decision. 

“Mo ghraidh?” he said quietly. 

He reached out a hand to tangle gently in her curls, his fingers delighting in the softness of it. 

“What is it, Jamie?” she asked. 

Even her voice came off weak, hard as she was trying to sound unaffected. There was a breathy tonality, as if she couldn’t quite draw in enough air. A chilling reflection of her exhaustion. 

“I’m goin’ tae go back to the bookstore,” he said simply. 

At that, Claire sat up, pushing her hands against his thighs to brace herself enough to get upright. Big whisky eyes regarded him with a bewildered expression. 

“To see the witch? Why?”

It took Jamie a second to realize what she had just said. He was opening his mouth to answer the “why” when the first part of her question finally sunk into his brain. His heart stopped beating for a solid second at the same time as his brain ground to a halt. 

“Did ye say ‘witch’?” he asked hollowly. 

Claire furrowed her brows and stated simply, “of course. The one who gave you her notes on traveling through the stones? That witch?” 

“I—” Jamie’s tongue was tied in knots as he struggled to get on board with this new reality-shattering revelation, “I didna ken witches were real,” he finished lamely. 

“Oh,” Claire said, with the same patience Jamie had when explaining something like toothbrushing to her, “she is. That just means she is a human who understands about our realm.”

Blinking, Jamie gave her a look. He was struck dumb for the moment, but as soon as he regained the ability to speak, he demanded, “ye kent she was a witch all this time and didna tell me?”

Claire blinked her weary eyes and gave a nonchalant shrug, looking a bit more like herself as she answered with a straightforward, “It didn’t seem all that important.” 

“Ehmm... so… how did ye know?” he asked, trying to keep up. 

“Sensed it. I just sort of… knew. Like how you know when someone is from a different place that you haven’t been. We both saw each other for who we are. Plus it makes sense, since she obviously knew I’m of the fair folk, that’s why she gave you the book.”

Jamie gave a hesitant nod. He was about to ask more questions about witches when he noticed Claire was raising a hand to her head and rubbing it wearily. His stomach turned over in sympathy. 

Overcome by the bittersweet tenderness, he reached out a hand to replace hers, cupping her face gently. 

“I’m goin’ tae ask her if she kens anythin’ that can help ye, lass,” he said gently, “Just because ye dinna ken what’s goin’ on doesna mean we canna find answers.” 

She leaned her face into his touch until his hand was the only thing keeping her head raised. 

“That’s not a bad idea, Jamie,” she said quietly, “let’s go.”

“‘Let’s’?” Jamie echoed, “nae, a nighean. Ye can barely stand on yer own two feet. I wouldna have ye do anything other than rest.” 

“And I would not have you go to a witch alone,” she countered. 

Jamie’s eyes widened and he felt his brain kick into overdrive. “Do you mean she might be dangerous?”

“No,” Claire said with a shake of her head, still leaving her face pressed into his hand, “I know she’s not. But I’m coming.” 

His stubborn lass. 

Jamie brought his other hand up to frame her face, fixing her with his best admonishing stare. 

“I said no, mo Sorcha. Ye’re stayin’ here.” 

He saw the spark of resistance flare in her eyes before she made the move. Pulling away from him, Claire stood abruptly to her feet. Weak as she was, she swayed for a second, thrusting out a hand to grab hold of the top of the couch and steady herself. Jamie popped up beside her, getting ready to reach out to grab hold of her waist, but she took a hasty step back. 

“I’m going,” she insisted. 

Jamie was left trailing after her as she began to walk stubbornly toward the door (her weakness only betrayed by the way her body shook with tiny tremors). She grabbed the bolt and slid it free with a clang before throwing open the door and walking outside. 

“Claire!” Jamie called, running out after her, barely snagging the car keys and his wallet from the table before he did, “wait!”

She whirled around— the most energetic thing she’d done in a long while, it hurt him to recognize— and placed her hands on her hips. As she did though, her eyes grew wide as if she was suddenly feeling dizzy, and her hand shot out instead to brace against her knee. 

Getting hold of herself, she straightened once again. “Like I said, I’m coming with you. Now, should I do it myself or are you going to help me?” 

Knowing he’d lost the battle and terrified that he’d be forced to watch her collapse as she stubbornly walked to the car if he refused, Jamie caught up to her. 

Gently taking her by the arm, he said quietly, “alright, a leannan, my stubborn lass, you win.”

***

Claire had laid her head down on his lap the moment they were both seated in the car. She spent the majority of the ride to Inverness slipping in and out of consciousness while Jamie worried over her. He prayed under his breath that God would send them answers in the form of this witch. She’d provided him with revelations once before, so Jamie could only dare to hope she’d have a solution just waiting for them. 

As he pulled into the public lot nearest the bookstore, he found himself daunted by the distance Claire would be forced to walk. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed that they weren’t moving anymore, and her breathing was shallow as she drifted in that odd state of half-consciousness. 

“Claire,” he said gently, his voice catching in his throat, “we’re here, a nighean.”

She raised her head, curls falling back behind her, and then dragged her body upright. She rubbed again at glassy eyes, trying to find the necessary strength. 

“Take yer time,” he said softly. 

When her hand fell away and her eyes connected with his, the desperate look inside of them sent him crumbling to pieces. 

“Do you really think she’ll know what’s happening?” she asked in a tiny voice. 

The air in his lungs was expelled with a whoosh. She wasn’t asking him that, not really. She knew he would have no idea— he’d only just learned about the existence of witches mere minutes ago. No, she was asking him to tell her everything would be okay. And that much he could do. 

“Aye, a nighean. I pray that she can gi’ us somethin’. It’ll be alright.”

She gave a shaky nod, and Jamie took that as her being ready. He went around to her side to take her hand and pull her out of the car. She got out easily enough, but once she was standing outside, she fell against Jamie’s chest. He quickly encircled her in his arms, holding on tight to keep her upright. 

“Woah,” he murmured, “take a second. Ye’re okay.” 

The words felt weak even in his own mouth. 

She took his advice, leaning against him for a drawn out moment before she raised her head just enough to say. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Of all the tortures Jamie’s brain had conjured in his life— speculations about how it might be to die by fire versus drowning or other such morbid games— the torture of the next few minutes of watching his very ill faerie struggle to walk down the street topped any agony he’d considered before (save maybe the time when he’d left her at the stones and thought he’d be facing a life without her). 

He kept one arm wrapped tightly around her waist the whole time. The weight of her leaning against him was obvious, and he worked to support her as much as possible. As she struggled to put one foot in front of the other, drained as she was, Jamie cursed himself for giving in so easily and allowing her to come along. 

But she pushed on, his stubborn lass. After a couple slow and shaky blocks, they arrived at the bookstore. There was only time for a single exchange of hopeful looks before Claire stepped away and took his hand instead. 

He pushed open the door with a jingle. 

*

Just like the last time, they were greeted by the air of other-worldliness. Knowing as he now did that Geillis was, in fact, partial to things not of this world, the odd atmosphere made more sense. It took a moment for Jamie’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and an even longer while for the goosebumps on his arms to ease. 

Claire must have sensed Geillis’ presence before Jamie did because there was a squeeze to his hand the second before a red head popped out from between two shelves in the back. 

“Ooh, the lovers, back again. Did ye read my wee notes, fox cub?” Geillis cooed. 

She emerged from between the shelves holding two old books to her chest, looking quite excited. 

“Yes, they were verra… informative. I thank ye for it. That’s actually why we’re here…”

Jamie was about to launch into his plea for help when Geillis suddenly stopped dead in her tracks a few feet before reaching them. Her eyes went wide as she looked at Claire, a frown slowly forming between her brows and on those cherry colored lips. 

“I see…” she said softly, “something is wrong wi’ yer fair one, aye?” 

Sensing something— maybe it was a laxness in her fingers or maybe it was just his intuition— Jamie glanced down at Claire just in time to see her face freeze and eyes go distant. He let go of her hand and whirled around to catch her just before she collapsed. Both of his arms went around her tightly and pulled her to him as her knees buckled. 

Looking down at her pale, scrunched features, Jamie was relieved to see that she wasn’t unconscious, but she certainly wasn’t doing well. Her eyes were glassy as she blinked hard, trying to keep herself aware. 

He looked up from his suffering love to give Geillis a pleading look. 

“We need yer help,” his voice broke on the word help. 

Geillis looked somber, studying him and the faerie in his arms. Then, she gave a nod. 

“Bring her back, and then tell me everything.” 

*

“Back” apparently was referring to a back room. Geillis had led them to the back of the bookstore as Jamie all but carried Claire, and then she pulled back a curtain to gesture them into another room. 

With Claire tucked tightly into his side, Jamie ducked through the doorway. 

On the other side was a whole second bookstore with the same crowded shelves and haphazard organization. Only this side also had shelves of all kinds of paraphernalia— vials of colorful liquids, bowls containing small animal bones, and all types of odd trinkets. Jamie tried to take everything in, but his mind was so fixated on Claire that he had trouble taking stock of all the things Geillis had in her secret stock. 

His survey was interrupted as Geillis gestured them toward a window on the far right. There was a bench seat built into the window, and Jamie brought Claire over to it and sat her down before joining her on the smooth, wooden surface. Geillis appeared a second later with a chair, setting it up in front of them before settling in and regarding him with raised brows. 

Claire was leaning against his side, quiet as a mouse and their fingers entangled where they rested together on Jamie’s thigh. Her head tilted down slowly to rest on his shoulder— too tired even to feign strength. 

Geillis looked at them for a long moment before saying, “tell me everything.” 

So Jamie explained. How he found her on the hill. Her story of wandering on the moors when she fell through the stones. How he’d taken her into his home before reading the book and trying to take her back. Her choice to stay. And finally, her deteriorating condition— the exhaustion that rendered her drained and lifeless. 

In the middle of his explanation, Claire had drifted down to lay her head in Jamie’s lap and curl her feet on the bench. It had made the lump in his throat grow, nearly choking off his words, but he’d pressed on to finish his story, knowing how important it was to get answers. 

Once he’d finally closed his mouth, Geillis gave a thoughtful hum, looking down at the faerie in his lap with a worried expression that was almost pitying. 

“I could tell the moment she walked in that somethin’ was wrong,” she said softly. 

“Anyone wi’ two eyes could see that, she can barely stand on her own two feet!” Jamie snapped. He regretted it instantly. Geillis was their greatest hope and her comment didn’t warrant that response, he was just so worried that he was strung nearly to breaking. 

He started to apologize when she cut him off. “Nae, I meant her aura is wrong. Worse than wrong it’s… barely there.” 

Jamie couldn’t help but ask, “that’s how ye kent she was a faerie the first time, aye?” 

Geillis nodded. She was quiet for another gut-wrenching moment, looking down at Claire. The lass in his lap was unconscious, and Geillis seemed to be longing to talk to her instead of him. Or maybe she was just studying her.  

“Do ye ken what’s wrong then?” Jamie couldn’t help but ask, “please? Any ideas at all. I—” he started to try to express how terrified he was, how he couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her, but the words clogged in his throat. He looked down at her as hot tears pricked in his eyes and brushed those beautiful curls back in a way that was probably more soothing for him than it even was for her— out of it as she was. 

When he looked back to meet the startling green eyes, there was sympathy there. 

“I have a theory…” she said, but trailed off. 

Jamie felt his entire body lift. His back straightened as he eagerly asked, “tell me?” 

Her eyes flicked down again to his hands stroking Claire. “Ye willna like it.” 

The hope that had begun forming in his chest popped with suddenly ferocity. He felt sick to his stomach, worse than he ever had on a boat or plane in the worst of his motion sickness bouts. He wished he could just refuse to hear the bad news that was about to come, but he had to face it, for Claire’s sake. No matter what, he would keep fighting. 

“Tell me,” he said. This time it wasn’t a question. 

Geillis settled back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Ye said she came through the stones by accident, aye? I think…” for the first time ever, Geillis looked hesitant, “I dinna ken how else to say it…. I think she’s becomin’ human.” 

“What?!” Jamie burst out, loud enough to make Claire jerk in his lap. He quickly looked down, placing his hands on her again to settle her. She hadn’t fully woken, so his touch on her side and face was enough to soothe her back into tenuous sleep. He looked back up to Geillis and repeated, more quietly this time, “what?” 

She looked uncomfortable as she looked at Claire like the theory was forming in her head. “Well, not exactly becomin’ human. Not really. She’s still fae. It’s jes— ye ken she’s from another plane, aye? Well now she’s separated from her realm, and things are different here. She canna draw energy in the same way. Going through the stones— being here in this realm— she’s cut off, and she canna eat and drink like the rest of us to sustain herself, her body isna capable. She’s likely been drawing on what energy she can, but it isna the same as in her realm.” 

Jamie came back to himself to find he was clutching the end of Claire’s hair in a balled-up fist. He felt like Geillis’ explanation had torn him open and ripped him inside-out. 

“So...” he spoke through the bile rising in his throat, “she’s essentially starvin’ to death? From lack of energy?”

She nodded solemnly. Her fixed gaze on him was so intense that he had to look away. He tried to look down, but the sight of Claire’s pale face as she slept in his lap made his eyes burn with tears. 

“Do ye—” Jamie tried to ask, choking back tears, “what can I do?” 

Geillis looked sympathetic but made no move. 

“Take her back to the stones,” she said simply. 

Jamie shook his head violently, his very body tense, as if it could expel the idea. “No, no, she doesna want that. There has to be another way. She could eat— or—”

“That won’t help her, that’s not what she needs. I’m sorry, fox, I… I don’t know of anything else,” her voice was so low and excruciatingly sympathetic that Jamie wanted to scream. 

He found himself still shaking his head in denial. There was a sharp ache in his stomach, as if his heart had shoved its way down there. 

“I dinna think I can—” he choked as the first tears began to fall. Trying to find the barest hint of comfort, he stroked Claire’s hair again, his fingers brushing her face. 

“There’s no choice,” Geillis said finally, “she’ll die.” 

*

Jamie wanted to leave the bookstore. He almost wished that he had never come— only he could never wish to be ignorant about such a thing, even if it was tempting. He glanced down at Claire in his lap. 

She was unconscious, her face nearly ashen in the light from the window. There was no hint of her usual golden warmth— only pallid skin and dark circles under her eyes. He could feel her shallow breathing, 

He wanted to break down completely. The allure of giving into his grief was so strong, but she didn't deserve to languish in this place any longer. He would see her home. 

The polite thing would have been to thank Geillis for her help. Only his throat was so clogged that the words never would have come out. He couldn’t even spare a glance up at her. 

A silent tear dripped down his cheek as he reached a hand down to gently shake Claire’s cheek. 

“Mo ghraidh?” he choked. 

He was suddenly overcome by the acute desire— no need— for her to wake up. He had to see those golden eyes or he’d die. He couldn’t draw breath, he couldn’t—

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking dazedly up at him from where her head rested in his lap between his hands. He expected her to murmur out “what’s wrong?’ as she usually would have upon finding him in such a state of extreme distress. But she didn’t say a word. She was likely too tired to sense his emotions, too tired to even bring herself to confront the reality that was showing on his face. She just breathed in shakily. 

Jamie somehow found a strength inside himself that he didn’t know he possessed. He gathered his composure— for her sake. 

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his voice astoundingly even. 

He gathered Claire up in his arms with the utmost care, lifting her under back and knees until he was standing face to face with Geillis. 

“Take care of her, fox cub,” the witch said solemnly. 

Jamie swallowed hard. Unable to verbalize it out loud, he gave her a nod. 

A promise. 

He would send her back. He would do what needed to be done to save her. 

At that moment, Claire stirred in his arms. 

“We’re leaving?’ came her breathy question. 

“Yes, a leannan. We’re going home.”

To his surprise, her hand pushed against his chest— her touch weak and lacking any real force, but still insistent. 

“I don’t— they’ll—” she sounded distressed, which broke Jamie’s heart. But she was so incoherent he didn’t have any idea how to assuage her. 

“What is it, a nighean?” he asked, on the verge of tears. 

“Don’t want them to see,” she finally managed. 

That did him in. More tears leaked from his eyes to pour down his cheeks. He swallowed the sob in his throat.

She had always hated other people seeing her— accustomed as she was to being invisible to humans— and now she was embarrassed by the thought of Jamie carrying her through Inverness. 

“Dinna think about them,” Jamie answered, barely able to contain the heartache in his voice, “no one matters except you, mo ghraidh.” 

She still looked distressed. Her eyes were squeezed closed again, her brows furrowed, and she shook her head. 

“Jamie, I…” 

Her voice trailed off. Her head lolled on his shoulder, and he nearly broke down all over again. 

He turned his teary gaze to Geillis, giving her his best look of pleading. 

“Is there nothin’ ye can do tae ease her?” he asked brokenly. 

Geillis looked wrecked too, staring at Claire as if the sight of his wee faerie suffering was too terrible to look away from. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sad shake of her head, “there’s nothin’ I can do.” 

Jamie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then refocused on his love. 

“Damn the world,” he told her firmly, “we’re goin’ home.” 

***

IMPORTANT:

Hi, friends! I mentioned a few chapters ago that I will be going on hiatus for a short time. I've finished writing arc II now, and in the interest of leaving you all at a decent stopping point before I go on hiatus, I will be dropping a chapter a day. There are 3 more chapters after this one until arc II wraps up. BUT the story will be far from over, so I truly hope you stick around until I get back in a number of weeks. I love this story and these characters so much and I'm really excited for arc III.

With that being said... I will now be running off to hide in fear of my life. IknowIknowIknowI'msorry! SORRY!

Next

[unstoppableforcce]

girlfriend

— trivia night universe ( 2 )

pairing: Santiago Garcia x bartender! reader

trivia night 1 | masterlist | part 3

a/n: [18+]I’ve had this one in the works for a while but I’m finally really happy with it so I’m giving it to y’all !! I hope y’all enjoy, let me know what you think about these two ! (also, warning, not the most edited piece i’ve ever written but hopefully still enjoyable!)

“Fuck...” you hummed as you buried your face even deeper into his olive green sheets. 

There was something special about good sheets. 

It had nothing to do with the color or the thread count, though these were certainly nice in that respect. It also had nothing to do with the exhausting and pleasurable activities the two of you got up to in them. It was an unnameable quality that you could feel the second you covered yourself in them. 

In the early morning chill, with them wrapped around your naked body, you felt just warm enough to be content but not too warm to be overheating. Despite being just a piece of fabric, they felt so homely tangled around your legs, you felt so safe with just them covering you...

There was something special about good sheets, you couldn’t describe it well, but you could feel it, and as you stretched your hands up over your head and under the few pillows of his that you had claimed as your own, you were sure that these were good sheets. 

There was just something special about them. 

There was however, nothing special about being awake at six in the morning.

“Fuck,” you moaned again as you pulled your eyes open to the onslaught of sunlight pouring in through the pulled-open curtains that the two of you must have forgotten to close last night. 

To be fair, it had been a little late and you had been more than a little distracted. 

It had been about 1 in the morning by the time you actually got off work, having to stay a bit later than usual to restock the bar and count inventory. But when you texted Santi to tell him you were getting into your car, asking him if he was still awake, he responded back in a matter of seconds telling you to come over. 

And well... he was on you the second you stepped through the door. 

He threw your shirt to the ground, and couldn’t even wait for you to get your boots off before he brought his hand to your belt, trying to get your pants off as well. 

“What the hell has gotten into you, hmm, you can’t wait two seconds?”

He laughed at that, the chuckle echoing through his house that was much too large for him to live in alone. “I couldn’t sleep, too busy thinking about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Shut up and get undressed, honey.”

Let’s just say it didn’t take long for the two of you to end up upstairs, in these sheets, focused on something other than the curtains. 

But now, you kind of wished you had spent more time focusing on the curtains, it was just so fucking bright. 

Rubbing over your eyes, you adjusted the sheets over your body and found yourself alone in the bed, significantly colder than you had been mere hours ago. This wasn’t surprising though, far from it. 

He did this every fucking morning. 

At six, every morning, on the dot, he’d get out of bed and leave you alone in his good sheets.

The first time you stayed over, after the first trivia night he met you at, you thought it was strange, but found the breakfast he made too delicious to even consider complaining. The second time, two nights later when he called you after a dinner with the boys and asked you to come over, you eagerly accepted only to find yourself alone in bed again the next morning when six rolled around. 

By the fifth time it happened, you meant to bring it up with him, but by the time you rolled out of bed, you had to rush off for an appointment. 

Now the two of you were coming up on about three weeks of steadily spending your nights with each other and you were just flat out annoyed by it. 

When work ended for you at eleven on a good night and two in the morning on a bad night, waking up at six in the morning was hellish. And it was even worse when it was nothing but empty sheets to wake up to, no warm body or smirking smile. 

Lifting yourself up from the sheets, your sore body screamed at you to stay immersed in the warmth they provided but you fought through it, pulling yourself to your feet and immediately dropping to your knees to search for the underwear you had sworn he had tossed over here last night. And once you found them and pulled them on, you grabbed one of his shirts and pulled it on as well, definitely too lazy to go down and grab your own. 

“Baby?” you called out as you stood back up and stretched your arms up over your head, but you got no response. 

All you could hear was the sound of the shower running from his half-finished bathroom. 

“Santi?” 

Still no response, so you sluggishly pulled yourself across the cold hardwood beneath your feet and into the master bathroom that barely deserved that title. 

You knew he was redoing the house, fixing it up, but damn, wouldn’t you start with the bathroom instead of leaving a sink with no body, no mirror and half a wall to be used daily. 

“Santi?” You called again as you walked onto the tile floor and felt the warmth from his shower immediately. 

“I’m in the shower, honey.” He finally called back from behind the opaque shower door. 

“Why the fuck are you awake?” You huffed, rubbing over your face again as you sat back on the shut toilet seat. 

He laughed at that, a good solid chuckle that was much to lively for six o’clock in the fucking morning-- “Do you want to get in, honey?”

“What?”

He nudged open the door and leaned his head out, a similarly lively perfect smile on his lips and sopping wet curls dripping down his forehead. “Do you want to get in?”

“No,” you scoffed, still rubbing over your face, “I want to go back to sleep.”

“So, go back to sleep, honey...” He still laughed, brushing his hair back as your gaze fell lazily to his chest where water beads dripped tantalizingly slow down his skin, all the way down his built abdomen and the dark happy trail leading down from his belly button... “Honey?”

You were annoyed with him, right, you remembered that.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep alone, Santi, why are you up so early, why are you always up so early?” You fought, you voice still drowning in your exhaustion. 

“It’s my internal clock--”

“Fuck your internal clock, I’m tired--”

He laughed again at that, shaking his head and scratching over his shoulder, “if you want to have a conversation, you have to get in, we’re wasting water.”

“You’re wasting water.” Wow, your morning sarcasm did not come play. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

“Get in the shower, honey.” He chuckled even more as he said it, extending his hand to you and at this point, you knew you weren’t going back to bed. Rubbing your hands over your face one last time, you stepped out of your underwear and tossed his shirt to the floor before accepting his hand and stepping into the shower with him. 

At least it was warm. 

His hands were warm, wrapping around you and pulling you until your back was under the water, and the water was equally as warm. You nuzzled your face into his neck and released a deep exhale while he vibrated with a chuckle beneath you. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He hummed into your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. “I promise I don’t mean to.”

“I know that... I’m just tired and I want to wake up with you...”

He rubbed his hands down your back, sending even warmer cascades of warmth down your spine. This was the kind of warmth that good sheets couldn’t even come close to. 

“I’m sorry.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper, dancing along your skin like the droplets of water that dripped from his hair and nose onto your shoulder. “I don’t mean to, honey, I--”

He didn’t know how to tell you. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew you hated waking up alone, he knew it annoyed you to no end. He could tell. 

The first morning, you just seemed confused and sleepy when he was awake so much earlier than you expected. Each and every time after that, you didn’t mention it, but he could tell you didn’t like it. And he felt bad every time. 

He just didn’t know how to tell you he didn’t do well sitting still. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he went out of his way to buy a house to fix up, even buying one much to big for his single living needs just so he’d have a way to keep himself busy. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that if he slowed down in any way, that he’d drive himself insane with his own thoughts. If he laid in bed next to you while you slept, unmoving and peaceful, his head would get away from him. His nightmares would materialize in front of him, he’d see the people he killed, he’d see the gun in his hand, his heart would beat out of his chest and god, he hoped he wouldn’t hurt you but could he promise that?

Sleeping next to you was the best sleep he had in years, but when he was awake, he couldn’t keep it at bay. Laying there alone with his thoughts was dangerous if you weren’t awake to be with him, he couldn’t just lay there. He had to move, to work, and like this morning, to shower. 

Hell, last week, he built a whole side table before he even heard your footsteps pattering around upstairs. 

He liked having you over, you made his nights so much more bearable, he just couldn’t lie in bed and do nothing. Idle hands...

You pulled your head off his chest as he trailed off, his stare directed towards the shower wall but it went much further away than that. “Santi?”

He shook his head and turned back to you, placing a gentle and mindless kiss onto your cheek while he muttered, “it’s nothing, I just wake up early...”

He could see it in your eyes, you didn’t believe him, but just like your confusion from before, you didn’t press it. You just let your head fall back to his chest silently, holding close to him and shutting your eyes with an exhausted sigh. 

The way his heart hurt... he truly felt bad. 

And he felt even worse when the water quickly turned cold, sending you further into the heat his body provided but that did little to prevent the violent shaking chill that ran up your spine. No more hot morning bliss, not even a warm one anymore. 

“Fuck, Santi--”

“It’s my water heater, it has good days and bad days--” He fought, quickly turning to put himself between you and the increasing cold water so that he could wash the rest of the soap from his hair before it became icicles spewing from the shower head. 

“This is a bad day.” You argued as you shivered your way out of the shower entirely to grab the lone towel hanging on the rack. 

By the time he had his hair washed out and the water turned off, he stepped out to find you already wrapped warmly in his larger-than-average bath sheet looking positively bashful. The smirk rising to his lips fought past his annoyed defenses, fueled solely by his heart as he let out a sigh, “that was my towel.”

“It’s my towel now.” You shrugged, swaying back and forth with it as your eyes trailed up and down his soaked and dripping naked body. “You pulled me into the shower, you brought this on yourself.”

“You stole my towel and I brought this on myself?” He took a small step forward as you took a small step back, and as you brought your back to the half-standing sink, he took a large step to catch up with you and tried for the towel again while you laughed. 

“I’m the guest Santi, let me have the towel--”

“Maybe you were a guest the first night honey, but it’s been a few weeks, and this is my towel--”

“You live here, you can get another one--”

He chuckled at that, a deep and hearty chuckle. “They’re right in the hall, why don’t you go grab one and let me have mine--”

“I’m the guest--”

“You’re not a guest--”

Finally, after a futile fight of nothing but laughter and tickling hands on each other, the towel dropped between the two of you and Santi easily stepped between your legs to replace the warmth. But as your hands found the back of his neck and the light scar that laid there, you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. 

“If I’m not a guest, then what am I? Hmm?” You hummed as your lips hovered dangerously close to his. 

God, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t surge like something out of a rom com as your playful words met his ears. 

“What do you want to be, honey?” He tried back playfully, stealing a kiss off your damp lips. 

But your chuckle back had just a hint of something else in it, something foreign sounding. Like you were hesitant to answer and you were never hesitant with him. 

“Honey...”

“I want to be the only person you’re doing this with...” You added softly as your fingers lightly tapped along the scar he assured you didn’t hurt anymore the first time you caught sight of it. “I don’t know if--”

“Easy. You’re the only one.” He answered quickly, but he couldn’t stop his mouth before it continued on faster than his brain could even process the words. “You don’t want to be something more?”

Because when you responded, “what? Like your girlfriend?”, his heart had to have stopped in his chest. And as you continued, he certainly lost all his breath as well. “You never struck me as the girlfriend type...”

Well, you certainly had a point. He never had been in the past. Actually, he was almost notoriously not the girlfriend type if he was being honest. 

Frankie was easily the most “settling-down-type” out of the whole group, given the baby and the wife. Will probably would come in second, maintaining a few long-term girlfriends who just never worked out in the end. But even Benny had his fair share of relationships while Santi had... 

Well, he had a thing for people. They all loved him and he, well he spent a few good nights with them and ended up messing it up when it ultimately never felt right. 

You were different though, you felt right... better than right. It was too early to put a name to it but he knew it felt different than anything else he had ever had. You were the first thing that felt right since he moved here, you were right...

“Girlfriend’s have privileges, you know... they get a drawer and a toothbrush and they get to ask questions that you have to answer like ‘where did you get these scars’ and ‘why won’t you stay in bed with me’... they get to meet your friends, they get to have their own towel...” you hummed somewhat mindlessly as you trailed your hands down from his neck to his shoulders, and from his shoulders down to his chest and the few water droplets that remained. 

He wanted you to have all of that, he truly did. 

Following your stare to the racing drops that poured down from his neck to his pecs, he traced it back to your furrowed brow affixing your stare of concentration, and from there, his eyes fell to your lips. You had beautiful lips. You had a beautiful everything though. 

How could you not? You felt so right, everything about you was perfect. 

Perfect for him, perfect in general... he wanted to give you everything. He wanted to open his chest and pour his now rapidly beating heart out to you, he wanted to tell you what was on his mind and more than anything in the world, he wanted to hold you first thing in the morning. 

He wanted to trace his fingers along your beautiful skin and kiss along every inch of your body. He might have good sheets, but he wanted to be the one there to keep you warm. 

Santiago had never really been the girlfriend type, but he could be. For you. 

He bought the house to keep his hands busy, but since you started staying over? He worked so hard because he wanted to make it a home. 

“Okay...” He sighed, hoping he didn’t spend too much time alone in his thoughts with your stare now transfixed on the ridge of his brow. “Easy.”

“Really?”

There was no more hesitation in your voice, there was a hint of surprise but he knew he deserved that. 

“Yes really--”

Your lips cut him off before he could even finish his thought, but he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. 

He wrapped his hands around your back, holding you in as close as he could manage, pressing every inch of your skin to his that he could manage and he wouldn’t have it any other way. As you deepened the kiss on his lips, biting at his swollen bottom lip, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and dropped his warm hands down to your thighs to open them up just enough so that he was firmly pressed between them. 

But before his hardening length could press any further into you, you pulled your head back, tilted your head and squinted towards him. The adorable display merely made him laugh again, “what are you--”

“Girlfriend?”

He couldn’t help but laugh again. “Yes, honey--”

“Really?”

“Truly.” He laughed, “Need me to prove it to you?”

“Well I wouldn’t say no but--” you held up your hand to stop his lips before they could reconnect with your own, breaking a laugh out of him again, “but we need to move to the bed if you’re going to be proving anything.”

“Deal.”

His knees would certainly thank him for it later so how could he say no. 

Besides, as you turned the two of you around and walked back towards the bedroom, he had a perfect view of your bare ass and couldn’t stop himself from landing a playful slap as you passed. And before you could yelp or really manage any reaction, he lunged forward and met your lips with his, dragging you down to bed with him and his momentum. 

“Santi...” 

“What?” He laughed, falling back onto the plush olive green bedspread while you straddled him.

“Maybe we should just go back to bed...” you sighed, reaching your hands to either side of his head and stretching over him and into the soft, good sheets. “It’s so early...”

His lips fell right beside your ear as you stretched over him, his hands running up and down your sides where you laid over him.“I won’t be able to fall back asleep, honey. I wake up, six o’clock on the dot and —“

“I bet I can put you to sleep?” You countered, twisting your head back towards him with a smirk on your face.

“I’d like to see you try.”

And try you did.

Leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down his neck to his chest, you were spurred on by the content him his chest let out and continued down until your lips were dancing just over his belly button. His hand moved almost unconsciously down to your head the lower you dropped and by the time your lips were grazing over his excited shaft, his hand was firmly weaved into your hair, keeping it out of your face.

Licking along the length of him, you heard a groan muffle in his throat, the grip he maintained on your hair growing tighter.

And as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base and pressed a soft kiss to his tip, he released an audible moan. Just in case you needed any encouragement to keep going.

As you lowered your mouth down onto him, pumping what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand, his sounds continued, clearly enjoying what you were doing to him. But as much as you were enjoying doing it to him, you couldn’t help but pull your mouth away entirely just to listen to him whine.

“Honey...”

And like you had just been engrossed in a simple conversation about so irrelevant topic, you changed the direction of the conversation while easily slipping your hand up and down his fully hardened length. “Does this mean I should change your contact name in my phone to boyfriend now?”

His laughter was broken apart with a small hitch in his breath as your thumb grazed back over his tip.

“What am I currently in your phone, honey?” He choked out, pulling his hand back and folding both his arms back under himself to get a better look at you at the foot of the bed.

“Santi (from trivia night)”

He laughed again at that, but again, stuttered as you put your mouth back into him.

“Do you know many Santiago’s, honey?” He countered, mesmerized by you as you bobbed up and down on him, sending waves of pleasure through his whole body and building a heat in his stomach.

And as you laughed around him, his composure slipped a bit more.

“No, just a force of habit, in case I forgot who you were,” you mused as you pulled off him again, continuing to pump him with your hand as you moved back up his body, “do you have me in your phone as ‘honey’?”

As your spit-covered lips hovered over his, he couldn’t help but chuckle again, “I’m as unoriginal as you are, it’s just your name.”

“Maybe you should change it to ‘girlfriend’,” you mocked as you swung your hips back over his and lined him up between your legs.

“Fuck baby,” he cooed our as you sunk down onto him, letting his head fall back onto the olive-green sheets. “I’ll set it as whatever you want.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s one of the perks a girlfriend gets, right?”

You couldn’t help your chuckle as you leaned down until your chest was flat with his and your hands were intertwined above his head, “I like hearing you say girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He stole an easy kiss from your lips as he began meeting your hips with thrusts of his own, leaving your mouth hanging slightly open. “I like calling you that.”

He really did like calling you that.

He rolled the two of you over so that it was now you pressed into the olive green sheets and easily took control of the rhythm as he grew closer to his climax. You could tell he was close too, as he began to pant into the side of your neck between kisses and gripped your hands a little bit tighter in his grip, so you fought to free your hand and reach in between the two of you only to have his hand move yours out of the way and beat you there.

“Fuck, honey...” he moaned like liquid gold into your ear as he felt you clench around him. You just felt so right.

As he began drawing dangerously quick circles on your clit and thrusting into you even harder, you quickly caught up to him, dancing around the edge of your climax as you felt him begin to stutter in each roll of his hips.

“Santi!” You turned your head to bury your face into his neck as he pushed you over the edge and eagerly bit onto the skin of your neck. And after a few more thrusts, he was coming just as you were, not holding back a single noise as he spilled into you.

And as he rolled off of you to lay out of breath beside you in his good sheets, he couldn’t help but laugh then turn to you and jokingly ask, “hand me my phone, I’ll change your contact right now.”

You just swatted his hand away and climbed over him to get out of bed. “No, right now, I’m going to clean up and pee and you’re going to go back to sleep.”

“Honey, I still don’t think--”

“Just lay your head down,” you pushed his head back down onto the pillow as he sat up to watch you, “and go back to sleep.”

As much as he didn’t think he was capable of it, he held his hands up in surrender and watched you as you walked away. Not thinking anything of it, as you left his line of sight, he let his eyes fall shut and truly settled back into the good sheets. 

And, surprising you as much as himself, when you came back in from the bathroom, you found him fast asleep. As much as you wanted to laugh and mock him, you took the high road as much as you could to avoid waking him and wore your bright smile as you climbed into the bed and cuddled in next to him. 

It was some of the best sleep he’d had in years. 

And when he woke, he changed your contact to your name with (girlfriend) at the end. 

Maybe even a heart emoji, but don’t tell the boys.

—

tags: (these are the tags from the first part, let me know if you want to be added or removed from the trivia night list) @mandoplease @spider-starry @pizzahutmonkeybutt @mouse230 @kindablackenedsuperhero @shakespeareanwannabe @mylifeliterally @this-cat-is-dea @woakiees @imananxiousdriver​

[loz-and-lu-fan-blog]

Souls of the past, New Champions Ch. 1

(Basically an au idea that stemmed from the question ‘ what if wild need help taking Calamity Ganon; how would the goddess handle that?) enjoy!

He was falling into darkness, not stars or even planets, just darkness. It was a comforting darkness soon joined by a comforting voice.

‘Link…’ A voice called from the darkness ‘Link….’

Link soon found himself next to others, they seemed like him but at the same time they weren’t. They all had the master sword with them.

‘Find them…’ the voice called from the darkness as the hero's silhouette began to fade into solid color. ‘You need to find them’

The colors soon began to move, flying down onto what looked like a big map. The one he had spent years studying as a child with his aunt Impa.

‘You need to find them..you must find them’ the voice said again. Link turned around to see a big white and gold figure ‘You must find them before….’

A big roar broke him out of the trance. He turned around to see a big black beast with red eyes, flying towards him, mouth open to swallow him whole.

It was going to eat him.

-

Link awaken in a panic, breathing heavily looking around the room; the same small castle room he’s had sense he pulled that sword. The mirror across him showed the same white hair and red eyes he was born with; the same traits that marked him as a sheikan.

He immediately got out of bed and ran to the map on his desk, the same one from his dream. Taking him pencil he closes his eyes and tried to remember the marks on the map from his dream before they become lost memories. Some he could remember the exact place but could thankfully give a general idea. Link smiled to himself as he got all the places mark, at least four of them were in the champion’s area and at least one was by the castle; maybe this could convince them.

The hero walked out of his room and went looking for the princess, even with all the other knights snickering he said nothing. Ever since he had these dreams he had told people about them, the king, the other knights, even Zelda. Everyone didn’t believe him, if fact it became a joke, the knights even the king laughed when they thought he wasn’t around. It was the reason why he had stopped talking, there wasn’t a point anymore.

But this could make a difference, he now had a plan, an idea. It was something as simple as checking out the towns when they went to visit the champions homes.

He finally found Zelda in her garden.

“Zelda” Link said with a smile “I have proof”

Zelda gave a groan while Link’s smile got wide.

“No no it will be alright. It just in the champions, we don’t ha-” Links starts.

“Will you shut up!” Zelda screamed making the sheik hero stop speaking “Do you realize how annoying your half baked theories are. Just drop it!” She screamed before splashing Link with her drink.

Link stood there frozen for a minute, he could hear the guards trying not to laugh, he could see Zelda face turn from anger to regret.

“Li-” Zelda tried before the Sheikan began to walk away.

‘If no one wants to help me then fine’ Link thought bitterly ‘Then I’ll do it myself. I won’t let calamity ganon destroy my home’.

---

Link spent all day preparing, gathering his stuff, stealing some farmhands clothes considering his champion tunic would give him away. Zelda came by to apologize and Wild had accepted it; however that didn’t change his plans. By the time the sky was multiple colors Wild had already written his note, it simply said ‘gone to training, be back soon’ knowing by the time they realize something was wrong he would be long gone.

It didn’t take much effort for Wild to sneak out, after all many guards were staying by the princess leaving the barn and stable open; to be fair is a big red flag and he should probably write a note about it. However right now it was working in his favor and after leaving another note he went out into the field. 

He remembers this field, even though he spent most of his time in the castle sense he pulled the master sword. This field was pretty much his home. He loved running out and playing in the field, climbing trees, starting campfires, playing with the local wildlife. He remembers one animal that seemed to love him more than all the others.

Wolfie, at least that’s what Link had named him. He was an interesting wolf that never showed any aggression towards Link and his family, almost acting like a big dog. However Wolfie hated being brought into towns and hated the guards even more, so when Link was appointed knight of Zelda he lost his little furry friend.

When the goddess Hyila showed him the map of the souls he couldn’t help some excitement when he saw the field, maybe just maybe he can see his friend again?

And there was Wolfie! Link’s first instinct was to run and give the big old doggo a hug however knowing how Wolfie got when he was shocked. So Link just waited double checking his map, deciding to wait in calling for Wolfie.

Soon the sun fell behind the mountains dusting the sky in a blanket of twilight. Link got closer to the animal before he finally noticed it.

Wolfie was soon surrounded by dark magic and weird symbols. Soon the Wolfie was engulfed in darkness as the form of the wolf began to change. The figure began to get taller and growing, finally the darkness began to disappear.

In place of the wolf was a man. His hair was a auburn brown color, and his eyes were a red color, however it definitely wasn’t due to a sheik bloodline. The man’s skin seemed to have different patches of color, one being a turquoise color and the other being made of pure shadows. The boys was dressed in what most farmers would wear but was nearly as dark as night with a weird glowing blue pattern on it. Link couldn’t stop his shock.

“Wolfie!?!” Link yelled out, making the man jump as he ran up to the man. The man looked at him with red and yellow eyes filled with confusion. “You’re the wolf? The one I played with?”

“......Who are you?” The man tried. Link's face just deadpanned as he stared at the man.

“You have the same markings as wolfie”” Link just stated causing the man to just sign and shake his head before a smile grew on his face.

“Hello cub” The man said before hugging Link. The hugged for a bit before Link pulled back.

“You're a hero aren’t you?” Link asked, however no words needed to be spoken; the symbol of the back of the man’s hand matched up with the glowing gold on Link’s hand that he kept hidden with wraps.

“Yes I am, the goddess ask for me to help you” The man said “However i don’t know how much of a help I can be”

The confused face of Link made the man explain further.

“I’m a Twili, I get hurt in the light; it’s why I take on that wolf form during the day, it keeps me alive” The man said “I’m sorry”

“It’s alright!” Link yelled out “The goddess told me I need to gather the past heroes to defeat ganon, your divide beast is probably mostly shadow. Please can you come with me?”

The Twili shook his head with a smile. “I’d love to Link. I can take on a shadow form and hide in your shadow during the day if we go into town if that’s alright?” “Absolutely, beside I need to swing by the town to make sure I’m not identified. What’s your name by the way?” Link asked.

“Link” The man said.

“Well that’s going to be confusing, What about a nickname?” Link asked the twili.

“How about Twilight?” The man offered. Twilight, it somehow fit.

The two just sat in the darkness talking for hours, apparently Twilight had a great memory as he began telling stories from Link’s past making him blush a bright red from embarrassment. Twilight couldn’t remember everything from his past life, but he knew he was the hero of twilight and he could remember some names like Midna, IIia, Rusl, and Uli but other than that nothing. He couldn’t tell Link how he died or how he defeated Ganon, just that he did.

They talked almost all night, until dawn started to peek through the night, Link began to change into some inconspicuous clothing as well as wrapping the master sword up, while it hurt to hide her away he knew he would be stopped in the street if they so much as see it. It will only be a matter of time until they dragged him back to the castle so any second could spare him. 

Twilight did what he said and jumped into Link’s shadow, the slight unnatural movement made it very clear he was there.

Link was able to make it to castletown before daybreak.

Link's first stop was the dye shop, with enough knocking the owner finally open the door looking annoyed.

"What?" The man grumbled out looking so tried.

"I need you to dye my hair" Link said taking off the piece of fabric that was hiding his white hair. The man eyes went wide before he realized who was in front of him.

"Sir, why aren't you wi-" The man tried asking to the well known knight of Zelda. However he was cut off by the sound of the rupees in a bag hitting the man in the chest.

"500 rupees for the dye and you don't say a word" Link said without blinking. The man looked down at the bag before nodding.

It only took about 10 minutes before his white locks became a dark brown color. As it wasn't uncommon for haft sheikan to only have red eyes; he wouldn't get any stares looking like that. No one would know that he was Zelda's knight

Hair, done. Next thing to do was to go to the blacksmith, he needed another sword.

When Link came in the old blacksmith gave a big happy smile. Link handed him a old rusted sword that he had picked up from the field, after all stealing one from the castle would have been so weird. So he opted to take one from the field and hope he could possible pay for a better one when they say the shape of the poor sword.

"I'm sorry the sword is so bad"  Link said with his best sad acting "I've had this sword for so long, I didn't know how bad it was. If it's easier for you to just throw away and I pay for another sword I completely understand"

"No no it's alright!" The man said with a smile "Just give me a day and I'll get it all fixed up"

Link smile and left the sword and rupees to the man. Link spent the rest of the day trying to gather supplies like a horse and some other food; trying to keep his head town when guards started to walk around.

By the time it got dark and the knight began to talk in worried whispers about the princess's knight training, Link went back the blacksmith house. The shop was dark and the man was likely asleep. Link knocked, no answered; he tried the doorknob.

It was open

Link just open the door to look for his fixed sword, maybe just taking a sword and leaving a note and bonus. He found his sword on the man's working desk.

And there was a mouse....?

It looked like a mouse with a weird feather tale. The mouse immediately saw Link and let out a squeaked as it ran down the desk, trying to get away.

Link didn't know why he did it, Twilight said it was because he was a gremlin, but his first instinct was to try and catch the mouse. He ran around the desk and chairs before diving to grab the mouse before it ran into a whole into a wall.

And he caught it.

In his hands that were above his head was the weird mouse, who was letting out a lot of squeaks. Link got up bring the little mouse closer to his face to observe it.

The little mouse had blond hair, and a multi color outfit, and seem to blow some dust into the hero's face.

And suddenly he's smaller

WTH.

"WTH" Link screamed out as he looked around, noticing how smaller now. He then notice the little mouse who was now his height, who was trying to run into a whole "No! Stop!"

Link ran into whole and was soon surrounded by more of these weird mouse, he could hear Twilight laughing at his misadventure.

The weird mouse creatures were talking to each other in a language he doesn't recognize.

"Look I'm sorry" Link tried "I'm just trying to get a sword to help me find past hero"

The little mouse that he was chasing seemingly flinched at the mention of the heroes, before turning to the other mouse and speaking to them. They took what the little mouse words and they slowly began to leave the two of them alone.

"I'm sorry for chasing you" Link said to the weird mouse.

"It's alright. I'm sorry for running" The little mouse replied.

"No you had a right to run, What are you?" Link asked not realizing how rude the question could be. The little mouse just laughed.

"Minish, I am a Minish"

"Minish? I've never heard of them before" Link said in confusion. The little minish just giggled.

"I wouldn't excepted it, we've mostly fall out of legend. Besides we can only be seen by children; so it makes sense no one knows about us" The minish said "We hide rupees  in the grass and pots and help people the way we can. We help the blacksmith here, it reminds me of the time my gr-"

The minish stopped talking which brought attention to the Minish's weird behavior. It made Link think of confronting Twilight.

"Is your name Link?" Link asked to the minish. The minish eyes immediately looked up in shock, and his hand immediately went to back of his other hand.

"Well.....it used to be" The minish known as Link said sadly.

Link noticed the poor minish's expression.

"Hyila asked me to help the next hero defeat Ganon. But I would be without Dot and Shadow" Minish Link said sadly.

"I'm sorry, this is my fault" Link apologized to the minish.

"No it isn't" The minish said with a smile through tears "It's ganons"

Link smile and brought the minish into a hug who happy accepted it.

"I could come back for you, You can stay here and help out more" Link offered to the minish, who shock his head no.

"No it will be ok, just let me hid in your pockets, I can grow into hyilan size however many would notice the tail" The Minish said, making Link smile.

"What should we called you?" Link asked.

"We?" The minish asked.

"I found another Link, a twili" Link said and the confusion on the minish face says it all "Yeah I don't know ether".

"I know during my adventure I used the Four sword during my adventure" The minish  offered.

"Four sword? What about Four?" Link offered.

"Four. It's perfect" Four said with a smile

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 8

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Almost smut, feels, angst, that’s pretty much it

Word Count: 1693

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen sat alone in the early morning hours on the back porch of the hillside home he and Y/N had been living in for the past week, a cup of coffee steaming on the table next to him, mostly untouched. 

He watched as the sun was just starting to reach pink over the trees, stretching odd colored rays of sunlight through the tall trees, and into the clearing of the backyard. 

A light mist hung low over the grass from a rain storm that came through sometime in the middle of the night. It was as close to autumn as you could get in Texas. Cooler weather didn't come very often, and when it did you took advantage of it, because it sure wasn't going to last very long.

Everything seemed damp, still, a cool crisp to the air. One not cold enough to make you light the fireplace, but cool enough to make you throw on a light sweater. 

Adjusting to this new life he was starting with Y/N had been easier for him than he thought it would be. She did mostly everything, and that was one thing he wasn't used to at all. She cooked him usually three meals a day, she cleaned, she did everything that he used to watch his grandmother and mother do as a child. It was a strange change from having to hire someone to do all those things, to having someone who would rather do it herself.

It made him wonder if his previous marriage was more of a sham than what he really realized. It also made him question his take on life in general. He still felt slightly guilty over not doing this when he should have done it years ago, and he couldn't help but wonder how different his life would have been, and how different Y/N’s life would have been, if he’d have stayed and married her like was always planned, instead of running from everything like a scalded dog. 

She was still very distant to him, and he was a little afraid that she may be afraid of him. So he hadn't tried to be intimate with her again. He hadn't even left the house with her. He didn't want to make her feel like a hostage, he just didn't want to dump too much on her at one time. 

It was a Sunday, and was forecasted to be a pretty day in Texas, so today he thought he'd make the best of it and take Y/N down to the boardwalk. Let her look around the shops and things that are down there, get her out of this house for a little while, maybe even go have lunch with Jared and Gen. More than likely they would be grilling today, seeing as it was Sunday, and it was a pretty day.

Jared had been on to him since the news broke that he'd remarried. It didn't take long once the pastor had filed the marriage license in the courthouse before people found out that he and Y/N had married. That was another reason he'd been hanging around the house for a week, and not leaving. He wasn't ready to expose her to that world. He also wasn't ready to share her with the world just yet either. They barely knew each other, why should he share her, when he didn't even really know her himself yet?

Still, he knew that his business being blasted all over the place was just part of his life. It was a choice he made though, not her. Why should she be subjected to such scrutiny, just because she was married to him. People were mean. That's that. 

Running his hands through his hair in frustration he started to second guess the whole getting out day thing he had planned. Maybe they'd just go to Jared's later after they'd spent some more time together. 

He wanted more than anything to make Y/N fall in love with him. He didn't want all those nasty people on the internet and in tabloids pushing her farther away from him. This part was harder than he ever thought it would be.

Your POV:

Fighting against the sleep intruder that was the sunlight invading your peaceful sleep, you roll over to find the side of the bed that Jensen and yourself had been sharing cold. Meaning it was probably pretty late in the morning, and Jensen was already out of bed. 

Stretching your body, trying to get yourself to function enough to where you could wake up and go make breakfast for the two of you, you felt the bed dip with Jensen's weight, pulling your body close to his as he took his place on the side of you.

"I was just coming in to check on you when I saw you moving around." he said, nuzzling his face into your neck, planting little kisses from your jawbone to shoulder.

"I'm sorry I overslept. Give me a minute and I'll get your breakfast fixed." you tell him as he continues his kissing.

"M'not hungry, rather lay here with you." Jensen said, pulling you closer to his warm body and you couldn't help but melt into him. Jensen normally, or at least normally from what you can guess from only being with him for a week, wasn't that affectionate. He had his little things that he did all time. Holding your hand, kissing your cheek, sitting with this arm around you on the couch while you were watching TV, but he never basically refused to let you away from bed this way.

Rolling your body you face him and bury your head in his neck, taking a deep breath, the smell that was just uniquely Jensen filling your lungs, and you sigh a little in contentment as he starts to play with your hair. 

Kissing you on the forehead, then the eyelids that you were still struggling to get open, then the checks, finally making his way to your lips. Brushing his across yours softly before returning to place his lips gently on yours. 

Kissing you slowly, sweetly, taking his time with you. Getting to know you, learning the way your lips moved against his, the way his tongue felt moving over yours. 

His hands travel from your hair, down your spine, and over your thigh in a feather light touch that sends shivers through your body. Every so slightly you reach up, and run you hand down his solid chest. Feeling his muscles move under your touch through his thin T-shirt. 

Grabbing your hips and pulling his as close to yours as possible he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel the bulge beginning to form behind his thin sleeping pants, and boxers that he was still wearing, moaning a little into your mouth. 

The sound sends a shock wave of arousal straight to your core. Your hands begin to get a little bolder, running across his shoulders and down his back. He arched himself into your touch,breaking away from kissing, and taking a deep breath like he was trying to clear his head and stay focused. 

Pulling back to look at you, his astonishing jade eyes search your face in the light that was pooling into the room from the window. He put his hand on the side of your face, running his thumb over your cheek lightly before brushing his lips over yours. 

This time kissing you a little deeper, with more need, Jensen rolled himself on top of you, his hand lightly up your shirt across your stomach creating little goosebumps in his wake.  

Right as you were about to pull his shirt over his head his phone began to ring on his nightstand. 

Putting his head down on your forehead he growled at his phone. 

"It's Jared." he said, looking at the caller ID then back at you apologetically. "Give me just a few minutes okay?" 

Reaching over he grabbed the phone and rolled over onto his back. You sat there quietly listening to Jensen, your mind still a little bit cloudy and breathless from what just happened to between the two of you. 

You'd never allow yourself to behave that way, and your own actions caught you by surprise. 

Quickly losing steam you sat up on your side of the bed a little, pulling the covers closer over your body. 

Jensen finally hung up the phone and looked at you, his eyes drinking you in like it was the last time he'd ever see. Reaching over to you for to lay your head down on his shoulder. 

"Jared wants us to come over to his house today for dinner. He's been throwing a fit to meet you." 

You let his words sink in. This was the first time that you were going to go anywhere as a couple, and that scared you more than a little.

You didn't know how Jared would accept you. You didn't know anything at all about him really, aside from his being the co-star on the show that Jensen played on for years. You didn't know if he was a typical Hollywood douchebag. You didn't know if his wife would hate you. You didn't know anything. It scared you more than you wanted to admit to Jensen.

"Okay" was all you could manage to get out. You knew you had to face other people sooner or later, you knew you had to function in the world, you couldn't just hide away in this house.

"It'll be fine sweetheart." Jensen said, kissing your forehead lightly.Sensing your apprehension, he put his hand on the side of your face, making you look up at him. "I'd never do anything, or bring you around anyone that would hurt you okay. It will be fine."

You nod your head and nuzzle closer into his neck. 

You hoped they would at least accept you. That they wouldn't hate you, and think you were just some freak or gold digger because you and Jensen were in an arranged marriage. You didn't want to know what Jensen would do if his friends rejected you, and you couldn't stand the thought of being sent back to Dallas alone.

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[elizabeth-234]

The Creature from the Blue Lagoon

Previous Chapter two: Best Stay Away from the Waters 

Chapter Three: Legends of Old 

Penny had few memories of her childhood. Blurry, faded images of two people and faint traces of warm hands came to her sometimes when she was on the verge of sleep. The images were never concrete and were accompanied by the stinging realization that no matter what she wished, she would always be by herself. Being alone was a part of her. She’d come to stand the cold nights huddled in bed and empty kitchen tables, but loneliness was something new. Not until she found him.

Her heart ached during hours spent watching over the mermaid with nothing but her fears. His faded scales and bleeding wound doing nothing to alleviate the gnawing dread worming its way inside her. Her tears were stilted at first under the sun but once night descended and the water turned colder, they flowed freely into the marsh surrounding them.

Two days with no sign of change. Nothing, not even a twitch, besides a heartbeat and steady flow of blood out of the wound despite her best efforts to heal it. She worried her medicines wouldn’t work on his anatomy. Maybe she hadn’t packed the wound right, or maybe his heartbeat was working too fast. Her hands needed to keep busy so Penny studied his armor. There was a gash through it leaving a vulnerable spot and in between her attempts at healing and pitying herself, Penny began carving a a slab of wood to fit into the hole.

Penny was whittling when, without warning, his eyes opened. It sent her reeling back onto her haunches. He stretched in slow measured movements, feeling his muscles flex after being stagnant for so long. He pulled to the left with a particular quickness and winces. She could see his tail twitch against the water.

“No!” She cried out without thinking. Her hand flew to her mouth and he bared his teeth, too sharp to even be considered human, at her. His tail rose higher, slapping the base on the water. Against her will, Penny realized what the villagers might have seen and hated that she flinched away; hated that once again her first instinct was to hide. Recognition lit his eyes and as slowly as he could, his expression neutralized. He lifted his hands up in a placating manner.

She shook off her fright knowing how ridiculous it was. Her eyes wandered down to the packed materials in the wound. The bandages were holding up for now, but she would need to change them.

“I’m so - don’t move too much. You’re hurt.” Penny stepped forward, first to scoop up her meager supplies and closer to him. She laid the bag on the ground, careful to keep her eyes on his. His tail muscles flexed as it slid down. Waves rippled out from the appendage gliding into the water until he was the height of an adult human. He was still taller than her but now the difference was a bit more manageable.  

Her hands trembled as she presented the materials and herbs. He sniffed it and nodded. It was a relief how unafraid she was so soon. As she worked, peeled off the soaked material and began packing it with new, she couldn’t help but peak up at him and think. Though he was taller now, he wasn’t nearly the height of before, when he was extended up on his tail. The mere breadth of his shoulders was enough to intimidate any man but she found that all there was room for was worry. The suddenness of everything had pricked at her emotions but she knew, from all their meetings and last battle together, he wouldn’t hurt her.

A flinch ran down his side at a poke to the sore area. His hands clenched at his side as she hurried to finish.

“I’m so sorry.” She murmured over and over. “I tried to do this the best I could but I… I only know what I’ve taught myself.”

He raised his hand to wave her off.

“This is more than I expected.” He said. She bit her lip and began putting her things away.

“Couldn’t you, you know, heal yourself like before?” His hand cupped his wound. He frowned at the question.

“It is not up to me who the waters will heal.”

And if that didn’t raise a thousand questions in her head. Penny watched as he descended further into the water. The waves lapped over his chest and she couldn’t stop her hand from shooting up. She couldn’t stop the thrumming in her chest at the thought of an empty marsh.

“Don’t go!” She cried out. “I have so many questions that is and you’re not healed enough yet.” 

“Fear not, young one. My limits are aware to me and it’s not time for me to depart yet.” The pause following was filled with Penny trying not to cover her face and the mermaid staring at her failed attempt. “What were you working on before I awoke?”

Grateful for the distraction, Penny looked over to the armor and her carving settled into the reeds. The wood was solid and smooth in her hands and, careful to be respectful of his armor, she made a show of slotting it in the torn hole. The wood secured itself flushed to the armor and she placed it into his waiting hands.

He raised it up, inspecting the now one piece before running his hand along it.

“I know it won’t be as sturdy as before but… until it can be truly fixed.”

“This is good. When I’m healed I will be honored to wear it.” The mermaid bent at the waist. His hand fisted across his chest. “Thank you-”

“It’s Penny. Penelope.” She hurried to say.

“And you may call me, Tony.” He grinned at her giggle. His sharp teeth only making the expression stranger. “My true name cannot be pronounced in your tongue and I thought it was a stately name. Was I mistaken?”

Penny’s not sure how to respond and after a moment they both laugh together.

-

She thought back to how her days were structured before. The long hours surviving; the longer ones alone. It was an aimless wander, or stumble she thought, with no direction to take her. Penny was hated by everyone who knew her, scorned by them, and called a witch. The jeers hurt – how could they not? – but she never let herself dwell on them before. She had no reference to what it could be before. Which was why now, in the face of kindness and acceptance, all the old wounds become open and enflamed again.

Every time Tony spoke her name with warmth, all the times the villagers yelled at her cut deeper. When he caught them food or taught her to fish with her hands, she couldn’t help thinking about being turned away from venders or Flash trampling over the meager wares she was able to buy. Every conversation and question and eager attempt to know her, reminded her of how very lonely she must have been before.

It wasn’t fair, Penny thought as she laid under the stars. Tony was sleeping half out of the water. His tail, she noted, was moving in slow, constant movements in rhythm with his breathing. It wasn’t fair how easy he came into her life. His presence a safe aura she could bask in. Though his tail was a constant reminder of how different they were, how separate their lives were, Penny accepted it and instead of hating or fearing it, she loved its beauty. If only the villagers could accept her in the same way.

She shivered and curled into her homemade pallet. Maybe she didn’t want their acceptance anymore.

Penny turned an eye toward the water. The small waves lapped gently across the sand and moved the reeds in a slow rhythm. The moon reflected off of Tony’s tail casting sparkles around the marsh. A speckle of blueish tinged light glowed across her leg. For a moment, it looked like a scale, like it was a part of a tail hidden from view.

Her breath caught in her throat. Careful to not move so her leg would move out of the light, Penny ran a hand across it watching as the blue scale lit her hand and fell back to her leg. It was beautiful and uncanny. She couldn’t help but think of what life might be like if she too had a tail. What color would it be? How strong? Her stomach flipped at the image of her not sitting on the shore but swimming beside Tony. She lay back on the pallet and stared at the stars. They wouldn’t look so different from the sea.

Penny smiled to herself and light with her daydreams, closed her eyes to sleep.

Water pooled around her, running along her arms and through her hair which was long and flowing in the water. The blue encompassed her in a safety of tones. Everywhere she looked it was the same scene but somehow, she wasn’t scared. It might have been overwhelming in any other situation but the fear never came to her. With another burst of speed, she moved forward creating a trail of bubbles behind her.

Freedom. That’s what this feeling was.

For once nothing was holding her back. Not the village, not the people living there, and not herself. If she wasn’t submerged under water Penny would’ve said she could breathe easier. Her body moved without hinder and her mind, usually weighed down with responsibility and expectation, was allowed to roam. The weariness settled and aged into her bones lifted. Penny felt her age for the first time in a while.

She giggled and spun around. Sunlight glinted around her illuminating the bubbles around her and a smear of red caught her eye. How could she not notice? It was so different and lovely and …. Penny had a tail.  

The color beyond beautiful and contrasted with the water around her. How could she have not noticed? Deep red scales covered her torso flowing into her hips to cover where her legs used to be. Strong fins jutted out on each hip, flowing with the water. The color remained even down through the rest of the tail, its rich color sparkling from the hints of sun streaming down from the surface.

She flexed her muscles, basking in the strength there. The water offered little resistance and parted for her with ease. It bent in front of her and before she could think otherwise, Penny reached out and ran her hand against the end of the tail. The wispy tips swayed through her fingers. The red turned darker going from a purple to cerulean blue like the tips of the tail had been dip-dyed in ink.

The strangest part of all was how right it felt. She had no urge to run or brace her legs apart, in fact she didn’t really miss her legs to begin with. With another strong flick she was speeding through the water. Laughter surged through her sending even more bubbles mixing with the ones from her swim. It was everything she never knew she needed.

Water rushed around her, through her, propelling her forward. On and on she went basking in the freedom; dipping to lower and higher depths all while looking back at her tail, making she it was still visible.

Penny laughed to herself again before it was cut off with a gasp. Large, winding ropes curled into her sides, cutting into her skin as they constricted around her. The netting squeezed her adding to the pressure, pushing her down into it further. Penny couldn’t breathe they were moving so fast. The light from above was getting brighter and she had to shut her eyes at the onslaught of water and sun. The water was almost clear now. Before she had time to take a breath she broke the surface. Sun prickled at her skin. Not hurting but creeping uncomfortably in a way that it hadn’t before.

The net swung back and forth rolling her stomach with it before moving again. Penny reached a hand through the net trying to grasp the water but it did nothing but slide through her fingers. Tears fell with every foot away she went until, without a warning, she was falling. Penny slammed into the dock. Her hands barely made it in front of her to stop the brunt of the fall. Shivers wracked her spine. She forced her eyes open though there wasn’t anything she’d rather do than keep them closed.

Her tail curled around her upper body as if to shield it. The dock rocked under her almost unheard over the jeers and taunts surrounding her. Their faces were obscure, blocked out by great shadows but her imagination, her memory, filled in for what was missing.

Their hate filled words shoot toward her, sharpened and salivating for blood. Pitchforks and harpoons joined the words, digging into her skin. She cried out as they ripped of her scales. Blood mingled with flesh staining the scales a deeper red. Her hands shook as they covered the wounds but pain kept coming.

She snarled and screamed and fought to get away but nothing helped. They surrounded her, getting closer and closer until her heart was beating so fast her mind freezed and she fell backward against the wood.

It was like every other confrontation of her life. There was no use in fighting for freedom, fighting for herself, because in the end it never mattered. She was weak and useless. No one had fought for her so why should she fight for herself?

A sob tore through her chest and Penny’s eyes flew open.

The ground was hard but warm underneath her body. Her legs prickled from being curled tight against her chest and, hoping not to stir too much movement, she looked around from her vantage point on the ground. Her spine tingled. Tony’s eyes were on her. They reflected from the light of the moon like the water he was half submerged in.

“You’re crying.” He motioned toward her face with his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you hurt?”

She swiped her hand across her cheek. Her eyes widened at the moisture there. It had been a long time since she’d woken to tears.

“N-no. I’m not hurt.” His eyes stayed trained on her. The wrinkle between his brows deepened. “I had a dream and it was…amazing.” She said thinking of the beginning. The feeling of the water hugging her. The absolute acceptance of home she’d never experienced before. Her hand strayed to her leg and she suppressed a cry when there was no scales there.

“And this made you produce the tears?”

Her chest panged.

“Ah, no. The dream turned bad.” Which was putting it lightly. He didn’t look like he believed her and there was something that held her back from explaining more.  

Penny thought about the splash of red in the endless blue sea, of the way the scales sparkled, and the complete freedom she had in the water. Her eyes traveled down to Tony’s tail which was submerged and almost asked what it was like. Instead, she held her tongue and looked down.

Silence overtook them for a time. She shrugged a blanket over her shoulders and watched the water move back and forth trying to calm her racing heart.

“Tears are fascinating to us. Mami Wata, Selkie, Merrows and Mermaids. There were many names given to us through time. As humans have been fascinated with us, we too have held a similar feeling toward you. Tears are one such object of that.”

“Can you not – Do you not have the ability to?” She said quietly.

“Not the act of producing a tear in response to emotion, like you yourself have just done. We produce a substance to keep our eyesight clear and protect the eyes themselves but there is no emotion behind it.”

“Oh.” She said and balled her fingers into the blanket.

Penny hated crying. The physical weakness of it all on display for anyone who was around to see it. She couldn’t remember all the times where she had woken up with wet cheeks and an aching hurt in her chest. She hated them. But as she sat there watching Tony look out onto the waters, she realized how sad it would be to never cry. To never feel that release of all the storms inside. It was a bitter blessing to be gifted with.

Tony smiled at her expression.

“Let me tell you a story.” He said. “Our people have a legend about the first one of our kind long before the seas were made. It is said they weren’t quite human but not yet quite mermaid as well. They were alone for much of their life, aching and bitter with no ability to cry. Shunned by humans and cast out of the villages to wander alone forever. All the storms were trapped inside of them soaking the poisoned hurts into them until they thought it was too much. The humans encroached closer, burning and farming and living larger than ever before. The first one had to live on the outskirts to get any semblance of peace. All the while they wished for another to be with.

It was… difficult our legends say. Humans, for all the wonder they hold, are often tempered with anger and hurt. They made their displeasure of the first one known and it was no longer safe for them to live in the human realm. Running away was the best option and so they left in the night under the stars.

Much distance they went, under the sun and moon repeatedly until they came across a great cliff; the end of the world some say. They looked over to find emptiness. They collapsed as if the cliff stole all hope. But still they couldn’t cry though they knew the humans would catch up eventually. Not even the end of the world could provide. They were alone.

Their life continued as it was before. Their eyes always faced behind, waiting and watching for the day to come. Their prayers for companionship grew faint and hope dwindled until, on a night where the stars seemed to burn from the heavens. They were woken by a cry.”

“What – what was it?” She asked bending forward to get closer. Her heart pounded as he told the story.

“There under the stars was a child. The first one knelt down toward the infant and slowly scooped the bundle up to their chest. It was said that upon sight of the child, the first one’s storms inside rose for a moment. That all the loneliness and grief rushed through them. The child cried out and with a burst the first one responded. They ran to the cliff, kneeling at the end and stared down at the nothing there.

All the tempests inside them waged forth and tears cascaded down their cheeks. The tears fell and mingled with the child’s own tears until the sadness calmed. It is then, young one, that the miracle happened. Tears of sadness turned to tears of happiness. The first one smiled and cried for what was found, for the warmth and love they already had for the child in their arms. Through the night they cried in harmony and silence.

When the morning sun shined upon them, the first one looked out past the cliff and saw the ocean. The salty waters they created with their grief and love. It’s another gift, you see. Without looking behind them, without a thought to the horrors of their life before, they descended into the water; into the very manifestation of their love never to return to land again.”

His voice petered off and the only sound was the waves lapping on the sand. It was an unbelievable tale. Something of legend and Penny had never been much inclined to believe in the impossible. She would still be wishing for her parents to come back if that were the case. But there was something in the story that had her head reeling - her heart aching. Penny wanted it to be true, she realized. The image of a small child bringing enough love to create oceans, to heal someone’s heart was enough that she couldn’t help but wish it was true.

It hurt in a way to see a parent love their child so much. The reminder of how she had grown was bitter. In truth all she can do was mutter something under her breath and when Tony handed her a small blanket, she realized she was crying again.

“We cannot cry since the first one, but I look fondly at the act all the same. It ties us together, in a way, and despite how difficult it must be to bare your emotions. I can’t help but see our first one, loved for the first time and long for the same.”

In the face of such a statement, Penny did the only thing she could think of. Her hands trembled and her feet were shaky after sitting for so long but Penny ran forward and threw her arms around Tony. His body was stiff for a moment before he melted into her embrace.

She was warm and so happy tears began pouring from her eyes in earnest. Penny thought to the story of the child and parent. How they created a home for themselves safe and together, and in Tony’s arms, Penny can’t help but think that maybe it wasn’t just a legend. Maybe they were bound to repeat history.

Thank you! 

Next chapter four: 

[badolmen]

tysm to everyone who has interacted with this fun lil fic - your likes, reblogs, and comments never cease to make me smile!  who’s ready for the spooky season? @billy-hoepe @bonniebunz @softupshur and @bandtrees I hope y’all’re doing well and taking care of yourselves <3

Chapters: First, 2, 3, 4, 5

Billy had been to churches before. Old ones, new ones, small ones, big ones, bright ones, dark ones, and places of worship of every denomination. He had slept on pews and stone stairs when the doors were locked. He had spent many Christmas nights bathing in the warmth of candles and songs, the midnight mass providing respite from the bitter winter if only for a few hours.

He didn’t understand churches, of course. His mother murmured of being raised Baptist on occasion or spit angry curses at Catholic and Mormon ex-boyfriends. She would mutter negative sentiments to cultures and beliefs he had no concept of outside of his mother’s warped and hate filled snarls at the television.

Billy knew nothing of worship or prayer or faith.

Sometimes, in Mount Massive, he wished a god would answer his prayers. Sometimes he was sure there was no god listening at all. He wondered, on dark nights and rainy days, that if he had learned prayer the higher powers would listen, that if he had faith, any faith at all, he would hear a response.

The phantom that scratched at the back of his mind didn’t bring any revelations with the pain it caused – it was just static, a ghost and whisper of hate that drove ice into Billy’s thoughts when he tried to explore the concept of the being that shared the same corporeal form as him.

This church was old and big but marred with minor disrepair. The main tower was wrapped in blue tarps to keep out the rain, and the shingles shuddered in the wind. The red brick had been stained a deeper crimson by the moisture, almost seeming to bleed into the gray concrete below.

Blood, smeared across the walls and floors and the stink of rotting flesh and freshly dead meat and insects and flies and maggots and –

“Here we are,” The driver hummed, her car groaning to a halt on the street in front of the massive building. Miles said her name was Beatrice. “I’d walk you in, but…” She trailed off, eyeing the rivulets of rain cascading down her windshield. “Just go right in and head to the room behind the altar, at the back of the building. We gave Fr. Kos the heads up so he should be waiting for y’all.”

“Thank you,” Miles said, stiffly nodding to Beatrice. Billy could feel the tension rising in the man like a spring coiled tighter and tighter. Exhaustion, too. “You good to go Billy? Probably best to make a run for it in this weather.”

“Good to go,” Billy whispered, swallowing back the metallic taste in his mouth. Had talking always hurt this much? Dr. Wernicke complained that he talked too much in their sessions. Maybe he finally fixed that problem.

“Alright then,” Miles grunted, car door opening and closing as he rushed the building. Billy tried to follow in suit but startled at the slam of the car door and tripped over his own wobbly legs while trying to scale the stone steps. Miles reached out, catching him before he collapsed at the top of the stairs.

With an exchange of thumbs up between Beatrice and Miles, the car sputtered away from the curb, leaving the two clinging to each other beneath the eaves.

The door was big, dark and solid wood heavy enough to make Miles’ face twist up in pain as he held the door open for Billy to shuffle inside. But the door closed softly, mechanism clicking in place the two stood in the warmth of the hallway between the church and the outside world.

“Man, forgot to ask if this is the back of the church or if the other end is…” Miles muttered, trying to find a comfortable way to hold his hands. Blood had seeped through his bandages.

“…think it’s this way,” Billy breathed, trying his hardest to keep his voice soft. It hurt less to whisper than to speak. He held open the inner door for Miles and the two treaded quietly across the carpeted floors toward the altar.

The church was empty and quiet save for their breathing and the quiet light of a few candles.

Billy’s eyes searched the many corners and peaks of the vaulted ceiling for cameras – Miles was probably doing the same as the pair slowly made their way toward the door beside the altar. But there were no cameras to be found. The fog that usually clouded Billy’s thoughts seemed to lift, or at least offer a shimmer of relieved clarity.

The door they were walking to opened, and the pair tensed.

“Oh, didn’t mean to startle you,” Billy couldn’t place the accent, but the voice was lighter than he thought it would be. The men or women in black who stood on the altar and wore colorful robes always had hard voices, sometimes even angry. But this man’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’m Father Kos – or Father Sebastian, whichever you care for, you are Miles and Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles said, voice still tight even as his posture relaxed. “Yeah, I’m Miles, he’s Billy. This is Saint Gobnait’s?”

“Correct, come, this way. I’m sure you two will want to warm up,” The man in black stepped back into the room, gesturing that they follow. Miles paused, only for a moment, before stalking toward the entry. Billy kept close behind, eyes still wandering across the stained glass and statues of the building.

This room was warmer, but not by much. Father Kos had begun descending down a flight of stairs, black shoes clicking against the wood.

“Ah,” He sighed, noticing Miles pause again. “There’s a short tunnel to the rectory basement. Would you rather go outside again?”

“Yes,” Miles was quick to answer, curtly nodding to the man. Billy did not want to go outside again – the ice in his thoughts had made a home in his bones and every step felt like he was standing on nails. But he couldn’t tell Miles that fast enough, so he nodded in agreement.

“Alright, here,” Father Kos said, taking an umbrella from beneath his black coat. “Use my umbrella, it’s not far but it would –” He muttered a word Billy did not understand, before gesturing vaguely to the door that led outside. “Bah, never mind, follow me.”

The umbrella was small, so Billy stayed close to Miles’ side, careful not to jostle the man too much as they walked. Miles’ hands kept shaking, bandaged fingers struggling to get a comfortable grip on the handle.

Father Kos seemed unperturbed by the down pour, heavy black coat soaked, and glasses blurred by the time they reached the rectory, a small white building beside the brick church. The trio shook rain from their shoes at the doorway, a breath of blessed warmth working its way into Billy’s aching bones.

“Oh, is that the – Father! You’ll catch your death, go, go take a warm shower and get some dry clothes on –”

“This is Sister Francis, Sister, this is Miles and Billy, the one’s Carolyn’s Place called about,”

Billy shrank behind Miles, hoping to seem small. The woman was shorter than him, stout with a round face and liver spotted cheeks. Her voice was grating and hard, the static in the back of his mind hissed like water on an electric burner.

“I can introduce myself, Father. Go warm up the shower, and try not to track too much water in here,”

“Yes, yes,” The man’s lighthearted laugh calmed some of the building static in Billy thoughts. “What’s for lunch Sister?”

“McDonalds or Burger King; it depends on our guests,” Francis’ voice had softened, the crow’s feet at her eyes becoming more apparent as she smiled.

“I vote for Burger King – they have better fish,”

“Dully noted,” Francis sighed as Father Kos slowly made his way up the staircase. “Leave the umbrella by the door – goodness knows this rain won’t let up anytime soon,”

“That what the weather is saying?” Miles said, voice relaxing as the older woman limped down the hall.

“Yes, flood warnings – very strange for this time of year. Did you hear about the bugs down in Arizona? Flock of locust; they blotted out the sun just yesterday and then poof! No one knows where they went.”

“That…is strange,” Miles breathed, beckoning Billy to follow them as they made their way down the carpeted hall.

“The kitchen’s right there – don’t be in there when I’m cooking, Father might not mind but it’s a small space and I’d rather not smack you with a pan of potatoes by accident.” Francis said in a practiced tone, waving to the small oven and refrigerator for a brief moment before continuing the slow walk down the hall.

Billy didn’t bother looking in the room, his eyes trained on the back of Miles’ head. It was warm – cozy and comforting. The air smelled like dust and the faintest trace of smoke – and mixed with the blood and sweat of Miles’ jacket, it almost smelled like home.

[artemuerto]

Solider up, Little Fox or Would you stop asking people for marriage?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby & Patricia ‘Kitten’ Braden. Alfie Solomon/Kitten 

Trigger Warnings: SPOILERS FROM Breakfast On Pluto. Mentions of the movie plot. Kitten is a Shelby. Tommy is a very overprotecting brother. Alfie is smitten.

Autor Note: I saw a post weeks ago and after finally watching Breakfast on Pluto couldn’t help but go back to it. I’ve been having such a Kitten feels lately, i just want her happy. Here’s the post if you are interested.

Solider up, Little Fox.

—1—

“Would you stop asking people for marriage already?” Thomas stormed by the doors calling for attention as the rest of the family sat easily around the rooms. Arthur and John were playing cards while Ada walked gingerly with her baby in arms lulling his to sleep; aunt Polly came from the kitchen followed by a confused Alfie who had been chatting business with the woman over tea when all commotion was heard. The family stood still curious about the voices heard, they could all effortlessly decipher Tommy’s voice with his usual stress, the raspy command and need for order and solution what they could not recognize was sultry, silky, sulky voice that answer him in whispers with such sweetness and longing that almost broke their hearts.

“But he said yes, Tommy. He said yes to me. He said he would marry me.” The voices were shifting away and with them silent was all they had. Thomas’ steps weren’t loud nor heavy but carried a swift of determination into whatever plan he was webbing in his head. Ada was the first one to react hugging her baby as if Tommy would go into the room any time and cause a scene wit his anger.

“What the fuck?” Alfie questioned to no one in particular, only sharing the mutual sentiment between the habitants of the house when Polly moved to seek the truth, only to be cut short by his nephew who finally appeared in front of the family.

“I’m gonna need whiskey, scissors and towels.” The Shelby brother walked out and shortly came back with a different order. “No. Not whiskey, she won’t like it.” Thomas looked for his aunt and said. “Bring water. Lots of it.” By the mention of an unknown woman in the house, brothers and sister shared a train of thoughts with possible outcomes but surely went up to aid their brother. Alfie stared almost impressed by the undisturbed dance they all played while following orders and achieving perfection.

Opening the door from Thomas’ room, Polly expected the worst. A wounded animal, a lost child, a dragged bullet and teared skin, a robbed foreign girl, a mobbed call-girl or even a soon-to-be mother virgin; what Polly failed to see was the possibility of a face similar to his nephew sitting inches from Tommy himself, cover un bruises and splashes of blood. The woman almost dropped what she had on her hands.

“Dear God.”

The girl was in bad shaped, had she been escaping an assault? It looked like it. Thomas cooed over the blonde girl as the young one cried softly from the pain.

“I told you not to believe him, didn’t I?” Thomas’ scolded while cleaning her face washing away traces of kohl and lipstick.

“How could I not, Tommy?” She sounded so hopeful. “He was perfect in every way.”

A perfect scumbag, he wanted to say but instead he reproached. “I see that now.” Soon after forgot his anger as the young girl seemed to feel better. “No matter what happens, love, you promised to call me.” Tommy remind her of her last spoken words and if it weren’t for lucky tips from his boys, Tommy would probably never found out of her situation.

Polly made herself note by clearing her throat.

Finally, they realized they weren’t alone and the girl looked ashamed of her state.

“This is what you asked for, Tommy.” Polly left her supplies near the bed and having one last look to the girl she could put together the puzzle of her mind full of questions, Polly spoke without really meaning to.

“Patrick?” The young one hid behind Tommy’s form while answering Polly in whispers.

“That’s not my name. I’m Kitten.” Thomas continued cleaning the girl’s face but was shortly stopped by Polly who rushed to help the girl herself.

“Oh, darling—” Polly’s relief kindness was unexpected but so appreciated.

Polly remembered Patrick. Well, no, not Patrick. Kitten. Polly remembered Kitten, in fact, she has never stopped thinking about her, praying a God she didn’t truly believe in for the safety of her, now, niece; always wondering what had been of their lives when Thomas failed to tell her anything. She imagined if she was worried, Tommy would have thought of her thousand times more. It was his twin sister after all.

The rest of the Shelby family wouldn’t remember her. Arthur and John were soon sent to war along Tommy and even Patrick was meant to go but manage to slipped from the War’s fingers and had, what Polly thought was a peaceful life, but now seeing the black and blue marks on her skin, she doubted Kitten had an easy life at all.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anymore?” Polly asked after they all have fallen silent in her care and Kitten nodded quietly not meeting her eyes. The woman faced Thomas instead. “Everybody is worried and they might not say but they all have questions. Nobody has seen her but it won’t be long before they come barging and demanding answers. You’ll have to make introductions.” The Shelby brother said none, taking her aunt’s words and sat next to his twin sister.

“It’s alright. They’ll meet her later.”

—2—

Later was dinner time.

Tommy had spent all afternoon cramp in his bedroom sharing the sheet with his sister, watching her sleep, talked in dreams and lazily blink once sleep left her out of its reach. Kitten told him of his life in the big city that swallowed people, told him about her friends and her adventures. The assistant of a magician and the not-so-successful career as a band show girl. Kitten had purposelessly left out her tranquil week behind bars and her resurrect petition of marriage to one of the guards that help her, Kitten supposed her brother wouldn’t be so happy about it, counting how they meeting in finding each other went few hours back.

“I even slept in a small Kingdom, Tommy, I tell you the truth.” She talked about her odd jobs of dancing and singing silly songs that made her laugh until she got fired for being in a fight. Kitten wanted to keep talking, she wanted to talk for hours, she even wanted to tell her brother on how she had found their mother, how happy and healthy the woman looked but her tummy had other ways of thinking.

“Someone is hungry.” Kitten giggled and hid her face against his chest right before Tommy made her dress up to meet the family.

“Solider up, Little Fox.” Tommy used to say to her when she was too scared to try something so she sought for his help.

Tommy stared with a marvelous feeling of awe as his sister fixed her reflection on the mirror. Her hair was soft and curly, her lashes long and dark only sparkled up her eyes in colors they shared, her rosy cheeks remind him of old forgotten happy winters of playing in the snow and warm beverages beside the windows, before the war and her lips made of fading cherries. His sister was a vision.

Kitten took his hand such as many times before and together they entered the kitchen. Polly seemed to be reading yesterday’s paper just to do something with her hands, John and Arthur were nowhere to be found and Ada was slowly eating after putting her baby to sleep. Thomas protected her sister with a silent and threatening stare letting her sit at his chair. Polly encouraged her to eat even in small bites while Ada couldn’t stop staring but wasn’t feeling brave enough yet to go over Tommy’s looks and say what she wanted.

“Tommy, can I have a glass of water, please?” The blonde girl avoided the other two and searched for her brother’s guidance. Tommy replied with a half smiled and short lived kiss on her forehead, the affection rare enough to make Ada wide up her eyes in surprise. The youngest Shelby snapped.

“Who are you?” the accusation was cleared as the morning air, however, before Tommy could order Ada to leave it, her sister answered.

“I’m Kitten, love.” Her bright hopeful eyes struck Ada off, the girl seemed so innocent, almost naïve in her trusting stance but her smiled was cheeky and lovely.

“I’m Ada.” Kitten nodded and finished her food under her brother’s watchful stare. Once again Kitten stole their hearts, still not saying how she and Tommy had met other than from meetings in London, but Ada’s suspicions were soon forgotten with each passing moment. Ada thought right before going to sleep that maybe a person like Kitten was what her brother needed in his life.

Polly couldn’t help but cry as Kitten reprised her story to the woman much as he had done with her brother hours prior. Polly cried and hugged Kitten hard enough to smothered her in short breathes; Kitten felt embarrassed when Poly took her hands and kissed them softly asking her to never leave them again or to at least check in once in a while, come to visit or simply stopping by a weekend for tea. She would do anything; Polly will do anything for her niece. Thomas refused to leave them alone, he would not leave her sister out of his sight, not even for a short while after so long and Kitten was more than happy to bask in the attention, he had missed her family but feared their reaction, not many of her past experiences had been good.

Tommy left in search for a bottle of whiskey and Kitten waited for him surrounded by nothingness when a slow motion of walking caught her attention, the girl turned around expecting to find her brother but instead found a rough looking man, 

—3—

“You´re not my brother.” The girl said as Alfie walked into the room. He obviously wasn’t. Alfie had left after the commotion of the girl arriving the Shelby house, he had seen how everybody moved fast and steady to pleased Thomas on whatever was he needed at the time, later he found out, it was a young girl who has Thomas Shelby solely attention; she had to be so bloody damn important if the man was willing to see him on a different day, under a different moon that is.

“No. I’m not.” The girl stared at him with fierce curiosity that made her blink lots of time on a row. Later she remembered her manners and came closer, extending her hand to reach for him. “I’m Kitten.” The girl smiled sweetly and Alfie could admire her fully. Her long, soft and silky golden skirt, moved in waves drawing her silhouette, Alfie could see her knees after she took a seat, her hands so smooth to his touch had a spark of color in her nails and her blouse of baby pinks and frills. Kitten was an absolute beauty.

Tom was on his way back when he heard it. Alfie’s laugh. He rushed over to see what was the occasion, he had told Alfie they would continue business elsewhere but wasn’t surprise to see the man in his house, what was a surprising sight was the man laughing head tilted back, reaching out for his sister while Kitten finished her story.

“I swear to you, mister Solomon. It was an incredible show.” She smiled with fondness as the memories of touring and crowds and cheap beer filled her mind. Kitten stood as a slow song started to play on the radio. “This was my friend’s favorite.” Alfie felt a rush of overprotected need, as the girl danced alone in the middle of the half lighted kitchen telling him stories about the person who loved that song and their everlasting friendship. Alfie offered Kitten his hand and soon they both began to dance, Kitten laughing at the rough touch of his beard and he apologizing for it. “Oh, but I assure you mister Solomon. I like it.”

Tommy was about to leave. He wouldn’t trust anybody with her sister but he could trust Alfie to keep her safe for the night for a short while after he fully came for her to sleep for the night, or so he thought when he heard Kitten asked her trend mark obnoxious questions for —apparently— every man on earth.

“If I wasn’t a transvestite terrorist, would you marry me?”

Then Tommy said:

NO.

[sxciallygray]

All you had to do was stay (Colby Brock)

A/N: Hello my dudes!!! It took me forever to post this part and I hope you like it as much as the first one (part 1: Let Her Go), also just letting you know there’s a third one I already started and it’s pretty advanced so I hope it doesn’t take me long to post.

I also have a bunch of little imagines in mind related with these two alswell as things I don’t get to fit into these parts, so don’t be shy and send me some asks about whatever you want if you want us to discuss ideas :)

Warnings: English is not my first language so I’m sorry in advance if I made some mistakes and this part has mostly angst, but also little fluffy flashbacks.

None of them knew how they got to that point, they hadn’t had that much alcohol to blame their actions on it, not like that was something running through their heads as they hungrily kissed each other.

The consequences of them sneaking out from the party and getting into the bathroom to make out heavily weren’t a priority in the state they were in. Colby with his back against the now closed door with (Y/N)’s hands tangled through his hair the same way their lips were while his hands moved down to her legs just to make their way up to her ass where he squeezed hard enough to have her moaning against his lips.

Her moans were like music for Colby’s ears, a sound that ignites a fire inside him no one else can, so when he squeezes her butt a second time and she moans again he can’t wait any longer. With a swift move he picks her up and places her on the counter, making a bunch or hair products fall onto the floor, but they don’t stop, they keep kissing, every kiss leaving them wanting more and more.

But she needed to pull back, she needed a second to breathe. Colby’s lips followed hers as she moved back, finally making eye contact since before they started almost eating each other’s faces. The sight before Colby’s eyes was one he thought he would never see again, her blushed cheeks, eyes filled with lust all for him, her parted - and slightly swollen lips for all the kissing - in need of some air. He was fine with letting her some time to catch her breath, but he needed to feel her and that’s when his lips went down to meet her neck, taking his time to kiss every inch of it. The feeling of Colby’s lips made (Y/N) close her eyes in pleasure, her head instinctively leaning to the other side so she could feel every kiss his soft lips had to offer.

When he bit on her exposed skin the hand she had on his hair automatically closed into a fist, tugging his hair, earning a deep moan from Colby himself, who wrapped the arm he had around her tighter so her body would be completely against his. Her legs wrapped around his waist, letting (Y/N) feel the growing boner inside Colby’s pants.

“Fuck… Colby” was the first thing any of them had said, how many times (Y/N) had thought about being with Colby like that during all the years they had been separated, when she found herself late at night thinking about what would have happened if she had stayed “kiss me” she was still very much out of breath when her other hand moved up to his cheek so he couldn’t waste another second.

(Y/N) took a minute to appreciate the beauty in front of her, his messy hair missing the blue tips - which were her personal favorite - the piercing on his nose that he had changed for a nose ring and it was driving her insane because she never thought he could look even better than he already did and that happy grin plastered on his lips because she had said his name and he didn’t expect it to affect him so much.

Before she could open her mouth his lips locked with hers once again, the feeling of kissing him again being like a drug that made effect right the second she took it and never getting enough of it, never getting enough of Colby.

The temperature in the room was unbearable at that point, there were too many pieces of clothing between them - or at least that was (Y/N) thought when her hands grabbed Colby’s jean jacket neck and pulled from it in an attempt of taking it off from his body. He moved his arms to help her, the jacket falling on the floor with a silent thud as his hands went back to her body, fingers running up her thigh covered legs, making their way all the way up to get under her dress. He gave a gentle squeeze to her hips before dropping his hands down to her ass.

Every part of her body he touched was leaving her more and more out of breath, she felt like that was the closest to heaven she’d ever been – between Colby’s arms while she tries the impossible task of feeling him closer than he already was.

They were so out of everything else that they forgot there was still a party going on outside that bathroom, if they had payed attention they would have heard how someone was banging on the door over the loud music, but the only existing thing in the whole word at that exact moment for (Y/N) was Colby, and for Colby it was (Y/N).

When the door opened letting in a rush of cold air along with the loud music, impossible to miss anymore, both of them turned to see what was going on.

“Col-“ Sam was looking for Colby so desperately that he didn’t think he could be occupied with a girl, but what he didn’t expect was to find him with (Y/N) and it was clear on his face, how his eyes opened wide and he didn’t know how to use English anymore. As fast as he had opened the door he closed it, he had found Colby, much better than how he expected to find him, so he could go back to mind his business and leave the questions for a different moment.

Back Inside the bathroom things felt different, for (Y/N) at least, the high of the moment had vanished as consciousness had come right back to her when she saw Sam’s face.

It was wrong, they shouldn’t be making out in the bathroom and she should have realized sooner.

“I gotta go” Colby couldn’t believe his ears or his eyes when (Y/N) got off the counter, fixing her hair and dress like it was nothing.

“(Y/N) wait” hearing her name coming out of him again, almost in a pleading tone, felt like a dagger to her heart “please”

“Colby this shouldn’t be happening; I have to go” before he could ask her to stay once again she was exiting the bathroom.

There he was again, four years later, watching her leave again right after he had got the smallest bit of her back. It made him mad, furious even, after all his efforts to move on and get over his broken heart he had come back to the start, missing her presence, her skin against his, her lips locked with his, her hands through his hair.

_

(Y/N) leaving four years ago not only affected Colby, it also affected the rest of the friend group they had been building during their time in LA, specially two of her best friends, Kat and Tara.

All of them tried their best to keep in touch despite the distance and the very different time zones, even with Colby. Every time (Y/N) saw some headline about a new goal he had achieved there she was sending him a thoughtful text to congratulate him – not at first though, there was a gap of at least six months where they didn’t want to know anything about the other, it hurt too much.

What didn’t happen was a meeting between the two, meanwhile (Y/N) did meet up with some of their friends when she happened to be in a state they were in.

This lead to the perfect surprise for Kat on her birthday. (Y/N) was coming back to the country after not being there for around a year, she was specifically going to LA, a place she had avoid for the past four years. The comeback on Kat’s birthday was the perfect gift or so that thought Tara and (Y/N) while they planned how to do it.

It was also perfect timing since Kat and Sam had moved into a new house not so long ago and they were thinking about doing a housewarming party. The only thing they didn’t plan was (Y/N) and Colby’s encounter, you could say Kat wasn’t the only one surprised at her birthday.

Although they shared timid ‘hellos’ it was undeniable the existing tension between the two ex-lovers, not a bad one but a huge sexual tension.

The thing is, (Y/N) didn’t use social media – yeah she had an Instagram account, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she had used it. So the reunion was a big surprise for both of them, who had spent so long with the old memories of each other living in their minds.

A good two hours is how long they spend pretending they weren’t checking each other out every time they were in the same room. (Y/N) would bite her lip and look the other way every time Colby smiled at something Jake was saying, or every time he tried to fix his hair – oh how she wished she could be the one running her fingers through those colored locks of hair.

For Colby wasn’t much different, it was hard to look anywhere else when (Y/N) was in his presence, how much he had thought about her, not knowing even how she looked anymore – had she grow her hair or did she cut it? Maybe she dyed it? What about her lips? Did she still used that cherry chopstick that made her lips so inviting to kiss? Now he had all the answers to those questions in front of him and her lips were still very inviting to kiss.

Fast-forward to two hours later, when everyone had already had a couple drinks, music was blasting through the speakers and Colby and (Y/N) had accidentally met with no one else around paying attention to their interactions – that was the key to it, no one was paying attention, which made it feel like it was only the two of them there - after four years of not seeing each other.

Words weren’t needed, ten seconds into intense eye contact was all it took for Colby to lean in and capture her lips into what (Y/N) would describe as an out of this world experience, what was about Colby that made her lose any possible mature reasoning? Why hasn’t she felt everything Colby was making her feel every time she had kissed someone during those four years?

For Colby, going into that kiss, wasn’t a solid conviction. He was expecting to be rejected, so the second he felt (Y/N) kissing him back every doubt he could’ve had just disappeared, he couldn’t think about anything else but the fact that she was back, she was right there, kissing him again – and it felt like the void he had been feeling since she left was being finally filled in.

Three was the number of times he had tried to date anyone again during that period of time and three was the number of times that it had failed because Colby would find himself comparing the girl in front of him with (Y/N) and the things she would do differently. It was an exhausting experience and completely unfair for the girls, who didn’t even know they were competing against (Y/N)’s ghost, so every time Colby ended up braking up with them.

That night, not only was she kissing him back but she also dragged him into the closest room so it could actually be just the two of them, exploring their bodies like they’ve been imagining all that time. That is how they ended up in that bathroom, in Kat and Sam’s new house, just minutes before they were interrupted by Sam, making (Y/N) remove herself from the situation as fast as she had got herself into it.

After their steamy encounter (Y/N) had a plan, not very elaborated – it only consisted in pretending nothing happened. At the end of the day she was only staying in LA until she was told a new destiny she was moving to and no one was forcing her to see Colby again, so it should be easy right? Wrong.

(Y/N)’s comeback needed to be celebrated, or so that thought the friend group that could be considered family at that point. Colby thought about making an excuse to avoid any plan that had to do with (Y/N), he was back at square one, feeling mad about her leaving just like she did when they were 22, and avoiding the situation didn’t look like the most mature option for the now 26 years old.

“Are you going to try and talk to her about it?” Sam couldn’t shut down his curiosity after what he had witnessed only two nights ago.

“I don’t know” it was only the two of them in Colby’s apartment, reason why it was safe to talk about it, even though all of Sam’s questions were irritating Colby a little bit.

“What if she comes up to you, would you talk to her?”

“Sam, I don’t know!” the answer came out sharper than intended, Colby’s nerves were taking the best of him, but he had always been one to quickly realize if he made a mistake “I’m sorry man, this is very stressing”

The blond boy wasn’t blind; he saw Colby’s mood change the second he saw (Y/N) and as someone who had lived firsthand how Colby was affected the first time she left he didn’t appreciate seeing him at that point again.

“I thought you were over her, brother” both of them knew better than that. Colby’s coping mechanism of going on parties every other day of the week and trying to put himself back in the market way too soon didn’t help the recovery at all, because he wasn’t dealing with it, he was just trying to find a distraction, someone who could make him forget about (Y/N) – but that person never appeared.

“I thought so too, until I saw her” his eyes were fixated on the can of beer he was holding, his fingers playing with the tab as his memory went back to two nights ago and how good it felt seeing her beautiful face again, when he had told himself that would never happen again.

“So… you want to go back with her?” that should be an expected question, but also a very impossible one to answer for Colby.

“Dude, how do you expect me to answer that? I feel like I don’t even know her anymore, it’s been four fucking years” but did he want her back? His inner 22 years old was dying to have her back, but he had to stop thinking with that mentality and realize they were different people now.

Not so far away from Colby’s apartment you could find (Y/N) just feeling the exact same way as she tried to find the perfect outfit for the plans they had that night, for some reason she felt the pressure of looking extra good and she didn’t want to admit that reason’s name was Colby.

“Woah, what happened here?” Tara was thrilled to let (Y/N) stay at her apartment the time she was going to be in LA. She refused to let her friend rent an Airbnb when she had a whole empty guest bedroom that was now covered in probably every single piece of clothing (Y/N) owned.

(Y/N) let fall the drees she was holding with a defeated sigh “I don’t have anything to wear”

For a second Tara thought she was kidding, that’s why she chuckled, but when (Y/N) didn’t laugh she realized it wasn’t a joke “well, I see I few things you could wear” Tara picked some of her favorites as she made her way to the bed and sat there raising an eyebrow at her friend “but what did you have in mind?”

That was a trick question, because the truth was (Y/N) didn’t have anything in mind, it just felt as if nothing was good enough.

“I was just trying to find something appropriate when you’re going to meet your ex after making out with him the second you see him again after four years” it was killing her inside, she needed to tell someone and get a different perspective of the situation, that person happened to be Tara.

To say Tara’s jaw dropped wouldn’t be accurate enough, she was completely shocked by the news, eyes wide open as she looked at her friend, who was simply nodding to let her know it wasn’t a joke.

“Oh… my god” Tara took another break to collect her thoughts “did you… did you have sex?”

(Y/N) proceeded to explain to Tara everything that had happened and how she didn’t think Sam had told Kat because if that was the case then (Y/N) would have received a call in the middle of the night from a very confused Katrina.

The funny thing is that, like basically everyone in their friend group, Tara happened to be a big supporter of Colby and (Y/N)’s relationship and when they broke up it felt like all of them were going through a break up.

“You need to talk to him, it’s clear both of you are equally confused and avoiding each other it’s not gonna help” (Y/N) knew Tara was right but it the thing was that she didn’t know what to tell Colby “Call him, right now” Tara was already moving to grab (Y/N)’s phone from her nightstand “you can’t show up tonight with all of this tension between you two, it won’t work out well”

“What am I supposed to say?” (Y/N) refused to grab her phone just yet – yeah she felt like they needed to talk, but about what exactly? “oh I’m sorry I left you and now four years later we almost fuck in a bathroom the second we are left alone”

“Are you sorry for leaving him?” Tara decided to ignore the sex part just yet “because if you are yeah, you should say it” (Y/N) hated how right Tara was, but it took her a few more seconds to show her defeat by getting the phone from her hand.

“Okay, but I’m texting not calling” Tara was smiling amused by how flustered she was getting by just looking for Colby’s contact to text him “We’re meeting in thirty minutes” (Y/N) informed a few texts later, receiving a thumbs up from Tara before she dramatically threw herself on top of all her clothes spread around the floor “now what am I supposed to wear?” (Y/N) whined just as Tara threw her a pair of ripped jeans with one of the many graphic shirts she owned she had grabbed on her way to the bed.

“You’re so dramatic” Tara laughed before leaving the room so (Y/N) could get ready “and remember, you’re there to talk, avoid the bathrooms!” she exclaimed from the other room.

“I hate you!” (Y/N) laughed moving the clothes Tara had thrown her away from her face.

_

Running late wasn’t something that existed in (Y/N)’s dictionary, on the contrary – she would show up ten minutes earlier if not more. Colby knew her, he knew how punctual she was so he went straight to where they had accorded to meet as soon as they set a place and time, which was almost twenty minutes earlier because Rae’s was very close to his apartment.

Rae’s was a place they discovered in one of their first dates, it was a seventy’s looking diner they fell in love with one night when they really wanted some fries and milkshakes after a long and tiring arcade date that finished just because the place was closing and they were the last two people in the place.

While they drove through the quiet streets of LA at two in the morning, the bright and colorful lights of Rae’s diner caught (Y/N)’s eyes. Ever since then they would go there at least once a week for a date night, and maybe out of habit they had settle that place to meet up because it was something they did way too much when they were together.

(Y/N) wasn’t expecting Colby to be so early, there were still ten minutes until the thirty ones they had accorded on the texts. So when she walked through the door and saw him sitting at one of the booths, checking his phone, she froze in place.

That was something she hadn’t stop to do just yet – yes, she had checked him out every chance she had during the party, but now that he didn’t know she was there she had time to really look at him. The maroon beanie he was wearing, because he probably thought his hair looked crazy – and in reality it only made him look ten times cuter. The perfect eyebrows peeking through the strands of hair the beanie didn’t cover. The damn black jean jacket he loved so much – which happened to be the one he was wearing two nights ago. The way he was biting his lip in concentration as he scrolled through his phone with those ringed cool looking fingers that he still has rests of white nail polish he hadn’t completely removed. In just a matter of ten seconds she had completely forgotten what she was doing there, the strong need of calling Tara for help made its way through her body, but she didn’t have time because Carly was calling her.

Of course they had become friends with the owners of the place, they had been regulars after all – that was something hard to erase.

“(Y/N)? Tell me my eyes aren’t lying to me right now!” Carly enthusiasm was enough to catch the attention of the few people that were currently at the diner, including Colby’s, who made brief eye contact with (Y/N) when he heard her name being called, but she was now looking at Carly, which let him time to just appreciate his view.

“It’s really me Carly, did you miss me around?” The old woman’s New Yorker charm was undeniable, making it really easy to get along with her – which was what happened to (Y/N). Many nights she had decided to go to that same diner late at night when studying was driving her crazy and all she needed was a milkshake and some of Carly’s bad jokes.

Colby couldn’t help but smile as he watched (Y/N) and Carly’s interaction, it made his mind go back to all those times they had been in that same situation – when he joked about Carly stealing (Y/N) from him.

Now they were in a much different set, Colby couldn’t joke about (Y/N) being stolen from him because she wasn’t his anymore and it hurt. It hurt to look at her standing there, just as beautiful as always without even trying. Stealing everyone’s hearts, including his.

“Oh Rog would die to be here right now, he won’t believe me when I tell him you came by” Roger was Carly’s husband and co-owner of the diner, he was just as affectionate and enthusiastic as Carly.

“Tell him I said hi and that I’ll be back to visit him while I’m still here” (Y/N) chuckled while she was being squeezed by Carly.

Colby didn’t have a problem with staring at the interaction for a little longer, that meant he had a few more minutes of no worries, but (Y/N) didn’t want to make him wait so she cut it short and made her way to the booth, sitting right in front of him.

“Hi” was all (Y/N) managed to say right away.

“Hey” Colby wasn’t feeling too original either.

“You are early” being punctual wasn’t one of Colby’s strong points, but this situation was different.

“I knew you would be early too”

To say they both hated that, the small talk that didn’t lead to anything but an awkward silence. Specially between them two, they had never been a couple used to do small talks, they would have deep conversations about the weirdest and most random things they could think of. So the situation was more uncomfortable than both of them were expecting.

“Look, Colby” there it was again, his name coming out of her soft lips and now it was clear, with no music interferences or the thought of maybe he was hallucinating “I really just want us to get along without it being awkward, you know? Like just two good friends”

Now that was bullshit, she didn’t want them just to be friends, she wanted her Colby Brock back, but she had to be realistic and assume that wasn’t an option because she would have to leave again at some point in the near future.

“Yeah, I can do good friends” Colby shrugged, trying to not give it too much importance “as long as you don’t try to make out in bathrooms” his cheeky smile was giving away he was just joking, trying to make things less harsh and awkward.

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed slapping his hand over the table “do I need to remind you who was the one that started it all?”

Colby raised his hands in defense, he didn’t regret any decisions and it showed on the big smile on his face. This whole being friends might not work, but for a few minutes it felt nice for both of them, getting that old spark only the other one could ignite.

“Do you want to go to the arcade?” their future together was uncertain, so Colby wanted to take advantage of the now, that moment he had with her in good terms, and squeeze it until the last minute.

“Don’t we have to meet with the rest?” the original plan was to meet, talk – which (Y/N) thought it was going to be so much worse and would end up poorly – and then head to meet up with the rest. Although she’d much rather spend the rest of the day with only Colby.

“We could just turn off our phones and pretend we lost track of time” that was one of the many reasons why (Y/N) had fallen for Colby so fast, he made little things like that one sound like such an adventure that she couldn’t say no to him and his beautiful blue eyes – she had never had a thing for blue eyes before, but Colby’s were different, every time he smiled with those irresistible dimples of his, the eyes looked like they were trying to tell a million different stories.

_

It actually worked for Colby and (Y/N). For the following weeks if you looked at them you would never doubt they were the best of friends, of course for their friends it was weird – they had only known them in a relationship matter, all of them except for Sam who experienced the short friendship that lead to their soon to be love story.

One thing was clear, they felt like they had found their missing piece again and sometimes they even forgot four years had gone by, four years they missed, no talking, barely texting and an overall distance between them that everyone though it would stay like that for the rest of their days.

Something else was clear too, the looks they gave each other were stronger and more meaningful than the normal looks a couple of just friends give each other. As they had met the improved person the other had become they were falling in love all over again, but who would be the first one to crack and say something about it?

[itsybitsyspiderling]

the reality of a nightmare

find it here on ao3 ! 

Summary: Peter has a bad dream about Tony. And then it starts to come true. Kind of.

Word Count: 5.7k

“Hey. Kid. Yoo-hoo. Earth to Web-Head. Web-Slingin’ Slasher. You awake?”

Peter had fallen asleep in Tony’s workshop again. By this point, the kid had lost count exactly how many times he’d done so. He was up to his waist in midterms and projects, and May had taken extra shifts at work, so when he wasn’t out Spider-Man-ing, he was covering the list of chores she left for him in the meantime. He even fixed up a few dinners for her so she had something in the fridge when she got home at an ungodly hour. Peter’s brain was running eight miles a minute, and he wasn’t sleeping.

He stirred, humming and rubbing at his eyes as he straightened his posture. “Mhm. Yeah. Totally.” As Peter adjusted his vision, his eyes fell to the slick surface of the workbench below where a small puddle of drool sat. Yuck. Gross. He wiped at his chin.

Tony stood behind his desk with a few dozen holograms surrounding him. He raised an eyebrow at Peter. “This is gonna sound gratuitous coming from me, but have you considered sleep? It’s this newfangled thing everyone’s ravin’ about. They’re awake all day and then go to bed at night. You should try it. Works wonders.”

Peter sniffed and nodded. He didn’t even feel tired, but sleeping was so much easier than staying awake. “Not for me,” he said. “Don’t like it anyway. The dreams are never good. There’s better stuff I could be doing.”

“Now that’s a red flag,” Tony muttered, and the holograms disappeared before him. He slowly meandered over toward Peter. “You good, then? School going okay? Grades fine? You can tell me if there’s something bothering you, Pete. Pretty sure we’ve established that the walls-down-protocol has been in effect since last November.”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Peter said, and truly, he meant it. He felt fine, his grades were fine… all he wanted was for life to slow down a little. “Just got no time to breathe, s’all. Ready for summer.”

Tony nodded. “Sure. Yeah, actually, that reminds me––start thinkin’ about places to go for your sixteenth birthday. Any place. And don’t say Disney World.”

“Mister Stark, it’s just that I haven’t been there before, and––”

“A nightmare is what it is. It’s my worst nightmare,” Tony said. “Crowds and crying babies and water rides.” He shivered. “I couldn’t imagine any place else closer to Hell. Speaking of things that are hell, I dry-cleaned your suit. And repaired it. How many times have you gotten stabbed exactly?”

Peter chuckled dryly. He didn’t have the energy to work on whatever the hell he had been working on. If he squinted, it looked like some ugly prototype for a new web-shooter. “Just a few times. Maybe six. Dunno. Thanks though. It was getting smelly.”

“Yeah, welcome to the wonderful world of sweat and smelling bad,” said Tony as he returned back to his spot behind the desk. “You’re gonna love it. I’ll buy you a twelve-pack of deodorant next time I’m out.”

“I use deodorant, Mister Stark.”

“Extra strength. Clinical. Ten dollar entrance fee from now on if you don’t come in smelling like fresh daisies.”

Peter rolled his eyes and smiled. “Sure,” he mumbled, setting his head down onto his arms before shutting his eyes, “start paying me then.”

“Okay, now you've crossed a line.”

Peter laughed, and for a few moments, he felt calm and at ease. He let the machines and Tony’s occasional swears lull him into a light sleep. After that, Peter soon became conscious of his sub-conscience. He was dreaming.

And it was a good dream for a while.

It was sharp and clear. Tony was there doing what Tony did best. He worked on his suits and hummed along to the music blasting through the speakers, and Peter was there tinkering away at his own suit. It resembled a comfortable pattern that they had fallen into over the past few months. It was nice.

When dream-Peter looked at Tony, however, the older man wasn’t as at peace. His expression twisted as he read over a message on his computer screens. From a distance, Peter couldn’t read it, but he knew the message wasn’t good. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and Tony was uncomfortable.

“What’s that?” dream-Peter asked.

Almost as if he had clicked a switch, Tony’s face broke out into a smile. “Nothing,” he answered. “Just junk. Happy’s gotten on the chain mail trend. Dancing cats and ‘you-will-die-in-ten-days’ kind of stuff.”

Peter nodded, accepting the straightforward answer. But somewhere, the truth floated in his mind, weaving in between prefrontal decisions and hippocampus memories. Something was wrong, but in his dreams, he wasn’t aware enough to take notice.

The workshop faded into the kitchen, and now, Tony was in the midst of preparing some pasta dish that Peter couldn’t identify. Meanwhile, he sat at the counter with a few sheets of illegible homework problems below. They didn’t share moments like this often––usually, Peter was too busy with school and evenings on patrol, and Tony spent more days out of town than in. It was special when he invited the kid over for a nice home-cooked dinner. It felt surreal. Not everyone had the opportunity to eat Tony Stark’s subpar cooking.

In the dream, none of that mattered.

“––well, when the guy tried to stab me,” Peter began on a tangent, “I was kinda expecting it, so I dodged and said something like ‘whoa buddy, that’s not nice. You gotta work on your aim.’ And then wham! He stabbed me. And then you showed up, punched the guy, and yelled at me for… ”

From his spot behind the stove, Tony had stopped stirring the pot of pasta to glance at his phone. He looked troubled. It was the same expression from the workshop.

Peter totally forgot what he had been talking about. “You okay, Mister Stark?”

He shook his head, still a bit mentally distanced from having read something odd. “Yeah. Fine. I keep getting these weird messages.”

“From Happy?”

Tony shook his head again. “No. I think someone’s just trying to scare me.”

“It doesn’t bother you that you’re getting them?” Peter asked, to which Tony simply shrugged. “Are they death threats? Are you receiving death threats?”

Tony chuckled. “No, no, God––I’ve received a shit ton of death threats in my life, but this––no. They’re just weird. I’m not bothered. Look who you’re talking to. I’m Iron Man. They don’t scare me.”

Again, Peter accepted the answer, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it just wasn’t right. He didn’t like that Tony found humor in something that would terrify Peter. He didn’t like that he was stuck in a dream where he could do nothing about it.

After that, when things became hazy and Peter wasn’t sure where he was next, the pieces of the puzzle slowly came into place. The news broke that Tony had gone missing. Televisions in windows and big, gaudy screens in Times Square dedicated their minutes to the billionaire’s disappearance. Peter couldn’t go home and he couldn’t go to school. He couldn’t walk down the street without seeing the reports plastering his mentor’s face everywhere. And worst of all, Peter saw this coming, but it was a dream. He had to let it all unfold. He was stuck.

He didn’t know how or why, but the next thing he knew, he was staring at a reel of security footage dated from hours before. Tony was there, locked in some dark room with blood dripping from his forehead while three other men surrounded him. All Peter could do was watch from the monitors in the workshop as they tortured and beat Tony senseless. And Peter couldn’t react. He couldn’t hear anything, but he knew that the men––the evil, diabolic men––were using Tony’s relationship with Peter to their advantage. He just knew.

Tony didn’t have a lot of weak spots, but his Achilles’ heel was his friends and family.

When Peter finally made it to Tony, the dream felt more real than it had before. The hallway was empty and eerily silent, and Peter could paint every detail with his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure how he got there. The room that Tony was in was cold. It was lifeless. Dried blood was splattered across the floor, and as hard as Peter searched, he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. No breaths, not even a blink of an eye.

For those few moments, he believed that they had taken Tony elsewhere. But then Peter turned a corner, and the wreckage of an Iron Man suit stared back at him.

Peter felt to his knees, anger seeping down to his fists while his chest filled with a heavy sadness. He couldn’t tell if he was crying. The image of Tony, beaten skull and blood-soaked skin, was enough to make Peter heave. The men had been merciless. Tony was dead. Murdered. Gone.

And while Peter’s stomach sank further and further, heart lurching with each breath, he crawled over and tossed himself around Tony’s waist. It seemed as though the limp body held him back.

The dream became hazy again, solid shapes fading into nothing while Peter’s terror only grew. He swore, as the colors turned to gray, that a voice cut through the waning REM and said to Peter, “I’m sorry for giving up on you.”

____

Someone was nudging Peter’s shoulder.

His body jolted awake, and he gathered himself quickly, eyes adjusting to the low light in the workshop. The sun had set a long time ago, but he hadn’t been awake to see it. His heart hurt in his chest, and the more conscious he became, the more he felt the erratic beating against his rib cage. To his right, Tony stood, gaze confused and lingering while he pressed his hand on Peter’s shoulder blade.

“You okay?” he asked, slowly retracting his hand. “You’ve been mumbling in your sleep for about an hour, kiddo. You’re as white as a sheet. Maybe you weren’t kidding when you said you have bad dreams, yeah?”

Peter stared straight ahead. He felt numb and in shock, not to mention slightly dehydrated as he evened out his breathing. He remembered everything. The entire dream. God, it felt so real. And he felt warm. Like a fever had struck him without warning. He blinked over at his mentor. “Tony?”

“Tony?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Since when was that a thing? What happened to ‘Mister Stark’?”

Peter blinked again. “S-sorry,” he whispered, shifting in his chair while he pushed back the vertigo that crept up.

Tony walked over toward his desk, but he didn’t hesitate to occasionally look back over at Peter in concern. The confusion never quite left. “Jesus, Pete. Did you physically go somewhere else for three hours? You’re lookin’ at me all weird. Relax your eyes. You’re freaking me out.”

“Oh, sorry.” Peter did his best to loosen whatever muscles were tense. But that was the problem––his entire body was tense. It felt like that one time he volunteered to receive acupuncture when a lady came into his health class freshman year. It didn’t hurt, but he was an idiot to think his fear of needles would be cured over a few pricks in his forehead and thumbs.

He didn’t want to tell Tony about his bad dream. Peter hardly wanted to call it a nightmare. He just couldn’t shake the images out of his head. Tony laying there, a corpse, with broken parts and ghostly apologies. It didn’t make sense––Tony was Iron Man. Iron Man could fight. He never lost. He never died.

But why did Peter sit back and let him die?

He had known it the entire dream: something was wrong. And he didn’t do anything. He saw his mentor beaten and bruised and bleeding until there was nothing left to give. Peter could almost feel his body still curled up against Tony’s side, desperate to hear a heartbeat muffled by the thick metal suit. Nothing. There was nothing. And it was because Peter had been too late.

His hand shook as he raised it to wipe a tear. He tried to keep the action subtle, but he couldn’t hold back the sniff and the small whimper that refused to be contained. The weight of the dream finally set in. Peter had broken his own heart.

“Whoa, kiddo,” Tony mumbled. He dropped what he had in his hands and made his way over, quickly plopping himself down in a stool so he could wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders.

Peter let himself break. He fell against Tony, sobs wracking through him all wet and strained while a burning ache grew in his chest. “I-I let you die,” he cried out. “I let you die. I’m––I’m sorry, M-Mister Stark.”

“Pete,” whispered Tony, voice low and comforting. He kissed the top of Peter’s head. “What’re you talking about? I’m right here. I’m alive. Okay? It’s okay.”

Peter shook his head against Tony’s chest. “N-no,” he said. His tears were hot on his cheeks. “Dream. In my dream.” He could hardly breathe between words. “Y-you were gone. They––these people––they took you and––”

“But they didn’t, Peter, I’m right here.”

“I just let them kill you!” Peter shouted, pulling away from Tony just to collapse against the desk. He wrapped his arms around his head and breathed in deep.

The workshop was quiet for a moment. Distant technology whirred and buzzed, but the unsettling atmosphere was louder. Peter had never yelled like that, not in front of Tony. After a few seconds, Tony placed a hand back on Peter’s shoulder.

“I can’t erase your bad dreams, kiddo,” the man said. “I would if I could. Hell, I could figure out a way if you wanted me to. But for now, the dream is in the past. It was scary––it made you upset. And I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. Dreams tend to find the worst things to dwell on. Believe me, I know. Good thing is, Pete, I’m still here. I’m right here. Not dead. See?”

Peter peered over at Tony from over his arm.

“You’re gonna forget about it in a few hours anyway,” said Tony. “Dreams are like my entire life pre-2005. They’re there but then poof––gone from memory like that. Tell you what, though, we’ll get some ice cream and Twizzlers and eat until Happy comes to find us drowning in food comas. How’s that sound?”

Peter cracked a smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay, good.” Tony grinned, standing up. “No dreams about death from here on out. All right? You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

____

Tony was wrong.

Peter couldn’t say that to his face, of course, but it didn’t make it any less true. Tony was wrong. Peter remembered every vivid detail of the dream, all the way down from the clothes the man was wearing and up to the words he said. Even Peter’s worst nightmares never stuck like that. He couldn’t unsee any of it. Tony lying there. Tony, dead.

Tony not even giving a shit that people wanted to kill him.

The thing that upset Peter the most was just that. The dream wasn’t some fantasy where he rode dragons and summoned an army of spiders. The dream was something that, if he were honest, had the possibility of happening. He knew that Tony would ignore messages like that. Peter knew that Tony would scoff and shove them off because he was Iron Man. And Iron Man never lost.

Every time Peter tried to talk about his dream, the older man was always half-preoccupied with another obscure project. He cut in between with hums and “yeah”’s, absent-minded responses while Peter was haunted by the dream.

After a week, Peter realized that Tony’s lack of attention most likely meant a lack of interest. The kid kept his mouth shut from then on out.

But for some reason, that wasn’t what Tony wanted either.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen said one evening.

Peter was out in the suit, but there wasn’t much activity for the night. For over an hour, he had been up on a roof and using his webbing as a jump rope up when Karen cut in.

“What?” Peter asked breathlessly. “Why’s he––?”

Tony’s face popped up in the heads-up display, a small smile decorating his features while a knot formed in Peter’s stomach. He still saw the Tony from his dream, even nearly a week later. Dreams never stayed around that long. They never stuck like that.

“Word to the wise, kiddo, don’t leave your homework sittin’ around if you don’t want me to correct it,” the man said, holding up a handful of papers. “What’s with all the stuff you left behind, huh? Since when did you journal?”

“I just––I dunno,” Peter said and shrugged. “I’ve got feelings and… yeah. It’s just easier to write it all down instead of––wait, Mister Stark, did you––you didn’t read my journal, did you?”

Tony appeared briefly offended. “What? No. That’s a serious invasion of privacy. I’d never do that. Besides, if you wrote anything about that dream you’ve been chatterin’ on about for the past week––”

“You were listening?” Peter sat down on the ledge of the roof and looked over at the street below.

“Pete, you didn’t give me the chance to not listen,” Tony said. “Granted, I usually don’t listen, so, you’ve got a point.”

“It just didn’t seem like you wanted t’hear about it,” Peter mumbled, shrugging once again, “that’s all. I just—I can’t stop thinking about it. The dream. It scared me.”

Tony frowned. His eyebrows furrowed and wrinkles deepened on his forehead, meanwhile, Peter was dreading the fact that, now, Tony was listening.

Peter sighed. “I just can’t stop seeing you a-and––”

“Pete,” Tony said. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t get it out of your head. I wish I could.” He was quiet for a moment, and Peter could see the thoughts running through his head. “Why don’t you go home and tell May you’ll be spending the night up here? ‘Kay? I’ll get in a car. Me instead of Happy this time. I hear he’s been babbling on about his old boxing days again; you wouldn’t last a minute. Swing on home and get some stuff together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter mumbled, sniffing as he blinked away a few tears. “Sure. Thanks, Mister Stark.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Tony replied. “And, don’t worry about me, all right? I’m alive. I’m breathing––to many, many people’s dismay.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay.”

Tony smiled, too. “See you in an hour. Stark out.”

Once the phone call was over, Peter shook his head and tried to wipe the grin off his face. Tony was right. He was there. He was alive. All the dream had been was just a dream.

____

A month later.

____

“That’s––huh. Well, you don’t see that every day.”

Peter sat up and took out an earbud. “See what?” he asked. Music continued to play lowly into one ear.

Tony stood at his desk, rubbing his chin while he stared at his array of computer screens and holograms. Peter could only see a reversed image of a few things, but he had never been good at reading things backward. It wasn’t a trait he picked up in elementary school when the rest of his classmates did.

“Uh, nothing,” Tony muttered, waving his hands to make whatever it was disappear. “No big deal. Just observing. Doesn’t matter. What’re you working on?”

“Just some homew—”

“Can I help?” he asked fervently as he made his way over.

Peter took out the other earbud. “Sure. It’s on oscillations and gravitation. Physics stuff.”

Tony sat down and slid the paper in front of him. He looked over the homework, eyes rapidly reading over every word, equation, graph, etc., before he reached over for the pencil in Peter’s grip. “Easy. Just use the values as Jacobi elliptic integrals.”

Peter watched, eyebrows raised, as Tony scribbled messily on the sheet. “I’m not sure that’s––”

“Shh, working,” the man said and held up a finger. As he did so, however, the gesture trembled. He kept his jaw clenched while he wrote a variety of illegible functions.

So, Peter kept watching. He didn’t care about homework though. He watched Tony’s actions, thoroughly observing every nervous tick or coping habit. Every nail bite, deep breath, forehead rub, and so on.

“You okay, Mister Stark?” Peter asked after a moment.

Tony blinked, barely glancing over as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Hm. Yeah––what?”

Peter almost laughed, but something felt off. Tony was off. “Are you okay? You seem… I don’t know. Weird.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He set down the pencil. “Oh, yeah. Totally. I’m great. You okay?”

“Yeah…” Peter cracked a small smile. “I’m good. What you were talking about earlier––you sure it was just nothin’? You look all pale. And sweaty.”

“Sweaty?” Tony laughed, but even that sounded nervous. “I’m fine, Pete. Don’t worry about me. Worry about how physics is a joke and how no high school student should ever have to endure his crap. Jesus Christ.” He looked back over the sheet, flipped it over, and rolled his eyes. “Your little brain must hurt having to look at that. How the hell do you do this and be Spider-Man? I couldn’t even run a company and––”

“Mister Stark.”

“Yeah?”

Peter didn’t want to forget about what was bothering his mentor, but there wasn’t a conversation at hand. Tony wasn’t going to crack; he was going to keep avoiding it until he grew frustrated at Peter. And then, there would be uncomfortable silence for an hour or two before Tony decided to apologize and finally assure Peter that he was, in fact, okay. But Peter knew better. He knew there was something, but he needed to face the facts. He wouldn’t get the truth.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Thanks for––uh, doing my homework.”

Tony smiled and slapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Anytime. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll be sure to,” Peter said with a laugh. He picked up his pencil and looked over the homework as Tony walked away. Nothing was legible. Nothing was right. But, with Tony, something was clearly wrong.

Peter kept noticing the shift in behavior over the course of the next week. Little changes like occasional tics and habits––all summoned by a quick glance at a phone or a watch. Peter wondered if it had something to do with Pepper or Rhodey, or maybe the company’s stock had taken a tumble and Tony was nervous he’d go bankrupt. He was high strung at all hours, and it seemed to be triggered by something he read or received.

The nervous mannerisms made Peter nervous. His senses nagged at him, prickling at the back of his neck whenever Tony acted weird. It was getting worse and worse, and Peter couldn’t handle it anymore.

He had Happy drive him up to the compound after school without telling Tony. The weather was getting warmer and spring had started to show itself, but Peter couldn’t enjoy it if there was something wrong with someone he cared about. Tony was Tony. Tony was Iron Man. He hid his emotions fairly well, yet he wasn’t doing a great job around Peter.

The sun was setting outside as Peter walked through the compound. It was empty and cold, but most of the life was tucked away in Tony’s workshop. Yet, as Peter strolled, an unsettling feeling crept up, one that felt vaguely familiar.

“FRIDAY?” Peter asked into the air.

“Hello, Peter.”

“Hey––uh, is Tony––Mister Stark––is he here?”

“He isn’t,” replied the AI. “Would you like me to alert the Boss that you’ve arrived?”

“Sure,” Peter said, rubbing at his sleeve as he stepped down the corridor to the workshop. “Where is he?”

“I haven’t received any activity regarding his location.”

“Oh, okay.”

“The last check-in was four hours ago in Queens,” she said.

Peter furrowed his brows and he opened the door to the workshop. The room lit up around him. “He’s in Queens? Where?”

“JFK International Airport.”

“Fri, you could’ve just told me he was on a plane,” said Peter, stepping around a few strewn tools before sitting at his usual workbench. It felt weird to be there alone––it felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there at all.

“Boss doesn’t have any upcoming scheduled flights.”

“Huh, okay. Weird.” Peter slumped down against the table, arms surrounding his head while he rested his chin on them. He faced Tony’s desk, blinking up at Post-It Note doodles taped up to the backs of monitors. Most of them were done by Peter when he was bored, but DUM-E and U had contributed to a few.

“Hey, Fri?” Peter mumbled, bring his hand up to his cheek. “Does Mister Stark ever design things for me and not tell me about them?”

“It’s possible,” the AI said. “He has a few files that have not been opened in a while. Would you like to view them?”

Peter instantly sat up. His hands slammed against the table, and the sound echoed throughout the workshop. “I can do that? They’re not––he doesn’t have them locked up or encrypted, or anything?”

“Of all people to keep secrets from, Peter, Boss wouldn’t keep them from you.”

Peter smiled. He rapped his knuckles against the table before letting the stool slide out from under him. Excitement filled his chest as he rushed over to Tony’s desk, fingers quick to access the server and tap into whatever files the man had on Peter.

And for hours, he sat there scrolling through design after design, idea after idea until FRIDAY announced that Peter had eaten out all of the popcorn left in the compound. He couldn’t believe that Tony had done all of this for him––he couldn’t believe that he was even sitting there at Tony’s desk and eating up all of his food. It all felt surreal.

“Hey––uh, Fri?” Peter asked, sipping at some soda he found in the kitchen. “What’s this?”

Peter’s finger was pointed at an odd amalgamation of numbers and letters slotting through the screen.

“The system is rebooting,” she said.

“Oh.” He nodded and sat back against the chair. “Why?”

“I’m not sure,” the AI replied. “It’s possible its last reboot triggered an automatic update.”

He leaned forward, watching the numbers slowly fade away until the monitor turned back. And then it came back to life. On the middle screen, a small message sat lonely in the center. Peter squinted so he could read it.

Subject Acquired. Mission Accomplished. Good luck.

“F-FRIDAY?” stuttered Peter. The message disappeared. The monitor returned back to the way it had been before. “What was that?” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“I don’t know, Peter,” she said, and even she sounded scared. “I can’t track its origin.”

“Where’s Tony?” he asked. “Fri, where is he?”

“His last location is still JFK International Airport.”

Peter stood, hands shaking as flashes of his old dream filled his head. His skin pricked, and optimistically, he believed he knew exactly where to go. But he was just hopeful. Hopeful that Tony hadn’t moved since he was last tracked. Hopeful to find him in one piece. Hopeful to find him alive.

Peter clicked his web-shooters into place and sighed. “Well, then, got any suits for me ‘round here, Fri?”

____

Tony was going to kill him. If he wasn’t already dead, he was going to kill Peter.

Peter wasn’t sure how to get to JFK any other way than using one of the Iron Man suits. He needed something quick, something that would get him there in a matter of minutes. As air traffic control cut into the suit’s communications, Peter searched for anything that would prove out of the ordinary. He landed on a bit of unused tarmac and winced as planes roared by in the distance.

“Search the hangars, Fri, search anywhere,” Peter gasped out, tired from pushing down the panic threatening to rise in his chest. Plus, he had on his suit underneath Tony’s; it was getting hot in there. “How am I––how am I supposed to find him with an airport full of people?”

“There is a supposedly unoccupied hangar across from terminal seven,” the AI said. “You are within a distance for me to pick up on an odd heat signature emitting from the building. I would say that is your best bet.”

Peter nodded, breathing hard while the repulsors ignited beneath his hands and feet. He soared into the air as FRIDAY directed him to the hangar, and finally, he could see what she was talking about. Through the suit’s thermal imaging, he could see that the building was empty except for an odd––almost blob-like––anomaly in a corner. Peter dove down and landed onto the adjacent road as quietly as possible.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” he whispered to himself. “Dammit, Tony, I have school tomorrow. Please don’t be dead.”

Peter tried to hide it from FRIDAY, but truly, he was terrified. His stupid dream was coming true. And he hadn’t recognized the signs. Tony’s behavior, the messages, and now, he was missing. This wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be dead.

“Is he in a suit, Fri?” Peter asked lowly.

“If he is, all functions have been powered down or removed,” she said. “I’m not receiving anything.”

Peter nearly broke, expression crumbling for a moment as he snuck in through a door. “Please don’t be fucking dead,” he muttered and stepped into the hangar.

It was large, empty, and cold. It reminded him of the compound.

Peter stepped out of the Iron Man suit. As comforting as it was to have FRIDAY with him, the suit’s technology was hindering his ability to hear for a heartbeat. He stood, unmoving and quiet as he listened for a sound. Any sound. A single breath would suffice.

And somewhere, faint as could be, was a slow heartbeat.

“Mister Stark?” Peter found himself shouting into the dark, and he didn’t care if he was yelling it to no one or someone unfamiliar. He didn’t care if the entire airport knew he was there.

He heard a small gasp along with winces of pain. Peter was quick on his feet, dodging boxes and other obstacles. The hangar had been abandoned and used for storage––a great place to hide a famous superhero that no one would know how to find.

“I’m––I’m coming! Shit.” Peter stubbed his toe.

The heartbeat was drowned out by his pants and the rush of wind as he ran. God, why were hangars so big?

Oh, right. Airplanes. Duh.

Peter wanted to believe he was dreaming, but instead, he kept running and following his instincts.

“Mister Stark?” he called out again as he slowed. He glanced around, looking beyond the boxes and the mounds of crap the airport had stored in there. There was even a giant dumpster full of odd things like busted microwaves and broken chairs.

“Yeah, Pete, I’m here,” the man breathed out from behind.

Peter turned and rushed over to where Tony was propped against a stack of wooden pallets. His helmet had been removed, and portions of the suit had been damaged. There were large gashes on any inch of exposed skin, including a rigid cut along the man’s cheek. But he was alive. He was bleeding and bruised, but he was alive.

“Nanotech’s gonna need a bit more work,” he said, grunting while he lifted himself higher into a sitting position. “Jesus. Fuck.”

Peter crouched beside Tony, eyes examining over every wound and bloodstain on his mentor’s skin. He set a hand on his back and another on his arm, and Tony looked up at him with a smile.

“It was an ambush,” Tony mumbled through a busted lip. “Fucking embarrassing.”

Peter shook his head.

“Some guys who’d gotten their hands on old Chitauri stuff from 2012.” Tony shifted his shoulder and groaned. “Shit. That stings. They––they reminded me of the dude you fought. The one with the wings. That Vulture guy.”

Peter bit his lip to keep from tearing up. Tony was alive. The dream hadn’t come true after all.

“They got away,” Tony whispered, turning his head so Peter couldn’t see the emotion in his features. “I-I let them get away.”

“We’ll get them,” Peter said, “one day. We’ll get them. Together. Okay? You’re just covered in blood. So, we should probably get you help or somethin’.”

Tony nodded, chuckling. “Yeah. Help. I’d like that. Know how to cauterize?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Uh, Karen?” he said to his AI, voice cracking. “Let’s get some medics down here. Now.”

Tony continued to laugh. “Relax. I did some myself.” After a moment, his laughter settled, and he set a hand over Peter’s. “You did good, kid. Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Why’re you sorry, Mister Stark? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Nah, I’ve got lots to be sorry for,” said Tony. “You’re just being modest. Sorry for letting this happen. Sorry for not letting you in on what was happening. They warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

“You’re good at that,” Peter muttered and smiled. “The not-listening thing.”

“I told you, I totally listen to everything you say.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Start having good dreams from now on,” said Tony. “Dreams where I retire and you go to college, and we all live happily ever after. That’s your job. Stop dreaming about me dying. Now I know this shit can come true.”

Peter laughed. “I’ll try.”

“Good kid.” Tony patted Peter’s cheek. “How’d you know to come here? How’d you even get here?”

“FRIDAY had a location, so I just followed instincts and stuff after that,” Peter answered. “Plus, I totally didn’t take one of your suits. Not at all.”

“You totally didn’t what?”

“Uh. Nothing. I told you. You totally won’t find that I took one of your suits.”

“You’re dead, Parker.”

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

this is the first chapter in a series that takes place during TWD episode 9x16 “The Storm.” It’s somewhat of a continuation of my story “Swept Away,” but you don’t have to read that to follow this (though I obvi think you should :))

Through the Storm - Chapter 1: A Glimmer of Light (also on 9L)

“The cold set in. Fires raged. The rot spread.” – Ezekiel ________________________________________________________

Carol watched the pipes deteriorate, and with them, her marriage.

The fissures steamed with heat and pressure, making wailing sounds of pain, and no amount of tape throttling the cracks seemed to help. They wheezed and hissed, threatening to break and take the life they’d faithfully pumped into the Kingdom for years.

And she sympathized.

Ezekiel tried. He’d coddled and tiptoed, pleaded and pushed, cried and comforted, eventually turning his own grief into a single focal point of compassion—her—hoping to hold on to what they’d had.

Like the pipes that cracked more and more each day though, the tendrils of caring, the desire to continue, the push to move on, the hope of shared comfort only felt like ribbons of tape wrapped too tightly, hoping to prevent the expulsion of what it held.

She felt the pressure building, knew the gasket would eventually blow. Even craved the release from the suffocation of human hands and paltry words that attempted to re-strengthen her.

She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on before bursting into uselessness.

Ezekiel didn’t deserve the inevitable blowout, but no matter how many circles of logic she ran in her head, she knew she was done. They were done.

He remained all he’d ever been: kind, caring, loving, and fanciful. But she…she’d become fire and ice, burning hot with anger and injustice one moment, her heart caving in on itself, leaving her stoic, emotionless, and indolent the next.

He was a Romeo—and she’d become his poison, a sweet concoction muting the bitterness inside until it was too late.

He didn’t see it like that, though whether he couldn’t or simply wouldn’t she couldn’t tell. She just knew they were wrong now. Maybe always had been, but with Henry between them, they’d managed the farce for far longer than she should have allowed.

She loved him well enough. Had spent the past six years as a reluctant right hand to the gentle soul who only desired safety and smiles for his people. He believed they could provide that.

She’d known better. Should have shaken them out of their fantasy, brought them back to this hellish plain, instead of attempting to live in their clouds of fancy. Or should have simply walked away.

Oh, yes, she was bitter. But mainly at herself.

Had she really thought she could love a child into adulthood, watch him grow into a man? Could protect him? Could hold on in a world that ruthlessly, grotesquely forced you to let go, that wrestled your grip away one finger at a time, bruising and breaking as it went? Had she really fooled anyone?

Just herself.

And her king.

And now monsters wearing the faces of the dead had woken her up from the dream that kind of was to find she’d never really been inside of it after all. She’d tiptoed the edge, dipped her foot in the river to test their waters, allowed them to think their fairy tale would outlast the horrors visiting the outskirts of their kingdom, but she’d known all along. She’d straddled the line of waking and dreaming, hoping she could forget for just a while, praying it could mean something different than all the heartbreak before.

She’d realized too late that she’d played the fool, not the queen.

She sighed, staring up into the shadows above the bed, her thoughts too loud, the hurt in her heart too heavy to grant her sleep.

How had it come to this?

Her thoughts floated back through time, over the years of claiming not to be a queen while living as one, the peace she’d felt while others suffered. Past the loss of everyone she’d started out with since that quarry, save one. So many had ripped a piece of her heart out, she now realized she’d had very little to work with, to offer to the husband who loved her more than she would ever love him. Through the evil deeds both done and felt, most of which she’d never spoken of to the people she cared for. Only one now knew her hit list, the people that haunted her dreams even still. And he, so shattered by their collective losses, had taken to living in isolation, which worried and wearied her more than nearly anything else had. Settling on each one of her lost children. The years had been brutal and cruel. So much suffering, things no sane person could see and live to tell of without themselves becoming a monster. The injustice of each loss. The cruelty of motherhood.

An ache gripped her heart so tightly she couldn’t breathe for a moment, only releasing it when she thought she might pass out, and she quietly gasped for air.

She couldn’t pretend any more. She couldn’t convince herself she was in love with a man when only the love of their son had kept them together. Couldn’t pretend to lead people hell-bent on maintaining the innocence and idealism that’d caused her son’s downfall. Couldn’t act like she didn’t have some role in his death as she’d quieted the warrior inside with the fairy tale she thought she could have. Couldn’t live like she knew how to keep a city from falling apart when that’s all she did inside each day, every hour, second by second, cracking and crumbling beneath years of solid wear until she rotted like those pipes.

Who was she anymore? Not a queen, not a mother, not part of the community she oversaw, and no longer wanting to be Ezekiel’s wife. Her roles felt threadbare, like a cherished shirt worn and washed a few too many times, now see-through, thin, and faded, a paltry remnant of the fabric and color it once was.

It was time to throw it away. She couldn’t lose herself, not again.

She’d allowed herself to happily believe it wouldn’t—couldn’t—happen again, not with the fortifications of a community that needed her, problems to fix, a child to raise, and a husband to support.

She’d been wrong. So wrong.

Those things couldn’t stop the dark from creeping into her mind, clouding out all that she’d thought mattered. It didn’t make the ache lessen or the tears dry up or even the fantasy real.

It had all been make-believe.

Her eyes darted to the quote Ezekiel liked, so much so he’d had it painted on his bedroom wall, the one she’d even quoted to him on several occasions.

“At times we crack, only to let the light in.” The ironic crack dividing the words nearly caused a maddening laugh to rise up in her, but she tamped it down.

She’d cracked alright, but no light shown here to brighten up her insides.

In the two weeks since they’d happened upon those stakes, she’d realized her son had provided the light in her life here at the Kingdom; he was the reason she’d stayed all these years. Without him, she no longer fit into the fairy tale illusion everyone else thrived in.

Henry was everywhere and nowhere: in every room, in every person, in all their thoughts, written on their faces, a shadow that stalked her night and day, dredging up not only his absence, but the absence of what she thought she still had.

She couldn’t stay still any longer.

Quietly, so as not to wake Ezekiel, she slipped from the bed and snagged her shoes from their place by the door, glad she hadn’t changed out of her clothes from the day.

She knew he grieved differently than she did, but it grated on her that he could at times still find peaceful rest when it had escaped her nearly her entire life, both before and after the Turn.

A wave of guilt crashed into her as she stuffed her feet inside her shoes and tiptoed through the building. Why should she begrudge him snippets of peace in this hell of a world, from the pain of loss he suffered, from the struggle he faced trying ceaselessly—and lucklessly—to get her to open up to him? What kind of person was she anyway?

She sighed, disgusted with herself, and suddenly felt the cloying darkness around her.

She needed fresh air.

Moving quickly now, she shoved at the front door, springing out into the frigid night air, taking deep breaths through her nose, the cold soothing her burning skin and lungs.

“Carol?”

She swung to her right, her hand instantly at her bare hip as she realized she’d left her knife on the bedside stand.

Daryl stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight, and she relaxed, kept the mask she now wore on a daily basis on the shelf, relieved the voice belonged to him and no one else.

He’d been in and out of the Kingdom the past few weeks, first taking Lydia to the border they’d been given, then helping the fair-attenders return to their communities. More and more she hated watching him leave, fearful he wouldn’t return. The thought of losing him, of becoming unmoored from everything in the past—from the only other person on Earth who was there at the beginning, who’d met the daughter she missed with every beat of her slivered heart, who’d known both of Judith’s parents, who missed the family they’d built through trial and error, who knew a prison could be a home and the lengths they’d go to keep the ones they loved alive—sent an ice-cold terror through her veins.

She hadn’t shared much of her grief with anyone, but she could with him…and had. He’d seen her through this before, had become a stabilizing factor in the world that never ceased tilting off its axis. There was very little they didn’t share with one another after all this time, and her heart burgeoned with gratitude that he’d chosen to come back here after ensuring the community groups made it home safely.

She knew it was for safety, yes. But she also knew he wouldn’t leave her until he knew she’d come through the darkness. It was his way, had become their way through the many goodbyes fate had forced them to say. The gravitational pull they had always felt strongest when the other threatened to spiral out of control.

Guilt came again, that she couldn’t share her sorrow with Ezekiel, who’d also lost his child, but she brushed it away for the moment, basking in the comfort of her closest friend, the one presence that didn’t invade or push but merely supported and had only ever unconditionally loved.

Nearly overcome with her warring emotions, she focused on the man before her. Shaggy hair she’d recently trimmed—she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him, missed his unassuming nature, his quiet loyalty and rough edges, until she’d visited him with Henry—broad shoulders carrying his ever-present crossbow, solid stance that had supported her far more times that anyone else knew.

“You okay?”

She swallowed hard, unable to pretend with him, not wanting to lie. “I’m trying to be.”

He moved toward her. “Where’s your coat? ‘S freezing out here.”

“I…it’s…” She motioned back towards the building as he set his bow down on the steps and shrugged out of his own jacket. “Daryl…” She meant to protest, but his name on her lips sounded more like a sigh, and she couldn’t think clearly. All she knew, all she felt, was relief. Relief that she didn’t have to fight alone, that she didn’t have to keep up appearances for people who’d suffered, yes, but had peacefully lived behind the safety of walls since the beginning. Didn’t have to hide behind her own walls or pretend she belonged or that she was working through her grief instead of it taking her over. Didn’t have to wonder who she was around him or how to act or what to say. She could be silent and still or rant and rave or fall in a sopping mess or fume with fire and he would stay. Stay with her and by her and for her and let her work through the mess of life with silence and support and remind her of who she was and could be.

She needed him here.

Daryl slung the jacket around her shoulders and rubbed her arms, transferring his warmth into her cold limbs and freezing heart. She stared up at him in wonder, the moonlight falling behind him, casting his face in shadow. But she didn’t need the light to know the contours of his face, the lines of scars he hid beneath his hair, the tired, squinty eyes and high cheekbones, the mole on the left side of his face, the scruff that circled his mouth, his strong jawline. She knew the comfort of the arms that would catch her—had caught her—when she fell. And had helped right her again.

How could a person feel like home? His arms a sanctuary? His presence a balm? His friendship more important than any other relationship she’d ever had next to those with her children?

How could she get through this without him?

His hands slowed their movements, and he gently gripped her biceps. “You warm enough?”

She swallowed hard, past the realization that she’d always had a home where he was, that the kingdom felt more like a cage without Henry. That only one place lent light to the darkness inside her.

Staring up at him, she felt the first glimmer of warmth ease into the cracks in her soul.

At times we crack, only to let the light in, she thought.

“Yeah,” she answered softly, resolutely.

“Wanna sit down?” Daryl gestured toward the gazebo in the courtyard where a few blankets lay rumpled on the bench and his lantern sat, casting off a soft glow.

She needed to. Her world had just shifted, and she felt off-kilter, unsure of what lay ahead but desperate for warmth.

She nodded, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders, mooring her to his side as they walked toward the light.

[theresnoturningback]

First Kiss

[Kind of requested by @randomfandom-bs] Summary: After the rescue from the boat, Aasim goes back on a solo mission to find Ruby who has somehow fallen behind. A/N: It took me so long to write this angsty work, because everytime I sat down to write, I’d cry my heart out. Angst is not relaly my forte, that’s why I’m practicing more. Please, don’t hate me and please be kind with your words. I ended up sensitive after writing this. Also big thanks to K who helped me with the proof reading and editing. Love you so much!! Word Count: 4805

They were getting close. Louis and Aasim helped a limping Omar who was too in pain to walk on his own.

  Their eagerness to reach Ericson’s was far more powerful than any other encouraging speech Aasim could have come up with at the moment.

  It’s not like he wanted to talk anyway. And judging by Omar’s constant wincing, he didn't want to open his mouth, either

  And Louis; as much as he’d love to forget the past for one second by coming up with a witty observation or a dumb joke, he just couldn’t.

  The minutes they spent running away from the boat in flames were the longest of their lives.

  The three of them were all alone, with only each other as company in their silent journey.

  They didn’t know anything about their friends. No signs of Clementine, AJ or Violet.

Aasim’s only consolation was the idea of finding them at Ericson’s all safe and sound, and the only way to get that certainty was to keep walking until they reach home.

‘There’s no place like home’ He reminded himself everytime he thought he was about to collapse.

  Soon enough, they reached to the familiar traps that lead to the high walls that surrounded their school.

  Up in the watchtower, Willy waved at them and hurried down to open the gates for his incoming friends.

  Louis helped Omar sit down in one of the benches, before plopping himself down next to him and rested his head on his forearms.

  As drained as Aasim was, he didn’t allow himself to sit or stand still.

‘Willy, give them some water, I’m going to get Ruby so she can patch them up’

  Before Aasim could run off, Willy grabbed his arm and gave him a silent look.

Aasim could read the worry in his eyes.

‘Where is Ruby, Willy’ He asked, anxiety building up again.

‘I’m all alone in here, Ruby-

‘She wasn’t on the boat, where is she?’ Aasim insisted

‘I don’t know, she should have been here by now, but nobody else has arrived so far’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’

‘B-by the hay, before Clem and the others got into the boat’

‘Shit’ Aasim shook his head ‘You mean she’s still out there?  That was hours ago!’ The volume in his voice made Willy take a step back.

‘We need to wait for the rest to come back. I’m sure she’s with them, man’ Omar said as an failed attempt to calm his friend down.

‘We can’t fucking wait!’ Aasim yelled, tired of everyone’s passiveness ‘Louis could die if ...a-and Ruby could be in serious danger all by herself…We need to get her back’

Words came out of his mouth with difficulty as he spoke, but he didn’t care. It was an urgent matter and his friends needed tot wake up.

  When he got no response from any of them, he ran off towards the school, desperately looking for something, anything he could use to defend himself that was better than the small knife he was carrying.

‘Let me go with you. I’m tired of waiting’

  Aasim shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘I need you to take care of them and be alert. Protect the school. Can I count on you?’

Willy nodded and Aasim walked away without further words.

  Though tired and hurting, he walked decisively towards the forest in search for his friend.

  He needed to find her, or he would lose his mind. Many doubts assaulted his mind as he continued walking.

What if she was hurt?, or worse,

What if he never found her?

  She was the only one who could truly help their friends and if she was really gone, then all hope was gone with her.

  He shook his questions off, refusing to believe such ugly fate for her.

‘Ruby knows how to defend herself’ He thought, trying to reassure himself, wiping sweat and frustration tears off his face-

  All through his hurried walk, he felt observed. He knew there was something following him, but everytime he turned around and observed his surroundings, he found nothing besides trees and leaves. He began thinking maybe it was a squirrel or a rabbit scuttling away as he made his way through the forest, but he never stopped feeling like he wasn’t alone.

  The shot of adrenaline he got after he left the school was starting to wear off and he suddenly felt every possible physical discomfort at once. He sat on the ground with a tired groan, never letting go of his bow. Right as he was starting to get comfortable, the sound of rattling leaves in the distance startled him and made him turn around and shoot an arrow without thinking twice.

‘Lord Almighty!’ A voice cried from the shadows. Aasim immediately recognized the distinctive intonation and ran towards its source as fast as the arrow he shot moments earlier.

  When he found his friend hidden in the darkness, he couldn’t contain his joy.

‘Ruby!’ He smiled, relieved he didn’t hurt her. He wanted to hug her tight and kiss her, so he could truly convince himself he wasn’t dreaming, but before he could even think of walking closer to her, he got punched in the arm.

‘You could have killed me!’

  Aasim didn’t mind the violence or the set of curse words that followed her scold. He knew he had it coming.

  Ruby felt silent as he took a moment to really see her under the poor moonlight. Her tired eyes glared at him. She was dirty, furious and just as exhausted as him. Maybe even more, judging by her unusual heavy breathing.

  She truly was much stronger that she ever let on. Aasim embraced her, feeling a kind of bliss he hadn’t felt in a long time.

‘I’m sorry about the arrow...I just’ He tried talking through his happy tears ‘I’m just so happy I found you safe and sound’

  He tightened his grip around her without noticing and all he got in response was a muffled whimper.

  He looked at her as she flinched out of his arms. His worry grew when her guilty eyes met his.

‘Ruby, what’s wrong?’ He asked as softly as he could.

‘I…’ She hesitated ‘I don’t think I’m safe at all…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I got bit’ She confessed quietly, looking at her feet.

‘What?’ He breathed

‘A walker bit my arm while I was trying to distract the people guarding the entrance of the boat, so the others could get in and-’

‘How, how didn’t you see it coming? Fuck, Ruby, how could you be so…?’ Aasim ranted  angrily as the girl shed her first tears in front of him.

  The boy was too busy cursing at everything and everyone to notice the frightened girl before him.

‘I was too focused on not being seen and the walker came out of nowhere and I couldn’t get the motherfucker off in time’ She explained. The boy still couldn’t believe it. There was a lot to process in such a little time, but it would be easier to believe all she was saying if he had solid evidence.

‘Show me’ He demanded.

  Ruby shook her head, instinctively covering up her forearm with her left hand

‘No, Aasim, you don’t need to-’

‘Show me, now.’ He insisted with impatience in his voice. He frowned as she painfully lifted up her torn up sleeve. Deep down he knew he didn’t want to see it. He wanted her to tell him she was just joking, but he knew she would never joke with something as serious as that.

  His heart sunk when she revealed a noticeable set of teeth marks darkening her skin. A chunk of her forearm was missing.

  Ruby winced when he examined the open wound closely. The color had changed from a healthy pink to a yellowish green, due to the infection now running in her blood.

‘Not so hard’ She mumbled at the verge of tears. He was only checking the tension of her skin, but to her, it felt like he was burning her with his fingertips.

‘Can you…?’ He looked up, only to find Ruby already shaking her head. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

‘Even if I tried, cutting my arm wouldn’t help. It’s been too long. I already feel weak, I’m not sure but I think I started a fever, too’

  Aasim reached to feel her forehead. His hand almost burned against her skin.

‘How long...until…’

‘I don’t know’ She shrugged ‘It could be a couple minutes, or a couple hours...There’s not really a way of knowin’...All I know is there’s nothing I can do, I’m going to-’

Her quickened breathing soon turned into hyperventilation as she finally surrendered to panic.

  Her sorrow started to spread outside her, reaching his friend who was watching her cry her heart out without knowing what to do.

  He didn’t give it much thought and embraced the girl to contain her as she kept weeping against his chest.

‘You’ll be alright’ He whispered.

‘I don’t want to die, Aasim, I don’t want to go’ She begged, clinging to him as if some kind of force was pulling her away from him.

‘We need to go back, I’m sure we can find something there that will bring you back to health’

‘Nothing can fix me up, it’s too late for me’ she sniffled ‘ I ain’t comin’ back. I don’t want to be there when I turn. I don’t want to scare or bite anybody’ She looked at Aasim straight in his eyes ‘You best leave me here’

‘What? No!’

‘It’s for the best, trust me’

‘Are you serious? Letting you turn into a walker?’

‘You need to go’ Ruby insisted ‘Just...let nature run its course’

‘Do you really want to be one of...them?’

  The shake of her head confused him even more.

‘I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to turn into anything but it’s gonna happen no matter what I do’

‘You’re not thinking this through’

‘I also don’t want you to kill me before my time. It’s not your burden to bear’

‘What kind of person do you think I am? Aasim exclaimed. Killing her wasn’t an option to him and he started to believe maybe she really thought of every possible option available.

  Her tearful eyes blinked at him, evidencing her silent resignation.

  Aasim tried not to cry in front of her, but it was almost impossible at that point.

‘It’s for the best’ She insisted, quietly, trying to convince herself of her fate and her inability to change it.

‘There’s still so much...I can- You can’t die yet, you hear me? You won’t-’

  She lifted her left hand to fix his hair. A sad smile adorned her face as Aasim continued crying.

  His heart was pounding fast. It was different from the last time they were alone together, though. Knowing she wasn’t going to be around anymore only made it worse.

  He wanted to say all the things he had kept in secret all those years, but she beat him to the punch.

‘If only I knew I would end up like this...I would have used my free time a little better...’

  Aasim frowned. Her words caught him off guard.

‘W-what do you mean?’

  A soft stroke in his cheek made him close his eyes, giving in completely to her caring touch. His heart raced even faster now. It was starting to feel like the last time, only ten times more intense. He wasn’t imagining anything. She was there for real, being her most tender and sincere self.

  In any other scenario, he would have been thrilled to be this close to her in the middle of the forest, but reality was different and as he realized the cruelty of life, he couldn’t stop his tears from flowing.

  He couldn’t believe he was losing her right as he got a real chance to let her know how important she was to him; tell her about the countless sleepless nights he spent trying to understand his feelings for her and the many lines he dedicated to her in the dead of the night.

  Now, the future he would often envision was lacking its bright light.

  He opened his mouth to say something in response to her display of affection, but all his thoughts were grim and she didn’t deserve any more hopelessness, so he decided to stay silent and show back his love in another manner.

  Ruby’s hand rested on his chest as he kissed her forehead. She suddenly felt the world was spinning around her. Her eyes closed slowly as her head nodded against the boy.

‘Careful’ He helped her sit down.

‘I got a little sleepy’ She said with a drowsy smile, trying to stop her own body from trembling.

  He let her lean on him, passing one arm over her shoulder. The night was at its darkest point. The air was cold and reeked of death. He could only imagine how scared she was.

  Despite everything, her smile remained. At least he was there.

‘I don’t know if you know this, but-’ She coughed ‘I used to have a crush on you’

  He never knew

‘Really?’ He breathed, blushing in the dark as he felt her nodding against his chest ‘I never noticed’

‘It was silly at first. It started when I first got here. I was a mess and you would never say a word. I guess I wanted to be like you but I couldn’t keep quiet if it killed me and the other boys would always make me so angry all the time’ Aasim chuckled at the memory, as she continued talking ‘I still find it cool, that you are like that-I still like you, you’re the only person I’ve ever liked...you know, in a special way’

  Aasim took a couple of seconds to process Ruby’s words. Maybe she was delirious, but he wasn’t asking for clarification in a moment like that. Instead, he took a chance and reciprocated her feelings.

‘I’ve always liked you for your energy, from the little feisty girl I met years ago, to the driven woman you are now. I have to admit, sometimes, I wish I could have gone and punch a couple of teachers like you did in some occasions’

  Ruby looked up, while he mindlessly played with her hair and spoke casually about his feelings towards her. She wanted to ask if he was serious, but his gentle touch was evidence enough.

  A sense of safety surrounded her, making her forget these were her last moments.

‘Well ain’t you cute’ She whispered with some difficulty, forcing a grin through her stinging pain.

‘It was a long time ago’ He shrugged.

‘I wish we could have talked about this sooner’ She confessed ‘Imagine how different this would have been if we…’

  She forgot what she was saying when she looked up and found him starting at her lovingly. She knew what he had in mind and just as he leaned closer, she flinched and quickly scooted away from him.

‘I don’t want you to end up like this’ She covered her wounded arm, fear running cold in her veins.

  He was hurt, not by her rejective attitude, but her fear. He wanted to make her feel better, but didn’t know how.

  He apologized, extending his hand to her. When he got no answer, he crawled closer and held her left hand.

‘I’m sorry if I was too invasive’

‘I didn’t mean to, I just- I really don’t want to hurt you’

‘You couldn’t…’

  Ruby let go of his hand and traced his mouth with her thumb- Aasim listened to her soft plea.

‘Promise me. I need to be sure you won’t get...this if we kiss’

‘I don’t think it works like that’ He chuckled. She kept serious and as soon as he read her expression, he corrected himself ‘I promise’

  There was no way to know for sure if he was lying.

  Not even he knew if that was a possibility.

  At this point, he didn’t care.

  Maybe she wanted him to kiss her despite her biggest fears.

  Maybe he could kiss her fears away..

  She believed so as their lips met. For one second, she forgot about the world ending, at least for her.

  Their first kiss burned in their mouths while a mixture of newfound feelings and sensations filled their minds.

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, still not believing what happened.

  She didn’t care about the pain anymore. She only cared about the moment she just had with Aasim and how happy he made her feel, even if it was for a couple of minutes.

  She made a mental list of all the things she’d give just to be like that with him for as long as they wanted.

  But time was running low quickly. She felt weaker by the minute.

  She tried to pull away from Aasim, but he knew what would happen if he let her go.

  He tightened his grip as she tried to struggle.

‘Come on, now...’ She sighed ‘You have to let me go, it could happen anytime and I don’t want you near enough to hurt you’

‘I’m not leaving you’ He insisted ‘You’re not dying alone’

  She wanted to yell at him to leave her alone, but she knew well she would only be wasting her last bit of energy.

  Instead, she stopped struggling and went back to her quiet begging. He couldn’t understand her, but decided to let her go.

‘Thank you’ She smiled and kissed his cheek ‘For bein' here’

  Right as she finished her sentence, her smile faded as her vision was covered by a fog-like whiteness. She felt her own voice echoing Aasim’s name as she slipped out of consciousness.

He watched in panic as she collapsed against him.

  Trying to regain his strength, he cradled her, hoping she’d wake up soon. She never responded to her name, no matter how many times Aasim called. Eventually, he stopped insisting.

  He laid her on the ground, making sure she was comfortable in her deep sleep, and lay down beside her for a while, silently considering his options and all the possible consequences to his actions as he admired the beautiful starry night above them. It reminded him of the particular shine in Ruby’s eyes every time she talked about her plants or the animals she used to have as pets when she was little.

  A smile flourished among these melancholic thoughts.

  He looked over at her, realizing for the first time her eyes might not open ever again and the breathtaking glimmer in her look was now a thing of the past; something he would treasure as one of his most precious memories from now on.

  Only then he realized how much he would miss her.

  Struggling with the panic building up inside him, he decided to check her vitals, just like she taught him once.

  She was hardly breathing, the beat of her heart was getting slower and slower as minutes passed.

  Helpless, he brushed a strand of her fire-red hair while fighting back tears.

  He glanced at her arm. Most of the skin around the wound was now blackened and decaying due to the severe infection.

  He looked around them. Someone had to be around. He refused to believe this was the end. Someone would eventually come over and save them both.

  But that didn’t happen. No matter how long he waited, he was alone in this. Nobody came to their rescue and Ruby was still unconscious next to him.

  He finally gave in to his despair. The cursing became recurring and loud. Nobody was really there to see him break down, anyways.

  His tears fell on Ruby’s jacket as he leaned over. She was dying before his eyes and there was nothing he could do to save her. He shook his head, refusing to believe that with the last drop of hope he still had.

  There were still so many unsaid things he would have loved to share with her; so many gifts, so many experiences he never go to give her. And all because she was bitten while trying to save him.

  Aasim dried his tears with his sleeve and held her hand.

‘I love you, Ruby’ He kissed her forehead before he realized he was already saying his goodbyes ‘Thank you for keeping us alive for so long’

  Deep down, he knew she couldn’t hear him, no matter how much he wanted to reach out to her, wherever she was. He uttered no further words. Instead, he watched in silence as her once pink cheeks gradually turned into a sickly yellow and then a lifeless gray.

  He soon realized she had stopped breathing.

  When he finally came to terms with the fact that she was gone for good, he stood up and wiped the last few tears off his face . With his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, he walked a little farther from Ruby, waiting for the inevitable.

  About ten feet away, he heard the distinct groan of a recently turned walker. He didn’t turn around, he didn’t want to shoot her, even when he knew that wasn’t really her. Not anymore.

  She never wanted to die.

  She never wanted to turn.

  It would be cruel of him to let her wander the forest like that.

  He turned around and tensed his bow.

  He wanted to apologize to her. He knew all that wasn’t fair. Life was brutal. Especially when it decided to give Ruby a premature death, and especially when it decided to give him the opportunity to meet and love Ruby only to take her away from him just as he was finally going to be loved back.

  He aimed directly at her.

  Life was unfair to them both. Death was cruel, too. 

“Why did it have to be her? Why not take me, instead?”

  He let her walk closer to him before he shot his arrow straight in her right eye.

  Her body fell to the ground slowly, her left hand reaching out to him in a last attempt to get him, although Aasim read that as her last attempt to stay among the living.

  He dropped his bow and ran closer to her lifeless body. Once it finally stopped moving, he turned it over to retrieve his arrow as it was is routine when killing walkers.

  He grabbed the arrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull it out.

  His stomach couldn’t handle it. He stepped back hastily, retching. He fell on his knees, feeling sick of himself.

  Even when it was all over, he still felt like the worst person alive.

  He fell to his side and curled up, unable to contain himself, mourning in long wails, feeling almost as if his own soul was escaping his body.

  Nobody was coming to help.

  Hope was already lost.

  He remembered the small knife he had in his back pocket and took it out to examine it while toying with the idea of quitting the losing game he dared to call life.

  He sighed deeply, and closing his eyes, he placed the sharp blade against his neck.

  He couldn’t. He didn’t have the guts- or at least that’s what he kept repeating over and over while his agitated chest kept making him cry out of sheer panic. Right as he was about to push the knife against his skin, he heard his name loud and clear.

  He looked over at Ruby’s body, but it was right as he had left it. Instead, he was lifted up by two people.

  On his right, there was a guy he had never seen before. On his left, Clementine.

‘Let’s take you back’ She said, taking the knife from his hands and putting it away.

Aasim shook his head violently , trying to speak through his tears.

‘What’s the matter?’ The stranger asked Clementine in a soft voice, but she was just as lost.

  Aasim tried again, but AJ spoke first when he walked a little farther.

‘Ruby…?’

  Clementine walked closer to where AJ was to confirm the little boy’s suspicions.

  In the faint first morning light, they could clearly see it was indeed Ruby’s corpse, turned into a walker, with an arrow in her eye.

‘What the fuck happened here?’ Clementine asked, turning to Aasim, who was too ashamed to look at her in the eyes.

‘I couldn’t save her. She got bit and I couldn’t save-’

‘We can ask all the questions later, we need to help him soon, he’s clearly not okay’ The stranger interceded.

’N-No!’ Aasim cried ‘ We have to get her back. She can’t be-she can’t stay here. We need to bury her, we need to take her home, we-’ Clementine interrupted his rambling with a tight hug.

‘We’re not leaving her here. She going home with us’ She reassured him.

  After a while, they got everything ready and headed back to the school.

  The welcome was warm until everyone saw what Clementine, James and AJ brought along with them.

‘Ruby’ Willy whispered, watching in disbelief as James and Aasim walked inside, carrying her body.

  The atmosphere turned tense with the general shocked silence.

  Aasim walked away from the small crowd without saying a word. Nobody stopped him as he grabbed the shovel and started digging next to Ms. Martin’s grave.

  His pacing showed his determination to make it as deep as he could. He felt as if he might break down again if he ever stopped.

‘Here’ Clementine interrupted his train of thought ‘Let me help...you need to rest’ She took the shovel from his hands. Aasim walked inside the greenhouse. He looked around, looking for anything alive that could serve as an ornament to Ruby’s grave.

  She would have wanted it to look pretty.

  He was too focused on a pot with tiny white flowers, when a knock on the door startled him. He turned around to see Louis on the doorway, looking devastated.

‘Come in’ Aasim said, leaving the small pot back on the table. Louis walked in, and before Aasim could say anything, he was a being hugged again.

  Louis wasn’t attempting to give his friend comfort. He was looking for consolation himself and from Louis’ silent tears, Aasim realized he was not the only one hurting from Ruby’s parting. The two of them stood in the middle of the greenhouse, crying into each other’s shoulders the loss of their dear friend, until Clementine announced quietly that it was time for the burial.

  Louis walked out, but Clementine stood in Aasim’s way just as he was heading out.

‘Back there, when we found you guys, you had this in your hand’ She pulled out his knife out of her pócket ‘Can I ask-?’

‘No’ Aasim interrupted ‘No, please don’t ask’

‘I hate to be that person, but you realize that killing yourself wouldn’t have fixed anything? We would have lost you, too…’

‘I understand’ He looked away, clearly uncomfortable with Clementine’s little lecture.

‘I mean, this is not over yet, and we already lost Ruby-’

‘I know. Clementine. I was there’ He snapped at her, walking out.

  Right outside, Tenn was putting a flower crown on Ruby’s head. Violet held the crying boy as she said a few last words in her memory while James refilled the grave with dirt.

  Aasim kept quiet the whole time. He felt like staying silent for the rest of his life.

  After everyone left, he sat in front of the grave to plant the little flowers he had found earlier.

‘I’m going to miss her’ Willy mumbled as he sat next to him ‘I can’t believe it...First Mitch and then, Ruby…’ A hopeless sigh escaped his mouth. Aasim looked over just to find a broken little boy. He believed Willy had adopted many personality traits from Mitch, but only then he realized how much he truly took after him. Rough on the outside, but forever a lost boy on the inside.

‘Willy…I’m sorry’ He wanted to explain more about how it all went down, but couldn’t find the words. Losing Mitch had already been a tough blow on him. Now, he lost the only mother figure he could clearly remember  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t bring her back alive’

‘Just...promise me you wont die soon?’ He said, sniffling. Aasim looked at him as the boy faced him to insist ‘Promise?’

  He passed one arm over his shoulder and cuddled him.

‘I promise I won’t die soon’ He muttered.

[keeroo92]

Crimson Tide Ch9

Chapter Nine - Answers

---Trish---

She felt it the moment she crossed; the pull.

It niggled at her, an itch she refused to scratch no matter how insistent it became. To do so would mean her death, and there was still so much she had to do. She would not surrender, not now and not ever. If Mundus couldn’t kill her, neither would this. It was an annoyance, not worth thinking about.

At least, that’s what Trish told herself.

Only you and V seemed to notice anything was off, but even that much irritated her. She didn’t like others seeing her weakness. It made her blood boil to imagine anyone pitying her. She was strong, capable and completely fine on her own. She didn’t need anybody and never would.

Even so, her heart sank to find no recent traces of Dante and Nero.

She hadn’t expected the mission to be easy, but it would’ve been a nice change.

She sighed and tilted her hips, taking a closer look at the bloodstain marring the colorful ground. Demonic, thankfully. A few months old if she had to guess. Same as the other stains she’d found so far.

She huffed and turned back to you. “Nothing new here, demon blood from about two months ago.”

You grimaced. Trish wished she had better news. The team had been here for three days now, based on the clock in Nico’s van. After the initial arrival, they headed down to the remains of the Qlipoth to begin the search. It didn’t look like much, just a massive stretch of colorless rubble. Hidden between two chunks, Lady found boot prints. Dante’s, judging by the size. Lady was ecstatic, grinning more than she had in weeks back home.

I wonder if she’s admitted to herself she loves him yet?

Unlikely. Lady was a master at self-deception. Ironic, considering her ability to sniff out secrets in others, or to discover plots meant to kill them all.

They set out in the same direction, following the trail until it vanished in a sea of purple grass. The pull strengthened with every step but she shoved it aside, focusing all her energy on tracking. Not her strong suit. They circled the area for hours, frustration mounting by the minute as time dragged on. She was about to suggest simply continuing in the same direction a bit longer when Nico spotted the familiar pattern in the dust.

That was when she noticed the tense silence between you and V. The normal banter and affectionate touches were gone, replaced with scowls and crossed arms. It was ridiculous, hardly the time for a lovers’ spat. Hopefully you’d talk to Kyrie or Nico about it and everything would return to normal. A tiff was the least of the troubles plaguing the group and she despised the fact that it was drawing your focus.

We can’t afford to get distracted.

When you pulled her aside a few hours later to chat, she almost choked. It didn’t even cross her mind that you might approach her. She covered her surprise with a cough and followed you away from the group, mentally cursing her luck. Why would you come to her, of all people? She’d never even been in love! Literally any other person here had more direct experience with whatever was going on between you and the thrice damned poet.

What a waste of time.

She glanced at you with a neutral expression. You were fidgeting, worry written across your face as you followed her through a field of florescent flowers. It was tempting to shout at you, but she bit her tongue and waited instead.

“So, uh, V and I had a fight,” you began. She almost laughed.

“I gathered.”

You leaned down to pick a flower, holding it out to Trish for assessment. An orange blossom with red spots. She recognized it instantly as a fire pansy and nodded. Safe to consume. You popped it in your mouth as the two of you trod on.

“He wanted me to stay behind,” you said after a pause.

Ah. So that’s what happened. Trish took a moment to process, working through her own thoughts on the matter. She’d spent hours training you every day for months, honing your skills until you could beat her if she was having an off day. It made sense that he wanted to keep you safe at home, keep you out of danger, but you weren’t helpless. She honestly found it slightly insulting, taking it as a slight against her mentorship.

She took a deep breath and wrangled her irritation. Indulging that line of thought would do her no favors.

“Idiot. You might be more useful in a fight than he is now, if he didn’t use Nightmare.”

You grinned and sucked on the petals.

“Well, I think he was more worried about the noises I kept hearing and the pain in my head,” you replied thoughtfully.

The blonde furrowed her brow. She’d seen you collapse and rub at your temples, and you definitely seemed out of it on the ride over. It was unlikely you had the gift, but if the shoe fit…

“Yeah, V mentioned something about that on the way. What’s the sound like?”

“A hum, like a bumblebee. It gets worse every time I hear it.”

She hid her shock behind a mask of understanding, taking another few steps before asking her next question. “Did it coincide with the portals opening?”

You froze, wide eyed. “How did you know that?”

Trish almost groaned. This could be bad, really bad. But she needed to be sure. “Have you had any visions? Any flashes of things you that weren’t really there?”

You stared at her, gaping like a fish. She resisted the urge to stick a finger in your mouth and waited.

“Yeah, a burst of light and color on the way to the portal. It was too fast to see anything, though.”

Trish reeled back as if you slapped her.

Fuck, how in the Hell?!

It made no sense; you didn’t have a drop of demon blood in you. She’d know if you did. How the Hell did you have demon powers?

“What is it, what’s wrong with me?”

You sounded terrified and Trish couldn’t help but cringe at the alarm in your eyes. This was insane, it didn’t make any sense. There was no logical reason for you to have the gift, none whatsoever. She sent a pulse of demonic energy at you, just to be sure, but there was nothing. Not a drop.

So how did this happen? Could it be something else?

Don’t jump to conclusions. Think it through.

She had to be wrong. The gift manifested at birth, why would it only start happening now? Even before the Qlipoth, portals popped up on a regular basis. You would’ve felt it years ago as a child. So, either it was something else, or something had changed.

It had to be something else. There had never been a human with the gift, only demons. If you had it, it flew against everything she knew was true. She couldn’t accept it, not without solid proof. Too much was at stake to make unverified claims.

She swallowed her turmoil and licked her lips. “I’m not sure. Tell me if it happens again, I want all the details.”

You deflated, disappointed at her lack of a clear answer. She wished she could offer some reassurance, but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “What about V?”

Trish sighed. His concerns made more sense with the new information, but even so.

“He meant well, but I agree with you. It isn’t a choice he gets to make for you. It’s probably a good sign that he told you about it, though.”

You spat out the spent petals and grimaced at the aftertaste. “It’s not even about that. I get where he’s coming from, but the way he told me was just… ugh!”

You threw your hands up in frustration, failing to find the words. This was exactly why Trish avoided interpersonal relationships. Eventually, somebody got hurt and regardless of the outcome, it was a distraction. Sex, she understood. Love? Not so much.

“Why come to me about this? Wouldn’t Kyrie be a better help?”

You flopped onto the ground, reaching for another flower to suck. The blonde joined you, crossing her long legs beneath her and waiting for an answer.

“You have a point, but everyone else seems so… stressed out? You’re the only one of us who has their shit together. Plus, you might just be the Queen of objectivity.”

Trish sighed and leaned back. The pull tugged at her mind, insisting on her surrender. If only you knew just how screwed up her shit was…

---V---

The poet watched you walk away with Trish and sighed. He could imagine what you were discussing. Truly, he couldn’t have handled it much worse, but he’d run out of time. It irked him, knowing that he upset you and hurt your feelings. It seemed like such an obvious conclusion at the time. You saved his life by forcing him to let you handle the problem; he simply wanted to do the same.

Yeah, you fucked that up Shakespeare.

As always, thank you for the input. How do I fix it?

How am I supposed to know? I’m a damn demon.

He rolled his eyes. Griffon had a point. So, who could he ask?

You were already talking to Trish. Lady didn’t trust him; she was out of the question. Nico would tease him, though she may have valuable insight afterwards. The mechanic often spotted things others missed.

What about Kyrie?

Come to think of it, she may be the best option. Her warm heart and caring nature made her an easy person to talk to and though he didn’t know her well, he found her easy to like. Considering all she’d been through with Nero and what she was doing now to save him, she’d probably understand his position better than anyone else.

Perfect.

Since you were off with Trish, the group was taking a break to rest and eat. The perfect opportunity. He stood and headed for the van.

Kyrie was inside stirring a skillet. It smelled incredible and reminded him of all the times he’d found you in the same position during the Qlipoth crisis. You didn’t cook as much lately and he missed it, missed sneaking up behind you and stealing a hug or making you laugh and swat at him with whatever kitchen implement you had on hand.

“Hi, V. Are you hungry?” Kyrie asked with a slight smile.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if I could get your advice?”

She gave him a genuine smile and turned down the heat, setting aside her spoon to face him directly. Her hand waved at the table in a gesture of invitation.

“Step into my office. It’s about Y/N, right?”

He glanced at her through his hair, a sheepish look on his face as he sat down and nodded.

“I noticed you two seemed off. What happened?”

“I… may have asked her to stay behind,” he confessed, fingers twitching in his lap. Griffon’s chortle of amusement did nothing to ease his nerves, nor Shadow’s roar. Nightmare, at least, had the grace to remain silent. Or the lack of interest.

Regardless.

“Oh… that explains a lot. Do you have any particular reasoning?”

“She’s ill, and we don’t know why or how bad it is.”

Kyrie nodded knowingly, picking up her spoon and stirring once more. “I can understand that. I felt the same thing when Nero lost his arm. And then he vanished from the hospital! I about had a heart attack.”

V cringed, remembering his visit to the man in question to recruit him to battle Urizen. He was the reason the young warrior left the hospital.

“Sorry about that…” he said.

She scoffed. “Water under the bridge.”

The poet grimaced. Would she still feel that way if they couldn’t bring Nero home? Even for such a gentle soul, forgiveness of that magnitude wouldn’t be easy.

“What’s going on with her? How bad is it?”

He leaned forward, bowing his head and hiding behind a curtain of black. “She’s been hearing things. Some kind of hum, and it causes her pain. It’s growing worse.”

Kyrie hummed and set down her spoon, turning to face him and peeking through his hair to meet his worried eyes. Her own were swimming with sympathy and understanding.

“That does sound bad. I won’t patronize you with empty reassurance, I know from experience how useless that is. I will, however, remind you of everything she’s already endured to get here. She’s stronger than you think, especially after training with Trish.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean the illness won’t overpower her, leave her exposed when it matters the most,” he replied. Images too terrible to ignore filled his mind of you falling to some nameless enemy. His heart twisted as he pictured your face, still in death.

“It might. Just as Nero could’ve died facing Urizen so soon after losing his arm. The stitches hadn’t even closed properly yet. But he went anyway, because that’s who he is.” Kyrie paused and stirred the skillet again, sending a fresh wave of the mouth-watering aroma swirling through the van. She turned back to him with a soft smile.

“It’s part of why I love him; he can’t stand idle when others are in trouble, especially those he cares about. She’s the same way. She wouldn’t be the woman you fell in love with otherwise, and no matter how much it hurts you can’t take that away from her. All you can do is be there when she needs you and hope for the best.”

“How can the bird that was born for joy sit in a cage and sing?” he recited, exhaling deeply and setting his hair aflutter.

“Exactly. And, just so you know, it always helps to be open. Loving someone isn’t always enough; you have to be a team, too.”

The poet lifted his head and met Kyrie’s eyes with a conflicted smile. He knew she was right; he wasn’t an imbecile. But it was difficult to accept outright. The urge to hide you away until no danger lurked tugged at him, warring with his respect and growing understanding.

And you still need to apologize.

He sighed. Where to even begin?

A resounding crash spoiled his thoughts. The van lurched from a sudden impact, throwing him from his seat and Kyrie to the floor with a yelp of surprise, the skillet thankfully spilling only on the stove top. Through the window he saw the horizon tilt as the vehicle lifted just long enough to send his prone body sliding across the floor before the weight settled back onto four tires.

We’re under attack!

“Kyrie, stay inside!” he cried, jumping to his feet and grasping his cane as adrenaline flooded his system. She nodded from her crouched pose and he ran, tattoos already swirling as he threw the door open.

Outside, Lady and Nico faced a trio of Antenora. They were fifty feet away and closing fast, mindlessly slashing toward the two women. The corpse of a Hell Bat lied beneath the window and he could only assume that was what hit the vehicle. The fresh dent in the faded yellow paint confirmed it and he brushed it aside to focus on the remaining threats.

The mechanic hurled a small object at the foes as Lady sprayed them with bullets, her face twisted in rage. V sent a pulse of energy through the bond and ebony shards lifted from his flesh in a storm, racing ahead of his sprinting feet to form Griffon and Shadow. He reached Nico just as her grenade detonated in a flash.

A cloud of silver fluid spewed from the tiny object to coat the three demons. Nico cheered as Shadow vaulted at the Antenora’s and shifted into a spiked wall, ripping at all three demons. Griffon flapped forward and a sphere of purple lightning crackled from his body.

“What a shock to see you ugly bastards here!” the bird cackled.

Nico lobbed another grenade into the fray. V’s eyes widened as it hovered a few feet over the demons and flashed a searing shade of jade. With its light, all three demons lifted for the briefest of moments, then slammed back into the ground as if a giant had crushed them underfoot. Lady grinned and discharged another burst from her minigun.

He sensed the demons fading and bolted forward as Shadow landed a series of sharp blows on the nearest beast. He used her back as a springboard and sank his cane deep into its skull on his descent. It collapsed to the ground and he set his sights on the next just as it turned to face him.

“For King Vassago!” it howled, swinging its cleavers at his face, but Shadow dissolved and carried him out of reach easily.

A streak of platinum light blasted into its chest, leaving a massive cavity behind as it turned on a dime to hit the last foe. It took a step back as if trying to flee, but the bolt ripped through it anyway. V turned to spot you and Trish sprinting back to the van at top speed, more crackling golden light granting you extra speed.

He scanned the area for any further threats and relaxed. Only three Antenora’s and a Hell Bat? How stupid were demons, to attack them with such a poor force?

And who the Hell is King Vassago?

---Reader---

You reached the group faster than you thought possible, thanks to Trish’s lightning. It felt like flying; wind rushed by and your hair blew out behind you, but you barely had time to enjoy it before it dissipated. Your feet tingled as you slowed to a stop near Nico.

You scanned her and Lady for wounds, heart pounding in fear that barely retreated at the lack of blood. V seemed fine, too, but where was Kyrie? Most likely in the van, but you had to know for sure. Judging by the size of the fresh dent, the van probably shifted. She might have fallen or hit her head. You bit your lip and headed over to check.

“Sweet! Those worked even better than I thought!” Nico crowed. From the way her eyes sparkled as she stood, it was obvious she had a fresh batch of ideas to test.

A flash of auburn hair with a smile in the window eased the worry in your heart; Kyrie was fine. No one was hurt. You could relax.

The tension in your shoulders faded and you sighed. Separating from the group might not be wise, going forward. What if a more powerful demon had attacked? Even with Trish’s speed boost, you doubted you could’ve made it in time to stop any serious carnage. Someone could’ve died or been seriously injured.

Not an option.

You glared at V. If he’d only kept his mouth shut, you never would’ve stepped away. It was sheer luck that nothing catastrophic happened. Next time you might not be so lucky, and even to think it made you boil in rage. A muscle in your cheek twitched and you clenched your jaw, imagining all the ways this dumb fight could end up getting someone killed.

Trish cleared her throat beside you and gave you a meaningful glance, but there was no stopping your fury. Lady kept her eyes locked on her weapons, studiously staying out of it. You wished Trish would back off, too, but after what just happened you refused to steal a moment alone with the poet to deal with it privately.

You scowled and stomped over to him.

His stupid protective streak needed to be addressed; now.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as you neared him, recognizing the wrath in your expression. You got within three feet and crossed your arms to keep from throwing a punch, lips parting to launch into a tirade.

Then you heard it. The hum. But it was different, clearer and more direct, and…

Why doesn’t it hurt?

Your rage vanished. V was staring at you, his concern growing with every second you remained silent. You barely noticed, too focused on the stream of visions racing through your mind. White plains speckled with patches of iridescent fluid. Heat. The taste of gasoline in the air. Bizarre shapes looming in the distance. It was all so clear.

“Little fox, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” V asked, reaching out to grasp your shoulder.

“The hum is back, but there’s no pain.”

Trish’s eyes widened and she came to join you and the poet. “Do you see anything?”

You closed your eyes, focusing on the imagery. Dusty stones. The sound of wind. A pale sky with two suns glowing overhead. You licked your lips and relayed every detail. The blonde gasped as you spoke, and you paused. Did she know what was wrong with you now? Did she have the answers you so desperately needed?

She only spoke two words. “Which way?”

Your eyes shot open to stare at her, blinking in bewilderment. “What?”

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the van, V and Lady following a beat later. “I’ll explain on the way, just tell Nico which direction to drive!”

What the fuck is going on? I don’t know which way to go!

Trish rolled her eyes at your lack of a response and forced you to turn a small circle. You closed your eyes, trusting her knowledge to guide you to whatever answer she was looking for. The hum rose and fell until you gasped at a sudden burst of insistent resonance. You froze. That was it, right there!

“There!”

The blonde hummed and in less than a minute, Nico was barreling toward the horizon at full speed. Pots and pans clanged and machine parts shrieked at every bump but Trish insisted she floor it, no matter what. The blonde stood beside the driver’s seat and stared out the windshield, scanning the landscape for something with total focus. You couldn’t take it.

“Trish, what the fuck?! What’s going on?”

She glanced at you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but her eyes shot back to the view almost instantly.

“I don’t understand how or why, but I think you have the gift.”

You wanted to strangle her. What did you have to do to get some damn answers? “What gift?”

“It shouldn’t be possible, only demons can do it.”

V growled from behind you, equally irritated at her half-answers. “Care to elaborate?”

She sighed, still focused on the cacophony of color speeding by. “Basically, you’re a compass. The hum is a portal opening and the visions are a peek at what’s on the other side. I just don’t understand why!”

Wait, what? I don’t have weird powers, no way!

Nico hit a bump and you staggered. You barely noticed.

None of it made sense. You weren’t special, not like that at least! Demons and the Underworld, monsters and magic… all of it was still so new to you. For over twenty years, you lived your life like anyone else. No mystical powers, no dark forces or climactic battles. You were just a nurse.

Who wields a sword and is in love with a guy who shares his body with three demons.

You started trembling and took a seat on the couch. After all you’d seen, all you’d experienced, was it really so hard to believe? So much had changed; if someone told you a year ago this was where your life was heading, you would’ve laughed in their face.

But here you were.

In the Underworld.

Searching for a pair of demon hunters.

You leaned back and rested your head on the cushion. The hum was getting louder, but it didn’t hurt. Silver linings. It did seem connected to the portals; you said as much to V at your mother’s. Maybe Trish was right.

“I see it, I see it! A portal!” Nico shouted. Lady and Kyrie cheered from their seats at the small table and Trish smiled. Straight ahead, an amber gateway stood tall amongst a grove of purple and gold trees. The hum pulsated in recognition as you stared at it and you knew the truth.

There was no denying it now. All that was left was a single question.

Why me?

[babyboyoonie]

Hi ! I don't know if you're still taking request like this but,,, yoongi with long hair,, that make him look even more princey than he already does uwu. I really like your writing btw, i find it super refreshing to read and its just lovely ! I hope you have a good day, don't forget to drink

Hello ♥ I’m sorry for taking so long, here it is!! thanks for your request and also, your kind words, it motivated me to write,,, i was in a bit of a drought so thank you ;w; really ♥ you don’t forget to drink n eat AND sleep either. (;

I imagine long-haired!Yoongi just like @inbloomyg  ‘s ((hey there!! told you i’d link you the fic if i wrote it hehe)) art which is right down there and gorgeous, just like everything they do ♥ here we go, hope you’ll like it~

Something strikes Seokjin late in the afternoon. In the form of Yoongi waking up from a nap, and looking dangerously close to falling into another one. Seokjin’s stricken by a realization one late afternoon. April, hot but not really, a humid something that tugs Yoongi away from his studio and straight in Seokjin’s arms. No hesitation, no bribing on Seokjin’s part or the inevitable fall following days in the studio. It’s a whim, a whim of lightly flushed cheeks and clothes in disarray. A whim of lean limbs wrapping around Seokjin’s in the bed, cat-like eyes heavy-lidded and lashes fluttering lazily.It’s hair falling from a pretilly messy bun on Seokjin’s chest too. Long, blond hair. Oh. Oh.“Yah,” he says, sudden and low and lacking that mild cheer he paints his intonation with so often. Yoongi startles, the black diamonds Seokjin likes to call eyes popping open and eyeing Jin curiously. He kind of wants to spend, ah, something like hours, thinking about this gaze and only kissing Yoongi’s eyelids, Yoongi’s cheeks, his lips, to convey the adoration he feels. Perhaps he will, later, but right now—“hyung,” the little man now wide awake says, or whispers, or perhaps just something in the middle. Darling drawl, quiet interrogation. “what.”So darling.But Jin—Jin only lets his fingers brush the locks of black and blonde with a blossoming something in his chest. Petals opening, warming him up, because Yoongi’s hair is soft; because Yoongi’s hair is long and frames his angelic face in the prettiest way and Jin feels stupid for not seeing this sooner. No—for not having taken the time to. For not stopping and observing the way strands of blonde fall delicately in Yoongi’s eyes, part sometimes in the middle of his forehead and gives him a whole new aspect—he can’t, he can’t put a name on it but God. Yoongi looks so fucking good, what the hell. Seokjin’s nearly offended. Would be, if he wasn’t absolutely and utterly smitten. Takes in eyes slowly blinking at him and perfected each second by the gentle movements of his wild locks. They’re not totally blonde, his natural hair is growing under but? It only makes him even more gorgeous? Seokjin blows out a long breath and cards his fingers into those soft strands. He may or may not be enchanted. “Yoongi-yah, your hair,” he says, wheezes out, gestures frantically with his free hand to the hair he’s caressing way too eagerly for him to not look like a maniac. A handsome maniac, but still. Yoongi eyes him, blinking some more. He’s cute but he just doesn’t get it. “It’s long!”Yoongi rolls his eyes. Raises himself a little bit more on Jin’s chest to give him a somewhat amused, somewhat dry look. All heavy-lidded and cheeks slightly puffed out. And with the way his hair cascaded around his features so darling—God, Jin was one blind man. “I’m hurt, hyung,” the little one drawls lazily, eyes piercing Jin’s before falling somewhere else on the man’s shirt. “aren’t you—aren’t you the one shouting left and right totally unnecessary daily details about me? And you can’t even see that my hair grew?”

“Yah! They’re not unnecessary—”

A snort’s his only answer, alongside Yoongi’s pointed gaze and huffed “As if.” Probably implying all the times his hyung exposed his embarrassing sides—which, Jin would like to protest, were actually the cutest moments ever—and beamed in positive mirth to anyone around.

But. Indeed, Jin had been quite blind to this little wonder.

He cuddles Yoongi closer to him, ignores his lazy protests and the weak fists punching his shoulders. Arms firm around a narrow waist, hands digging in the supple flesh of his darling until he exploded in sweet rivulets of laughter. Jin watches happiness brighten Yoongi’s tired feature, his hair form a halo around his face and wonders if Yoongi can hear the wild beats of his heart. Eventually, softly, he pushes his fingers into Yoongi’s soft strands of hair and moves them behind his ear. Delicate. “You’re always pretty, that’s why. Long hair, short hair, the only thing I notice always is that—is that you’re gorgeous.”

Lovely eyes fix on his, wide-eyed, before they close at the same time as colors bloom on his little one’s satin skin. And Jin, Jin’s too hot already, cuddled as they are; but he brings Yoongi closer and breathes a smile on his lips. Smiles and kisses Yoongi’s lips as softly as he caresses his hair, until his baby’s putty in his hands, pressed on his body in the sweetest way.

From then—Jin can’t not notice Yoongi’s long, prince-like hair. Soft and cascading and—and golden.

When he, later, says they’re all eight and he’s a ten, it’s an innocent lie, because Yoongi with long hair is one hell of a solid twenty.

Hoseok knows he’s staring.

Yoongi knows it too. Ignores it, and repeats the routine he was supposed to practice with Hoseok. Not that he’s any bad—Hoseok would be the first in line, chest bursting with pride to inform excitingly anyone willing to listen, that Min Yoongi was a freaking good dancer. No buts, no ifs, no nothing. His Yoongi was—his Yoongi was good.

His Yoongi was also giving him the cold shoulder.

Sulky silences, never outright ignoring him; just fewer words and even less physical contact. Hoseok was dying. Told Yoongi so, and was only met with dull eyes and a terribly sweet—“Then…perish.” He has been too stunned to pursue Yoongi with tears then. It worked, usually. Just like Yoongi was terribly weak to their youngest members, his resolve always wavered when it came to a teary Hoseok or, or a simple puppy-eyes from Namjoon. Their eldest hyung didn’t count, pigs would fly until Yoongi refused him anything.

And so, and so. Here Hoseok was, desperate and deprived for any kind of contact with the one he swore was his soulmate, soul partner, soul everything and beyond.

Yoongi wasn’t having any of it though, pretty gaze skittering away from Hoseok and letting his lean limbs flow in the familiar pattern they had learned some days ago. Clearly, he didn’t need any help, but Hoseok had to find something, okay?

Well, that was the plan, at the beginning.

But Yoongi—

Yoongi had his pretty, silky and long locks of hair in a pretty bun at the top of his head and Hoseok wanted to cry at the gorgeousness of it all. Of every damn blonde lock, styled perfectly with just this tad bit of natural messiness that drew the gaze—again and again. Hoseok wanted to touch. Yoongi? That was a given, he even freaking dreamed of touching him every second. But this hair…it was, it was a rare sight. Too pretty for words. Hoseok really, really wanted to touch.

So, Hoseok touches.

Tries to, at least, but Yoongi seems to have been keeping a careful eye on him—Hoseok doesn’t go further than an arm outstretched before Yoongi dances away from his reach, arms crossing on his chest. He’s cute, Hoseok despairs in the secret of his mind and his much too expressive face. He’s cute, terribly cute, in the slight frown of his eyebrows and the heavy pout on his pinkish lips. Cute in body leaning away from Hoseok and a defensive position not threatening in the least. Cute, mini-sized Min Yoongi glowering at Hoseok. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get close to you,” Hoseok laments, arms falling by his side in what looks like defeat before—before he shifts forward and brings Yoongi down toward him in a searing embrace. Ignores the man’s muffled protests as he breathes in deeply strawberries and ice cream not unlike a winter spent cuddled inside, with hot chocolate and pleasant company. It’s Yoongi, Yoongi and simply Yoongi and, and okay, the man had only started distancing himself from Hoseok two days ago but—Hoseok needed him, okay? Didn’t know how much until Yoongi slowly put distance between them. “I missed you.”

“Liar,” Yoongi immediately rebukes, pushes at Hoseok’s chest with absolutely no result except, probably, exhausting himself. He’s little, after all. Not that much in height, only centimeters smaller than Hoseok. But he’s little in…in size. Takes less space, easy to hug, to carry and manhandle around. He’s really, really little and fits perfectly in Hoseok’s arms. Better than anyone else, why wouldn’t his little one see it? “You can’t miss me after killing sope. Forsaking what we had together is forsaking me. Leave me alone—stop touching my hair!”

Hoseok shakes his head furiously. Mouth useless with jumbled words as he takes in Yoongi’s scent again, the soft-as-hell hair flowing in between his fingers in glittering petals of gold. Letting them grow had done them justice, and Hoseok lost himself in the art on top of Yoongi’s head before his words reached him. Oh.

“Baby—”

“Don’t baby me, asshole! Go back to being all mushy with Jimin or something and, and leave me alone—what the fuck Hoseok are you smelling my hair? Stop it!”

“It’s pretty! And it smells good! Just like you!” He receives a palm splattered on his face for his efforts. But whatever, Yoongi’s fingers are art, too. And it won’t stop him, anyway. “Sope May be on a break but we, sweetheart, we’re eternal.” He whispers softly. Captures the delicate wrist and brings Yoongi’s hand down, just as soft. Sincerity shining in his eyes, his words, every part of him touching Yoongi and all those that aren’t. He’s true. Hears his heart breaks in his chest at Yoongi’s words, at the—the things he’s implying.

Hoseok would never, ever give up on him—on them. Just thinking about it kind of made him want to cry.

The smaller man doesn’t look at him. Keeps his gaze on the side, eyes brimming with something and shadowed by rebellious strands of gold. “…hurry up and hold me tighter, meanie.”

Hoseok does. Holds him, tight, so tight. Kisses him, until he’s breathless and letting out those little noises cute enough to die for. Kisses him until he’s a puddle of lovely goo entangled with Hoseok’s limbs on the wooden floor, cheeks pinks, eyes satisfied.

“Seok-Seok…is that a boner I can feel on my thigh?”

“Listen…your hair; it’s—”

“Oh my God.”

When they go stargazing, Yoongi loses himself in space. To space, heart and mind. There’s something to be said, Namjoon assures, about the lovely widening of his eyes that doesn’t quite disappear until he slowly starts to fall asleep. Excited, attention undiffused safe for those dreamy minutes he lets Namjoon kisses him silly. Frame cuddled under Namjoon’s bigger one, head delicately thrown backward as plush lips push upon his. Just as delicate, soft, loving.

He’s all Namjoon’s in those moments, and then, he goes back to space.

Peacefully, no worries troubling his soft gestures; because there’s no one else but Namjoon around. Nobody, no cameras, just Yoongi and Namjoon and the dust of social anxiety nothing but a bitter memory. The changes are subtle, but they’re here, and Namjoon’s fine with his little hyung losing himself to space if it means his inner distress would disappear.

And meanwhile, he can—

He can feel. Yoongi’s warmth, spreading all over his body, everywhere but to its owner—his lovely hyung with flushed cheeks puffed in protest of the cold, always always cold. He’s warm, still, a large blanket wrapped around him and shared with Namjoon. He’s warm, but still shivering, and Namjoon holds him tighter. Receives a soft hum for his efforts and lets his pleased great spread wide over his expression.

Yoongi’s over there in space, and Namjoon can feel, and Namjoon can observe. Can observe the little movements of Yoongi’s socked feet under the blanket, the quick flutter of his lashes and—and his hair. God, his hair. Brighter than the stars up there under their observation. Prettier too, a lovely piece artfully decorating Yoongi’s pretty little head. His long hair, Namjoon didn’t have any words.

He felt kind of stupid for being so dazed because of…because of some hair, of all things. It was silly but—he was talking about Yoongi, here. Everything about Yoongi was fascinating. His little hyung would be sleeping for ten hours straight and if Namjoon had the opportunity, he’d damn observe him during those ten hours. So—so, yeah, not just hair, Yoongi’s hair. Falling to his shoulders and still growing, full and soft and flying to the wind when Yoongi let it free. Hiding his gaze, sometimes, just barely, but enticing enough for Namjoon to feel all hot and bothered.

Yoongi’s long hair had a strange effect on Namjoon, all things considered.

“Joonie…” Namjoon snaps from his reverie with his hand down Yoongi’s shirt and the other caressing strands of gold. He reddens while the other shots him a confused look. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t seem to reject Namjoon’s touch, and so he keeps going, settles right on the warm satin of Yoongi’s hip and lets out a sharp breath. “I was—” he traces little shapes on Yoongi’s skin, grins as the man, ticklish as he is, giggles and squirms against him. “just thinking about you and then, well…”

“Aren’t you always?”

There’s humor, right there, in Yoongi’s low voice. Light, chirpy, joking. A refute quickly served with no meaning behind it. Yoongi doesn’t know he just spoke the truth, will never truly understand he occupies Namjoon’s mind in all times. In wonderings, in songs; in the images of his little man dressed in new clothes too big on him, and a peculiar look making its appearance with only longer bangs in town. There’s no need for more, this right there is enough to leave Namjoon dazed for days with dopey grins and wandering hands.

“I am,” Yoongi makes a disagreeing sound in the back of his throat, squeaks when Namjoon grips his waist tighter and turns him around to flush their body together. The blankets don’t fall, envelop them still, unbothered in the face of Namjoon’s gentle movement. He makes sure to be, always, because Yoongi doesn’t deserve anything less than soft and gentle. His little one melts against his chest, and Namjoon melts too, and they really must be the mushiest boyfriends out there. “but this time, it’s your hair.”

“You been thinking about this mess?”

“No,” Namjoon chuckles, takes in a breath and shudders in idle pleasure as the fruity waves of Yoongi’s shampoo hit him. Really, this long hair is the best. “I’ve been thinking about putting those stars you love so much in it.”

“Oh no shut up you nerd.” But he’s smiling. He’s smiling and he’s prettier than the stars up there, much more worthy of being admired always,

and Namjoon tells him so in multiple kisses painted everywhere on his skin. Yoongi’s long air glow around his shoulders like the purest halo in between angels.

Jimin pads into the patio and finds Yoongi already here. At something, precisely, around five am where the sun barely peaks from his slumber and birds just start their daily chants, Jimin wanders into the patio and Yoongi’s already here. Crouched in front of a large row of plants, watering them delicately, low voice speaking out words Jimin can’t hear—but that he can guess. Soft words, like those given to dear children. Soft words and milky voice, affectionate, clear in a candy grin and a marshmallow-like gaze. Five in the morning and dozens of minutes already gone, Jimin’s on the ball of his feet after wandering into the patio, admiring the one he shouts to whoever is close enough he’ll marry one day.

His darling hyung of delicate attention to every living being, attentive and sensitive behind a spaced-out look and sleepy countenance. Caring, so caring, be it with the plants he’s been tending to for God knows how long—and every other being blessed to have met him. Him and the absolutely endearing way he holds himself as he pays attention to his lovely plants—his own clothes discarded in favor of another man’s.

Jimin’s, to be exact.

A simple, large checkered dark blue, red and white shirt that goes past Jimin’s hands but swamps in the most lovely way Yoongi’s slight frame. It’s that. He’s only wearing that. It’s Yoongi on the ground with lovely plants, dainty strands of hair caressing the naked skin of his shoulders and—a shirt and a shirt only hanging on his frame, cascading high high to the alluring cleft of his ass. Heavens, Jimin wants to go down on his knees and worship this bewitching man right here and there. Revere his angel with heavy kisses pressed hot on his ass and hungry hands losing themselves in hair.

His goddamn hair.

Jimin thinks it’s his way too loud and way too aroused groan that startles his hyung into turning around. Wide-eyed, still a bit hazy with slushy feelings and clutching his watering can close to his heart—careful, even there, to not drop it and harm any of his plants. An angel, Jimin repeats in the secret of his mind at the same time as he offers to this same angel a wobbly grin. Perhaps because of the early hour. Most probably because of the bubbling arousal an almost-peeking pert ass and messily arranged hair provoked in him.

To Jimin’s defense, Yoongi’s ass was the best in the whole world and long hair suited him so well it was a sin.

“Whatcha doin’ there?” Yoongi’s voice, mumbling and so quiet usually is even quieter, at five in the morning. Still low, still soft, but less clear; slurred in the cutest way. Jimin basks in it for each second it takes for him to be by Yoongi’s side. For him to crouch down, too, and tug Yoongi flush to his chest.

Sees the plant from Yoongi’s point of view. But most importantly, the way he feels, barely clothed and a bit cold from the fluctuating temperature of the morning. Jimin squeezes him in a tight embrace, fingers clasping on a narrow waist and thumping chest running like a madman flush to Yoongi’s back. Goes boom boom and, and when he lets one hand wander to this one place where Yoongi’s heart’s beats…he hears it again, boom boom. “The bed was too cold without you. And your hair.”

Yoongi laughs. A breathy, sweet thing that never fails to make his shoulders quack darling and his face to lighten in a beat. His eyes are all sleepy and alight with diamonds when he turns slightly in Jimin’s right embrace. “Why’re you bringing my hair into this?”

He sounds way too good for someone up and mumbling to his plants at five in the morning. Jimin lets his heart sing wonders about him anyway while he guides Yoongi’s hand for them to tend to the plants, together. The older man lets out an approving sound, and Jimin doesn’t bother slamming down the happiness of having done something right that rises at the surface. It’s—Its okay to feel like that. Yoongi made sure for him to know, and he’s gonna honor that. Fake it until he makes it, because he knows Yoongi’s right on this. “That’s…that’s cuz it’s perfect. Just like you.”

Yoongi squirms, in what Jimin knows is bashfulness and terribly masked embarrassment. Ducks down under long, golden bangs colored up there with touches of dark. Jimin’s still confused about who he has to thank for the delight that is Min Yoongi with long hair. The noonas that took care of their hair? Time? Yoongi’s own desire to let them grow because he couldn’t care less?

He’s not sure. Pushes it in the back of his mind in favor of nuzzling the back of Yoongi’s neck and stays here, and basks here.

(Hand still subtly playing with Yoongi’s hair.)

(Yoongi tries not to judge him too hard. But he still does in the end.)

Yeontan is, Taehyung realizes, like their very own child. Yoongi’s and Taehyung’s. Oh, the little fluff ball does visit the others members sometimes, attached to them all as he is. Straying more on Taehyung’s side—it’s a given, but running just as often to Yoongi? It came out like a surprise, at the beginning. Then, in the few seconds it takes for a realization to sink in, the surprise was no more. Taehyung should have expected this.

His little hyung’s soft for a lot of things. Soft for people and plants and distressing situations few people dare to address. Soft in personality and doughy like cookie dough if someone asks him something, anything. But above all that—in that not-so-little crook nestled in his chest, he’s the biggest softie for animals of all kinds. Dogs to be more precise. Gets sparkles in his eyes and promptly melt on the spot—whole body brightening and a pure, unadulterated happiness taking him whole.

Taehyung—Taehyung did get jealous in the beginning. It was silly and absolutely unnecessary to be jealous of dogs of all things, but, here, he was. Had been. Until a first kiss was pressed to his lips and Yoongi looked up at him with a whole new brand of adoration in his eyes. For Taehyung and Taehyung only.

Amidst sweating palms and frantically beating heart, Taehyung had realized this had been heaven right there knocking at his door. He never ever let go of Yoongi, then. Be it by simply being by his side, having his thoughts swarmed with Yoongi or spending holidays in his home back in Daegu, admiring the pretty sight of a cheery Yoongi playing with Yeontan. It was—it was a sight for sure, Taehyung thinks, chuckles quietly to himself. Because Yeontan’s a ball of energy and although a sleepy haze wraps itself all around his love, Yoongi makes sure to return this energy and eagerness to play twice as hard.

Taehyung wonders if it’s possible for his heart to grow fonder.

“Hot cakes,” Taehyung says, sing-songs, really, chirpy countenance rolling around his body that has Yoongi giving him a suspicious side-eye.

Even then, he’s so damn cute it hurts.

“What’re you smiling about?” Taehyung not so subtly basks in both the attention of Yoongi and Yeontan as he struts toward them; bubbling with his two most precious people’s eyes on him as he settles tight behind his little hyung. Brings him close by gripping his hips, until he’s sat between Taehyung’s legs and long blond curls spread a delectable smell for Taehyung to fill his chest with.

He spends more time than he’d like to admit smelling Yoongi’s hair. That earns him another long suspicious look from the aforementioned. Taehyung grins, sheepish, chuckles then when his little tan-ie yips at him. “The two of you are cute,”

“Tan-ie is. I’m not.” Yoongi swats at his chest with the hand that’s not holding, preciously, the little bundle of fluff to him. There’s a pout on his pinky-cotton-candy lips and waves in his hair as he tugs his head down slightly. This hair. Taehyung thinks he’s going to start his prayers for Yoongi to keep them this long for a while. Months if he’s lucky. It’s just so—elegant? Princely? So damn attractive, Taehyung’s not ashamed of having spent the precious nights falling asleep with his fingers carded in golden locks, admiring them fall between Yoongi’s shoulder blades and kissing the course they pursued.

Does it on this Sunday afternoon too. Light kisses on his cheeks, harder on his neck, delicate on his shoulders, between strands of hair, strands of delight and source of fascination. “Allow me to disagree on this with you…is that okay, hyung?” he says, whispers secret-soft in Yoongi’s ear, peering down at him as he searches for a running gaze; obscured so darling by flowing bangs.

Yoongi nods his approbation, soft as always, affection brewing in his eyes for him—and then for the puppy in his hands demanding their attention in quick succession of adorable yips. He’s Taehyung this way, never ashamed of asking for the things he wants—never ashamed altogether, at least that’s what Yoongi told him one dreamy night of just laying in bed and giving in secret confessions. There had been a terribly fond look in his eyes, a greatly loving smile on his lips. Wide and pink and gummy, Taehyung had kissed him until they were delirious, until the end of the night and beyond.

Taehyung demanded, all natural and polite for what he desired. And Yoongi gave freely, finding his own happiness in there, a cup or ten more shy into speaking out his needs. But, but that was fine. That’s what Taehyung was here for, that’s how eternal couples worked, didn’t they? Completing each other seamlessly. Partners in crime in traveling together and versed in affection for the other.

No secrets. So—

“Love?” Yoongi looks up at him, tilting his head in question. Taehyung swallows. Better just—“your new hair is a total turn on.”

“…seriously?”

“I can’t help it!”

His Yoongi-hyung likes watching him work out. Doesn’t say it outright—would he ever…?—but one would have to be utterly oblivious to not see it. And being oblivious is more of Yoongi’s forte, not Jungkook’s. It’s one time and then two and then a dozens and Jungkook stops counting the number of time he sees a waddling little man plops somewhere in the room every time he decides to put on some more muscles. It’s stolen glances toward said little person and eyes meeting, and Yoongi flushing because—because he’s been staring, staring with glittering eyes and mouth slightly open.

It’s at this point he runs away with a bullshit excuse, but he always, always come back the next time.

Jungkook awaits him eagerly.

Secret smiles, attention undivided, he awaits and welcomes, until they have this sort of silent routine that slowly fills up with soft words. Then teasing ones, flirting—which the other members never fails to roll their eyes at because Jungkook and Yoongi are already a couple. Jungkook knows it’s just jealousy speaking.

Jungkook also knows that today, Yoongi’s recording this simple business. He still asks, anyway. “Hyung, are you filming this?”

Here’s the distinct sound of Yoongi’s tongue clicking away. The fast, dismissive sound clear representation of something Yoongi’s not ready to admit. “I’m not, what are you talking about?” See? Yoongi acts the most disinterested when he actually is the most interested. All wide eyes and biting lips, hands steady on his phone or his camera. Jungkook knows him by heart like he was the one to make him.

Which. Would be quite creepy, all things considered.

He huffs out a chuckle, mind completely gone from the series of pushes up he hadn’t paused while talking to his lover. Because Yoongi, wordless Yoongi who barely lets out a noise save for the little facts and interesting stories he treats Jungkook with, takes all of his attention and stays ignorant to the matter.

It’s fine, more than fine—it’s Yoongi and being blissfully ignorant to the effect he has on men is…it’s absolutely endearing. Jungkook finds himself, sometimes, gently cupping his cheeks in between his hands and staring at him. Intensely, as other people mentioned, like concentrated rays of sunshine or an all-encompassing storm. Staring, fascinated, in adoration. He’d find back Yoongi’s considering gaze, touches of confusion, melting in a love going two ways and a wide gummy smile brimming with gentle happiness.

That’s just Yoongi. Yellow Yoongi like bottled happiness sprinkled here and there like the passage of a butterfly. Gentle. Gentle like the movement of his eyelashes when Jungkook plays with his hair—Lord, his long, enthralling hair he lets Jungkook styles however he wants and to his heart content. He’d grumble and roll his eyes but, in the end, as always, he’d trust himself completely in Jungkook’s arms.

A heady sensation, this one was. Trust. Makes Jungkook delirious with what could be done. Makes him bite his lips and his eyes snap open the moment one droplet of sweat finishes his course on his cheek and hit the ground. Here—“But, Rapunzel, can you even see under your curtain of gold?”

Predictably, Yoongi lets out an indignant noise and bats at his back with a weak fist. A pout probably forming on his lips. Jungkook, Jungkook’s addicted to Yoongi’s moodiness like bees are to honey. And so—one last barely felt effort to end this daily routine, he surges up on his back and catches bony hips between his fingers as Yoongi falls on his lap. Blinking in surprise, pout filtering away and leaving the place to a little mouth slightly open. Surprise too? Happiness? Surely the last one, Jungkook thinks, grinning as pecks of pink color Yoongi’s cheek. Happiness. Even as Yoongi’s words don’t let any of said happiness pass by. “Yah. Do you want to fight me or something?”

“I’d love to,” Jungkook snaps back, grin never leaving his lips and slight exertion contorting his tone with breathlessness.

There’s a certain light in Yoongi’s eyes as he surely takes note of it. A certain light, familiar to Jungkook like he has knows this man his whole life, when pale fingers grip toned arms in barely disguised interest. Yoongi’s never been ashamed to admit, even in front of a public, his love for—for this, for the results of years of working out and lifting weights. Present in Jungkook’s whole body that he never hesitates to flaunt. It’s not arrogance, it’s simple happiness, pride, and he knows Yoongi loves it. So, why hide anymore?

He carefully lets his fingers skim the supple skin under Yoongi’s shirt. Bucks his hips, once, and watches Yoongi bounce, watch his eyes widen prettily and waves of gold cascade around him. God, his hyung was gorgeous—“but, but you know what kind of fighting I wanna do? Less clothes and your hair tight in my grip while I fuck you, please hyung let me—”

Yoongi more than lets him. Keeps him on his toes with each of his searing kiss, the red traces left on his back as Jungkook manhandle him in bed. Spread pretty and perfect for him, golden halo around his head for Jungkook to worship.

Yoongi more than lets him. They worship together, each other, always