#than it quells it. which makes the process of spending hours & hours & hours working on something only for it to fall short

[lemony-snickers]

is scent of a camellia cancelled? just wondering because I reaaaalllyyyy liked it 👉👈

hey there, anon! thanks for stopping by. <3

the short answer is, "probably not."

the longer answer is that i don't really know. my stamina for writing has severely diminished since i first began that fic for a myriad of reasons, most of which i have already complained about on this blog (sorry). if i do finish it, it will never live up to the concept in my head. so i just have to decide whether i feel like putting the effort into something that i know (a) i won't be totally satisfied with and (b) probably won't get the response i was always hoping for.

i'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far. if it does update, it will be slow and irregular as far as any kind of schedule, and for that i apologize.

[disorganizedkitten]

A Study In Friendship Chapter 2

Miraculous Ladybug | 2019 | 2,133 | Ao3 | Prev | Masterlist | Next

Testing The Waters

Sabrina stared at her bedroom ceiling, going over yesterday again in her head.

Most days, she would already be on her feet, bouncing around her room to make completely sure she had finished all of her and Chloe's homework, found a good outfit, and was ready to spend an hour running errands.

But not today.

It felt really weird to have downtime.

Sabrina's phone had been going off incessantly all night, and was picking up steam to do so it again, but she hadn't picked it up. She wanted to edit her schedule, wanted to check on whether or not she could actually eat lunch with Marinette - Sabrina was still riding the high from having made such a good friend yesterday - but she knew that if she picked it up, she would get pulled back into Chloe's clutches.

It was how she lost last time.

And so she continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to quell her racing thoughts. Had Marinette gotten out okay last night? Would Nino hold a grudge? What was Chloe going to do when they saw each other? Sat by each other?  And the traitorous thoughts wondering if Marinette had changed her mind overnight.

Chloe was probably still angry at Sabrina. And she would stay that way. Because Sabrina wasn’t going to grovel for forgiveness this time. She deserved better than to be treated as a servant.

Didn’t she?

She briefly entertained the idea of picking up her phone and blocking Chloe’s contracts on all medias, but that would take between fifteen minutes and half an hour, and there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t read something Chloe sent in the process.

Maybe she could ask her dad too. But then he might look into Chloe for harassment, and while Sabrina was still upset at Chloe and firm in her decision to sever ties, she didn’t want to go that far. Not to mention the Mayor might try to fire Dad if he tried to get Chloe in trouble.

Which nixed that option.

Speaking of Dad…. “Hey Deputy, when are you meeting up with your friend today?”

Oh. And there was that. He had worked late last night, so she hadn’t been able to tell him about the change. Well, there was her activity for the morning!

“Around lunchtime,” Sabrina replied, the joy in her voice only partially forced as she twisted to look at Roger. “Can we have breakfast together?”

“Of course! I’ll start an extra helping.” he ducked back out of her doorway, presumably headed to the kitchen.

Sabrina sat up at last, compartmentalizing her thoughts so that she could enjoy some time with her dad. Their schedules didn’t often overlap like this, she should make the best of it. Especially since her schedule was so much more relaxed than a normal relaxed schedule thismorning.

She walked over to her dresser, near silently, to pick out today’s accessory; she hovered over her usual white headband, before switching it out for a flower she had gotten from Marinette as a birthday present years ago. She’d never managed to give it away, even as she built a rift between herself and the other classmates at Chloe’s side.

She was really, really lucky Marinette had decided to become her friend. That was a lot of distance to bridge. And she would put in the needed work. They both deserved at least that.

Sabrina clipped it into her hair and headed out to enjoy breakfast with her Dad. A rare occurrence that might not be quite so rare anymore. It was a possibility that made her smile.

***

‘I’m planning on having Sabrina over for lunch too, is that okay with you?’ The message had gone out to three different numbers, all of which replied with some version of yes. Alya had been skeptical but proud of her for trying, Nino said he’d try it, and Adrien thought it was a good idea.

Which were the reactions Marinette had expected, mostly. She hadn’t expected Adrien to be quite this happy about it, but she would take it.

Hopefully the stutter wouldn’t be too bad today She needed to focus on bridging the gap between Sabrina and Nino. And Alya, but Alya hadn’t met nearly as much of the attacks from Chloe and Sabrina as Nino and Marinette had.

***

Sabrina got to school earlier than usual. She didn’t want to coincide with Chloe’s time of arrival, but Marinette didn’t have a set time to get to school, so Sabrina couldn’t plan for that. She just had to get there early and wait.

Which brought up where she would be waiting.

Logically, she knew that she had picked her seat earlier in the year, and should stick to it. But dread pooled in her stomach at the thought of sitting beside Chloe for hours every day now that they were no longer friends.

The main question was if Mme. Bustier would allow her to move, and if anyone would want her sitting beside them.

With Marinette as her only friend, and Alya sitting by Marinette, it was unlikely she would be greeted warmly. Although Ivan or Nathaniel might let her sit beside them and ignore her, which would be leagues better than having to still sit by Chloe. Plus, Marinette was right in front of them!

Yes, she would try that.

Sabrina skipped up the staircase, turning at the banister, almost colliding with someone.

“Morning Sabrina!”

She blinked at Nino, unsure of his sudden warmth towards her. “Morning?”

“Marinette said you’re joining us for lunch, any requests?”

“Not really.” Sabrina shook her head, still unsure. This was new. And it happened fast.

“Alright, see you then!” Nino waved and continued on his way, as though that was completely ordinary. It was.. nice, to not be treated like a demon or a bomb.

Were- were people really going to be that forgiving already?  Sabrina tightened her grip on her bag in excitement.

Mme. Bustier was already seated at her desk when Sabrina entered the Classroom, so she got straight to arguing her case. She didn’t have Chloe to make the teacher bend to their will anymore, so she had to actually use her intellect. “Mme. Bustier, I’d like to switch seats. I know that it’s not time for the midsemester switch, and that you rarely do the midsemester switch anyways, but I would feel much better if I was sitting in the middle right row instead of up front where I was.”

Mme. Butsier looked towards the seats in question, where only Ivan was at the moment. “I don’t see a problem with you moving, but we will have to check with Ivan first, alright?”

“Alright!” Sabrina nodded, surprised at how easily Mme. Bustier had caved. She didn’t have to use most of her arguments! Which was good, all things considered. It would be obvious soon, but she needed a little while to mentally prepare before plainly announcing to everyone else that she was done being friends with Chloe.

They made their way up to Ivan’s desk, where Mme. Bustier asked his opinion on the switch. Ivan grunted noncommittally, but nodded. Sabrina sighed quietly. Two hurdles passed. “Thank you!” She slid onto the bench, pulling her bag up in front of her too.

Ivan grunted again, and this time Sabrina could almost make out words at the low volume.

Mme. Bustier had reached her desk again when Nino returned, headphones pulled up and an argument in the form of Kim and Alix following him. Sabrina scanned the classroom to pass time, seeing who else was there. Rose, Juleka, and Max, were already in their seats, and Mylene was at the edge of Rose and Juleka’s desk, happily chattering about a music show.

Sabrina hoped Marinette could get here soon. She wanted to talk like that, although she didn’t know what Marinette might want to talk about. Maybe fashion? Or flowers! Marinette liked those, right? And Sabrina knew plenty about flowers, Chloe had liked them too.

She crossed her arms, leaning her chin on them as she watched and waited for her best friend to come through the door. It would probably be a little while, Marinette lived really close, but almost always got to school second to last. Probably taking advantage of her proximity to the school to spend more time at home.

Sabrina should do that too. Time her trek to school so that she arrived just a little bit before Marinette did, and they could go in together like Sabrina and Chloe used to!

A hand slammed onto her desk, shaking her out of her thoughts. Sabrina focused on it, recognizing it as Chloe’s. She must have really zoned out, if she missed Chloe walking in.

“There you are! Did Dupain-Cheng steal your phone yesterday or something? I’ve been calling you for ages! That horrid Akuma attacked me again, and Ladybug and Chat Noir just destroyed my room! The only good thing that came of it was me featuring on Cesaire’s blog. I’m going to need so much retail therapy for this, and you have to come with me.”

Sabrina took a deep breath, and then looked straight at Chloe. This would be so much easier with Marinette to back her up, but she still had a backbone of her own and she would use it. “Take Jean-Claude with you. We’re not friends anymore, remember?”

Chloe scoffed. “Come on, you’re still on that? Dupain-Cheng was just upset about the work portioning. She’s so quarrelsome!”

“Marinette is super nice! She’s been a much better friend in the eighteen hours since she became my friend than you were all year.” Sabrina didn't mention the Akuma, but only barely. Her job wasn't to spy and reveal secrets anymore.

“You’re just being ridiculous, Sabrina!”

Sabrina opened her mouth to retort, tell her that No, she wasn’t being ridiculous, and Yes, she was actually done being Chloe’s friend now, but Ivan replied before she could.

“Chloe, she said no. Go sit down.”

Chloe huffed, “Fine. Sabrina, we’ll talk at lunch.” she spun around and stomped back down to their normal seats. Their old seats. Chloe’s seat, now.

Sabrina watched Chloe go, and once she was seated turned to Ivan. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Sabrina smiled, turning back to her bag, and then looking at the door again too. Perfect timing, just as Marinette and Adrien walked in and took their seats. Alya must have slipped in while Sabrina was zoning out too, as she was there to greet Marinette with a fist-bump.

“Hey Sabrina!” Marinette whispered, turning and smiling at her.

“Hi Marinette!” Sabrina waved back, her smile widening. “Everything went well last night?”

Marinette leaned to the side, tilting her head as she did so. “There was a minor hiccup,-” she shrugged, moving back to a normal sitting position. She was so expressive! “-but it all worked out, and Nath came out okay. He might be taking the day off school though.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Alya asked, twisting to join the conversation. “Even if I wasn’t suspended at the time of mine, I would have taken a day off.”

“Yeah.” Sabrina agreed. “It makes sense for Akumatization to be mentally and emotionally taxing, I don’t think anyone will fault him for it.” Except maybe Chloe. And yesterday, Sabrina herself. Like they had with Ivan. Oohhh. She might want to apologize for that.

But what if it was too late? Or her bringing it up just made him mad? They only sat by each other, maybe she should just leave it.

She definitely would apologize to Nathaniel. And maybe Marinette. Her being rude along with Chloe caused it, and that then put her friend in danger.

“They better not,” Alya rolled her eyes.

“If anyone is going to be faulted it will be Hawkmoth. He's the only one who's actually at fault.” Marinette’s eyes hardened as she said it. Sabrina couldn’t blame her. Ever since Hawkmoth had made himself known, Ladybug had been working with the police to make sure Akuma victims were always protected from backlash and victim blaming. It didn't always work.

“Yeah.”

The bell rung then, effectively ending the conversation. Alya and Marinette turned back to the front, and Mylene scurried down to her seat.

“Alright class, settle down!” Mme. Bustier clapped, standing up and walking around to the front of her desk.

Sabrina flipped her bag open and pulled out her tablet, powering it on to see a screen full of notifications. She glanced over at the back of Chloe’s head, then to Marinette’s, right in front of her. Smiling sadly to herself, she tapped ‘Clear all’ and opened her notebook app and study guide. She would be okay. She had Marinette, and Chloe wouldn’t pull her back.

[falling-pages]

Bend the Knee: Kyoya x Reader

Thanks @ouranbound for the idea <3

-

“I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present."

-

Sometimes Kyoya's betrothed needs help adjusting from their commoner life to one of splendor.

-

Kyoya Ootori x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, arranged marriage, Commoner! Reader

Warnings: None

-

“Quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. You complain about that job every night, so just resign.”

You sit up on the couch, gasping to even begin to make the young heir understand how preposterous his words were. He barely even noticed, just kept his eyes glued to his novel as you were having a crisis. Just another normal Tuesday in this household. “I can’t quit just like that, without two weeks’ notice.”

“The other employees did.”

“But I’m their best,” you scramble, “I can’t bail while they’re still looking for two more people.”

Kyoya scoffed, licking his fingertip and turning a page. “Is that how they treat their best? Overworked and underpaid? They don’t sound like very good bosses to me.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

It was that. It was exactly that, which made his smug smile all the more frustrating, igniting that fire under your nails to just punch his lights out. But then you’d have to admit it’s bothering you, and he would win, and even though you were engaged to marry this man, you just couldn’t have that.

You ran your hands through your hair, dropping back down onto the couch. His office futon wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, perhaps to discourage relaxation during work hours, but it’s what you dealt with in order to spend time with him in the evenings, a change you would certainly implement once your name was on the deed and in the will--a revamp of his working space was imperative.

But you supposed you couldn’t complain. It was your little life together, where he manages a multi-billion dollar empire and you whine about your job, where he pretends to not pay attention while you spill your guts. What was the sense in commenting when he knew you wouldn’t take his advice?

“I’ve worked hard for this position,” you settle on, closing your eyes and letting your brain do the work. “I’ve climbed the ladder and gotten promotions and I used to feel so important, and it isn’t my dream job, sure, but I’ve enjoyed the process.”

“Then it’s time to move on to something different,” he suggests, and his tone is softer than usual, though still careful to sound detached. “You know I have more than enough money to provide for you and our family someday. Is that not enough?”

You open your eyes when the voice sounds closer, right above you, and you see him kneeling down beside you on the couch. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back down, helping you stretch out your spine, shake out the stresses in your limbs. And when he takes your hand, drawing his long fingers over the arch of your wrist and against your palm, you were startled to see him at eye-level.

Kyoya Ootori bent his knee to no one except you, and only once, when he slipped that pretty gold ring on your finger. But here where you lay, your faces were on the same level, and you felt like an equal.

“The world I come from isn’t black and white, Kyoya,” you say, as he strokes the back of your knuckles. Such tenderness was seldom seen from him, but you revel in it, grasp onto it with dirty fists and brazen recklessness. To have him so attentive to your needs and listening to you was rare. It was a privilege, a standard you would soon be held to, as well. “To be just...launched into fame because my dad won the lottery is hard, I still need to adjust. It can all be gone in a second, so I can’t just drop something. I can’t...sever the safety net. They need me to keep the place afloat, and even as tough as it has been, I can’t leave on such bad terms. They need me. Just for a little bit longer.”

He sighs your name like the afterthought of a prayer, settling his other hand beside you on the couch. His fingers dig into every indentation, as if joining your discovery of its stiff cushions. The sheen in his glasses signaled he’d look into it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

He remained silent, odd for a man with all the answers, but he continued to look at you, not like he was trying to drill a hole through your head, but like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to figure out.

“Have I really been so absent, my love?” he whispered, raising his hand to your face. One finger stroked along your cheek, slowly, lulling you into peace. “I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present. Please, forgive me.”

All of the air was knocked out of your chest as his gentle words, so soft that you almost didn’t recognize him. When your parents betrothed you, and when you fell in love with him, agreed to marry him, even, you knew that he would always be an Ootori, with every string attached. You were ready for the challenge, ready to be with this man no matter what--but his sudden kindness was unexpected, the poetic words unfamiliar in your ears.

“Kyo, you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” you ask, taking off his glasses.

He let you, and when you set them on the nearby stand, his dark eyes glittered with something you had never seen before. Deeper than love, deeper than compassion, a feral protectiveness mixed with sadness skating across his face. It was so rare you saw him without this shield of his, you had almost forgotten how his eyes were like galaxies, like the murky night sky, expansive, swallowing everything in its path.

“If I had been suffering so, I wouldn’t forgive my partner had they not noticed,” he said.

“I’m not suffering...”

“Mmm-mm.” He shuttered your lips closed with his finger, and you couldn’t help but return the affection and press a kiss to it. He smiled, softly, and you thought about how long it had been since you had seen that smile, and how long it had been since he’s seen yours, too.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings,” he said, and when you snorted, he rolled his eyes and leaned away. “See, this is exactly why.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, giggling. The feeling was foreign in the pit of your chest, drumming near your spine. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, softly wiping where you had kissed him, a repetitive, soothing motion. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings. I’ve been raised to think that if you throw money at something, it will go away. It’s a powerful position to hold, knowing you can change everyone’s fates on a whim, but…” he swallowed, breaking eye contact, and you felt his energy shift into something vulnerable. “But you changed that. You make me feel...you make me feel. And at first I didn’t like it. I loved you, but I didn’t like what you did to me. I didn’t like how you made my world shift off-balance, until I realized my world was no longer my family’s company or stocks or what other stiffs thought of me. It was you.”

You tried to lean up and kiss him, but he grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “Please, let me finish, I want...I want you to know. We’ve been betrothed for so long, but I’d like to think we were only truly engaged when I bowed to you with that ring.”

“Okay,” you breathed, shallowly, taking it in, squeezing his hands to help him along.

“Because that took everything in me,” he continued, and his voice shook, his hands shook, and all you wanted was to gather him in your arms and hold him till he relaxed. “I was raised as a superior, but I’m not. Not with you. You are my equal, and I love you, and there’s no future with us if I can’t look beyond my own problems to see yours.”

Your stomach quelled in light of his confession. The life of luxury and fame you had so recently come to know was a blur compared to his childhood swathed in privilege. Only six years ago you were waiting tables to save up for college when your dad bought a lottery ticket for the hell of it. Now you were attending charity balls and engaged to the son of the richest man on earth.

He took a shaky breath and kissed your forehead, seeming to only find the courage once his lips met your skin.

“I notice. I swear I do,” he said. “I tried to act disinterested when you vent to me because it was a protection, it was a way to stay cold, because that was all I ever saw from my mother and father. They were separate people who happened to live in the same house. That’s not us. I’m not my father. I swear I notice. I notice your tired eyes and your tense shoulders and your fake smile and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how, so I clam up. I shut down. And I’m sorry. I truly am, my darling. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

It was an absolute miracle that you could even breathe at the end of his speech, panting almost as heavily as he was. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, this time he didn’t object, but pulled you even closer, shrouding your body with his, his sharp scent overwhelming your senses, clouding the air around you, even when there was no distance between you. His mouth was hot with passion, yet reserved, and though it wasn’t the first time you kissed, it was the first time you thought he meant it when he told you he loved you.

“Kyoya, I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I have for so long. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if I didn’t, no matter what our parents said.” He laughed, nipping your bottom lip lightly. “And I don’t want you to change for me. You’re under so much pressure, I understand why you act like you do. But our home isn’t Wall Street. My heart isn’t some business bargaining chip. You don’t need to fight your nature to love me. It’s one and the same.” One of his tears splashes down onto your face. “So just see me. Love me. Choose to be vulnerable. I promise it won’t scare me off.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you again, burning his brand against your tongue, hard like a handshake to know he meant it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, like you were breathing the same air, using the same lungs, the same heart beating in tandem.

When you let go, his forehead remained pressed against yours. His eyes were slightly open, watching you, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He was so soft, like this. You wanted to hold him forever.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper, trailing a hand through his hair. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He kissed your forehead, rubbing his nose against yours in compliance. “I’ll spend all the time in the world with you, beloved,” he sighed, capturing your lips once more. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

-

Kofi

[typically-untypical]

A Dragon's Treasure

Plot: Prince Roman is desperate to break the curse placed upon his people, no matter what the cost. The dragon Janus is able to break the curse, but he will only offer his services for a price. Though, Janus' intentions are not quite what they seem.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 23 - The Scientist

Erni walked towards the room they had been asked to go to, not happy that their morning routine had been interrupted. It had been a while since they had been asked to verify if someone was under the influence of any magic. The idea of a magical scare faded fairly quickly after the death of the dragons, but the recent removal of the country curse had brought up more questions about magic. Most of the thoughts were quelled with the propaganda that science was what had broken the curse, a potion made by only the strongest scientists. Erni had to roll their eyes at that. Nothing that scientists could make could even touch the power of a dragon, especially not the dragon spirit of vengeance that had to have cast the curse across their country. Erni with people would understand that. They also wished that people would understand that there was room for both. Magic could coexist simultaneously, they were two sides of the same coin, but no one wanted to discuss that. Erni fought for change where they could, but when you worked as the queen's royal scientist, it was hard. Not to mention that protecting their own skin was also very important to them.

The queen was getting harder and harder to handle as her paranoia grew. There had been a few more magical investigations in the past few weeks. The queen would request a scientist to discover if a person had been affected by magic, hoping to catch someone that was out to get her. Erni had made themself indispensable with how quickly they could get the work done. For most scientists it was a subject of trial and error, figuring out what would work and what wouldn't, but Erni worked smarter not harder. Sliding their glasses on their face, they walked into the room and almost immediately paused. Their glasses, an old relic they had found in their days on the street, allowed them to see through any illusion or mental curse magic. Yes, the glasses themselves were magic, but no one had to know, especially not when it gave Erni a leg up on things. Rather than spending hours on a discovery, the could take a single look at a person and see if any magic had a hold of them.

It was a lovely tool they were thankful to have.

However, as they looked around the room,  they immediately wished they could have remained oblivious. Prince Roman was standing in the room with Logan the royal advisor, and most problematically, a man who looked the same age as Prince Roman, looked the same as Prince Roman, this was a twin, and that was a huge problem.

“Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention Jerrick, I will take care of things from here.” As Erni attempted to figure out what the fuck was going on, they pretended to set up their supplies.

The guard nodded, turning leaving, and closing the door. 

“This process only needs to be completed on the advisor right?” Roman asked, trying to act strong, but Erni rolled their eyes. "I know how long this process takes."

“Don’t try to act strong, this might be insubordination but I am far too frightened to care. Explain.”

All three men looked at each other confused and Erni started to pace a little bit. “Prince Roman, Twin of Prince Roman, and the advisor, all three of which have a branding mark on your wrist, what in the hell is going on? Did you join a cult?” They asked, looking at Roman, “Did they clone you? Because we in the castle aren’t dumb, we know that the current “Prince Roman” is just a commoner puppet that your mother has installed to save face for the fact that you disappeared. I don't think you are a clone though, otherwise it would be a different color. This looks far too powerful for a normal mage to have cast it, which meant you got into something powerful. So I repeat, Explain.”

They watched as Prince Roman straightened up, and Erni was pretty sure they were about to be yelled at. They watched as Prince Roman took in a deep breath, pushing his hands down towards the earth a little bit. They watches as Prince Roman opened his eyes and looked at them the way a king should.

“It is a very long story,” Roman started, “But this is my twin, Remus, and he has been nothing but a blessing in my life since I found him. I feel that is the most information I can give you in this strange situation.” 

Alright, so that was new, and that was breaking a lot of different cultural rules and regulations. Twins were dangerous, everyone knew that, but here the Prince was saying that he was happy to have his twin by his side, but even more importantly the fact that the queen had given birth to twins and hid it. They began to pace back and forth, rubbing the back of their neck. Technically, the birth of twins had brought misfortune on the country, or at least it would be easy to spin it that way. The curse hadn't started getting bad until the Prince turned 12, which was a completely arbitrary number but people would say that it meant something specific. It couldn't possibly be that something that powerful had delayed magic? However, it could also be a blessing to the country if they became aware of what actually broke the curse (or they lied and said it was magic even if it wasn't. 

The prince had returned, that was a really good thing because he had shown the capacity to be a good leader, but the prince had returned with a twin and completely covered in a powerful magic.

Roman seemed to be taken aback by their observations. "How could you tell with just one look?"

Lying to the prince was a stupid idea, but they weren't going to put themself in more danger than necessary.  "You aren't the only one with secrets my prince, and my secrets keep me employed."

He paused, thinking about their words and it was only after he whispered, "Fair enough," that they relaxed and noticed the slight smirk in the prince's lips.  It was weirdly flattering to have caught the Prince's attention.

"Alright, how are we going to handle this?" They asked, "Because your mom is probably looking for a reason to kick all of you out, so if I say you are fine, then she is going to have me hung for treason after getting another scientist to lie."

Logan cleared his throat. "Maybe I can help with that. Tell her that you think something is wrong, but you aren't sure what and you would like a second opinion. I can push for the fact that I am being treated unfairly and ask for a scientist I have worked with before. You and I have worked closely together before but I have also made sure to keep my options open."

Okay, they were liking this so far, this could work.

"Then, when that person has come in, we can attempt to explain the situation to them. We will make a story up regarding the binding marks, which I will fully explain to you and only you. Then, once we have gotten the other scientist on our side, we will bring the evidence to the queen. We are working on a time limit but I think we should have plenty of time to work through this."

Erni nodded. "Okay, that sounds like a decent enough plan, but I need to know about those binding marks before I jump fully on board."

"And why is that?" Roman cut in, eyes skeptical and guarded. That was good, skeptical was a wonderful place to be."

"Because, there's a lot that can come with those marks, different protections and spells, there are even some that could make you think you are okay when you aren't." They gave their full attention to Roman, "And it is my job to help protect this kingdom in whatever way I can, even if it is small."

Roman looked surprised, but wasn't that normal, the strong desire to protect and serve the people that you cared about. Sure there were assholes in this country, there were in any country, but protecting people's basic rights, including the right not to be hunted by a crazed queen, was the bare minimum they could do.

"I'll tell the story," Roman said with a nod, but the twin put a hand on him and pushed him back.

"Let me do it! It's been so long since I've gotten to talk to other humans. This will be good practice."

Prince Roman snorted like something about that sentence was funny. Erni didn't get it, but sat down and listened anyway. It was fascinating being able to listen to a twin who had actually grown up and gotten the chance to live their life.

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Tag List: @simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling

[silkylious]

Of Cold Soba and Rose-gold Vows (Todoroki Shoto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x reader Warnings: ANGST, mature themes, suggestive content, fluff A/N: ughhh its finally here, honestly this took way too long to finish because im a lazy cunt but here it is finally! Hope you enjoy!

Also feel free to request stuff!

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

The footfalls of heeled shoes propagated throughout his office, each echoing step flooding his chest with dread and accelerating the previously calm rhythm of his heartbeat. Three consecutive knocks sounded before her sickly-sweet voice followed suit. “I have more paperwork for you, sir,”

Despite the lump accumulating in his throat, he managed to croak out a response, ushering his secretary into his office. The door clicked open, closing shut after she stepped in. He didn’t dare lift his eyes from the sheets of paper lining his desk, grasping on what little self-control was left in his morale. A hefty stack of paper was slammed right in his field of vision, causing him to snap his head up, ready to berate his assistant on her lack of professionalism. The lecture he was prepared to give her was shoved to the back burner in his mind once he made eye contact with her figure. Shit. A dress shirt way too tight around her bust, the first couple buttons left open and a body-hugging pencil skirt, accentuating her already exaggerated curves. Fuck. He winced at the audible gulp he couldn’t help but take, hoping she didn’t notice his frazzled reaction. His fleeting attention was brought back to her face, mentally cursing himself when he caught sight of her smug visage. She definitely noticed.

She took his silence as compliance, deciding it was finally time after so many failed trials to raise the stakes a bit more. Her self-satisfied attitude only augmented as she made her way around her boss’s workbench, stalking the way his shoulders tensed and the formation of sweat beads on his temples. With the pen now long forgotten, his hands clenched into fists atop his desk, two contradicting thoughts wreaking havoc through his conscious. He felt her feminine stature press into his back, her dainty fingers hugging his broad shoulders, compressing the taut muscle. All hell broke loose in the corners of his mind, his vision blurring at the peripherals. He could almost hear his subconscious screaming at him to push her away, to do something! But right now, he could only focus on the soft touch encasing his shoulders, the short breaths enchanting his ears.

“You seem a little tense, sir,”

Todoroki was well aware of the flirtatious lilt in her words, well aware of how wrong this was, but he couldn’t help but silently indulge in the prohibited intimacy. His resolve was rapidly cracking, her heinous antics doing a number on him. He’d resisted so many times before (her little game of cat and mouse lasting way longer than he should’ve allowed) but something about this moment propelled him to the edge of caving in. Just as he was about to pluck the thinning thread holding his restraint together and finally fall victim to her adulterated wishes, his phone rang, snapping him out of his indecent trance, giving him an exit out of this situation and he damn near bolted out of it. He wasn’t a religious guy, yet he still internally thanked whatever higher being was looking down at him right now.

He took the cue handed to him by the heavens gladly, his scarred hand darting out to clutch his cellular device. Urging his frisky secretary out with the excuse of taking this phone call, he watched as a sour expression overtook her features. She clearly wasn’t pleased about this, making it a point to stomp her way out, slamming the door behind her retreating figure. With her presence far away from his personal space, he let out a breath he’d been holding for way too long, taking a moment to steady his pulse. Mismatched eyes tiredly descending onto the device that had saved him, sliding his finger across the screen to accept the incoming call.

“Pro-hero: Shoto, we need your backup right now,”

The villain he was called in to capture had caused a ruckus in the city’s mall, one thing lead to another and devastating damage had been dealt to the city square. The villain was arrested with the help of the many Pro-heroes on sight, Shoto doing most of the dirty work with little to no harm inflicted to the surrounding area. Not many civilians were injured and there were no fatalities, the rest was smooth sailing from there (aside from a little squabble with a certain explosive hero claiming he had stolen the last blow, which Shoto honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck about). He couldn’t wait to take a shower, clock in and call it a day. 

The hero carved his way through his agency, muscle memory dragging him to his office while taking off various support items during the short walk. He paused in his steps when a dire thought crossed his mind. Would she still be here? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to get some alone time with him by staying well past her work hours. And if she was here, what would he do? He wouldn’t know how to respond after what happened earlier that afternoon. Whatever fucked up odds were in his favor for the second time that day as he didn’t hear a single noise in the agency, save for a lone janitor mopping the floor. Relief brought him back down to earth and away from his anxious thoughts. He briskly made his way into a stall, thoroughly enjoying the cold water enveloping his skin.

While under the showerhead, his thoughts ran amuck. That afternoon had been a close call, he despised himself because he knew that had his phone stayed silent, he would have indulged in the disgusting fantasies she’d created. A concoction of guilt and self-deprecation settled deep in his gut, he knew he had to stop these risky incidents, it wasn’t right. But every time he found himself ready to pull the plug and repent, she lured him back in like a sailor to a siren’s song. These sordid happenings had to come to an end, he knew that like the back of his hand, he just didn’t know how to stop luxuriating in the bittersweet taste of this forbidden fruit. He briefly contemplated firing her, frankly her skills weren’t even all that awe inducing, he could easily find a less problematic, more efficient replacement for her. But the wicked part of his being quickly squashed that option, even though he was fully aware that it was the correct option, the right thing to do.

The half and half Pro shut off the faucet, cutting his train of thought short in the process, and stepped out of the stall into the locker room. What was supposed to be a nice quelling of his worries had only spiked his self-hatred up a couple notches. Diligently drying off his candy cane hued strands, he could only hope that his mind would ease up with time.

By the time he’d made it to his surprisingly humble apartment, he’d relaxed enough to not look like he had a stick shoved up his rectum. All his tranquility was defenestrated the second he heard the voice that had been causing him so much inner turmoil the past few weeks.

“Welcome home, Shoto.”

The words that would typically soothe him, now caused him immeasurable pain. The guilt he’d been able to muffle, now ringing louder than any alarm ever could in his brain. Oh, how badly he wanted to tug you by the waist, desperately hold you against his larger frame. Yet Shoto couldn’t bring himself to do that, hell he couldn’t even meet your eyes, too afraid that he’ll taint your being with his grimy hands. The shame welling up was eating him alive, that vile scene playing on repeat before his heterochromatic irises as he tried to match your stare, a singular thought plaguing him. You don’t deserve this; he doesn’t deserve you.

He hadn’t been expecting you to be at home as you usually be snoring peacefully in bed right now. The uneven timing between both your careers had made it near impossible to spend time together, but you’ve coped with it throughout your relationship.  

“Sho, you okay?” He was pummeled back to reality when he heard your concerned voice, lord knows he didn’t deserve your sympathy. He managed a small smile and a kiss to your forehead.

“‘M’ fine, just tired. Long day at work.” Was his simple response, leaving out all the details that would surely bar him from sleep that night. You hummed lightly, enjoying the sensation of his puckered lips on your forehead, which had become quite scarce lately.

“I made dinner, your favorite. You want some?” The hopeful glint in your stare amplified the hurt in his chest. How could he do this to you? Shoto didn’t take long to decline, ignominy brutally killing his appetite. He resigned to bed with you in tow, he could practically sense the disappointment radiating off you, but he wouldn’t be able to bear looking at your face a moment longer.

This has been the formulaic dynamic of your relationship recently; he’d leave early, hurl himself at work in hopes of avoiding any interaction with the two causes of conflict in his life then arrive late into the night, either to find you cocooned with all the blankets in bed or on the rare occasion that you were awake, he’d forgo dinner and b-line it for the bed. The distance between you made you perturbed. Sure, you saw the amazing work he does daily on the news (and you were the proudest and loudest of his fans, supporting him from day one unconditionally), but that didn’t mean he had to marginalize your existence for the sake of his hero career. Besides, this only became a problem recently, you tried to brainstorm any shifts or events that could have birthed this unreasonable drift between the two of you, but you came up with nothing, unaware that what had caused the drift wasn’t an event, rather a person.

All sleep eluded him that night, sleepless and cloaked in despair. His mind going back to its chaotic state. He didn’t know why he was enabling his secretary’s inappropriate behavior, maybe due to the lack of intimacy between you two? No, he couldn’t lie to himself, he was painfully aware that he was the one to cause the shortage of affection in your relationship. Todoroki didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just stop her like any good-natured, faithful boyfriend would. No matter how hard he berated himself, he could never find the will to stop wallowing in her passion, the passion of a woman that wasn’t you. God, how pathetic he was. He, at the very least, prided himself in being able to reject her advances up until now, but he knew that was the bare minimum of what he should do, but what he didn’t know was much scarier in contrast. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to turn her down. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, which eventually lulled his mind into a turbulent slumber.

Todoroki woke up at the ass crack of dawn the next morning, as per usual, yawning while he went through the motions of his morning routine. Now fully dressed and presentable, he paused beside your side of the bed. His cold knuckles brushed over your face, smoothing some of your follicles away to get a better look at your expression. Even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch, longingly seeking out his comforting, cool caresses with a soft, dopey smile. His heart stuttered violently, both with mirthful adoration and overwhelming penitence. With that, he abruptly halted the loving contact and headed towards his agency.

His day had been going pleasantly for the most part, a fairly easy patrol with some small-fry villains here and there, and barely any run ins with his dreaded secretary. All was looking well, he could finish paperwork and surprise you with an early visit, you’d absolutely love that! At least, that was the plan until she came barging into his office. His eyes expanding as he took in her disheveled figure. Her top buttons all undone, giving him an ample view of her cleavage, she had ditched the thigh-high stockings deciding to go bare-legged, her pencil skirt skin-tight around her curves and he could have sworn it was hitched up a bit. She wasn’t messing around this time. He prayed, begged for a way out like what had happened last time, yet he could somehow tell that wasn’t going to happen. Fate had already dealt its cards, giving him chance after chance, and now he was all out of chances, all out of luck. He gulped in preparation of what would come, for better or worse.

Meanwhile, you were sat at home, with a laptop in your clutches. After typing out a few overly formal and redundant emails, you stretched your arms above your head, hearing a satisfying pop. Unlocking your phone, your eyes scanned the number displayed on the lock screen. 5:32 PM. Shoto had informed you that he would be arriving early, the mere thought bringing a smile to your face. Your attention diverted from the numbers on your device to the background picture, a picture of you and Shoto on the beach, your lips caressing his cheek as he held onto the phone, a serene smile lighting up his expression. You missed those days, you knew you had to have a talk with him about the direction of your relationship, you just didn’t know when. You’d rarely see him throughout the day. And when you did, he was either too exhausted to function or already knocked out in bed. Your faith was firmly planted in him, it really was, yet you couldn’t help but speculate why his absence was more frequent these days. Shaking those thoughts away, you head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

Shoto eyed her with a mixture of anticipation and fear, the way her hips swayed purposefully, her petite fingers curling around the lock and clicking it shut. She stalked her way over to his desk, leaning over it and bringing herself face-to-face with the object of her desires. Her pride was wounded way too many times to count, each rejection only increasing her sense of entitlement. She knew that her boss wasn’t single, he had a goddamn picture of you on his desk, yet that didn’t hinder her in the slightest. In fact, she took it as a challenge, at first it was fun to get a reaction out of him but his consistent refusal to her advances was getting tiring. She was treading on thin ice, one small slip up and she’d be engulfed in icy waters, but she confided in the fact that he hadn’t fired her yet (for whatever goddamn reason). Her stern expression met his own stoic one, a façade he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep holding up much longer.

“You left me hanging last time, sir. Let’s continue where we left off, shall we?”

She slid behind him, noiseless as a cat, taking the position she had been in the day before, this time with no interruptions. And there were no objections coming from him, which surprised both of them. She’d been expecting even a little bit of resistance on his part, yet there was none. Her abhorrent hands snaked their way down his built pectorals, relishing in his lack of defiance, whispering to him all the foul fantasies she’d dreamed of, and he didn’t say no.

“See, sir, once you let go, it’ll feel a lot better,”

As her fingers danced across his abdomen marveling at his muscles, she shifted a bit so she can stand beside him, watch all the resilience drain from his face as he gave in to her sick pleasures. God, he wanted to stop her, to shove her away, to do something, anything! But despite his subconscious crying out for him to take action, his body didn’t budge an inch. He felt sick to his stomach, he was enjoying this. He reviled himself over and over again in his head, yet he couldn’t deny her sensuous touches. He was already planning to penance for his sinful consent, never in his life did he think he’d ever be a perpetrator of infidelity, yet here he was letting a woman who wasn’t his lover touch him in ways he’d pledged were for only for your hands to execute.

His muteness was getting her drunk on the control she had over him -over the number three Pro-hero, she couldn’t help but test the waters and push her luck. Her digits scraped a path from his rock-hard abs to his inner thigh, kneading the muscle in her hands, inching closer and closer to the point of no return, the point where he’d officially be classified as an undignified cheater. His head snapped up, the haggard shouts of his subconscious finally proving fruitful in their effort to make him move. His eyes searched her grinning face, shit-eating and riddled with malice, and in a flash his mind compared her power-drunk smirk to your soft smile that he had the pleasure of witnessing that morning. All of a sudden, the frayed old thread holding his restraint together was restored to its original state, resewing and stitching itself back together to form a robust lasso that would hold his heart and spirit tightly, only yielding to your will and wind. She wasn’t you; she’d never be you or even come close. That small revelation prompted him to grip her wrist, which had been itching towards his semi-hard member. With newfound resolve, his voice as stern as he could muster, he made a demand- no, an order.

“Get out.”

“Wha- But-”

“Out. Now.”

His austere words left no room for discussion or complaints, her previously smug smile vanishing, replaced with pure fear at his staunch appearance. The tables were completely flipped, he had finally regained control over his traitorous body. She quickly heaved up, trying to fix her debauched state frantically before she booked it out of the room. With her villainous aura gone, the IcyHot Pro-hero dramatically sighed out, slumping in his office chair as he recounted the events of the past thirty minutes. He loathed himself for letting that continue on longer than it should have.

Before Todoroki can drown in his sea of self-loathing, his cell phone buzzed, indicating a notification. Opening the device, his breath hitched once he saw who had texted him.

Babe ❤️❤️: Sho r u still coming home early tonight? ps love ya Sent 6:13

Given the events that had just transpired in his office, his heart was racing. Mostly out of left-over adrenaline, but a part of him was happy he could still call himself loyal to you by minimum measures. Todoroki’d been so close to tipping over, he promised himself that he wouldn’t repeat his past mistakes. with the ache to see you blooming in him, he shot you a short text confirming that he’d be home in a bit and took a brisk shower to scrub off any lingering sensations from his sleazy assistant, both figuratively and literally.

When Todoroki arrived home only to be greeted by your patient smile, he couldn’t help the exasperated look overtaking his features. He truly didn’t deserve you, but he’d be a fool to let you go. Before you found the chance to even address him, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, savoring the aroma of your shampoo. He abruptly let you go to get a hold of your cheeks, gingerly patting them with his thumbs as he reminded himself over and over again that your were his and most importantly, that he was yours and only yours. Mental exhaustion crept up on him, the aftermath of his ongoing misdeeds finally catching up to him. Shoto could barely handle the fact that he had been so close to giving you up for some office skank, rubbing at his temples to ease the oncoming headache. You didn’t comment on his odd demeanor, opting to give him a serving of his favorite dish instead. With his head down, eyes focused on the coffee table in front of him, Shoto didn’t notice you leaving and returning with a tray in hand. His grey-blue hue flickered between the bowl of cold soba and the small glass of sake that were pushed into his line of vision then up to your playful grin. So pure, so loving. Nothing like the one he saw mere minutes prior in his agency.

“Eat up, I won’t be taking no for an answer this time!” Were your endearingly light-hearted words, that cheeky smile never fading. Shoto cemented this moment in his mind forever, ridiculing his past self for the umptieth time that day. How could he even bestow his stare on another creature when you were right by his side? Regret, repentance and unhinged love inundated him. He uttered out three simple words.

“I love you.”

You’d heard those same words come from his mouth dozens of times before, yet somehow this time felt special. You could tell the words carried more weight than they typically did, though you couldn’t pinpoint what kind of baggage they were upholding. Without even realizing it, tears had begun to trickle down your face, all your doubts and worries extinguished in an instant. Oh, how you longed to hear those words in recent days, they shook your entire world to its very core. He loves you; he still loves you.

Honestly, he hadn’t been expecting that reaction from you, but he understood the implications behind it, and it only added to the overbearing guilt weighing on him. Had you been so starved for his affection that those simple words made you cry? Shoto shot up from his seat, he made up his mind.

The cold soba was abandoned that night, he’d grabbed you by the waist and pulled you with him to the bedroom where he indulged in the throes of passion with you, worshipping you and locking every sound, every expression and every word you made forever in his heart which you mercilessly tugged at using the lasso holding it hostage. Despite the less than pure nature of your acts, Shoto considered this his confessional, where you were the priest, ridding him from all his past sins and engulfing him in your warm light.

When you were both tuckered out, he pulled you into his bare chest, petting over your head and silently planned the coming day. Promising that he’d be better for you.

The next morning you were dejected to wake up in an empty bed, but you wouldn’t let that shake you up. Shoto was clearly trying to reignite the spark between you two, and you were going to put in the effort too. While making your morning beverage before heading to work, a neon sticky-note caught your eye. You plucked it from its place on the fridge. In neat handwriting, it read:

Hey love, Sorry for leaving early again, was called in for an emergency I’ll try to clear the rest of my schedule to come home early today Love you

~S

The sweet words served to strengthen your faith in him. He was trying, and you would be sure to show that you appreciated his determination.

After dealing with the emergency, Shoto patrolled around the city, helping out here and there when needed. When he returned to his agency, his steps carried a steadfast feel to them, he knew what he was going to do next, and he was going to make it quick.

“Sir, you called?”

The duel haired hero didn’t even spare a glance at his secretary, finding the monotonous emails on his screen far more interesting. He encouraged her to sit down in the chair parallel to his bureau. She wordlessly took his offer and sat down, her heart beating a mile a minute. They both knew where this is going.

“You’re fired. Pack up your supplies and leave as soon as possible. And please leave your desk at pristine condition.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised really, if anything this was an expected outcome from her unprofessionalism, she didn’t dare voice her disapproval though, even she wasn’t dumb enough to poke the grizzly bear. Just as silently as she had entered, she left without making a fuss. Irrepressible relief calmed the Pro-hero’s senses, he’d done the right thing. And he would continue to walk the right path for you. He was able to clear the rest of his schedule, noting mirthfully that he still had time before he’d head back home. He settled for making a couple detours before coming home to your adoring gaze.

“I’m back.” Shoto called out blissfully, he missed the feeling of having an embrace to call his home. When he didn’t receive an answer he got a wee bit skittish, though his worries were subdued when he noticed your sleeping figure huddled up on the couch, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn on the table and a shitty romcom playing on the TV.

He crouched so he could properly take in your pacific visage. He vowed to himself that from then on out, he’d better himself in every aspect to truly be worthy of being yours. And he was going to forevermore eternalize that vow with the rose-gold band residing in his pocket.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 3: The Aftermath (Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here)

It took 10 minutes and lots of questioning and cajoling to get Jenny to calm down enough to listen to anything Abbie said. She maintained an air of defensiveness, shoulders squared, muscles rigid, face a drawn mask of doubt. Even now, sitting across the table from Abbie while he sat between them at the head of the table, he saw the tension in her, unsure and unwilling to believe, even as her defenses began to crumble. "Tell me again," she demanded. Abbie sighed patiently in resolution and explained everything in detail: how she'd emerged from the lake, the knowledge she suddenly had that felt like a light coming on in her brain, missing three and half days and the significance of that, the questioning Ichabod had done. He noted she conveniently forgot to tell Miss Jenny of their...ardor, for which he was most grateful. Somehow he knew she'd be excited and tease them incessantly, if not this night then starting with their next encounter. As it stood now, he felt like the flayed end of a raw nerve and didn't think he could handle much more of anything, let alone good-natured ribbing of something so momentous and incredible. Once he noted that Miss Jenny had calmed—indeed, even showed relief and elation—he silently excused himself, pussyfooting to the kitchen to make some tea and heat up some of the lemon loaf that Abbie favored. At the sight of it, his stomach grumbled, and he realized he couldn't remember the last meal he'd had. With the hum of the Mills sisters' voices as background accompaniment, he set about making himself a PB&J. His eyes burned like fire with every blink, but he couldn't possibly head to bed right now, not even sure sleep would find him, no matter how desperately he needed it, for fear Abbie would disappear while he slumbered. She had to be here to stay, didn't she? He couldn't consider otherwise. Besides, she'd returned with a deeper understanding of their mission. They were destined to this life, called to something greater. He nearly chortled out loud at the absurdity of his own thoughts—he sounded nigh like one of those blasted Hallmark movies Abbie indulged in during certain times of the month. Destiny, fate, meant to be... Perhaps he was delusional. But the Bible foretold of them as an unbroken pair, and Abbie had confirmed their entwined fates upon her return. And her return had certainly entwined them more than they'd ever been before. A flush rushed through him at the memory of kissing her, touching her, of her in his lap, closer than he'd ever thought possible. She'd floated in like a dream and started to fulfill his in brilliant Technicolor.

The kettle began whistling, and he shook off his wayward musings for a moment to remove the pot from the burner. He poured for the sisters, and while the tea steeped he ate his sandwich, nearly inhaling it to quell the growling monster in his belly. He heard sniffling from the other room, the sound drawing him back to the tunnels after Pandora's wretched box had exploded, blowing his last hope of finding Abbie to Hades. The dreams—or had they been visions? He'd have to ask the Lieutenant if she remembered coming to him telepathically, spiritually, or by some other supernatural medium—haunted his waking hours, and if he'd slept the past few days he knew he'd find them there too. Her seemingly contented goodbye, acceptance of him moving on without her, the way that, even in that netherworld, they danced so smoothly around the way they truly felt. He hoped...Heavens, how he'd hoped she'd felt the depth of passion for him that she inspired in him. At times he could barely refrain from spelling it out, touching her simply to feel the softness of her skin, holding her close because she was there.

Now he knew a touch of her fervor and he longed to burn in it, wholly consumed and happily so. Let it consume him the way his grief had, a pleasant and pleasurable replacement that'd taken her dying to bring about. What a fool he'd acted, skirting the issue this past year. After everything that'd happened to him, all the things he'd lost, he should've known better. Tears pricked his eyes. The places she'd gone to for him, for them, for the world...Purgatory, the catacombs, death. He had so much to make up for. Lost time, chances, moments, and words. He'd only begun to speak the avalanche of emotions held in his heart. The timer beeped loudly, signaling the tea had finished steeping, and he moved before he fell asleep on his feet right there in the kitchen. Extracting the tea strainers, he set the mugs and cake slices on a serving tray and put the sandwich fixings away. Every move felt like swimming through molasses, but he forged ahead, delivering the tray to the dining room. The Mills sisters stood in a tearful embrace, neither facing his direction, and he quietly slid the tray onto the table and made a silent escape. Hell's bells, but he needed rest. He didn't know how long the sisters would spend reuniting and discussing what's transpired the past few days, and he didn't want to interrupt, so he slipped down the hallway and into the bathroom. He took a quick, hot shower, scrubbing the strain of desperate wallowing from himself and washing his floppy hair into some semblance of normal. Drying off, he slipped on his robe and brushed his teeth, freshening his body the way he'd started to clean his spirit by speaking what he'd so long cherished in his heart. He took a long look in the mirror, barely recognizing the gaunt face staring back at him. Dark circles framed his tired eyes, his cheeks seemed to have sunk into his face, and his beard looked slightly untamed. He fixed the latter with haste, knowing the rest would improve with sleep and proper hydration and nutrition, which he'd sorely lacked as of late. He shuffled to his room and stopped short. A whirlwind had blown through it: clothes and books lay scattered and strewn about, the desk chair lay on its side, and the covers of his bed had been thrown off. Confusion briefly set in until a quick flash of a memory surfaced. In a grief-blind rage, he'd swept his arm across the bookshelves, sending his favorite tomes flying. Grabbing at the clothes hanging in his open closet seemed the next destructive step, and he'd made quick work of it. Throwing the bedspread, shoving at the chair, kicking at the items already littering the floor gave him minute catharsis. Then he'd crashed down, both emotionally and physically, sliding onto the floor in a devastated mess. Ichabod took a deep breath and, after exchanging the robe for a dark grey t-shirt and black yoga pants (he'd never trade in his now-antiquated attire, but he found the current leisure styles most comforting while at home), began tidying the room, switching the overhead light for the bedside lamp. The room took slightly longer to clean up than it had to deconstruct it, but he set about it quickly, ashamed of his childish outburst but feeling it necessary all the same. He'd believed the prophecies: the Bible, the tablet, the enemies' words that they were the Two Witnesses. He hadn't understood how he could've set his whole modern life, indeed, his heart, on that belief, only to have it crumble in the space of a heartbeat with the loss of his partner. His Lieutenant. (He hadn't the right to think of her as such, but it hadn't prevented him from doing so.) He righted the desk chair and picked up some of the remaining scattered books, still marveling that she'd walked back into their home, whole, healed, and heralding promises of their future together. The Two of them promised to Witness until the end. He had to be dreaming. Something quietly sounded behind him, and he turned to see the subject of his thoughts and affections leaning against the door frame, watching him. She'd changed into a pair of pink and black plaid pajama pants and a matching light pink shirt. It, coupled with the low lighting of his room, cast her face in a bewitchingly warm glow. He watched her eyes scan the room, some of the books still lying strewn about, then flash back to him. Sorrow etched her face. "It's been a hard few days," he murmured unnecessarily as an explanation before turning from her to stack the books in his hands onto the desk. He set them down, one hand resting on the top cover as he took a moment to gather himself. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to ravish her. He wanted to simply stare at her until he'd had his fill of all her beauty. He needed to speak of the days without her, to purge the ache that only she—living, breathing—could ease. She moved into his peripheral and, slightly startled, he turned to her. She held out the last of the books that'd littered his floor, and he took them from her, his eyes never leaving her face, her gaze intently holding his. Even after his earlier revelation, there were still so many things to say...where could he start? He cleared his throat, his brain finally catching on to the fact that he hadn't heard the other Mills sister in the past several minutes. "Miss Jenny?" he nearly croaked, his voice quiet. "She went home. Said she needed rest and a little bit of time," she explained softly. "And that she'll stop by tomorrow."

He nodded in understanding, feeling the same oppressive, cloying need for space to process her return in conjunction with the desire to never let her out of his sight. It all felt so overwhelming. Suddenly he moved away from her gaze, her proximity, and rounded the bed, sitting on its edge before he collapsed under the dueling weights of grief and elation. He didn't want to send her away and couldn't ask her to remain here, but strewth, he was wrung dry. He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head up. Gratitude filled him as Abbie remained where he'd left her for several moments, giving him time, space. Neither felt as good as she had in his arms, but he needed them just as badly. "In either of my lives, I've never felt as scarred as I have following your disappearance into that box." The words, spoken softly on a broken whisper, surprised even him since he hadn't planned on speaking them—hadn’t even known his brain was forming them—and the gravity of his admission sat heavy in the room. His entire 18th century existence, the loss of his parents, his best friend, his wife and son, his homeland. He'd felt those things as surely now as he ever did. But Abbie...losing her had felt different. Weightier. Like a millstone around his neck drowning him even as he still breathed. Mayhap because of their bond as witnesses. Or because she'd somehow become the glue that'd held his two worlds together, the only person who'd believed him, helped him, trusted him. Made him feel real. He stared straight ahead, the closet before him yawning open like the space between them. Perhaps he'd said too much. His heart beat wildly waiting for her response. It didn't take long. He heard her bare feet padding in his direction, and she appeared before him, petite, radiant, and stunning. He couldn't meet her eyes, afraid of what he'd see in them, but her hands sluiced through the hair at his temples, the heels of her hands resting on them as she leaned closer. He felt her lips press sweetly against his forehead, and his eyes dropped closed at the sensation. On sensory overload, he felt barely able to function, yet somehow his hands found her hips, resting lightly on the flare of them as if he'd done this a thousand times before. He felt the bones beneath her toned skin, the slimness of her figure, and his heart nearly exploded with the feelings he had for her. But Abbie chose that moment to retreat, though just enough to see him, her hands still deliciously tangled in his hair as her fingers absently massaged his scalp. He was going to crawl out of his skin if she didn't stop torturing him. Her touch both invigorated and drugged him, powerful in its simplicity, soothing in its method. She moved her hands down to his cheeks, and her thumbs arched along his eyebrows. He fluttered his tired eyes open to stare at her, finding her watching him with a sympathetic, loving gaze. Her thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, her touch sending warmth coursing through his body. The realization that she felt comfortable enough to freely caress him made him shiver all over. "You should rest now," she soothed. "We can talk more in the morning." He could imagine how wretched he looked right now, how she must see him. Gaunt and pale, red-rimmed eyes and dark hues beneath them. A sight bedraggled enough to make her eyes sore. Bringing his hand up to grip her wrist, he turned his head slightly to the right, kissing her palm reverently. She ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair again as he did so. God's wounds, he'd better not be dreaming all of this up. He wasn't sure how much more heartache he could survive. He didn't want to let her go, but his bed called to him like a siren. Reluctantly releasing her, he stood up and turned down the bedspread and sheets, then plopped listlessly down again. He eased down onto his side as Abbie stood by smiling sweetly at him. She watched him so attentively he thought she might just stay until he'd fallen asleep. Which wouldn't take all that long, to be sure. But then she softly bid him a goodnight as she turned to leave. "Please," he breathed in desperation, again speaking without forethought. "Stay with me." A few seconds later, he realized his words sounded like a paltry invitation. "I don't mean anything untowards," he rushed to assure her. "Just...please don't go. Don't leave." He swallowed hard, waiting for her response. Surely she wouldn't think him a scoundrel for requesting such a thing after she'd just returned from the beyond. Would she? Through his bleary eyes he saw her lips upturn in a small smile. She tucked one leg beneath her and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised him. Ichabod's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he scooted to the other side of the bed. Abbie slid into bed—the sight left him again wondering if he might be hallucinating—reaching up to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness, but he felt her every movement: fluffing the pillow, pulling the blankets up, settling comfortably into the mattress. He, conversely, didn't move, could barely breathe. And when he did, the scent of Abbie's shampoo filled his senses. She lay so close he could he could reach out and touch her, wrap his arm around her, hold her close to him, to feel her breathing. To prove to himself she was real and living and here and...dear heavens, he didn't dare do such a thing. It was enough she'd agreed to stay with him this night. He'd thought he'd fall to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but he hadn't anticipated sleeping next to Abbie. Was he too close? Had he given her enough space? Should he move to the edge of his side of the bed? Was she comfortable? Maybe he'd compromised the covers, not leaving enough for her to stay warm with. "You're thinking too much, Crane," she murmured. Something about her tone, that reprimanding but teasing duo she had, made him huff a relieved sigh, and most of his tension evaporated. A moment later, she reached her hand back and grabbed his, pulling it over her side and draping his arm around her waist. Instinctively he moved forward as she settled back against him, and he noted how easily they fell into this most intimate of reposes. She felt real enough, had matched him in fervor and passion. She'd returned with all the grace and grit and poise of the woman who'd fearlessly and faithfully fought by his side since the moment he'd met her. And now he held her in his arms. His Lieutenant... He needn't have wondered if he'd ever get to sleep with Abbie in his bed; before he could even marvel at how wonderful she felt tucked against him, he'd fallen asleep.

[buckbarnesjames]

Chapter Eight

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Kind of angsty. 

Word Count: 2053

A/N: That’s all of the old chapters updated now so I’ll offically be starting work on the rest of the series this week. Taglist is OPEN. Feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The ring on your finger felt heavy as you stood next to Bucky, his arm in it’s usual spot around your waist, in front of your friends and his family. It had been his idea to throw an engagement party. Your stomach was churning and you felt sick, your brain was spinning with worry at how everyone was going to react. You take a sip of wine, to steel your nerves, as Bucky calls attention to the both of you. “Whilst we were away a few weeks ago, I asked the beautiful woman next to me a very important question” he starts and you can hear everyone in the room murmuring between themselves. “I asked her to marry me,” he continues and reaches for your hand, flashing the ring to everyone in the room. They all erupt into cheers, whilst Nat and Wanda rush forward from the crowd to gush over the ring and congratulate you - surprised you had been successful in hiding it from them for so long. For some reason, it does nothing to quell the nauseous feeling in your stomach. You swallow the lump in your throat and put a smile on your face,joining in with the celebrations.

“Is everything okay, doll?” Bucky asks later when Johnathan is driving you back to the apartment. You nod, rubbing your forehead. “Mhmm, I’m just feeling a little under the weather. I think it’s the stress from work,” you tell him, giving him a tense smile. It’s true that work had been much more stressful for you since Bucky had moved things around and created a new division, which you were now in charge of. You now worked with graduates of Stark’s business program who were looking for internships or permanent employment. “Why don’t you take the rest of the week off? I can get someone to cover for you,” he suggests and you shake him off with a wave of your hand, shutting down the conversation immediately. “I’ll have Elizabeth make you some chamomile tea when we get in, does that sound good?” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You just nod in reply, your eyes dropping with exhaustion. Maybe you were working yourself too hard, but you weren’t going to slow down or take a break. You had heard some of the female staff whispering about you and how you had only gotten your promotion cause you were, quote unquote, fucking the boss and you were determined to prove them wrong.

The next week, you’re not feeling much better but try your best to ignore the nauseous feeling that seems to constantly be swirling in your stomach. You also spend a lot of your time trying to ignore the growing concern in Bucky’s eyes. He was worried about you and pushing for you to take a break which had resulted in a few arguments that you were sure the whole office had heard. You walked into your office - you no longer shared with Bucky, and at the moment, you were grateful for the space from- to find him standing at your desk. “Let’s not rehash the argument from earlier, James, please” you say to him softly, walking over to your desk and dropping a stack of files on it. “I’m not here to argue” he says holding his hands up in mock surrender.”You have a phone call in my office, they said it’s urgent” he says, concern spread across his face. You gesture for him to lead the way and follow him to his office.You immediately saunter over to his desk when you get there and pick up the office phone, “Y/F/N Y/L/N speaking.” Your blood runs cold at the voice on the end of the line. It’s your mother. “Y/N, darling! I just heard the wonderful news. You’re marrying James Barnes!” She gushes down the phone at you. You clench your jaw, willing away the tears that threatened to well in your eyes. It feels as if all your old wounds of rejection are reopening knowing that she hadn’t called to ask how you’d been doing the last few years or how proud she was of the career you’d made for yourself. “Yes, mother. I’m marrying James Barnes. Thank you for your congratulations but I have to go” you say, slamming the phone down on her. As you do , you briefly hear her shout  “Wait, Y/N. We need to talk about your father. He’s…” As soon as the phone is placed back onto the receiver you let out a strangled cry. Bucky rushes over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You hug him back and sob into his chest for a moment,before suddenly pushing him away and reaching for the office bin. Bucky rubs your back and utters soothing words to you as you throw up. He hands you a tissue once you stop vomiting and you wipe your mouth.”I know. I’ll have Johnathan come and pick me up” yousay, putting a hand up to stop him as he opens his mouth to speak. You turn on your heels to leave his office before turning back to look at him. He’s sitting at his desk now, typing away at the computer. “Bucky” you say,getting his attention. He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face. “I’m sorry” you whisper, wrapping one arm around your waist and wiping away tears with your free hand. “Sorry for what, doll?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed. He knew you’d been under a lot of stress lately and that blaming you wasn’t going to fix anything. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately” you admit. You knew you hadn’t been fair to him recently and had been shutting him out a little. “Don’t worry about it. I know things have been hard lately, for the both of us. Now...get yourself home and get some rest,okay?” You nod and head out of the office, texting Johnathan to pick you up.

Bucky comes home from work a few hours later and finds you hanging on to the toilet bowl for dear life,tears streaming down your face.”Y/N!” he gasps out and runs towards you, kneeling down. “What’s wrong?” he asks, the panic in his voice evident. He grabs hold of your face, his eyes raking over you at a rapid pace. “Bucky” you croak out, your voice raw from having thrown up several more times since you had gotten home.”Please don’t be mad” you whisper and his eyebrows furrow. “I think...I think I’m pregnant” you whisper and start crying again. “We haven’t exactly been careful about protection, Y/N” he chuckles softly, trying to break the tension. “So...you’re not mad” you sniffle and he wipes a stray tear from your cheek.”Why would I be mad?” he says, standing up and taking you with him. You just shrug at him, your gaze cast down to the floor. Bucky hooks a finger underneath your chin and brings your head up to look at him. “I’m not mad. I love you and having a family with you was always going to be on the cards...from the minute you agreed to marry me. It might be a little fast but we’ve never been ones to take our relationship slowly” Bucky’s obvious statement elicits a small chuck from you. “God, you’re so cute...even when you’re sick” he says before kissing your forehead and leading you to bed.

Bucky makes an appointment with the doctors for you and the next morning, you find yourself sitting in a waiting room with crisp white walls and dark furniture. You’re waiting for the results of the test that had been administered to you when you first arrived. There’s a clock on the wall ticking loudly and it makes your head pound and your stomach twist with anxiety. Bucky is sitting next to you and he reaches over to squeeze your hand.”Hey, it’ll be fine” he whispers soothingly. A few minutes later, a Korean woman dressed smartly with a lab coat thrown over her clothes enters the room.”Y/F/N Y/L/N?” she says and you and Bucky stand up slowly. “Come on in,” she ushers you through a door and into an office that’s decorated similarly to the waiting room with an examination table in the far right corner and a large desk in the middle of the room with a silver name plaque front and center, ‘Dr Helen Cho’. She takes a seat at the desk and gestures for you and Bucky to sit down. The room is tense with silence for a moment whilst Doctor Cho sifts through the papers on her desk. You glance at Bucky and he softly squeezes your hand and mouths ‘It’s gonna be okay. I love you’.

“The pregnancy test result came back negative” Doctor Cho says, offering you a gentle smile. “Your blood pressure is a little higher than normal which leads me to believe you’re experiencing stress induced vomiting. Our next step is looking at the lifestyle changes we can make to reduce your stress levels and I would…” Doctor Cho’s voice seems to slowly slip away as you try to process that you’re not pregnant. You try to sort through the emotions you’re feeling and the one that strikes you is your disappointment. You’d truly been prepared to hear that you were pregnant. “Thank you, Helen” Bucky’s voice interrupts your internal monologue. “We’ll make the changes you suggested immediately.” Bucky stands up and offers his hand to you. You take it and he helps you up from your chair. Everything around you is hazy as he walks you out of the office and back to the car.

You don’t say much the whole car ride home. In fact, you’re silent for most of the night, trapped in a daze. You can’t stop thinking about how disappointed you are. You’d never given any thought to having children before Bucky and now all you could imagine was getting married and settling down in a nice big house with the sound of children's feet running across the floor.

You’re lying in bed facing away from the door when Bucky comes to bed. He gently slips in next to you and wraps his arm around your waist pulling you closer. “Hey…” he softly whispers to you and it breaks your resolve and the flood gates open. Bucky holds you as you cry. He doesn’t say anything, he just smoothes his hand up and down your back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. We weren’t exactly planning on starting our family.” You say once you stop crying.You turn over to face him in the darkness and he moves to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “We could be,” Bucky whispers.”If you'd like to, we could start trying.” he continues as he wipes the remaining tears from your eyes. He leaves his hand on your cheek and you snuggle your face into it, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You’d want that?” you ask, unsure if this is what he truly wants or if he’s just trying to placate you. “With you? One hundred perfect. From the moment I saw you, I thought maybe you could be the one I finally find happiness with” he states firmly then kisses your forehead. “Okay, then we’ll start trying.” The affirmation is all Bucky needs before he’s pulling you on top of him and kissing you hard. “I don’t think Doctor Cho had this in mind when she said I had to relax” you say in between laughs. “It’s a scientific fact that an orgasm is a great way to release stress” Bucky cheekily answers you. You laugh and lean down to kiss him. You kiss each other lazily for a few moments before Bucky flips you over so he’s hovering above you. “We could start trying right this minute” he says as he kisses your neck. You laugh at him again until he kisses the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy, and then you’re sighing in pleasure.

As Bucky makes love to you, a smile graces your face and you think about your future together.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @hedwigstalons

to @lenle-g

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

“Merry Christmas, John.”

"Merry Christmas, Eos."

Eos’ camera unit tracked his progress through the gravity ring towards the small section that passed as a kitchen module.  He could tell just from the way her servos whirred that she wasn’t finished and the length of the pause gave a good indicator that she was puzzled.

"John?"

"Yes, Eos?"

"You sound...sad."

"I'm not sad, Eos, but I'm not really happy either."

"You sounded happy when you spoke to your family."

"That's good.  I don't want them worrying about me."

"Should they be worried about you?  You seem well.  All your vitals are registering in the normal range."

There was something touching about her gentle curiosity and John couldn't help but smile at how far she had come in terms of displaying sensitivity, but it was at times like these that the AI showed just how inhuman she was.  Much as he would like to brush it off and forget the whole situation he owed her an explanation, if only to further her education into the nuances of people.

"No, I'm fine, Eos.  But it would spoil their day if they thought I was missing them.  Just because I'm stuck up here doesn't mean they should hold back on the holiday spirit on my account."

"So you lied to them."

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell the whole truth."

"This is one of those human things, isn't it."

"Yes, Eos, it's a human thing."

It had taken a lot of effort to plaster on a smile and give a convincing act that, yes, he really was fine about spending Christmas up on Thunderbird 5.  If everything had gone to plan he would have been in the thick of it.  Calls would have been diverted to the island and global rescue agencies reminded the International Rescue was first and foremost a family unit.  Of course they would still respond to a request for help but courtesy dictated that for this one day only the direst of calls got sent their way.

John might grumble about the paper crowns, claim tinsel made him itchy or threaten to head back to the office when the inevitable pillow fight broke out between Alan and Gordon but they were his family and he would much rather be spending Christmas surrounded by the noise and chaos than alone.  Unfortunately, this year, alone was exactly how he was going to spend the holiday season.

"Eos, give me another readout on the coronal mass ejecta and electromagnetic radiation levels."

"The solar flare is continuing.  It is still inadvisable to use the space elevator."

It hadn't answered his request but she had given him the information he needed.  Eos really was getting better at understanding people and reading the subtext, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her.

“Thank you, Eos.”  There was a whirr as she dipped her lens in a nod of understanding.  “Well, it looks like the emergency Christmas meal is going to come into play.”

By this point he had reached the kitchen module and he extracted from storage a small silver tray that looked just like all the other silver trays that provided the bulk of his nutrition up on the space station.  A small label proclaimed it to contain roast turkey and all the trimmings but he didn’t hold out much hope of it being any more appetizing than his usual bland fare, there was something about the preserving process along with the high levels of vitamin fortification in each meal that gave his food a unique, if not wholly pleasant, flavour.  The meals weren’t bad as such, but they weren’t good either.  Normally he appreciated being spared good ol’ home cookin’ with Grandma at the helm but you could guarantee that Christmas, along with Thanksgiving which he had also missed this year, was one of the occasions that everyone pulled together to make a meal worth eating.

Three minutes in the warmer and the meal was ready to eat.  He carried it through to his sleeping quarters and perched on the bunk before peeling off the lid that had so far kept all food smells sealed inside.  As soon as the seal was broken rich aromas filled the cabin.  If the smell was anything to go by then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.  Unfortunately it still had the same greyish tinge and odd consistency as his usual staples but he’d survived on space rations for long enough to know that looks didn’t matter as long as it was edible.

Despite the tantalising smell it was with some trepidation that he picked up the first forkful.  Recreating the holiday meal was a challenge and one that Brains had only recently applied himself to.  If everything had gone to plan he wouldn’t even be having this meal now, he would be back on Earth with his brothers tucking in to the real thing and this, whatever it was, would have become just another food tray to grab when he fancied something different.

He gave the lump of grey a tentative nibble, paused to assess the flavour, then shoved the whole forkful in with enthusiasm.  It was delicious.  Okay, he would have preferred to be eating the real thing and to not have all the component flavors all jumbled together but if he concentrated he could tasted the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and all the other parts deemed essential to a Christmas roast.  Once again he was happy to declare that Brains was a genius.  He carried on eating until every single scrap had been scraped out of the tray, even going so far as to wipe a finger round the edges to get every last bit, before slotting the tray and lid into the disposal unit for recycling.

The rest of the afternoon was passed with an open comm link.  It was bittersweet being both there but not there as the family laughed and joked around his hologram but with calls still being set to extreme emergency only it wasn’t like he had much else to do, especially since Scott had commanded Eos to block any activities that might be construed as work.  Reports, inventories, maintenance, even reading for anything other than pure pleasure, of it was off limits.

Time ticked on and one by one the residents of Tracy Island drifted off to bed until only Scott was left having chivvied everyone along  with the reminder that they would all be back on standard duty in just a few short hours.  With that the guardian down on Earth flopped down on the couch for a few moments of quiet and turned to the guardian in the sky with a sigh.

“Well, we made it through the whole day.  Even that mudslide in Chile didn’t need our attention.”

“No.  Local rescue services managed it with zero fatalities.”

There was a shared look as though each dared the other to comment on their knowledge of the situation in Chile even though they technically weren’t meant to be working.  They both knew there would be no admonishment though, however much they might tell the others to step away from the day (and night) job, for the Commander and Space Monitor of International Rescue a ‘day off’ would always follow a different definition.

“That’s good to hear.  Are you sure you’re okay up there?”

“I’m absolutely fine Scott, the flare isn’t producing anything that would trouble Thunderbird Five.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”  Blue eyes held turquoise until, safe in the knowledge that this was just between the two of them, the lithe form in the hologram slumped a little.

“Of course I would have preferred to be there with you all.”

“I know, buddy,” there was a nod of understanding, “but we’ll get you down here as soon as we can.”

Both of them knew it wouldn’t quite be the same.  Neither of them realised quite how quickly they would get their wish to have John planetside.

***

It was around 3am Tracy Island time when John first realised something wasn’t quite right.  Scratch that, ‘wasn’t quite right’ did not do justice to the roiling, churning feeling in his stomach, the waves of nausea or the chilled sweat that had broken out all over him with accompanying shivers to round off the experience.

“Eos, increase the gravity to 1G,” he rasped out for as much as he he normally enjoyed keeping the living areas of Thunderbird Five at lower than Earth’s gravity, if his predictions of what the next few hours were going to entail proved true then low gravity was not the best environment to experience it in.  

There was a feeling of pressure as he settled slightly heavier against his bunk and the change did nothing to quell the feeling in this stomach.  A lurch and swoop inside him told him that the inevitable was about to happen.  Ordinarily John was the tidiest brother but he was incredibly glad that for once he hadn’t gotten around to stowing away the fresh uniforms that had been sent up on the last supply run.  It was the work of a moment to extract the box from under his bunk, unceremoniously tip the neatly folded stack of blue suits onto the floor and clutch the box to him.  He’d much rather deal with cleaning up the now rumpled pile of uniforms than his stomach contents.

Minutes ticked into hours and the feeling didn’t abate.  He huddled on his bunk, hunched over the box, his blankets pulled close over his shoulders.  Another spasm wracked his body and he added to the contents of the box.

“John, shall I alert your family?”

It was the third time Eos had asked that and for the third time John refused.  Alan had barely made it back in time for Christmas himself and while the young astronaut was technically cleared to fly again John would much rather his youngest brother racked up a few more hours of sleep.  Anyway, he wasn’t sure he could face a trip in Thunderbird Three just yet.

“Conditions are such that the space elevator is now operational.”

If such a thing were possible John could have kissed the AI at that moment but he settled for a weak nod instead.  There was a good reason why astronauts used to quarantine before every trip, illness in space was hard to deal with and while the advances in space travel meant that time and distance were no longer the barriers to medical aid that they used to be, a space station was still not a comfortable environment in which to ride out a sickness bug.

“In which case please tell them I’m on my way home.”

John left Eos to handle the necessary communications.  He really didn’t feel up to answering a stream of worried questions from his brothers, or worse, Grandma, and knew she would relay all the required information.  Instead he concentrated on hauling himself along to the space elevator, a journey that felt a thousand miles long to his weak and ravaged body.  The chills as he left the blankets behind made his body ache but he couldn’t manage both the blankets and the box and the box was still definitely needed.  Anyway, there was no way he could leave that up there to fester.

The space elevator posed it’s own challenges.  The reclined seat, normally so comfortable for dealing with the rapid transit back to Earth and designed for optimal safety, was not an appealing prospect for someone still prone to bouts of vomiting which, while abating, hadn’t finished completely.  He hoped he could make it through the journey unscathed but he kept a few bags in his hands just in case, knowing that the restraints would stop him from using his now well-loved box.

***

The docking clamps engaged with their usual reassuring thuds and John breathed out a slight sigh of relief, his stomach had behaved for the duration of the journey and for that he gave thanks to any deity that might be listening.  

Ordinarily he would be out of the seat the moment the harness disengaged but hauling himself upright felt too much effort.  He wasn't left in peace for long though before strong and comforting arms were scooping him up, one set on either side.

"Come on, let's get you to the infirmary and check you over."

He turned a weak smile on Virgil, for once agreeing that the infirmary was the best place for him.  

As he was led away by Scott and Virgil he vaguely registered Alan and Gordon hovering by the doors of the space elevator, mops and buckets at the ready, and he wondered quite how bad a picture Eos had painted of the situation.  That was a conversation for another day though, for now he just wanted bed, fluids and probably a clean box.

***

Four days he was stuck in infirmary.  Four long and tortuous days punctuated by rehydrating fluids that only tasted marginally better on the way down compared to their inevitable journey back up.  It was no comfort, when he was finally allowed out into the wider villa to continue his convalescence on the couch, that Virgil explained he had got away with a mild dose.  A mild dose of what, he wondered.

Salmonella, it turned out.  It was a very sheepish Brains who confessed that something in the new flavourings had compromised the preserving process and the tastiest space meal he had eaten in a long time was actually the case of all this trouble.

Despite now being able to keep down plain toast (as long as it wasn’t cremated by Grandma) he was still feeling as weak and washed out as a kitten.  He didn’t even put up a fight when Virgil said he was going to be kept Earth side until at least the new year.  He was quite happy to stay on the island even if life had returned to its usual frenetic whirl of rescues, there was something incredibly restorative about being in the midst of it all with his family around him and within a week of his return he was back running dispatch from his cocoon of blankets in the lounge.  It would be a little while before he would be fit to return to normal duties, salmonella poisoning had done a number on him despite the main physical symptoms passing in a matter of days, but he was getting there.

***

Over three weeks had passed since John’s rapid and unplanned reunion with his family and he was starting to feel the call of space.  John loved his family, he really did, but he’d just about reached his limit of unexpected noises, stolen snacks and impromptu hugs.  Unfortunately his plans to make an escape seemed to be thwarted at every turn.

“Look Virgil, I’m fine.”  There was a non-committal grunt as Virgil checked his temperature and heart rate for what felt like the 400th time.  “Take me out to Gran Rocha if you must and put me through my paces, there is nothing wrong with me now.”

Evidently the medical evidence was on John’s side because the engineer come medic stopped running tests and instead trotted out one of the many other excuses he’d heard more than once.  “We still need to restock Five.  There is a chance that other meals in that batch were contaminated and we cannot risk a repeat event.”

John was in full agreement on that one.  “I know and the new batch has been ready for at least the last three days,” Virgil opened his mouth as though he were about to interrupt, “I asked Brains.”  Virgil’s mouth closed again.  “I’ve also spoken to Alan and the next time he’s racked enough downtime he’s happy to take me and the food up in Three.  And if that doesn’t happen any time soon I’ll just take whatever I can fit in the elevator and you can send the rest on later.”

Virgil knew he was beaten.  Unless John had a fairly firm date for his return (barring rescues of course and there was no way he was going to stage a fake emergency to occupy Thunderbird Three) Virgil estimated they had maybe three days before John made good on his promise to just hop in the elevator with whatever food he could cram into a bag.

As soon as John had left the infirmary and Virgil was confident he was out of earshot he activated his comm, sending out an Island wide broadcast that excluded one grumpy astronaut.

“How are we doing guys?  John’s about ready to bust out of here.  Any chance of us being ready for tomorrow?”

“Well, we’re still missing some of the fresh stuff…” there was a note of concern in Scott’s voice.  He hated to admit it but a flurry of rescues meant they were behind schedule.

“I’m on it,” cut in Kayo, “just tell me what we need.  He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Safe in the knowledge that the sneakiest Thunderbird would take care of the missing items the island residents each gave the affirmative that all other aspects were taken care of, or would be as long as John was kept out of certain areas.  A final itinerary was cobbled together and everyone kept their fingers crossed that the plan would be carried off without a hitch.

***

John woke a little later than usual, possibly due to the gaming session Alan had dragged him into that seemed to have lasted for hours.  He’d only ventured into his youngest brother’s bedroom to confirm his ride back to the office but by the time he got to leave, slightly stiff from being sat glued to a controller for so long, the only place he was going was back to his own bed.  He’d tried to escape a few times but every time he'd checked in with Eos she had just confirmed that all was quiet and there was no need to stop his game, prompting Alan to load another level.  He made a mental note to have a word to her about interpreting tone and teaching her the cues so she could distinguish a request for information from a plea for a cover story.

Barring the usual disclaimer that rescues would take priority, Alan was booked to take him back to Five the following day.  Now he knew where he stood he felt a lot better about the whole situation and wondered how best to use his last day on the island.  His plan was to grab a light breakfast, maybe recheck the supplies list of what he would be taking back up, then have a quick swim provided Gordon had vacated the pool and the risk of a ducking was ruled out.

His plans didn’t quite work out.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he was greeted with a maelstrom of sounds and smells.  Warm sugar and cinnamon competed with roasting turkey, Christmas carols assaulted his ears and he scratched futilely at his neck as it became adorned by a swathe of tinsel draped gleefully there by Gordon.  Everyone had clearly been waiting for his arrival and much as he might have objected to the idea had he known about it, it left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling knowing that his family were prepared to go to such lengths for him.

“Merry Christmas, John,” Scott greeted him, shoving a plate of warm cookies under his nose.  “Seeing as you got such a rough deal we decided to have a rerun.”

“With minimal risk of food poisoning,” Gordon chimed in before adding in a stage whisper, “it’s okay, we kept Grandma out of the kitchen.”

It looked like everything had been thought of to ensure he didn’t miss out on a proper Tracy family Christmas.  Once breakfast had been completed and the gathering had moved upstairs he found that even the lounge had been festooned in decorations that he knew had been put back into storage; evidently Eos did know how to provide a cover story after all.

It might seem slightly nuts to try and eat a full turkey roast in tropical heat, it was probably a misappropriation of International Rescue resources to take an unnecessary trip to Norway just to make sure John could have the real tree he’d always loved but hadn’t had for years, but to see the smile on John’s face it was definitely worth it.

[yan-purgatory]

Patient is the Night

Pairing: Suho x reader

Admin: ღ

Word Count: 2k

Note: We are deeply sorry for the lack of posting recently. As you can imagine, it’s not easy being a three person team! However, we are going to do our best to post more in the future. This was actually a commission I wrote as part of a fundraising campaign for the BLM movement - you can find more details on this on my blog @flowesona​. 

Her clothes were way more comfortable than usual. That was the first thing (Y/N) had noted when she woke up, in a completely different house to her own. She was wearing a negligee made out of fine slippery silk, that was soft to the touch. (Y/N) was entranced for a moment, running her fingers through it without the question of why she was wearing it plaguing her.

But she could only stay curled up in the king sized bed for so long - the growling of her stomach provided a good motive to get up and explore. It was only as she peeled back the covers and heard a groan she realised someone was sleeping next to her. (Y/N) paused her escape to observe her companion. To put it simply, he was stunning. Glowing skin, silky dark hair and perfect plush lips. 

‘Now is not the time to get distracted. I need to get out of here, wherever I am!’

(Y/N) scorned herself, as she tried to remember where she was last. All she could recall was getting into her car after a long day of work. And she could not recall seeing a man like the one beside her ever before in her life!

Wanting answers she finally rose out of bed, floorboards creaking slightly underneath her feet. That noise was enough to make the man stir, eyes creaking open to observe the disturbance.

“(Y/N), come back to bed. It’s way too early to get up.” He muttered, reaching for her arm and pulling her back down onto the bed. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her to his body as he sighed in content.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” The man opened his eyes once again, a warm sleepy smile on his face.

“I’m your boyfriend. You can’t possibly have forgotten about your precious Suho, right?”

~ღ~

It was almost picturesque. The sun was beating down, there was a warm gentle breeze, and Junmeyon’s chest made the perfect pillow. (Y/N) had started to drift off into sleep, when he suddenly sat up.

“Someone is here.” He said, his expression hardened into a frown. Junmyeon didn’t often frown, and it really didn’t suit his face - seeing him so uncharacteristically upset unsettled (Y/N) slightly.

“How do you know that?” She murmured, still reluctant to leave her happy daze.

“I can hear them. Heavy footed bastards.” Junmyeon sighed, standing up and leaving (Y/N) to bring herself back into reality.

“I’m sure it’s just the wind. Or some animals. Please, I don’t want to go back home yet.” She whined. Junmyeon didn’t even flinch.

“Stay right here. Don’t move an inch.” He commanded, and like that he was gone, stalking away with dark intent.

At first, the most of (Y/N)’s worries was that she was cold. After all, the sun had gone in, and she no longer had Junmyeon’s embrace to keep her warm. The picnic blanket had to act as a suitable substitute, the warm tartan felt providing some sort of comfort though it couldn’t hold a candle to her boyfriend.

He’d been so sweet recently. Truly, he wanted her to see his love. From bringing home flower bouquets purchased at the farmer’s market in the nearby town, to spending hours pouring over his cook books to make her favourite childhood dishes. And at his height of generosity, he offered to take her into the woods for a picnic. (Y/N) had initially been skeptical of his offer; she was sure he’d find an excuse not to do it, a work obligation or bad weather. But - sure to his word - he’d packed up a basket with an assortment of delicious foods and a flask of tea, and had led her down the barely trodden path into a movie-like clearing.

His intentions were pure. But his sudden disappearance marred the occasion, as (Y/N) waited for him. Seconds turned into minutes, into hours. The sun was starting to set, and there was no sign of him. 

Maybe it was a cruel trick. A punishment for some unknown misdeed - she’d confessed to him a few days that she was afraid of being alone in the dark, to which he’d promised she’d never have to spend another night by herself. But those words were empty now, as it was growing increasingly dark and she couldn’t see him. 

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered to the barely trodden path from which they’d arrived at the clearing. If she squinted, she could follow the path for about a hundred yards, before it winded out of sight. If only she’d paid attention, then she could dash back to the comfort of their home.

Maybe that’s where he went.

The haunting thought rattled her brain. Junmyeon could have forgotten her, and after investigating the sound he’d return to their home before the sunset.

The idea of being abandoned made (Y/N) let out a sob, her eyes filling with tears. He didn’t leave her with anything, just the basket filled with some empty containers and a meagre blanket. Perhaps it was a Hansel and Gretel situation, and Junmyeon had just wanted to rid himself of her.

(Y/N) staggered to her feet. She’d be damned if she was to die alone in a forest. She had to fight her way back to civilisation. Even if Junmyeon didn’t want her, someone surely would?

Abandoning the warmth of the picnic blanket, she started to tread carefully towards the path, shivering with fear. The darkness had really started to set in at that point, and even the slightest crack of a twig or call of an owl was enough to scare the life out of (Y/N).

She started to regret leaving the blanket behind, as goosebumps rose on her arms in response to the biting cold. She could only rub her hands along her arms and hope that she would stumble into humanity at some point. The insecure thoughts in her head were almost bubbling over, so much so she was barely paying attention to her surroundings and not evening noticing when the path was no longer under her feet and instead she was trudging through twigs and dirt.

Her attention was brought back as she felt her foot becoming stuck on something - a stray branch or exposed root - and she fell to the floor letting out a cry of pain. Her ankle was severely twisted, becoming red and hot to the touch, and (Y/N) wanted nothing more than for Junmyeon to emerge from the darkness, to tell her he was sorry and to whisk her away to the warmth of their home. She couldn’t hold her grudge against him when her body was in pain. 

“Suho? Suho? Where are you?” The young woman called out to no avail. All she heard in response was a rustling of the bushes and - fearing it was a predator ready to eat her up - she scrambled to her feet and staggered away as fast as she could with the aching of her limb becoming more prominent by the second.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of limping she heard a voice. Not just any voices. She could recognise it clearly and even in the darkness she could make out two figures. One hunched over the other one, which seemed to be unmoving.

She attempted to speed up her pace to reach them faster, but the aching pain in her limp only meant she could attempt a limp stagger, before falling onto her knees.

“Suho! Suho, please help me! Please, don’t leave me alone!” (Y/N) cried out, hoping he would listen. Some part of her still longed for him, even if he had left her all alone.

The hunched over figure raised its head, seeing (Y/N) injured form and instantly making its way to see her.

As it approached her, she could make out Junmyeon’s features clearer, although there was something slightly different about his face than when she’d seen him hours before.

“Suho? What did I do wrong? Please, just save me already!” (Y/N) cried, as he knelt beside her. His gentle fingers caressed her face. She flinched in response, as she felt some warm liquid transfer from his digits to her face. 

“(Y/N), I thought I told you to stay put. Look at what’s happened to you.” Junmyeon cooed, his eyes trailing to see her injured leg. 

“I-I was so scared. It was cold and dark and I was all alone! I’m so sorry Suho, I couldn’t do it.” She cried in response, shivering as he scooped her up into his arms. He just tutted as she nestled her face into his chest, not caring about how his white shirt was stained.

~ღ~

“I need to see it properly, my love.” Junmyeon caressed her ankle gently, trying to get his lover to stretch it out fully so he could treat the wound. 

(Y/N) shook her head, tears already leaking out at the excruciating pain. 

“It’ll get infected if I don’t apply disinfectant. (Y/N), you don’t have a choice.” Junmyeon’s firm voice was enough to coax her into offering up the full area of injury for inspection.

“My poor love.” He offered comforting words as he cleaned the wound, applied the disinfectant, wrapped it up in bandages. “You’ll need to rest for a few days hmm? No more going out for at least a month.” 

(Y/N) stayed quiet, her lip still quivering slightly.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way. If you’d stayed put then-”

“Do you hate me?”

The words hung in the air, as Junmyeon tried to process the accusation.

“What?”

She shrunk back, suddenly losing all gall she had.

“(Y/N), I love you more than anything in the world. Please, don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Why did you leave me yesterday?” She asked cautiously.

“There was some business to take care of. But it was all for us. I promise, (Y/N).” Junmyeon planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

She finally smiled back at him.

“I love you.”

“You know I love you-” Junmyeon’s declaration was cut off by the shrill ring of the doorbell. “I’ll be right back.”

He gave her one last kiss to quell her fears before leaving the room. She heard him welcoming the visitor with a loud, friendly greeting, before a more sombre hushed voice interrupted his. 

Their conversation was muffled through the door, though she could tell through Junmyeon’s tone that the visitor was the bearer of some sad news.

(Y/N) wanted to hear what they were talking about. Junmyeon should trust her, and what he knows she should know. Even if he wasn’t prepared to divulge in the details of how he spent the time away from her, she wanted to know.

She pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain when she put the weight on her foot. Hobbling to the door, she pressed her ear to the wood, hoping to make out a bit more of the conversation. Through opening the door a sliver, she could hear exactly what they were saying.

“You’re expecting me to believe this is all a coincidence, Mr Kim?” A deep voice posited.

“I had no knowledge nor involvement in the death of your comrade. Send my regards to Byun’s wife, and if you’ll excuse me-”

“How did you know his name?”

The tension was so thick you’d need a saw to cut it at the very least.

“I’m sorry, you must have misheard me. Now, if you don’t mind leaving my premises.” Junmyeon’s voice had gotten a lot sharper.

“There are things you’re not telling me. We can do this here, or we can talk at the station-”

There was a loud bang. (Y/N) flung open the door to see that the visitor - a detective, by the looks of it - was lying dead at Junmyeon’s feet, a smoking gun in her boyfriend’s hands.

“Sorry, my love. You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

[ghost-in-the-hella]

J: “Join me for a swim?” with PriceMarsh, because I can't get enough of this ship.

Some soft pricemarsh for these troubled times. Enjoy.

---

Kate says a silent prayer before she approaches the woman sitting on the beach. She suspects that Chloe’s not the praying kind, and given the way people in Blackwell and around town never seem to have a kind word to say about her she’d be surprised if anybody else spoke to God on her behalf. And maybe Chloe prefers it that way. They haven’t talked about religion much in the few weeks of their budding friendship, but she’s pretty sure that Chloe is an atheist. “What kind of God would take my dad away when I was only fourteen?” For some people, tragedy brings them closer to God. For others, it pushes them away. But Chloe doesn’t make fun of her for being religious (unlike most people at Blackwell) and Kate doesn’t try to dissuade her from her own beliefs, so they get along beautifully. Everyone has their own path to walk in life, after all.

Kate’s path leads her toward Chloe’s slumped back and bowed head as she sits in the cooling sand and the fading light.

Chloe’s head doesn’t turn as Kate approaches, even though Kate’s footsteps in the sand aren’t exactly silent. It does raise slightly in acknowledgement, however, and Kate assumes that’s as close as she’s going to get to a greeting tonight. 

Kate’s not sure how long Chloe’s been sitting there, staring out at the slow waters of the bay. Chloe had texted her three times after midnight, which Kate of course didn’t see until she woke up at eight. Kate’s texted her five times since then at careful intervals so as to not seem too concerned, and Chloe hasn’t responded to a single one of them. She even tried calling Chloe despite phone calls not being a standard part of their friendship at this point, but she didn’t try again after it went immediately to voicemail. 

Kate’s never regretted not learning to drive so much before. It’s been sort of nice, actually, since Chloe’s got her truck and loves driving. Kate not wanting to ride the bus everywhere has been a good excuse for both of them to advance their friendship beyond “casual but amiable acquaintance” to “person I actively go out of my way to spend time with.” Today, however, not being able to drive has been a serious hindrance. It’s hard to search for someone when you’re reliant on small town bus routes and schedules. Once she started to really worry about Chloe’s silence and start looking for her, it took her nearly three hours to track her down at the beach.

She stops and stands next to where Chloe’s sitting in the sand. “Hey,” she says evenly, as if she hasn’t been clawing her hair out trying to find this woman half the day. 

“Hey,” Chloe answers without looking at her.

“...I got your texts.” Chloe doesn’t respond, so Kate continues, “I didn’t see them until I woke up; I’m sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully, processing this. “My battery died. Didn’t want to go home to charge it.”

Kate can’t blame her for that. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Chloe turns to her then and looks at her with those clear blue eyes. It doesn’t seem fair that such beautiful eyes should have to hold such sadness. The light isn’t great, but Kate’s pretty sure she sees a smudge of a bruise beneath one, and that makes her stomach twist all the tighter. “Sure, whatever.” Chloe trains her eyes on the bay once more, but Kate can still feel them piercing her heart. 

Kate tucks her skirt around her legs carefully as she settles by Chloe’s side. The sand is damp and the warmth of the day is mostly gone from it. She looks at the woman beside her. She’s not wearing her beanie for once. She’s wearing short sleeves and her pale, too-thin arms are covered with goosebumps. Without even thinking, Kate removes her cardigan and drapes it over Chloe’s bare shoulders. Chloe glances at her in barely masked surprise. Kate thinks for a moment she’s going to object, but she just wraps her arms around herself and tugs the borrowed cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders.

Kate feels like she should say something, but Chloe breaks the heavy silence while she’s still trying to piece her words together. “Kinda late to come to the beach. Sun’s almost down. ‘Most everyone’s gone home.”

“I didn’t come for the beach. I came for you.”

Chloe’s brows lift then furrow. “Why.”

Because when she woke up to Chloe’s texts and saw how long ago she’d sent them, Kate had almost immediately gone into a panic spiral. Because Kate had texted and called and couldn’t reach her. Because Kate was terrified that Chloe was hurt and had nowhere to go and no one to talk to. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t at the junkyard or the diner, so I thought you might be here or maybe the lighthouse.”

“Not a whole lot of places to go in this town,” Chloe says, and maybe it’s a trick of the non-light but Kate would swear that her expression softened when Kate told her she’d been looking for her. “I used to come here all the time,” Chloe continues. “My dad used to take me and my friend Max here every weekend in the summer. When we got old enough, we’d take the bus by ourselves and stay here all day. We practically lived in the bay.” She chuckles softly to herself. “She - Max - used to tease me I was going to turn into a mermaid because I spent more time in the water than on the land.”

Kate can picture that. Chloe’s got long arms and longer legs, built for swimming. Her hair wouldn’t have been blue when she was a child, Kate assumes, but Kate can imagine how it would look now: blue and purple locks flowing with the waves, fanning out around her head like a soft halo. The vivid reds and greens and blues of her tattoo extra bright against the pale of her skin, all shimmering under the water and glittering with reflected light. Long fingers cupping brackish water, lean body moving through the bay like she was born to do nothing else. “Punk rock mermaid,” Kate says a bit dreamily, already picturing how she would draw her. 

Chloe huffs a small laugh. “Nah, not when I was a kid. I was a pretty big dweeb if you can believe it. Super into science, major anime nerd, drew comics, all that stuff.”

Kate can believe it, actually, but she keeps that to herself. 

The smile that had been growing on Chloe’s lips fades away. “Rach loves swimming, too. After Max left - her family moved to Seattle; same day as my dad’s funeral, can you believe that shit? - I didn’t go swimming for a long time. Probably for the best; I would’ve just drowned myself.” She picks at the cuticles of her chewed up fingernails fretfully and Kate suppresses the powerful urge to pull her into a comforting embrace and stroke her hair like her father has always done for her when she’s upset. “But Rach is a Cali girl, so even though our bay’s nothing compared to the Pacific she just has to go swimming. Like, constantly. Day and night. The girl’s blood is half salt water, I swear.”

Kate’s got this anxious bubbling in her stomach that she doesn’t know how to quell. She knows of Rachel Amber, but she doesn’t know her. She went missing last April, three months before Kate moved into the dorms. Everything she knows about Rachel she knows from the unavoidable gossip in the dorms, the graffiti scattered around town - some of it doting, most of it unrepeatably vile, and Chloe. 

She actually met Chloe because of Rachel Amber, oddly enough. Or, more precisely, she met Chloe because Rachel Amber went missing. One day Chloe happened to be hanging up missing person posters around campus while Kate was putting up flyers for the abstinence club, and when Kate saw what Chloe was posting (when she saw Chloe’s eyes) she had offered to help her distribute them. They’d gotten to talking as they worked, and by the time the posters were all hung they’d exchanged numbers.

Kate owes this friendship (this crush) to Rachel. And Rachel’s been missing for five months now. No matter how many posters they hang, no matter how many prayers Kate sends up for this lost girl to be found, she’s been missing for almost half a year. Chloe still talks about her like she expects to see her coming around the corner any minute now sometimes. Kate doesn’t know whether encouraging Chloe’s hope does more good or more harm at this point. Women who go missing for this long, beautiful young women like Rachel Amber… Kate wants to have faith in Rachel’s safety, but her mother’s been telling her horror stories about what happens to girls like her since before Kate was even old enough to understand.

“So we go swimming together a lot. Not now, obviously. But… yeah. Total punk rock mermaids.” She scoffs lightly, but Kate can hear the sorrow in her laugh. “I… I haven’t gone swimming in months. Not since she…” Chloe sighs. She shakes her head and tries to sound annoyed rather than heartbroken. “Missed the whole fucking summer. Now it’s probably too cold to swim. She’s probably been off surfing in Cali all summer, and I’ve just been staring at the bay like she’s coming in on the next boat. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic at all. You miss your friend.” Kate reaches out a tentative hand and is relieved 

when Chloe accepts her touch without so much as a flinch. 

“I miss the bay,” Chloe says suddenly. “I miss the way it felt to just run out into the waves and not give a fuck. I miss feeling weightless and small and like if I swam far enough I could step out into a pirate’s treasure cove, or on some forgotten island, and start a new life. I miss feeling free.”

Kate’s never been swimming in the bay. She spent her summer here ingratiating herself with the local parish, learning the bus schedule, breaking in her library card. She stands carefully, dusting the sticky sand off her skirt. 

Chloe looks at her askance. “Heading home?”

Kate shakes her head. She reaches out a hand to Chloe. “Join me for a swim?” Kate asks, and her voice hardly trembles even though she’s beyond nervous. 

Chloe stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head and then she laughs in disbelief. “Are you for real?”

“Very much so.”

“You got a bathing suit on under your clothes, Kit-Kat?”

“Do you?”

“No.” Chloe tries to leer, but it’s so uncertain it falls apart before it can look properly devious. “You askin’ me to go skinny dipping? I thought you were supposed to be a prude about that stuff.”

“I’m not a prude,” Kate protests, her face reddening. “But no, I’m not asking you to go skinny dipping. Or at least I’m not going skinny dipping; you can do as you please.” She slips off her shoes, and good Lord, this really is a terrible idea, isn’t it. She’s not dressed for swimming in the slightest. Her blouse is white, and her skirt is, well, a skirt, but it’s too late to back out now just because she’s had a sudden attack of logic since Chloe’s already taking her hand (and oh Lord Chloe’s hand is so cold and so strong and so perfect) and hauling herself up to her feet.

“Gonna be a weird ride back to campus,” Chloe says with a grin that’s building in its certainty. “Wet jeans are hell to drive in. You know my heater doesn’t work, right?”

“I’ve ridden in your truck before, haven’t I?”

“True that.” Chloe removes Kate’s cardigan and folds it with surprising politeness by her shoes before tugging off her boots and dropping them haphazardly into the sand. She empties her pockets onto the pile of clothes: a crumpled cigarette pack, some loose change, a parking ticket, a key, a lighter, her phone. Kate places her handbag beside them. “You ready to do this thing?”

Kate nods quickly before she can chicken out. “Are you?”

The smile that lights up Chloe’s face is the most radiant thing that Kate’s ever seen. “Hella ready.” Chloe reaches out her hand again, and Kate takes it. 

The water is cold, and swimming in a skirt is just as difficult as Kate feared. It’s completely worth it.

[monstaxdesires]

The Arrangement (Chapter Four)

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three)

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you say as Wonho shuts your front door behind you both. You shed your heels and shawl trying to ignore the bundle of nerves from threatening to unfurl inside of you.

“I always take my dates home,” he says and you glance at him.

A cheeky grin on his face making you shake your head trying to hide your smile while moving towards the sofa. He sheds his shoes and jacket before following. He had already disposed of his bow tie and cuff links in the car.

“Go change into something comfortable Baby. I can wait.”

“Unzip me?” You ask, pulling your hair over your shoulder. He reaches up and gently lowers the zipper. If he heard your heart hammering in your chest he didn’t give any indication away.

“Thank you.” You say turning to look at him again.

“You’re welcome.” His voice is lower and you shiver a little.

You leave him and go to your bedroom. You glance back at him to see him taking a seat on your sofa. He watches you close your door after giving your a reassuring smile.

After slipping out of the dress and changing into a t-shirt and leggings you come back to find him admiring the aesthetics of your apartment.

“Hey,”  he murmurs patting the empty spot beside him. You take it curling up beside him. His hand falls to your leg, his thumb stroking back and forth in a comforting gesture. “Thank you for attending tonight and charming everyone.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

He shifts to look at you before throwing his arm across the back of your couch. “What do you think of everything? Honest opinions please.”

You shrug before pulling a pillow into your lap and picking at the little tassel on one corner. “I think I understand more now. Even with working at The Company I did not realize exactly what kind of relationship you shared with these women until I saw it tonight. Seeing you in your own environment changed how I see it.”

“And?” He questions, his hand moving to yours. His touch warm and oddly comforting. His hands were large compared to yours, making yours seem dainty and small. His thumb brushes your knuckles. You gather your thoughts quickly looking away from where he touches you. 

“I do not completely understand all of it still.”

He licks his bottom lip before leaning closer to you. “It’s okay to ask questions. Especially if you choose to become a part of this with me.”

You exhale to steady your breathing before flipping your hand in his and tracing his fingers. He watches you, a small smile on his face. You would be a wonderful companion if you accepted his offer tonight.

“I guess I do not understand the details. I understand they provide you with companionship and you are their benefactor, but what does the companionship entail typically?”

“It varies. For some it is as simple as conversation, others prefer things like this, and then there are those that prefer intimate moments over conversation and dates.”

“Which are you?” You ask softly.

“Generally,” he starts, his gaze lifting to yours. Eyes locked on yours watching for your reaction. “I prefer the later the most, but I’m not opposed to occasionally taking part in the other two.”

“Oh.”

He notices the slight unease in your expression. 

“Please remember that I do not force anyone to accept my offer for an arrangement. We both gain something out of the transaction. They are typically financially benefited and I get to quell my desires without having to let another individual think there are feelings involved because there aren’t.” His touch advances to the inside of your wrist. You shiver but stay still. “Sometimes I find the companion to be stimulating enough that I do enjoy dinner dates and bringing her along to events. You could be one of those, you know?”

“Mmm,” you say, a blush coloring your cheeks.

“Tell me why you called me.”

You shift, the uneasiness of telling your family’s business setting in. He lets you pull away and relaxes back into the sofa. You resume playing with the tassel to try to get your thoughts in order. 

“My father took a loan out so that I could move here to the city and start the process to fulfill my dream and he kept it a secret.” You being and hug the pillow to your chest for comfort. “But recently his hours at work were reduced due to a decline in production and he has fallen behind on payments. And it is my duty to pay it.”

He watches you before clearing his throat. “How much?”

“That’s not important,” you answer with a shake your head. “I was able to request an extension and it was granted. But I do not make enough at work to cover it without giving up my savings and living paycheck to paycheck.”

He frowns at you. “When is the first payment due?”

“Three weeks.”

He nods, clearing his throat. “So… you called me to see if I could offer you help since that is what I do as a benefactor in exchange for becoming one of my companions in order to cover this loan?”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and you worry you’ve done something wrong.

“I do have an offer for you, but seeing your reaction to what I prefer I already know the answer.”

“Tell me,” you whisper before he can change his mind on the offer. “I want to make the decision.”

He nods, before resting his elbows on his knees. “You are sure?”

“Please,” you say reaching out to touch his forearm. He turns his gaze to yours.

“Become my companion for a year and I will wipe the debt clean and then assist in helping your dream come true. You will accompany me to dinners and business events when I need,” he murmurs, his hand reaching across to your face. His thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “But you will also spend weekends with me and you will fulfill any request I ask in regards to sex during the time you are with me.”

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. How could someone like him want someone as plain as you especially when he brought all of those beautiful women to the store?

You could handle a year of companionship with him, especially after how well he had treated you tonight. You knew he would take care of you, treat your the right way, and make sure you were comfortable.

The only problem was sharing. You couldn’t share him even if it was purely platonic.

“How many companions do you have Wonho?”

“If you join, you will be one of three contracted companions. I have a few that I request temporary fulfillment from for events, but if you accepted they would no longer be needed.” His thumb moves to your bottom lip dragging across it before exhaling. “You would be all I would need for the events and the weekend company. But it won’t happen, will it? You can’t accept my offer.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t share even if there are no feelings.”

He watches you. He can see the struggle happening even if you didn’t want them to and he frowns deeply.

“I know,” he says, his hand falling away from touching you. “I wish I was wrong, I do.”

“I know.”

He looks away before turning back to you. “I will pay the first payment for you.”

“Wonho, no.”

“Baby,” he says stopping your argument before it can start. “I want to do this as a friend and for you coming to the dinner. Even if you didn’t know it, you filled the role of a companion tonight,” he murmurs softly pushes your hair back behind your shoulder. 

You blush, ducking your head, that was true. 

“You gave me a chance to prove that the rumors are not always quite what they seem and I rarely find someone that is as genuine as you. You have earned my help with these things alone. Let me help you, please?”

“It’s too much.”

“No, as your friend it is not too much. I always help my friends even if they aren’t my companion.”

You bite your lip before looking at him, genuine compassion in your eyes. “You really see me as a friend?”

He nods.

You smile before feeling the stinging threat of tears. “I thought I was just someone you could patronize while you spent thousands of dollars.”

He laughs, a real laugh and you can’t help but smile more.

“I have thought of you as a friend since day one, Baby. I don’t give my card out that much, it takes someone special to get my card and you were special from day one.”

You bite your lip and reach up to wipe a tear as it escapes.

“Do I want you as a companion? More than you know. Will you saying no deter me from continuing the relationship we have now? No, because you are my friend.”

“Wonho,” you sigh before reaching to wipe your tears as more fall but he moves to wipe them. His thumb dragging under your eyes to catch them.

“Talk to me.”

“Since moving here friendships have not come easily. I have Ann but other than that it’s really just me.”

He smiles at you, making you meet his gaze. “Well you have one more, now stop crying. There is no reason to get so upset.”

“Thank you,” you whisper before moving to hug him. 

He pulls you into his chest aware of how much he appreciates getting to see the real you outside of the four walls he always saw you in. You were even more than he imagined you would be. You tip your head up and he smiles down at you, his hands stroking the back of your head. 

“Thank you Wonho.”

“For you, anything,” he murmurs softly and then he grows bold lowering his head to brush his lips against yours. It’s brief, barely there, enough to tease at all the thoughts you’ve had about how his lips would feel against your own. “I had to do it. I have thought about what you would be like to kiss since I met you.”

You blush before biting your lip. “I have wondered the same.”

Wonho chuckles before lowering his head again catching your lips in an actual kiss. His hands fall to your waist, pulling you into his chest after you deepen the kiss. You press for more, the soft plumpness of his lips everything you imagined and more. A soft groan escapes when the tip of his tongue drags across your bottom lip. Your hands slip into his hair pulling yourself closer to him. The thought of anything but the way he kissed you melting away. He ends the kiss, his pupils blown with lust as he stares at you. You were breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and eyes wide.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says before dipping his face down to yours, but he pauses inches away from kissing you again. “You haven’t had a boyfriend since moving here have you?”

You shake your head, eyes searching his for what he is getting at. You wanted his lips again, the craving unfurling inside of you. They felt so good against yours. He kissed so damn good and it was one of the things you missed most. 

“And I assume that means you haven’t invited anyone into your bed either?” He lowers his face until his lips are ghosting along your jaw. “Am I right Baby?”

“Yes.” 

You shiver, eyes fluttering close once his lips dip to your neck. You tip your head giving him better access. Your hands sliding from his hair down to his shoulders.

 “Wonho,” you shudder and he smirks against your skin before nipping at your earlobe. 

He lifts his head again and you can see the lust in him just like it was now running rampant in yours.

“Be with me tonight, no judgement, and purely as friends. No benefactor or companion arrangement.”

Your lips part in shock and he smirks.

“Say yes Baby.”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Don’t worry about that. Friends help friends even if it’s in an unconventional way,” he says reassuring you while he drags his hand down the curve of your waist to your back. 

You close your eyes, thinking over it, hands gripping his shoulders when he dips his head down again brushing his lips along your jaw once more.

“Say yes,” he whispers in your ear. “Please Baby, say yes this once.”

You shiver, hands dragging down his torso to the top of his pants. He groans before turning to press his lips to yours with more determination. You kiss him back and he smirks against your lips. You end the kiss before brushing your nose against his.

“Yes.”

His lips chase yours as he moves to pin your under him on the sofa making you laugh and kiss him back.

(Chapter Five)

[find-y0ur-j0y]

If I Could Turn Back Time, Baby I’d Save You

Hermione hadn't meant to trip. Honestly! The new robes which Ron had thoughtfully (and obliviously) sent her were a little long, but she had promised to wear them on her first day at the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately the combination of long robes and a tall stack of books led to the unexpected outcome of Hermione Jean Granger ‘Brightest Witch of Her Year’ taking an unexpected and definitely unwelcome tumble headfirst into the Veil of Death. As she fell she heard someone call out in fear and a hand grab onto her before everything went black.

----------

Hermione cracked her eyes open with a deep groan in pain. Her brain felt like there was a goblin drilling into it. If this was the afterlife she wanted no part of it. Shutting her eyes tightly, Hermione hoped that in blocking out the blinding light she would be able to quell her headache.

Her peace was shattered by a sudden loud rapping noise and loud voice calling “Hermione love, are you awake yet?”

Wait a minute! She knew that voice! “Mom?!?” she croaked out sitting up anxiously.

“Are you feeling ok Mia Bo Bia?” asked her mother’s voice from the other side of a familiar door.

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes” muttered Hermione as her mind raced trying to figure out how she had ended up in this situation. Last she had checked her mother was still alive, she didn’t remember she had a daughter, but she was alive. Also if she was going to pick a perfectly happy place to be her home for all eternity, her childhood bedroom wouldn’t even make the top fifty list.

Rising from her long forgotten bed, Hermione found herself frowning when she realized she was noticeably shorter than she had been before she tripped through the veil. Was she in Hell? Being forced to spend all of eternity going through puberty a second time seemed like a bit of an extreme punishment, Hermione reflected. She had played an instrumental role in defeating a murderous madman after all, shouldn't she have achieved eternal rest for her deeds? She was going to be pissed if her eternal damnation was a result of having practiced magic in her life.

Knowing that the only way she would get the answers she needed was by going downstairs and facing the ghosts of her parents, Hermione pulled herself together and headed to the kitchen.

---

“There you are Mia” greeted her dad with a brilliant smile which felt like a sucker punch to the chest for Hermione. It had been so long since she had spoken to her parents, and even longer since she had had that particular smile aimed her way. She would never regret protecting her parents from Death Eaters, but if she had a chance to do it over she would have found another way.

Overcome with emotion, Hermione rushed forward and threw her arms around her father no longer caring if this was heaven or hell. She had her family back, and in her mind, that was worth any price, including eternal damnation.

“Hermione, what's wrong?” asked her father, squeezing her back just as tightly.

“It’s nothing,” sniffed Hermione, holding back her happy tears “I’m just really happy to see you”.

“Obviously” laughed her mom. “You feeling a little nervous about going to school tomorrow Mia?”

“That’s tomorrow?” asked Hermione confused.

“Don’t tell me you suddenly forgot?” teased her father, “I swear your first year at Hogwarts has been all you will talk about ever since that nice woman came by to explain about the school”.

“Right… Hogwarts… McGonagall…” muttered Hermione. What on earth was going on?

“Well eat up dear! You have a busy day of packing ahead of you” smirked her mom sliding a couple of pancakes onto her plate.

Hermione ate her pancakes robotically, as she tried to process everything that she had just learned. The fact that she could touch her parents and eat her breakfast suggested that she wasn't trapped in some kind of weird coma dream. The lack of torture or blissful surroundings seemed to rule out her theory on the afterlife… which left magic.

Look, Hermione adored magic, really she did! But most of the time magic seemed to cause more trouble than it was worth. Her school years had been rather formative in showing her the dangers of relying on it. That was part of the reason why she had chosen to live primarily as a muggle after graduation, well that and the rapidly crumbling governmental system. She watched as men and women who had always relied on magic to solve their problems were left floundering when faced with problems created by their own hubris.

Even with Voldemort gone the policies and governmental leaders he had put in place remained. With the war “over'' Hermione was filled with idealistic zeal to reform the political system, but as time dragged on she began to lose hope. She was dismissed for her blood status, age and gender.

The hits just kept coming for Hermione though. As if enough life hadn’t been lost during the actual war, Harry had been killed in an “accident gone wrong” in the spell creation unit of the D.O.M., which was an obvious cover up if Hermione had ever heard one. If she was being honest, Hermione didn’t think that she or Ron ever got over the death of their brother in all but blood.

There were only so many times one could be told, had the door slammed in their face or told to get coffee before they sought out other avenues. Some like Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbot, Gianna Jones and Blaise Zabini continued to fight the unfair laws with varying levels of success. Hermione applauded them for their strength, but she was far too tired to keep fighting what she deemed a pointless battle, if only they had been able to start bringing about change before Voldemort and Umbridge had gotten their hands on the ministry. Between the blatant racism, sexism and the shocking death of her best friend Hermione just needed a break and a change of scenery.

After leaving her job in the minister’s office, she loved Kingsley but the ex-auror made a miserable minister, she traveled for a year with a group of curse breakers. She chalked it up to the Gryffindor in her blood, but she missed the level of adventure that had been constantly present since she was eleven. Using Bill’s Gringotts contacts she had found a traveling group who welcomed her with open arms. The group travelled all over the world exploring new areas and solving mysterious curses. She swore that she had never felt more alive than during that year, but word came from England that Ron and Lavender were expecting their first child and her found-family needed her support. So Hermione said goodbye to her friends and took a job in the Department of Mysteries with Luna… which led her up to a couple hours ago when she ungracefully fell face first through the Veil of Death.

Clearing her dishes Hermione headed upstairs to her room to pack for her first year at Hogwarts at the urging of her parents. Stumbling into her childhood bedroom, she closed the door and rested heavily against it with one thought echoing loudly through her mind: What on earth had she gotten herself into now?

----------

Hermione liked to believe that she was a rather practical person, she liked clear goals, lists and schedules. She functioned best when she had a set objective and a clear view of the facts. With this in mind, after her minor existential crisis and the resulting meltdown, she set to work clearing off her desk and pulled out an empty notepad and began detailing what she did know, the list was depressingly short.

What I know: - I tripped through the Veil of Death - I woke up in my childhood bedroom the day before I originally left for Hogwarts. - Am I dead? In a coma? Time Travel?

This level of Time Travel shouldn't be possible, even with magic. Time turners in general were designed to only go back a couple days, not a decade! But when you have ruled out all of the possible explanations, the only solution which remains, however impossible, is the truth. Deciding that she needed more data before ruling the situation as ‘Time Travel’ Hermione closed her notebook and set off in search of answers.

----

After following her parents around all day and asking them obscure questions that only they would know, she was reluctantly finding more and more evidence of possible Time Travel. The day itself had unfolded similarly to how she remembered it occurring the first time with the only changes being those that she made herself. As she fell into bed that night staring up at the glowing star stickers she had stuck in various constellation shapes on her ceiling years ago, she had to finally admit that she had likely time traveled. This consensus only brought about a scarier question: what the fuck was she supposed to do now?!?

[lady-divine-writes]

Coldflash “Punish Me” (Rated NC17)

Summary: The things that serve Barry should also serve Len, even if Len isn't his husband's sub. So when Barry comes home and finds Len kneeling in the dark, he's curious to find out why. (2953 words)

Notes: A part two to 'Waiting on his Knees' but also written in concert with this post I made about D/s, BDSM, and communication, specifically as it's portrayed in fanfiction, which can be toxic due to lack of research or ignorance.

Read on AO3.

Barry spends the afternoon clock watching, tallying minutes as they flip by, anticipating them down to the millisecond so he can catch the numbers turn. He doesn’t need a clock to know the time, but it’s habit. It gives him something to do in the moments between everything else. But it also reminds him how damned slowly time moves. So he does his best to ignore it, hoping he can get so wrapped up in work that he forgets about the time, then be pleasantly surprised when he checks it and finds that half the day has gone by.

But no luck.

At most, he wastes six minutes.

But Barry zooms off the second the numbers switch from 7:59 to 8:00. He’s dying to get home, dying to get to his husband, more so tonight than any other night. He made Len a promise that he’s been lousy at keeping. He intends to fix that.

He intends to spend all night fixing it.

But above that, Barry has a feeling. Not a foreboding feeling, per se. Nothing urgent. He’d know if his husband were hurt, if for no other reason than Len would text every single contact he has programmed in his phone who knows Barry to let them know he’s in danger.

Len is a brave, strong, capable man, but he has no qualms calling in reinforcements en masse.

Still, Barry can’t get it out of his head that something is wrong.

It takes him no time at all to make it home, managing to expertly avoid Caitlin and her stack of files that have the potential to bog him down for an hour at least. He pauses at his door and puts an ear to the wood.

Nothing.

He can’t detect any movement.

He becomes anxious as he listens for a clue, as if whatever is going on with Len has found a way to settle inside his chest, latch itself to his ribs and crowd his heart and lungs. But their apartment is silent.

Completely silent.

And with Len, as with children, silence is not a comforting sign.

The hairs on the back of Barry’s neck begin to rise.

He unlocks the door and walks inside.

Darkness greets him.

Cold, too.

Unnatural cold.

And quiet.

But it’s not an easy quiet, like the simple quiet of no one being home. It’s a tension-filled quiet. An anticipating quiet.

A quiet like the world holding its breath, waiting for Barry’s next move.

And he’s not alone.

It takes a moment of quelling his stuttering heart and his eyes adjusting for him to notice his husband there, in the center of the room, shirtless and on his knees. Barry breathes a sigh of relief, but not one Len would notice. He goes about his business, doesn’t stop to stare, even if Leonard Snart on his knees makes Barry hotter than asphalt in August.

When he requests it.

And since Barry hadn’t, he has to process this image correctly. He does so by adopting his Dominant persona. It helps him think logically, react rationally, without emotion applied.

“Hello, Len,” Barry says, putting down his bag and hanging up his coat.

“Master,” Len says, more experimentally than confidently, and Barry knows why. Len isn’t sure how Barry will respond. Because this isn’t their dynamic. Len isn’t Barry’s sub. But they’ve discussed this. The things that serve Barry can, and should, serve Len, too. Something about kneeling in the dark serves Len for the moment.

But Barry wants to know what he’s kneeling over.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I need you,” Len says, voice soft but dangerous - so unlike any sub Barry has ever met, it makes him bite his lower lip to keep from grinning. “I need you to do something for me, Sir.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Punish me.”

Barry stops fussing. The room becomes colder, darker than before. “Repeat that for me, please?”

“I need you to punish me,” Len repeats through gritted teeth.

“And why do you need this?”

“Because I’m evil,” Len growls.

“How do you figure?”

“I’m a thief. And a killer.”

“You are,” Barry agrees matter-of-factly. There’s no denying that those things are a part of Len’s personality. Part of Len’s past. It would be a slap in the face to his husband’s intelligence and the hard work he’s put into redeeming himself to sweep those under the rug. Confront them at every corner, whenever they pop up, Barry told him the first few months they were together, when flashbacks and urges piled up in his brain and Barry would find him warming his favorite stool at Saints and Sinners, trying to drink his anxiety away. That’s one of the reasons Barry introduced Len to the Dom/sub scene in the first place, in the hopes of keeping him away from the kinds of temptation that might land him in Iron Heights permanently, convicted of things even The Flash couldn’t swing getting him released from. Confront them, accept them, then put them in their place. “You were. But you’ve put those things behind you. And you’ve worked hard at it. So what’s happened in the past few hours to make you change your mind?”

Len raises an arm, holds something out to Barry - a folded-up clipping from a newspaper, it looks like. Barry takes it from him, fighting another smile. Most of the modern world gets their news from the Internet, but his husband still goes down to the corner store every morning for a daily paper.

Well, Barry is going to do everything in his power to ensure that The Central City Citizen never goes under.

Barry unfolds it carefully. The clip has jagged edges. His husband probably tore it from its page instead of using a pair of scissors. Barry marvels at how neatly he accomplished it. The outer portion is an ad for a local furniture store, but on the other side, the part folded in and therefore protected, is the article Len had saved. Barry reads the header out loud.

“Man fatally shot in alley way.”

Barry glances Len’s way when he notices movement at his feet. Len bows his head, hands folded on his knees like he’s praying, but Barry knows better.

He’s thinking.

Thinking hard for a man in this position.

“A man was found stabbed to death in an alley Tuesday evening, and police are investigating the killing as possibly gang-related …” Barry skims the article, searching for pertinent information. “The victim was identified as 33 -year-old Ricardo de Salva.”

Barry looks to his husband for answers. Len doesn’t see the expression on Barry’s face with his eyes cast to the floor, but he doesn’t need to. He can probably feel Barry’s eyes burning through the top of his head.

“He was a good guy,” Len starts softly, “and I don’t say that often about anybody. Family man. Didn’t wanna be a criminal. I strong-armed him into it.” Len’s voice cracks. The sound reminds Barry of an old growth oak weathering a storm, the way it complains as the wind does its best to knock it over, but can only get it to bend. “He needed a couple bucks, just wanted to take care of his wife and kids. He did one job with us. Not our normal payout, but enough to keep a roof over their heads for a few more months. And he was fine with it - ready to roll and never look back. But after that, we kept him on the payroll anyway, had him run petty errands. I gave him a beeper, told him to call whenever I paged him or else.” The catch in Len’s voice returns. He clears it gruffly this time. “We didn’t need him. It was amusing to have him around, acting as our gopher. When it stopped being amusing, I sort of forgot he existed. Always thought he made it out, but …”

Barry nods. He doesn’t ask Len to continue. He doesn’t need to hear any more. He folds the article up and hands it back to his husband, crouching an inch and holding it in his sight line until he reaches up and takes it.

“So you’re looking for penance? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” Len admits with a barely audible hiss, as if, of all the things he could ask his husband for, this is the farthest down on the list. “That’s what I want.”

“But I’m not your Dom.”

“No, you’re my husband!” Len snaps. “And you’ve Dominated me before!”

“That’s different! That dynamic is different! When we do that, we’re playing! It’s stress relief! And we have those parameters outlined! We know how far is too far!”

“But you could do it!”

“Yes, I could! But I’m not just going to break out a whip and some cuffs and beat you! There are steps we have to take! Discussions we need to have! Contracts we have to draw up!”

Len huffs under his breath and rises to his feet, the air around him dropping in temperature with every inch till he reaches his full height. “You’re not the only show in town, Red. There are clubs all over Central City, owned by guys who owe me favors. I’m sure there’ll be a Dom at one of them that will give me what I need.”

Barry swallows those words - spoken without any hint of warmth or compassion whatsoever - so hard his throat aches. He doesn’t know what to say. He never imagined it would come to this, not over this of all things! “We’re adults,” he says without condescension, though Len might see things otherwise, “in an adult relationship. If that’s how you feel, you’re within your rights. I won’t … I won’t judge you for that.”

Len bares his teeth in anger. “I don’t want them, Red! I want you!”

“You have me! But what you’re asking …” Barry extends his hands with palms upturned, pleading for his husband to listen to reason “… is not something I’m willing to do right this second! We need to talk about this more. A lot more!” He steps forward, puts his hands on his husband’s biceps and kneads gently. “I’m not saying no. Believe it or not, I understand why you might want to do this. I do. I’ve felt this way myself, that I’ve done so much more harm than good in my life that I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me. But it also seems to me like you’re doing this out of self pity.” Barry presses his forehead against Len’s, needing to be closer, needing more touch, and to look deeper in his husband’s eyes. “If I do this for you, it won’t bring Ricardo back. It won’t help his wife and kids. It won’t do anything but make you feel better, and I honestly don’t think it’ll do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Let’s make a plan,” Barry suggests. “Let’s write out a list of things that will actually solve the problem, not cover up how you feel. Because that won’t solve a thing. This pain and anger you feel, this hatred of yourself, will always be there, hiding underneath, waiting for its moment to throw a wrench in your sanity.”

Len sighs, drops slowly back to his knees. Reluctantly, Barry lets go so he can. “The problem is Ricardo’s dead. And if it hadn’t been for me, he might not be.”

“The key word there is might,” Barry points out, holding to it hard. “You can’t make someone else’s mind up for them.”

“You can if you threaten them enough. If you threaten their life or … someone they love. And you have to admit, I have a talent for getting people to agree to pretty much anything.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Barry mutters, squelching the part of himself that occasionally makes him doubt his life choices - particularly his choice in spouses. The part that second-guesses whether or not he did the right thing by trusting Leonard Snart, regardless of how many times he’s proven he can be trusted, that he is a changed man. That he loves Barry Allen more than his own life and would do anything to protect him. “I suggest we start by attending Ricardo’s funeral … talk to his widow … make some kind of amends.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Len sniffs. “I know she won’t. She’ll probably try to have me arrested.”

“Luckily you have a friend or two on the force who’ll vouch for you,” Barry teases. It doesn’t land as he’d intended. “You can write her a note. I’ll take it to her if you think that will make her more comfortable.”

“I do,” Len admits. “Though, to be honest, it seems like the coward’s way out. I should go up to her, let her slug me.”

Barry rolls his eyes. Len does have a point, but he also has a flair for the dramatic.

Len exhales. The breath leaving his body slumps his shoulders, makes him look surrendered. “If I do this … if I go … will you go with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Barry puts a hand on Len’s head. Len leans towards him, rests his forehead against Barry’s thigh and hides his face in the denim of his jeans. Barry runs his nails lightly over Len’s scalp. This is a side of his husband he rarely sees, a side he associates with Len’s memories of his father; the man’s terrible, soul-crushing abuse; of a teenage Len raising his sister - traumas that Len has never gotten adequate help with even though Barry has offered time and time again to help him find it. Barry hopes this will be the positive step in the right direction he’s been waiting for. “Of course, I will.”

***

Knock-knock-knock

“Yeah?” Len grunts in frustration. “What is it?”

Barry opens the bathroom door a sliver and peeks around the edge. He sizes up his husband standing in front of the mirror, navigating the mechanics of a Windsor knot the same way he would any other technical task - with pursed lips and a tightly furrowed brow.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” Len eyes his husband in the reflection and sighs. “Sorry I’m taking so long. This tie you bought me refuses to cooperate.”

“That’s all right.” Barry slides up behind him, pushing a wealth of off-colored jokes to the side. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“So you checkin’ up on me?” Len asks uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to his husband’s eyes, then back to his own reflection again. “Makin’ sure I’m not backing out?”

“No. I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a man of your word. Actually …” Barry chews the inside of his cheek, not so much contemplating, but gauging “… I wanted to give you something.”

Len smirks. “I’m not sure this is the right time for a quickie, Red. I mean, we’re headed to a funeral and all. Might be considered in poor taste.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Here.” He shoves a document into Len’s hands, then turns Len towards him, taking over with the tie so his husband can read. “I drew this up last night. It’s a full Dom/sub contract …” Barry’s voice softens “… with a few addendums. Addendums that are time sensitive. We have to discuss the finer details together, re-visit your soft and hard limits, that sort of thing.” Barry fastens the tie into a Trinity knot, just to show up his husband, then smooths the tail down his chest. “You’re doing what we discussed. You’ve made a plan … a good plan. But if this is what you feel you need, then read through this, sign on the bottom line, and I’ll give it to you.”

Len flips through the pages, eyebrows raised in surprise. Barry probably dashed this out in minutes, but Len wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. It’s incredibly thorough. “You’re willing to do this for me?”

“Yes, Len. I am.” Barry loops his arms around Len’s waist. “I love you. If you need this, then I would like to be what you need … if you’d let me.”

Len grins, draws his husband into his embrace and squeezes him tight. “You’re what I need, in more ways than one.” He buries his nose in his husband’s neck, breathes in deep the spicy scent of his cologne. “But …” He moves back a step but doesn’t leave his husband’s arms. He looks Barry in the eyes, holding him the way he does whenever he’s about to impart something important “… I’ve been doing some thinking and … I want to talk to someone. A---a shrink. Like you suggested. But not someone here. In another city. I don’t want to go to someone who knows me. Knows who I was. Could you help me find someone?”

“Absolutely,” Barry agrees with a smile that refuses to stop. He hugs Len again, with so much enthusiasm, a wave of electricity seeps through Barry’s skin and shocks his husband. Only a little. “I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” Len says, mildly embarrassed. Barry can hear the eye roll in his words. “For everything. For being willing to help me.”

“Hey. That’s what superhero husbands are for, right? I guess we won’t need this then …” Barry reaches for the contract but Len pulls it out of Barry’s reach. Barry watches Len roll the stapled pages together tightly, then slide it into his back pocket. A wicked grin quirks his lips as he leans into Barry’s ear and whispers:

“I’m not saying no.”

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (5/5)

A/N: The last chapter to this fic. It's a long one and I gotta say that I've had a lot of fun with this one. After I post this chapter, I'll be sure to post the masterpost for this fic. And of course it'll be available on ao3 soon enough.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

__________

Chapter 5: Adore You

If you had to draw a map to find the way home once you were captivated by the gaze of those trustworthy, soft eyes of his, you would surely run out of ink; pools of blue, unwavering in their affection, drew you in, and you were willing to drown in them. There were facets about them that fascinated you as much as the scales of a butterfly did; they did not shimmer, but they gleamed and sparkled; it's what made you pause and search for a wisp of an acquaintance that very first time you saw him; finding a familiarity that threatened to sweep you away. Why you even found fire in those eyes; it was there in his moments of determination and passion. Oh, how their color shifted with his moods was a type of magic you wanted to spend the rest of your life being mesmerized by. To be sure he wasn't mistaken, he dare not blink; exhibiting the full spectrum of what Billie Eilish described as ocean eyes; he had to be sure. "Y-you do?"

"Yes," you giggled. "I do."

It wouldn't occur to you till later, that he had given you a choice. For instead of the typical proposal question, where it was more asserted, Rick asked in a manner in which there was equal footing; it spoke volumes of the respect he had for you. With shaky hands, he slipped a ring whose stone was as clear and blue as his eyes and cut perfectly like a rose, the band covered in gold vines and silver leaves which weaved together; he made it himself, and if you thought back far enough, you could remember when he was ambiguous about his plans to create a new type of stone. Honestly, you didn't realize it would be for this.

"Gosh," he sniffled. "I-I promised myself that I w-wouldn't cry."

But cry he would; fat, sloppy tears that blinded one's vision. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and fought to regain composure, but lost to the new wave which followed. You gently pried his hands away from his face, softening at his tear-stained cheeks. "It's okay, you can cry if you want to. I already know how tender you are."

Goodness, how long had he wanted to do this? For while it had almost been two years in which he had last attempted to, it might've been on his mind for much longer than that; eating away at his clarity; at the self-confidence that was torn down and repaired daily. You were grateful and proud that this man wanted you; that he finally gathered the courage to ask and do as he intended and wanted. You….you had wanted this to happen, but did he know that? Your ocean of inquisitions thought otherwise.

However, it was time to quiet and quell his despondent thoughts. Your fingers dug into the collar of his sweater; the tang of nervous sweat and something so him which wafted off him made you yearn to bring him closer. The puffiness about his eyes didn't discourage you from pressing a kiss at the corner of them and from his throat came a choked sob and you were surrounded by the sounds of his disbelief; this cacophony was breaking your heart. There had to be something you could do to ease him. "Ricardo," you started, "considering the suddenness of the occasion, should we, in like fashion…my dear honey man, would you like to get married today?"

This new tidbit caught him off guard; so much so that he stopped crying; good. Now, he was the one who was unsure of whether this was real life or a simulation. He ran his fingers through his hair, double-checked his equipment, sprayed himself with water, and completed equations that had taken this earth dimension's leading mathematicians decades to understand. What you thought was odd was when he caught a pigeon, scanned its anatomy, and found it was sound; you were going to have to ask him about it later. "Rick, did you hear me?"

"Y-yes," he focused, "but what d-do you mean today? How?"

You figured he would have easily come to a conclusion, but then again, what do spacemen have to do with the price of bread?

"I mean that we don't have to wait if you don't want to." You slid your palm over his tattoo, memorizing with your fingertips where his skin was slightly raised. "We can just go down to the justice of the peace if you'd like."

"And y-you would be my wife today?"

"Yes," you giggled. "I think that's how it works."

"But what about a-a…"

"A wedding ceremony?" you interrupted. "Well, we can have one later. We can plan it however you want, and invite all our friends. There can be so much celebration that we'll be knocked out for a week. Until then, I just want to make you happy, and I believe the sooner the better. Okay? So, if we're going to do this, just tell me now and I'll go get the proper paperwork."

It never ceased to amaze you how easily he flitted through emotions as though it were the weather, and with vigor, he lifted you up and vibrated with joy. "Boy, golly gee…this really - this really razzes my b-berries! This is…wow, I-I can't believe it."

You couldn't believe his word choice either. "Oh, you better believe it, because now you're stuck with me and I have you all to myself. However, you're going to have to put me down now because the office closes at five. There are a few things I need to do before then."

Letting you down, he happily waved goodbye despite the fact that it wouldn't take long to get what you needed for this impromptu occasion. Though, when you entered your house, you took a moment to think about your father. There were things you still didn't understand, like why he never told you about his friendship with Rick, or why you two never really discussed what he'd do if you got married; if he had been here, maybe you two would have talked about which flowers would look best as centerpieces; like whether roses or mums were cheerful enough or if this really was a good idea; if such an age gap was surmountable. Yet, in a way you felt as though you were honoring him; for your father and your mother had been unconventional and had gotten married without all the showy displays then road tripped a bit before settling here; you were simply following tradition.

Maybe, you didn't have to know about the why's and what-ifs, but focusing on what you could do seemed a whole lot easier to do. You kicked off your sneakers and dashed upstairs. You knew where your important documents were, but you thought that choosing a cute outfit would take a little longer. You wanted a certain vibe, one that would make things easier on him and then it came to you; why not revisit an old favorite; one that reminded you of his eyes; always, forever blue.

When you returned, you found him pacing around. He was deep in thought, and it took a moment for him to notice that you had returned. Almost comically, his eyes widened as he took in your appearance, and he started to cry again. "That's th-the dress. From that one time."

"It sure is."

With a twirl, you flaunted the blue chiffon dress, and felt like a dream; his visible adoration was not lost on you. It was a relief that this time you hadn't taken an hour to fuss or worry that you weren't dressed for the part, and you weren't wearing shoes which would kill your feet, but instead rocked some converse. "These shoes are made for walking and that's just what I'll do."

Unlike you, Zeta-7 wanted to fuss and choose something dressier, but you somehow managed to convince him that his blue button-up would be fine, and no tie was necessary; hidden ray guns were allowed just in case this happened to be the day that the Gromflomites attacked; not even Earth-based military scanners would be able to detect them. Though, you did allow him to fix up his hair, because one, you thought he was quite handsome with it combed back, and two, it's what he felt he needed to do to look the part. "How do I-I look?"

"Like the man I'm going to marry. Are you ready handsome?"

With a nod, he grabbed the folder with all the documents he needed. "Y-you bet."

______________

At the courthouse, the entire security staff grouped together and teased you about your keys; you should've known that you'd face trouble once you went through the metal detector; you had a lot of keychains; they were from the days when you and your father would go shopping together. Like Rick, he liked yard sales and thrift stores; sometimes he'd get grab bags and there would be vintage keychains, and he'd give them to you knowing you'd like them. You were told by one of the older guards that it wasn't natural for a grown woman to have a set of keys that weighed five pounds. Zeta-7 began to worry, but you told him you could handle it, and you figured the guards were bored and had nothing else to do. What you didn't tell them was that the main reason your keys were heavy was that you were carrying two sets; yours and your father's old keys; Rick knew, but he respected your wishes to leave it be.

Despite this, you two made your way to the right office; it only took fifteen minutes of going to lobby after lobby, free coffee, and endless rugs in all this indoor nothingness. And nobody knew better than Rick when it came to how much you hated paperwork, but nonetheless, you went through the painstaking process of signing this and that, wondering why they didn't make it easier for people by asking yes or no questions; this better not become someone's confetti. Rick breezed through it all, and you were slightly jealous that he knew what he was doing, but it was due to the fact that citadel paperwork was a lot more frustrating and difficult; he had to go through stacks of it weekly; poor man. While he sat quietly, you were in-between forms that had to be signed in triplicate and heard the gossip coming from the people who were working in the back of the office. What they didn't know was that their ignorance made you more determined; you'd fought your own expectations, that of others, as well as what seemed right to do long enough and no one, not even death itself was going to stop you from doing this; it was the best thing you could ever do for yourself and for him as well. You breathed a sigh of relief when you and Rick finally signed the marriage certificate; finally, it was done, and he watched rapturously as you set down the pen so that he could kiss you without refrain.

If you hadn't known better, you'd say the world shied away; dissolving into a plane of nothingness as he enveloped you with a strength that was deceptive for a man of his years; he had become a little more confident; it might've taken a few years, but all you knew was that it suited him. Being nurtured and cared for, as well as loved in the right sort of environment did wonders on Zeta-7; so much so, that he could hold the world in the palm of his hand and still manage not to damage it. It wasn't shocking that some found this outward display sweet, and you almost had hope for humankind, but then there was a laugh or two from the back; you made a mental note to consider moving off Earth. No one was going to ruin this moment for him, and relishing the moment, you chased his mouth for a second kiss; you know, to prove your point.

And if you hadn't already been proud of him, what made you even prouder was what he said on the way out. "Please stop laughing at m-my wife. Th-that's very rude."

His wife? Yes, you were his wife now. It's strange how you could wake up and wonder what you should have for breakfast and be here where you were now; in a whole new chapter of your life; wondering what will come next. Confusing yes, but not something to be afraid of; you welcomed this happy transition.

Back at the car, you were still recovering from his earlier outburst; the like which was almost out of character. "Did you see the look on her face? I thought it was going to fall off with how far her jaw dropped. Wasn't it a sight?"

Though, he was busy staring at the ring on his own hand which you had picked out when you two made a stop at a consignment shop earlier. It wasn't that complex like yours, but he loved it. "All I could see was - was you."

"You flirt."

You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in turn, he laughed a full-on belly laugh; this happy noise was music to your ears. "Gosh, I-I mean it. Y-you, look so pretty today." A bit shyly, he commented. "Blue looks very good on you."

"Thank you. So, how should we celebrate? A trip to the moon perhaps? Going across the universe? Maybe a kaiju fight with Matango? Or watching Spiderman 2? Honestly, I'm game for anything."

You had decent shoes on and didn't care what he wanted to do because you were happy if he was happy. And as though it were just another afternoon, he glowed with happiness when he asked. "Mrs. Sanchez, do you - do you want to go get some ice cream?"

Some things will never change and you didn't mind that. "I'd love to. As the author, L.M. Montgomery once said, 'I guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination.' And, you know, it's so true. I intend to go all out with the toppings today. It's certainly that kind of occasion."

______

He couldn't seem to want to let go of your hand; as though the world would fall away if he didn't and that this would turn out to be a cruel dream. Still, you humored and spoiled him. As intended, you got all the toppings; Rick thought it was a kids dream come true with the amount of candy you had in your waffle bowl. And since you had enough to share, you took the liberty to feed him. He chatted on; offering charming stories from his band days; unlike other Ricks who were in a rock band called Flesh Curtains, his band had been a jazz and bossa nova trio; the band name had been comprised of a numerical equation; if you had named them you would've called them the Zeta Bytes.

Now, Rick wasn't a messy eater, but during one of his more excitable stories, he spilled a bit on the corner of his mouth. Ready with a napkin, you wiped it away, and couldn't help but laugh at how boyish it was. Giving your hand a squeeze, he absentmindedly brushed his thumb on the back of your hand; adoration coloring his voice. “You're t-t-too good to me.”

"There's no such thing. If anything, I gotta spoil you rotten."

You found no hindrance in his mood and this time he didn't think twice about kissing you then and there as he liked while you were still holding the napkin; fear and shame of public displays of affection being one less thing to worry about now. Who cared if your ice cream was melting, because your heart was melting; his mouth tasted of chocolate and promises. A soft chuckle escaped him as he pulled away; his promise whispered against your lips. "I-I promise I'll be good t-t-to you."

Being loved suited him; it really, really did wonders on his countenance and it made you wonder what else he could now do.

_________

By now you were a little tired, but Ricks contagious energy invigorated your spirits; you bet he could've come up with an invention and completed it today if he stayed this hyped up. Instead, he used that energy to make fresh rolls to go with the leftover acorn squash soup; you hadn't been that hungry, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. And when dinner had been eaten, you helped him with the dishes; nothing you hadn't done before, but his spirit was lighter and more at ease; he even bumped your hip with his as a gesture of playfulness. After cleaning up the kitchen, he decided that he'd like to take a shower and refresh himself and in the meantime, you stepped out into the backyard to enjoy the beauty of the night. In this part of town, despite the light pollution, you could see a fair amount of stars.

You had never studied astronomy, but Rick had shown you in diagrams and in textbooks of their names and explained how they were formed; to him, their complexity was like poetry, and it made them beautiful. You couldn't recite it by memory, but you had a feeling that beyond your current comprehension perhaps there was life amongst those heavenly bodies, despite the heat or deadly gases; if you had learned anything about space, it was that worlds were more along the lines of art and beauty than fields of science which were easily explained. Yet, in the air, where there was a sweet perfume, thick, but intoxicating, only where you were currently mattered; you saw that in the leftmost part of the yard there was jasmine which was currently in bloom; its blanket of flowers reminding you of snow. Hadn't you read of this somewhere before? Maybe.

In the grass near your feet, grasshoppers leaped away, and crickets chirped their songs. And you relished the strong breezes and the song of the night which may consume a melancholic heart if it were searching for tragedies instead of sweet dreams. And it had only been a few hours ago when you had thought that all of which transpired might've been a dream. Though, whatever truths that had come to light in the hours after the simulation, you were glad of them.

In the dark, sights and sounds were heightened and mesmerizing, albeit curious in its own right; if it hadn't been for the sound barrier Rick had on his property, you would've heard the obnoxious sound of the next-door neighbor's TV as they watched infomercials. Still, it was a beautiful night. Sitting on the bench which overlooked the whole yard, you thought of what wonderful things you'd like to share with Rick, and then he found you. For his part, he had changed into something more relaxed; into a light blue button-down that was similar to the one he was wearing earlier, but this one was softer, and it was paired with navy pants; it reminded you of blue pants Rick with his attire, but it was cute and suited him. With him, he had brought over a tray of goodies and you two ate cookies and cakes and drank earl grey under the moonlit night.

The pause in conversation gave allowances for observations. For example, you took a good long look at him as he sipped his tea; admiring how casual he appeared tonight. Without his labcoat or sweater, his identity seemed separate from that of his dimension jumping, scientist self; making way for the person deep inside; the friendly neighbor who won your heart without even trying. He noticed eventually that you had been staring at him, and he broke the silence with his inquiry. "What are y-you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about you cutie. You um….you look really good in those blue pants of yours. Thinking of taking up modeling anytime soon?"

"N-no," he answered with an air of obliviousness that you found endearing. "not unless my next work assignment requires it. Gee, why do you ask?"

"Hmm, it's because you wear your clothes well. I always thought you did, but I don't believe I ever mentioned it."

He ruminated on what you said for a few minutes, before setting down his cup. "Did you - did you always find me attractive?"

"No," you confessed. "but you're the only person I've ever really been attracted to. I…..I always liked the fact that our relationship was built on something more substantial. You see, the more I got to know you, the more irresistible I found you. Though," you winked. "those teeth of yours were always too cute to resist."

This truth of yours made him comfortable enough to relinquish one of his own. "C-can I tell you a secret?"

"It's not much of a secret if you tell me dear, but you can tell me anyway."

Wringing his hands together, he confessed solemnly. "That day y-you tripped on the sidewalk nearby my house, I-I almost decided not to cross the road."

Not cross the road? Hmm, it had been an option. In your mind's eye, you could imagine it; the tall, lanky figure of a man debating against his better judgment on what he ought to do; so close but so far; knowing that he was altering the course of his future and putting yours at risk. Poor man, having to wallow over a moral dilemma like that. "Why is that?"

"Gosh, y-you….I didn't want to take advantage of the situation."

It could've been taken that way, but you never thought so. "So what changed your mind?"

"I thought you were going to cry, and I-I didn't… I didn't want you to suffer anymore. I thought t-to myself, that if I got t-t-to know you, then you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore."

When he said this, you nearly couldn't look at him; not because he knew more than he let on, but because who knows what paths you two would've taken if he hadn't shown up that day. Tears bit at the back of your eyes, and your nails bit into your palms. "Dear, love isn't always a cure for heartache," He tensed up at this, but you knew you had to tell him. You weren't upset because you had guessed as much, but being assured of it cemented the fact. "but I'm sure that without you, without your friendship, I might not be here right now. I think I was depressed, and from time to time I still feel that way. I…I have thought of ways to make my troubles end, ways you might not have been proud of, but you've shown me a better way to live. I think…no, I know that by expanding my horizons, I understand now that there's so much to look forward to, and not to take life for granted. Why," you paused, fighting the tears which threatened to fall. "you reminded me that I gotta make the most of this crazy, unpredictable life, and I'm happy that I'll get to do that with you."

He understood and accepted this answer and gave you a look of adoration and pride; the like that you hoped you'd always remember. And when you two were done with tea, you both took a walk about the garden. The sweet perfume of jasmine intermingled with that of the scent of his soap, and combined with the candor of his speech made this place feel like a well of comfort. He followed behind you as you two spoke, and you were conscious of the fact that with his freshly washed hair brushed back, it made him more appealing. His hands were in want of yours as he matched your pace, and you felt slightly mischievous as you'd skip or teased him to catch you; it wasn't long until he gathered you in his arms and laughed, and you asked without much seriousness for him to let you go, but while he loosened his grip, he didn't let go entirely. "Gosh, y-you make me feel so young. It - it feels so good to have you in my arms."

"Oh, really?" you giggled. "That's great to hear."

Pressing a kiss to your temple, he sighed. "It's unfortunate that I'm so old."

"That's okay. I like you as you are. It goes well with your personality."

"Thank you mi corazón. It feels good to hear that. However, can I-I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"¿Si hubiera s-sido más joven, habría marcado la diferencia?"

"If you had been younger? I don't know. Possibly," you admitted. "I might've been less reluctant about my feelings at the beginning, but I truly don't know. I'd like to think that I'd still would've fallen for you anyway. You're a wonderful man Ricardo, you don't have to doubt that, anyone can see that. It doesn't matter how old you are, but it's who you are."

"Y-you're right." With reluctance, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides, and he wondered. "It um - it's getting late. Should I-I walk you home?"

Was he forgetting that he didn't have to? Maybe not. Perhaps he needed a sign; one that said that any suggestion of further intimacy was alright. "I thought I was home." you answered, "Don't you want me to stay?"

Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded. "Yes, I-I-I-I do."

"Then it's settled. We'll have a big sleepover," you brightened. "and it'll never have to end. I'll borrow a pair of your pj's and hog all the blankets because I'll get cold."

"And in - in the morning," he added warmly, "w-we can have pancakes."

"Yeah, and watch enough interdimensional cable to make us go blind."

"But I-I might have to work tomorrow."

"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll just have to eat all your snacks until you come back. We might have to take a trip to Costco at some point because they sell these mushroom crisps that are to die for."

Standing under the persimmon tree, he stepped forward and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Y-you can have whatever you want," With a strong arm slipping around your waist, you felt almost shy at the way he smiled protectingly down at you. His warm breath ghosted about your ear, and his voice was above a whisper as he confessed. “because I-I-I finally got you princess and I'm not - I'm not going t-to let you go.”

At the sound of this pet name, you felt a slight warmth rush to your cheeks, but you didn't laugh it off as you had once but agreed with warmth. “You may do as you please, Mr. Sanchez.”

And so he did. Without hesitation, he lifted your chin and brushed your lips with his thumb. His eyes sparkling with humor, promise, and a confidence that was somehow so very appropriate on his face. "I love you. I-I-I always have. From the time I first held your hand, I knew it had to be you. I would've been a fool if I - if I hadn't tried. Even now, it's hard to believe, but it's starting to sink in."

"Me too. It's unbelievable, but it's true and we have the paperwork to prove it."

Leaning down, he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips. It was so gentle, it was as though you might break if he tried otherwise. Kissing you again, he sighed against your lips. "It's beautiful out t-tonight."

"It is."

Pressing a hand to his cheek, you softened. "But I think I'm ready to call it a night. Why don't we go in?"

Weaving his fingers with yours, he softened. "Okay."

You used to think to yourself and wonder if his house would ever be ready to receive you, but what you now realized was that it had always been ready, and only you had been waiting for it all to catch up; for him to know what he wanted and to be courageous and say; for you to know what you needed, and to accept that being yourself didn't make you any less attractive or unique and that you weren't alone; you had never been alone, for he had always been waiting. His home, why it was always home, but it was always home because he was what grounded you and you were what grounded him. And you felt so married to him then, and everything felt as it should. Nothing had really changed, except for a title, and a promise; for you two were friends as you had always been; him the happy go lucky old man, and you the silly neighbor who met him by accident, but you couldn't deny that you loved him with your entire being and so did he. As promised, he intended to do everything in his power to protect you, even as you two were getting ready for bed. His body seemed to curl around you as to shield you from whatever monsters could be hiding in the dark.

So, when it happened that you rested your head upon his chest and felt the temptation of sleep washing over you, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and confessed softly. "I can't wait to wake up next to you."

Fin

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 13)

He felt sick. 

He’d felt sick since being sentenced to his room by Enda. The small woman found him in the lobby with Jon shortly after the Kryptonian’s meltdown. She dragged him to the door of his room, tossed him inside and slammed it shut, but not before telling him he was forbidden to leave and informing him that she would be making some calls. She told him he was lucky he had such good aim. 

She didn’t believe that it was an accident either. 

Jon had come to his room, asking what had happened and wondering why he was in trouble. Damian told him it was nothing for him to worry about and that they should focus on Luthor for the time being. He stayed for awhile, the two brainstorming ideas on how to help their fathers, but eventually Jon decided he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Damian didn’t try to stop him from leaving, but wasn’t too keen on the idea of the boy being alone, so he sent Titus with him. 

It made him feel better about Jon, but now Damian was the one by himself. 

Being alone used to never bother him, back when he was with his mother he’d be left alone for hours. At first he had well trained nursemaids to take care of him, but once he grew out of that he was given a few guards to watch over him. Even once he learned how to properly defend himself, guards were always by his side. The risk was too great to leave the prince unguarded. But the guards learned quickly, they knew not to overstep, to stay outside of the room, to not speak unless spoken too. 

So being alone wasn’t new and it didn’t bother him, it didn’t used to bother him. But then he came to Gotham, and yes he was alone for a long time, but then Grayson came around and Drake started warming up to him, or rather he started warming up to Drake. Alfred was always there and he quickly learned just how many children were in his father’s life. And of course there was Jason. They pretended to be strangers but Jason he’d known longer than all of them. 

And now he didn’t like being alone so much. 

Usually if trapped by himself he would text. He’d text Colin first, but Colin was upset with him. Then he’d go to Jon, who needed to be alone. He could always text Marinette, no matter the time, but currently the Parisian girl was angry with him. There were his classmates, Gotham Academy may not have been what he expected but he did like the people in his class, even enjoyed their presence on occasion. He could always text the group chat, it was typically teeming with drama. He was probably behind on the drama, seeing how Colin and Marinette had been occupying his phone so often on the trip. 

Damian sat on his bed, pillow in his lap, staring at the device. The screen was darkened, making his reflection prominent. He glared at himself. He was still angry, and still very confused. Why was everyone so upset? He hadn’t meant to shoot Adrien, it was an honest to god accident. In fact, if not for Damian’s quick thinking, for the jerk of his hand, the boy would be dead. They should be thanking him! 

Damian pressed the home button, typed in his passcode and watched his lockscreen, the nightwing symbol, change to a bright photo of his animals. His finger loomed over his texting app, a silent debate happening in his mind. In the end, he decided he just didn’t have the energy to deal with his classmates. 

Instead he opened his contacts and scrolled through them until he found his brothers’ names. Dick was at a wedding, he’d be busy with stuff surrounding the ceremony all week long. Apparently titans from all over the world were gathing. It was more of a week long party with a random wedding thrown in the mix than something traditional. He shouldn’t bother Dick. 

Tim was at a conference and Jason was who knows where doing who knows what. Stephenie never gave good advice, at least Damian didn’t think she did. Cass would probably just scold him for almost killing the Agreste boy, no he couldn’t call her. Duke would just be confused if Damian tried contacting him. Kate was also out, knowing the red haired woman, her girlfriend would get involved and Damian would just spend an hour being mothered by the pair. 

He could call Barbra? 

No. That was a bad idea as well. 

Damian fell back on the large pile of pillows, thumb randomly scrolling through his contacts. He had so many numbers listed. He probably didn’t need all of them. He’d copied a copious amount JLA phone numbers into his cellular device, just in case he needed someone specific form the League and didn’t have time to go through his father. If it weren’t for all the trouble with the Luthors Damian might have called Diana. 

He tossed his phone to the side, head resting back. 

Was there really no one he could call for advice? 

He had begun to pride himself on the strides he was making in socializing. Grayson beamed everytime Damian asked for permission to spend time with his classmates. His father would pat his head and tell him how happy he was that his son was branching out. Everyone seemed so excited about him becoming more social. Yet here he was, alone. 

Damian reached for his phone again, contacts still open he began to scroll through his classmates. None of them seemed like a good fit for his current predicament. JLA members, the entirety of the Gotham Police Department, all of his classmates, a handful of Gotham rogues, plus his family and he couldn’t call one person for advice. Maybe he wasn’t as good at socializing as he once thought. 

He sunk lower into his pillows, phone resting on his chest underneath his hands. He shut his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. Maybe things would be better in the morning, probably, one could hope. Once everyone got a good night's rest, they would no longer be upset with him. They’d apologize for overreacting…yeah.

Or Edna might decide to be done with him, not worth all the trouble after all. It wouldn’t be hard to reshoot, he’s only modeled a few outfits. Marinette wouldn’t come to his defense, of course not, she’d be too busy playing nursemaid to that dumb blonde cat. Gabriel would most likely file a lawsuit as soon as business hours started. His father would be so angry, years of progress all washed down the drain. Once an assassin always an assassin. He’d probably be sent back to the monks, or some other form of boarding school. Somewhere Damian could be reformed, learn how to be good. 

Colin would break up with him. 

Were they even still together at this point? 

It wasn’t entirely out of the question. They didn’t fight, typically if they had a disagreement or were angry with one another Colin would get frustrated and eventually force them to talk it out. None of their problems lasted long. But it’d been nearly nine hours since they last talked. That was a record, Colin never went that long without talking to him if Damian was upset or if they had a fight. An hour maybe, two if they were busy. But it was now well past eleven at night, Colin was probably asleep. He always said how important it was not to go to bed angry with one another. The red haired boy had a habit of talking like they were married, which Damian didn’t mind, but his brothers often teased him for it. 

But it was almost midnight, and Colin was probably asleep. 

His boyfriend went to bed angry, meaning they probably weren’t dating anymore. 

Colin hated him and never wanted to speak to him again, that was really the only explanation. His ex and cousin probably spent dinner together discussing how much they now hated him. Damian should have seen this coming. He tried so very hard to hide everything he had been taught to be by the League of Assassins, but some of his darkness escaped and now everyone around him saw how ugly he was on the inside. They all hated him, it was the only explanation. Damian would probably get home and be hated by his family as well, maybe even his animals. 

God his chest felt like lead. 

Why was it so hard to breath? 

And why was it so hot all of a sudden?

His heart rate was also accelerated, which was strange. Why was his heart beating so fast? 

Oh.

Oh.

He was having a panic attack.

… 

Marinette sat in the cafeteria of the Mode Building, tablet propped up on the table. The place had been practically abandoned for the night, the only light coming from the kitchen doorway. She’d come down to make herself some hot chocolate, hoping it would quell the pit in her stomach, and had found the silence of the large space rather comforting. Plus the view of the city scape that the floor to ceiling windows gave her was gorgeous at this late hour. 

She typed away on her device, using her stylist pin every now and again to rearrange what was on her screen. Today had been a mess, and now she was left to pick up the pieces, reshaping them into something that resembled a functioning strategy. Her plan with Lila had been full proof. She had her crew to antagonize her, get her to claim ridiculous things, a growing list of lies Marinette documented flawlessly. Then she and Max set to work debunking everything that came out of her mouth. The bluenette had only needed a little more time, she was so close to proving everything.

But then Lila had uttered Damian’s name. 

The very mention of which was making her sick at the moment. 

The Wayne’s were powerful, the name alone had so much influence, she’d seen it herself whenever she would visit Gotham. That cursed city believed anything they were told. If some random french girl started spouting off about her and Damian Wayne’s forbidden love, the public would eat it up. And they’d burn Colin at the stake in the process.  

She had vivid memories of when she’d visited Gotham at age eleven. She stayed for a month during the summertime. It was her second in person meeting with Damian, the first had begun rough but they’d come out of it extremely close. Within days her picture was everywhere. Everyone referring to her as “the secret girlfriend.” Hordes of Wayne fangirls, varying in age from nine to twenty-six, openly threatened her, they swarmed her cousins whenever they were in public. She recalled one girl getting her hand in Damian’s hair and then breaking down into sobs because she’d gotten to touch one of them. 

Damian sued her, if Marinette was remembering correctly. 

The tides changed the moment that it was announced she was their cousin. Suddenly, all the fangirls were just as obsessed with her as they were with her cousins. Which somehow made them scarier in Marinette’s eyes. 

She could recall every awful thing that the news outlets had said about her. It was like the city itself hated her up until they realized she was a Wayne. Those nasty things were often what swam through her head in the midst of an anxiety attack. Gotham was a horrendous place, she had decided that long ago. It was like the people themselves thought that the only thing their city had to offer was the Waynes, probably because everything else was corrupt or in ruins within seconds. It really was no wonder they were turning out crazies at such an accelerated rate. The city was like a breeding ground for metahuman accidents and mental illness. 

She shutdown her folder on Lila.

She wasn’t going to be able to update anything till she got in touch with Foxtrot. She needed to be fully briefed on the aftermath. Of course once she was able to contact her crew they would give her the rundown, but she needed to know what was going on inside, and with Nino on the outs with the Liar, Foxtrot was her only source of information left. 

She clutched her stylist harder, she hated what that girl was doing to her. Lila had turned Marinette into the one thing she swore she would never become. 

Batman.

She had her army, her spies, spies that not even her spies knew about. An enemy that absorbed her every waking thought. She’d begun to encrypt everything. She had even asked Tim to instal Batcomputer level software on her tablet. He ended up just sending her a new one. Told her it was an early birthday gift and that it would be their little secret. But knowing her cousin, he could probably see everything she did on the device. 

She had encrypted files for the war against Lila, and encrypted files for the war against Hawkmoth. Now if only it was possible to get a spy on the inside of Hawkmoth’s operation, god knows her life would be easier. Instead she just had maps of the city, charts of the most frequent akuma attacks, and a list of possible suspects. But investigating the terrorist was much harder than she had originally thought it would be. It wasn’t like Ladybug could just go around randomly questioning people, she was lucky enough to have the relationship she did with the Paris Police, she didn’t need to rock the boat. 

She’d even resorted to walking around the city and having Tikki mark places on a map that she felt another Kawami was close. Of course none of those locations panned out. The small magical creature later admitting that she got a strong feeling from the Agreste Mansion, but knowing Adrien was Chat Noir she had excluded it from the list. 

All of her cousins, and her uncle, had at one point or another offered their services. Her Uncle Bruce convinced if she’d just let the League into Paris, they would have Hawkmoth in custody within the day. But she couldn’t risk it. 

They were damn lucky that no metahumans or supers had shown up in Paris thus far. If Hawkmoth got control of someone with actual powers, the consequences could be disastrous. Marinette knew she could fix any damage an akuma did, but if that akuma had heat vision before getting akumatized, and lasered a building in half? Well she was far less confident that she could fix that. 

Hell, she was hesitant to let Bruce Wayne into Paris, and he was family. But her uncle was an emotional time bomb. All his children were, and if Hawkmoth got control of them and saw into their minds...the girl physically shuddered at the thought. Though, with her knew knowledge about Chloé, she had some small amount of hope. Maybe Hawkmoth didn’t have an all access pass to a person’s mind like they had originally thought. It was hard to question anyone about their experiences when they couldn’t remember a thing in the aftermath. 

Her head jerked to the side as the soft ding of the elevator rang through the quiet room. She watched as the metallic doors slid open bathing the slim build of Gabriel Agreste in soft yellow light. The girl’s body froze as she watched him step from the elevator and walk through the empty room. He paused roughly halfway to the kitchen, seeming to finally notice the girl. 

Marinette’s fingers moved without much thought, shutting down the file she had on Hawkmoth and opening up a random folder on her screen. She smiled and gave a small wave before turning back to her tablet, seeing a handful of Agreste fashion spreads now laid out and illuminated. 

“Great.” She whispered. “Just fantastic.” She circled a few of the designs with her stylist before shutting the folder and opening up one filled with Galbaki’s latest spread. Damian had a working theory he had mentioned the other day, before all of the Lila drama unfolded, that Galbaki was copying old lines of famous designers and just giving his version a face lift with a new color scheme and different material. 

It was basically what he did with super suits, every single one he created was basically a carbon copy of an old suit Edna had designed, just with ‘edgier’ colors and sparkly material. Damian had asked Marinette to examine the lines more closely, seeing as she had the designer eye in the family. And once they’d built up enough evidence they’d take it to Edna and probably get a parade thrown for them by the small woman. 

By the looks of it his last collection was just a color redo of an older Agreste summer line, with a handful of more futuristic elements thrown in for that signature Galbaki style. Liars and cheats made her sick. There were so many hard working good hearted people in the world, who busted their asses everyday for years just to get recognized, for a chance at their shot. And then assholes like this come in and just take it all. 

For a second Marinette had a hard time distinguishing Galbaki and Lila in her head.

Her attention lured away from her tablet by the elevators again, seeing their doors close on Mr. Agreste’s form. He was holding a tray of coffee in his hands. That was...very strange. 

Why was he getting his own coffee? 

And where was Nathalie?  

Actually, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Nathalie at the shoot this morning. Where was Nathalie?

… 

The jet was quiet, save for the bubbling of the champagne. Oliver sat, leg resting on his knee, opposite the beautiful redhead woman whose eyes were focused out the window. The tall, slender woman’s bicep flexed every few minutes as she moved the champagne flute held between her fingers. Her angular face rested in her other hand, lips painted a dangerous shade of red that complimented the olive color of her irises. 

“France?” Oliver finally asked, it had taken him a few minutes to process the information he’d been given. 

“There’s a man I met in college that I’m hoping to reconnect with.” She answered. 

“Does he know?” Oliver asked, leaning forward, setting his own flute on the table between them. 

“He only ever knew me as Tess, never Lena, or even Lutessa.” The woman answered. “He had the kindest smile.” Her lips quirked into a grin of her own. “A very humble man, didn’t come from much, I imagine he’s got a nice blue collar job now.”

“Doesn’t sound like your type.” The smile she shot Oliver was lethal.

“Because I’ve had such great luck with billionaires in the past.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her glass, lipstick staining the rim.

“Well, maybe try a nice millionaire, if you’re looking for a change of pace.” She laughed at that, setting her glass down, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Isn’t the whole point of me going undercover in this ridiculous version of witness protection to not attract attention?” She leaned forward. “I think Lex would notice if some random rich man married his baby sister.” 

“I don’t know. Lex can be a little dumb sometimes, I should know, I went to prep school with him for ten years.” Oliver offered a smile of his own.

“He’s a genius Ollie. A son of a bitch, yes, but a genius all the same.” She picked her glass up and took another swig. “Besides, Roger was a sweet boy, I’m sure he turned into quite the kind man. I’ve never had enough of those in my life.” Oliver scoffed at her comment, transforming her smile into a smirk. “Of course, that comment does exclude Clark Kent.” She said, lips hovering over the rim of her glass.

“Excuse me?” He rested a hand over his chest.

“Oh come on Oliver, I’ve known you for quite some time, you weren’t always so nice. You still aren’t too terribly nice.” She took another sip before setting her glass down. “You’re kind of a jack-ass Ollie.” 

“Yeah but I’m a kind jack-ass.” 

She smiled, crossing her legs. “Plus, Emilie is in Paris now. Figured I could reconnect with her. Surely she’d keep my secret.” 

Oliver’s eyebrow quirked. “Graham de Vanily?” He asked. 

“Mmm.” She took another sip from her glass. “She married that designer, remember?” 

Oliver turned to look out the window. “Yeah, I remember.” 

The woman’s gaze turned pitying. “The two of you would have never worked out Ollie.” She sighed. “Plus with your extracurriculars I doubt Emilie could have handled it.” 

Oliver squinted his eyes. “She was Amanda’s best-”

“Which is why she got out. She hated working for Mandy.” The woman turned her head towards the window. “Despised it, if I'm remembering correctly.” 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t spend too much time with Emmie. Her husband’s an ass.” 

“You’re only saying that because she refused to run away with you on the eve of her wedding.” Oliver’s eyes widened. 

“You know about that?” He asked. 

“You mean you practically begging her to run off into the sunset with you? Yeah Ollie. I’m the one who helped Emilie get out of the life. She told me everything.” She shrugged. “Though, I must admit, I do wish I could become friends with someone, just once, and not find out that you screwed them too.” 

“It was never like that with Emilie.” Oliver turned away from her. “It wasn’t like that with you either. For the record. But for some reason whenever I fall for a woman she suddenly decides she hates my guts.” 

“The mask doesn’t help.” The redhead whispered. 

The silence that stretched between them was long before the woman spoke again. “She’s pregnant you know.” Oliver’s eyes snapped back to the redhead. “Expecting a little boy apparently.” 

“He’s going to be a shit father.” 

“But she’ll be an amazing mother.” 

“She will.” 

“I think Roger would probably be a good father,” The woman leaned farther back in her seat. “I wouldn’t mind starting a little family. I’ve always wanted a daughter you know.” 

“What if you get a son?”

“Any Luthor progeny carrying a Y chromosome should be killed on sight.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll stand by that till the day I die.” 

Oliver nodded in slight agreement. “So, Roger? What if he’s taken?” Oliver smiled cheekily. “Planning to play homewrecker and steal him away from some poor unsuspecting woman?”

“It might sound absolutely ridiculous to someone who falls in love every two seconds with any pretty woman who can match wits with him, but when I left Paris, after I’d finished school, he asked me to marry him.” The woman turned back to the window. “I was Tess then, but I knew I had to be Lena again soon. That my brother was coming for me. I couldn’t drag a good man like him into my world.”

“And?” 

“He said he’d wait for me.” She smiled, eyes watching the dark sky. “And it’s the strangest thing but I believed him.” 

“What if he’s ugly now?” 

The woman let out a snort, leaning forward and covering her mouth. “Oh god Oliver, only you!”

“Definitely not only me. You know what those pricks that we grew up around were like.” 

“Only assistants who are easy on the eyes.” The woman rolled her own sparkling irises. “Preferable leggy.” 

“And the girls only wanted nice big buff bodyguards, broad shouldered, tall with a head of dark hair.” Oliver leaned forward, smirk wide. “Look, the girls found appearances just as important as us boys. The boys just had a higher sex drive and louder opinions.” 

“Much louder.” The woman sighed. “Looks don’t matter that much anymore Ollie. I just want something simple. A family, a quiet life. I want to worry about homework and dinner for a change, instead of figuring out how much kryptonite needs to be melted down and added to the formula of a titanium bullet in order for it to be lethal to everyone’s favourite friendly farm boy journalist.” 

“I’m sorry but anyone who prefers Clark to Lois,” Oliver shook his head. “has something seriously wrong with them.” 

The woman laughed again, shaking her own head before smiling. “I am going to miss those two.”

“We could always protect you a little closer to home?” The man offered, eyes hopeful, but the woman just shook her head harder. 

“I told you Ollie-”

“Rodger.” 

“I really do feel like this is what I need to do.” She leaned forward, taking the man’s hand. “I’ll reconnect with Emilie. Get married, have a kid or two. I want to live my life without looking over my shoulder, without fearing that he’ll just appear behind me.” 

“We’re going to do our best to give that to you Le-” Oliver stopped, almost biting his lip. “Tess.” He corrected.

“I sure hope so.” The woman smiled, her playful edge back. “Because if Amanda Waller and Bruce’s little Hero Club’s forces combined can’t keep my brother away, then humanity really is doomed.” 

… 

Oliver’s eyes were killing him. He’d been staring at the damn screen in front of him for hours. Tess had been his responsibility. She wanted out and he promised her safe passage to a better life, a life where the Luthor name, a name she had never wanted, would never catch up to her. He was supposed to protect her from her psychotic brother. He hadn’t been out twenty-four hours and she was unfindable. 

The truth of the matter was Tess had stopped regularly checking in years ago. Oliver had contacted her and she had said she was getting married. That she didn’t want her husband to find out anything. She thanked him for everything and then he never heard from her again. He didn’t want to push or pry, he could respect someone starting over from scratch, she had built herself a life and Oliver wasn’t going to be the one who tore it away from her. But now she was likely dead or back in her brother’s clutches, and it was all his fault, and everyone in the room knew it. 

Oliver waved his hand over the holopad in front of him, the screen disappearing as he leaned forward on his elbows. It felt strange to be in the Watchtower out of costume but here he was, accompanied by Clarck Kent, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, Arthur Curry and the Martian Manhunter. J’onn had opted not to stay in his human disguise, which was fine, no one was going to force him to. When Lex had been released the whole League went to defcon one. None of them had really had time to change once they realized that not only did they no longer have eyes on Lena Luthor, but Checkmate didn’t seem to either.

They were all just sitting around the conference room table. No one spoke, everyone’s attention on their own holopads. He had relayed his story of his and Tess’s last in person conversation, the League had listened intently but now no one seemed interested in offering up opinions.

Clark moved to dismiss his holopad. “What happened after you landed?” The Kryptonian asked.

Oliver sighed, hand running through his hair before resting it on the table in front of him. “After we landed in Italy, we met up with one of Waller’s agents, and I handed Tess off to them. Maybe a year after that, I got a call about her reuniting with Roger, and that was it.” 

Bruce sat at the head of the conference table, out of costume but Batman’s signature scowl present on his face. “The agent?” He wiped his hand over the holopad, screen disappearing.

“You’d have to ask Mandy about that one. She was older, grey hair, big eyes, gave me the codeword, introduced herself as Agent Indigo.” Oliver shrugged. “Tess recognized her though, and the codeword was correct, and we were in the agreed meeting spot.”

Clark sat on Bruce’s right, hands clenched into tight fists. “What about this Roger? I mean, how many Rogers can there be in one city?”

“You’d be surprised.” Arthur murmured, eyes scanning over his holopad. “We’re narrowing it down as best we can, but Lena attended five different universities, three of which were in Paris. We’ve got a total of one hundred and seventy-two Rogers and counting that she could have been talking about.” 

“A hundred and seventy-two?” Diana asked. 

“Paris is a large city with a big population. We’ve also got to account for all grade levels and for all we know Roger wasn’t even a student. He could have just been some rando she met.” Arthur shrugged, pushing some of his own hair out of his face. “But seeing as he’s all we’ve got to go on-”

“What about the girl you two were discussing?” Hal asked, leaning forward on his elbows. “You called her Emery?”

“Emilie.” Oliver corrected. “Emilie Graham de Vanily. She was an actress and came from a pretty prominent family. I met her when I was in my twenties, she also did a stint at Checkmate, worked pretty closely with Tess while she was there.” Oliver’s eyes lowered to his hands. “She was good, but got out after getting engaged to some up and coming designer. The two moved from America to Paris right after the wedding.” 

“Great, let’s contact her. If Lena said that she was going to get in touch with her-” Oliver was quick to cut the Amazon Princess off. 

“Emilie’s been missing, presumed dead, for years now.” He sighed. 

“What about her husband?” J’onn asked, the Martian being the only hero in the room not sitting at the table, he stood off to the side, which wasn’t uncommon for meetings like these. “Would he know anything about Ms. Luthor’s whereabouts?”

“Agreste is an asshole and extremely anti-vigilante and anti-hero. He wouldn’t help us. He also wouldn’t help me if I asked. Guy hates my guts.” Oliver crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. 

“Agreste?” Bruce asked, eyebrow quirking. “Gabriel Agreste?”

“Uhh, yeah?” Oliver’s own eyebrow raised in question. “He’s kind of gotten big I guess, over the past few years. Some magazine started supporting him.” 

“His son is modeling for Edna’s new collection. I met him just a few days ago.” Bruce’s face shifted. “He’s not the friendliest man.” He murmured. 

“Do you think he’d be willing to talk to you Bruce?” Diana asked. 

“Possibly?” Bruce’s brows nicked together. “But he’s not stupid, he’ll have questoins that I’ll need to be prepared to answer. And if he knew Lena at all well, he’ll want to know why she didn’t mention knowing Bruce Wayne.” 

“Do we know what alias Lena used?” Barry asked, the speedster sitting with his legs propped up on the table, slumped in his chair with his arms folded behind his head. “I mean, we know she was using Tess, or a name that could be shortened to it. She’d have to for this Rodger guy’s sake. But, to keep Lex away she probably didn’t go back to using Mercer. If we could find out what last name she was using, we could do a search for Paris Marriages between some form of Tess and Roger expanding like three…four years after she went undercover.” 

The room went silent, making Barry sit up and look around at his fellow heroes. “Oh come on guys, I could not be the only one who thought of that.” 

“Let’s move on.” Bruce quickly supplied. “Start the search like Barry suggested.” His holopad reappeared. “We’ll need a list of all possible first names she could have used. Amanda forwarded us all of Lena’s known aliases, we can use those to compile a possible last name-”

A sudden buzzing noise came from the businessman's suit jacket. Bruce reached inside the breast pocket and pulled out a slim black smartphone. He stood excusing himself and walked towards the wall of glass at the end of the room, placing the device to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Everyone was quiet, quick at work on their holopads, but all had their ears open, carefully listening to the man’s conversation. It was rare for him to take a Bruce Wayne call in front of them. 

“Aunt Edna-”

“Yes I understand that Damian-”

“He did what?”

Clark raised an eyebrow, pulling out his own phone and checking over it. “No messages from Jon.” He whispered. 

“Yes Aunt Edna, I understand.” The man’s fingers where clenched over his phone. “I’ll talk to him. He’ll apologize. Do you know why it happen-”

The man stopped, eyes narrowing as he listened to the woman on the other line. “Well Edna, if he said it was an accident-” 

“Now listen, Damian may be a lot of things but he isn’t a liar!” Bruce’s voice raised, everyone in the room’s full attention now on him. “If he said it was an accident Edna, then he didn’t mean to do it.”

“I’m well aware that he’s a trained assassin, but he’s also a sixteen year old boy who makes just as many mistakes as any other teenager.” His voice became sterner. “I agree he should apologize to the boy, but if he said it was an accident, then it was an accident.” 

He bid the woman goodbye before hanging up. His eyes stayed locked on his screen as he typed furiously. “Dick won’t answer,” He murrmured. “Jason would probably be best for this.” His voice stayed quiet as he walked back to the table and took his seat. “No, he’s on Themyscira-”

“Jason is on Themyscira?” Diana asked, the woman was seated on Bruce’s left, she leaned over the table to get closer to him. 

“Artemis invited him for the week.” Bruce’s voice had gone back to its usual Batman monotone. “It’ll have to be Tim.” 

“Got it!” Barry suddenly shouted, holopad in hand but body back in it’s relaxed position. With a swipe of his finger the contents of his screen were displayed on the window behind Bruce for the rest of the room to see. “Seventeen years ago, just outside of Paris, Theresa Kent, love that little jab at her brother, and Roger Raincomprix were married! Boom! Your welcome!” 

“Theresa Kent?” Hal questioned, eyeing the picture of the couple now on screen.

Oliver and Clark shared a look, there was no mistaking it, the woman was definitely Tess. “Man she really wasn’t kidding about that guy not being her typical type.” Oliver whispered, eyeing over the photo of the man on screen.

“Do we have an address?” Clark asked, already halfway out of his seat.

“A moment good sir.” Barry’s fingers flew across his screen, super speed kicking in. But suddenly his hands fell flat. “Oh my god.” He whispered. 

“What?” Arthur asked. J’onn had approached the speedster’s seat, he loomed over the redhead. His eyes widened only slightly as he read the words still only Barry had access to. 

“Theresa Raincomprix died of radiation induced cancer six years ago.” The Martian supplied. “Survived by her husband, Officer Roger Raincomprix, and their ten year old daughter.” 

Oliver’s heart sank. 

“Radiation induced cancer.” Clark said, falling back into his seat. His eyes glued to the table as they slowly morphed into a glare. “Kryptonite induced cancer.” 

“Son of a bitch killed his sister.” Oliver hissed. 

“At least she’s finally free from her brother.” Barry offered. 

“Yes.” Diana folded her hands in her lap. “May she find peace in the afterlife.” 

“Should we be worried for the husband?” Arthur asked. “I mean, he wouldn’t have any use to Luthor, right?”

“Probably not.” Hal answered. “Lex prefers to keep things in the family, and this guy might have married his sister, but I mean, look at him.” He gestured to the photos still on screen. “He’s no Luthor.” 

Oliver felt sick and by the look on Clark’s face the same thoughts were racing through the Kryptonian’s mind as well. “But the daughter is.” 

… 

Damian laid on his side, knees curled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was trying to focus on his breathing but his head was killing him and the small noises around him had all become so acute. 

He just wanted to sleep at this point. Well, really he wanted to cry, but Damian didn’t cry so sleeping was his next best option. However, the omnipotent force that watch over humanity and laughed at it’s suffer seemed to be targeting him. Keeping him from peace. 

With a sigh he rolled back onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling as his phone began to buzz next to him. He didn’t even look at the name flashing across his screen before answering and placing the device against his ear.

“What happened D?” Damian let out an annoyed groan. “You can hang up on me if you want but I'm just going to keep calling.”

“Then I'll turn off my phone.” He snapped.

“Go right ahead, I'll just hack into it and turn it back on. And then I'll call again.” There was a pause, like the voice was waiting for some snotty remark, when none came it continued. “What happened?”

“Did Edna call you?” 

“No daemon spawn, Bruce did.” Another pause. “He sounded worried.” 

“And you care because?” Damian’s glare intensified. 

“We’ve been over this Damian.” The voice softened. “Weren’t we making progress like a week ago?”

“Me saving Red Robin’s ass from the Joker isn’t making progress Drake, it’s me doing my damn job.” He sneered. 

He could hear a sigh come from his brother. “Just talk to me Damian. What happened? You’re lashing out, just like you did this afternoon, apparently.” He could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Personally I think it’s Auntie’s fault for arming you but I got yelled at when I voiced that opinion. So please, tell me your side of the story?” 

 Damian took a deep breath, jaw set and eyes closed. He didn’t want to talk about this. In fact, it would be great if he could just forget the whole day had even happened. He just wanted to sleep and have everything be back to his weird version of normal when he woke up.

“I fucked up.” His voice cracked as he spoke, tears pricking the corners of his eyes when they opened. 

“Okay, why do you think that?” Tim’s voice was calm as he questioned his brother. 

“Marinette was upset. She’d been upset all day-”

“Did you ask her why?” His brother interrupted. 

“I tried to,” God he needed to get his voice under control. “She wouldn’t talk to me. So I said I could go get Adrien-”

“The kid you shot?”

“Yeah, he’s cat boy, or whatever his name is.” Damian’s eyes trailed off to the side of the room. He knew the boy’s alterego, in fact Damian had been the one to put together Chat Noir’s file for the Batcomputer. But at the moment the feline themed superhero’s name left a bad taste in the former assassin’s mouth. 

“Chat Noir?” 

“Yeah him.” Damian grumbled. “You should have seen her, she recoiled so violently. The only logical conclusion I could come to was that Adrien was the cause of her pain.” 

“So you shot him?” Tim asked, confusion lacing his voice. 

“NO!” The word came out louder than he had intended it to. “I just-I was upset and angry and-I didn’t mean-no one believes me but I didn't-I didn’t mean-”

“Take a breath baby brother.” Tim whispered. “I’m not upset with you, I just want to understand what happened. So please, take a breath, and explain it to me.” 

“The voices came back.” 

That was all Damian had to say. Tim had been the only member of his family he had told about the voices that plagued him. How his grandfather had been in his head since he was little, the way his mother’s voice had joined his once he came to Gotham. How they would whisper horrible things to him, tell him to do horrible things. 

How hard they were to block out. 

“Oh Damian.” Tim whispered. The pity in his voice causing the younger boy to seethe with anger and a few other emotions he couldn’t quite name. Something akin to sadness or betrayal. 

“Shut up!” Damian snapped. “I just-it’s hard to block them out...sometimes.” Damian sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin atop them. “I was just so focused on not doing what they told me to that, well, everything else just faded away.”

“How did it happen then?” Tim asked, voice cautious. 

“Edna clapped, I’m still not sure why.” Damian brought his free hand up to rest on his knees. “I don’t know, it just, I wasn’t prepared for it.” His eyes hardened into a glare as he heard a snicker from the other end of the phone. 

“A four foot three inch tall woman got the drop on you?” Tim asked with laughter in his voice. “That might just be the funniest shit I’ve heard all day.” 

“So glad my misery amuses you.” Damian hissed. 

“Sorry D,” Tim murmed. “Look, I know things kind of suck right now, and everyone is probably really angry with you. But if you sit down and just explain to Edna and Marinette what happened, I know they’ll forgive you.”

“Yes, because Auntie is known for her forgiveness.” He spit sarcastically. 

“No, because Auntie, for some weird reason, loves all of us seemingly unconditionally. And she would never be upset with you for something that stems from a childhood full of trauma.” 

Damian huffed. He hated that word. Trauma. Everyone in his family seemed so big on it too, telling him he had nothing to be ashamed of, that it was okay. Yeah, no duh it was okay. Was his childhood fun? No, not by normal people standards, but he survived it and he’s moved on. He just wanted people to quit bringing it up. And he especially wanted them to stop pushing him to use it as an excuse. He was a big boy, and he took responsibility for his actions always. Well, except for this case, but this was different. They were all treating him like a criminal, when he hadn’t meant to do it. And as soon as they all understood that, then he would take responsibility for what he’d done. 

“I’m sure Colin will tell you the same thing.” Tim added, a dull pain blooming in Damian’s chest. His eyes slowly traveled up to the wall, landing on the decorative clock mounted on the red wallpaper. It was well past two in the morning now. 

“Sure.” Damian whispered. “How’s the conference?” He needed a subject change quick, before Tim picked up on something that Damian really didn’t want to talk about. 

“Well, it was very interesting. But I’m not there anymore.” His brother huffed. “I’m actually on the road right now. I’m on my way to meet up with Bart, Cassie and Jaime. We’re going to see if we can’t track down the son of a bitch who ran Trisha Bailey off the road.” He paused. “Have you been briefed on-”

“Jon filled me in.” 

“Poor kid. How’s he doing?” 

“He’s tougher than people give him credit for. Right now he just seems to be more angry than anything else.” Damian uncurled form himself. “I sent Titus with him for the night.” 

He could practically hear the smile in Tim’s voice. “That was very sweet of you Damian.” 

“tt” The boy rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sure he really appreciates the gesture Dams.” 

“What I know he’d appreciate is some headway with this whole ordeal.” Damian huffed. “You said you spoke with father, did he mention anything?”

“They’ve got a lead on Lena Luthor’s whereabouts. But he didn’t give me anything concrete. He told me my main focus should be with Trisha Bailey right now.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” 

“Dick’s at a wedding and has his phone turned off, wonderful timing for Rae and BB to tie the knot, seeing as how the world is ending and all. Jay is on Themyscira riding unicorns with Artemis or something. And we all know if any of the girls called you, you would have already hung up on them.”

“I would never hang up on Cass. How dare you insulate such a thing.” Damian slowly leaned back on one of his elbows. “Brown, of course. And I simply wouldn’t have answered if Kane called.”

“Which Bruce knew, hence why I’m calling.” Now his brother was starting to get annoyed, his tone made it obvious. Good. Damian was much better equipped to handle an annoyed Tim then a considerate and concerned one. 

“He could have called me himself.”

“League emergency. Remember?”

Damian fell back completely against the comforter. “You’re dealing with that emergency too. You found time to call.”

“I’m driving across the country right now and am no longer aloud to multitask behind the wheel. Not after that parade incident last Easter.” He answered begrudgingly. “If Bruce had a spare moment he would have called himself, he’s just busy right now.”

He’s always busy. Is what Damian wanted to say, instead he opted for a quiet, “I know.” and a quick subject change. “Why are you driving? You could have just used the zaidatubes.”

“Bruce shut them all down, all except for the direct links to the watchtower. We’re at defcon one Damian.” 

“Well, Luthor did go after the first lady of the league.” The sarcasm in Damian’s voice was evident. 

“This is serious Damian, you don’t know what Lex is capable of.” The tone his brother took wasn’t lost on Damian. It’d been a while since he heard Tim sound so intense. “Back before you and Jon were around, Lex was a really big deal. He survived Brainiac, Kryptonite induced cancer, among other things. He’s a genius. And scary. Not to mention, we aren't even sure whose identities are still a secret to him. I think the League is right to be as cautious as they are right now.”

“You sound like you're preparing for war.” 

“We are at war Damian.” There was a pause. “It’s all hands on deck as far as I can tell.” 

“Should I-”

“No.” The answer was quick and a little cutting. “Like I said, we don’t know whose identities are safe right now. We know the Kents aren’t safe, but we have suspicions that he might be onto the Waynes too. You’re in the spotlight right now with everything Edna’s doing. It’s a good distraction. Plus, as long as Jon is by your side, he’s safe.”

Damian slowly sat back up. “What do you mean?” He asked. 

“We know Lex isn’t above targeting Clark’s family. Kara is held up with Babs, Lois is being protected by Dinah, Conner is with Megan at the wedding, and Mama Kent has been moved to Wayne Manor. Being near you and Edna Mode’s security team is the safest place for that boy right now.” 

Damian stayed quiet for a long moment. His first instinct, seeing how everyone here was mad at him currently, was to flee. He could be of great help on the watchtower. Give him a supercomputer and a few hours, he could probably find Lena Luthor faster than the big seven combined. But if this was the safest place for Jon…

“You’ll keep me updated, right?” His voice was small. “Father isn’t big on keeping me well informed. I’d like to know about any developments as soon as possible.” 

“Of course I will.” 

“Thank you.” Damian pulled his knees back up to his chest. “For calling.” He added, voice quiet. “I’ll keep Jon safe.” 

“I know you will.” A sigh came from his brother, like he regretted that this was a responsibility Damian had to take on. “We all know you will.” 

It was now official. Damian had hoped it wouldn’t be as big of a deal as Jon’s anxiety seemed to be making it out to be. Lex Luthor had declared war, and up until Trisha Bailey’s car accident the League had been winning. But now, now it was any man’s game.

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5)  (part 3)  (part 4)  (part 5)  (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)  (part 9)  (part 10)  (part 11) (part 12) (part 13) - here (part 14)

So it’s been a hot minute since I’ve last updated. Sorry for that. I rewrote this part like ten times. I started out with a very clear outline but that quickly got thrown in the trash. Anyway, some plot points I’ve been thinking about for forever have finally made it into the story and I’m very excited about them! Please let me know what you guys think of this part and let me know if you have any thoughts for what might happen in future parts! Hopefully part 14 will be out soon but I make no guarantees. As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got (even if it’s not about this AU)! And if you want to be tagged let me know! 

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[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- the end is nigh folks. Just a few more chapters. A/n2- So sorry if this feels rushed.)

Chapter1  Chapter2  Chapter3  Chapter4  Chapter5  Chapter6  Chapter7  Chapter8 

Chapter 9- Aftermath

“I’ve always been the kind to contemplate But you like the kind that don’t hesitate.” -Steve Moakler, Hesitate

When Y/n got back to her apartment, the first thing she did was call Julie, who unfortunately, didn’t answer her phone. With a heavy sigh, she made her way to her bedroom, getting out of her dress, tossing it to the laundry hamper, narrowly missing. Rummaging through her dresser, Y/n finally pulled out a pair of comfortable shorts and an old college sweater with the letters UCLA printed in bold navy letters at the front. Her hair was still wet from the torrential downpour, but Y/n couldn’t be bothered to plug in the drier. In fact, after the events of earlier that morning, all she wanted to do was bury herself in a mountain of pillows.

Every time she blinked, she could see the hurt look at Keanu wore when she just exploded at his place, like a time bomb that had been just waiting to go off. It had all just happened so fast; him blurting out that he loved her, waiting for her to say something, anything and then those pictures from the restaurant and Keanu admitting that he knew that it was happening all along. How could he? 

Sniffing, Y/n finally realized that quiet tears had started trickling down her cheeks and as she plopped onto the sofa, her silent tears turned into body racking sobs. Possibly the best relationship of her life had just crumbled to nothingness. 

Beside her, on the sofa, her discarded cell buzzed, and thinking it was Julie getting back to her, Y/n grabbed up the device, only to be disappointed when she saw what it actually was. Bombarding her notifications were texts from old friends and relatives, all asking the same questions, though, in different fashions; “Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?” “You’re dating Keanu Reeves?” “Is that really you in the pictures?”

Of course, attached to their invasive messages, were tabloid articles and social media posts, and without responding, she opened one of the articles, the headlines reading; John Wick Star Keanu Reeves Dotes on Mystery Woman on Valentine’s Day: Check Out the Lucky Lady’s 21 Carat Present! Sure enough, the picture just below the headline was a zoomed in shot of the pendent resting on her chest, next to it, a photo of them kissing just after he had put it on for her. Quickly, with blurred vision, Y/n skimmed the article, that was filled with mostly speculations about how long they had been together and where on earth he could have possibly met a woman that would prompt him to buy a $30,000 necklace for what appeared to be their first Valentine’s together. 

“Fuck,” Y/n breathed when she saw the estimated cost of it; it was almost as much as she got paid in a month. Which, arguably was a lot, but still. When Keanu had given it to her, he had said that expensiveness was subjective, which she eventually understood; to him the cost of something like that was barely a dent in his pocket and thus, being able to afford it was less than afterthought. But the writer seemed to have a different take on the issue, insinuating that Y/n had only gone out with him for his money and that she just wanted five minutes of fame. 

Before she could get to the end, Y/n heard her front door open and slam, not even bothering to get up to see who it was; there was only one person with a key, and she was very liberal in using it. “Have you read these bullshit articles?” Julie’s voice reached the living room before she could, but soon, she was plopping down on the spot next to Y/n, “I can’t believe these assholes, calling you a gold digger,” Julie scoffed, though when she realized that Y/n was still crying, she pulled her into a hug, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. These things die down pretty quickly anyway.”

Y/n sniffled, “I know, it’s just....” she was so close to telling Julie what had happened earlier that morning, but Y/n didn’t think she was ready to talk about it, not until she had processed her feelings on her own.

“Just what honey?” Julie probed, passing one hand over Y/n’s tangled hair, while rubbing her back soothingly.

“Nothing,” Y/n shifted, pulling away and wiping her eyes hastily, “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she determined, her tears slowing and her breaths evening.

Julie frowned, slumping her shoulders, “Are you sure? I shouldn’t have to tell you that you can talk to me about anything. Anything,” she took Y/n’s hand, “I’m here for you, always.”

“I know,” Y/n nodded, looking down at their joined hands, her brows knitting when she noticed something that wasn’t there before, “Is this.....what I think it is?” Y/n lifted Julies left hand closer to her face, examining the pink tinted, diamond. The ring, which sat comfortably on Julie’s left ring finger, was gorgeous; the largest, glittering stone set in a rose gold band, flanked by two smaller white diamonds, all no doubt, very real. 

Suddenly, Y/n was putting aside her own internal turmoil to squeeze some details out of her best friend, “This is an engagement ring!”

“It is!” Julie returned with the same vigor.

Y/n’s mouth hung open, reddened eyes wide, “You don’t even have a boyfriend!”

Laughing childishly, Julie shook her head, “But now I have a fiancée!” 

“Since when?”

Julie just shrugged, “Since about eighteen hours ago,” grabbing Y/n’s hands again, she scooted closer, “Don’t you want to know who he is?”

“Umm, obviously,” she chuckled, and when Julie hesitated, Y/n bounced a bit in her seat, “Come on Jules, tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” she beamed, “It’s Eric Riley. I know you two have never met, but I swear, you’ll love him, he’s such a sweetheart.”

“Jules, hun, isn't that the author you’re working with?” Y/n frowned, her brows furrowing. Julie had only known the man for a couple months, and now they were engaged? They hadn’t even been dating. Between the two, Julie had always been the one willing to take risks in the name of love, but an engagement and possibly marriage? That was a lot, even for her. She didn’t want to see her make a mistake that she might regret, but Y/n didn’t want to dwindle her excitement either. “Sweetie,” she continued, “You’ve only known him for two months, and he proposed last night?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Julie countered, clearly about to try to convince Y/n of otherwise, “But we do love each other. And I know we haven’t been dating, but we have been going out a lot outside of work and I’ve never felt this way about someone,” Julie determined.

Stuttering, Y/n shook her head, standing and heading for the kitchen, deciding that a glass of wine might help her process the whole thing. Julie followed, close on her heels, eyeing Y/n through the corner of her eye as she got a couple glasses out of the cupboard. Wordlessly, Y/n poured them some and it was only after her first sip, did she speak again, “You can’t love someone you barely know Jules.”

Julie scoffed quietly, “Really,” she blinked quickly, as if trying to get rid of gathered tears, “Cause I loved my dad for sixteen fucking years and it turns out that I didn’t now him at all,”

Y/n’s jaw clenched and she involuntarily winced at the memory; when they were sixteen, Julie and her mom found out that her father had another family a couple states over and that his business trips were actually excuses to see them. By the time the news had spread to the rest of their community, he was gone, for good that time. Y/n had been at her friend's side, offering as much as she could and twelve years later, she knew Julie well enough to know that it still hurt like hell. Sighing, Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the same.”

“I know,” Julie agreed, “It’s not, but it means that you can know someone your entire life and still never really know them. Besides, I’ve learnt more about Eric in two months that I did about my dad in sixteen years, and it was enough to make me fall in love with him. Y/n/n,” Julie sighed, “So many people spend months, years even, going through the motions, never skipping a step, and in the end, they still end up with something they never wanted in the first place. And the way I see it; true, real love is already hard enough to come by, do you really think we should waste time putting it through all these tests? Why can’t we just feel the way we feel, for whoever we feel it for?”

Huffing, deep down, Y/n knew Julie was right, and glancing away, she couldn’t help it when her mind ran back to Keanu. Why couldn’t she just let herself feel the way she felt? If Y/n was being honest with herself, she was in love with Keanu, no doubt. Be she was also so scared of the fact; scared that it would make it easier for him to hurt her, scared that they were mistaking lust and infatuation for love, it wasn’t logical and the things she felt when they were together wasn’t something she could easily understand. What if things were going too fast for them to last? What if they were setting themselves up for heartbreak? There were so many ‘what ifs’. Taking another lengthily drag of her wine, Y/n began again, “Because-”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” Julie finished before Y/n could, “You really want to wait around for something to make sense, and risk missing out on something beautiful?”

Tears pinched at Y/n’s eyes, but after a deep breath, she managed to quell her emotions before Julie could notice, her voice almost breaking when she finally admitted, “Maybe you’re right.” Forcing a smile, not wanting to further damper Julie’s moment with the ruins of her imploded relationship, Y/n pulled her into a tight hug, “Congratulations hun.”

Hugging her back just as tightly, Julie thanked her, “I’m so glad you could come around, my wedding would be a bore without my maid of honor.”

When they broke, Y/n and Julie still held each other’s arms, still smiling, Y/n added, “I hope he knows that if he breaks you’re heart, I’ll have to make him disappear.”

Giggling, Julie threw her blond head back, “Don’t worry, I told him. Oh!” She cooed, pulling Y/n into another hug, “I’m so happy!” She squealed, “And isn’t it amazing? We’ve both have these great guys, at the same time!”

Julie couldn’t see it, but Y/n’s fake smile faltered, and she wasn’t half as enthused as Julie when she meekly returned, “Yeah, yeah, I guess we have.”

Two Days Later Y/n sat in her car, the engine of her shiny off-white Range Rover idling. She was already ten minutes late for dinner with Julie and her new beau. Julie had offered to wait until Y/n had gotten home from work and was ready, so they could all go together, but she had declined. And because she had yet to tell her about Saturday afternoon’s incident, and probable break-up, when Julie had also asked if they could turn their introductory dinner into a double date, Y/n summed up some excuse about Keanu having a meeting with his manager.

The truth was that she actually hadn’t spoken to Keanu since that day. Though, Y/n would have liked to think that it was no fault of her own; she had called and texted, but he hadn’t been so inclined to respond. Of course, it stung, but considering that she was the one that walked out, she guessed that he deserved some time to work through it the way she was working through it.

That was what he needed right; time?

Then why did giving it to him feel like she was just making things worse?

Sighing, Y/n fished her cell out of her clutch, pulling up his number and hitting call. It rang, and rang, and rang, until his voicemail came up, and with a huff, Y/n didn’t bother with leaving a message and hung up.

Just as she turned the car off, her phone buzzed and with high hopes, Y/n quickly turned it over in her lap, only to let her shoulders slump when she saw that it was Julie, asking where she was. Hurriedly, Y/n let her know that she was on her way in, locking her car and jogging towards the entrance.

Inside, the hostess, a young woman dressed in black lead Y/n to Julie and Eric’s table just past the bar. “You’re here!” Julie clapped excitedly, standing, along with an attractive man, probably in his mid-thirties dressed in sensible khakis and a pale green sweater.

“I am,” Y/n giggled, pulling Julie into a short hug, “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up with some things at the office,” she lied smoothly. As they pulled away, Y/n offered her hand to Eric, “I’m Y/n.”

“Eric,” he returned with a warm smile, using his free hand to push up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose, something that Y/n quickly registered as a nervous tick, “Pleasure to meet you, Julie talk about you, a lot,” he smiled, returning his hand to the small of Julie’s back as they all sat.

A waiter came, offering them wine, which everyone gratefully accepted and Y/n chortled quietly, “Funny, because I’ve barely heard a thing about you,” she teased, though Eric didn’t seem to find the humor in it and he started stuttering, obviously not sure if Y/n was trying to be mean or funny.

It was strange, Y/n thought; already, Eric didn’t really seem like Julie’s type; she usually went for the kind of guys that were so over-confident that they stole rooms by just walking in, the Adonis types with camera ready smiles and a body that was the product of six days a week spent at the gym; the personal trainers, wanna-be models, and if Y/n remembered correctly, there was even a pro-footballer somewhere in the mix. Of course she’d never call her best friend shallow, but Julie definitely had a type and if one wanted a word for said type, ‘jerk’ perfectly encapsulated it. 

But Eric was shaping up to be a pleasantly welcome change of pace; a little shy, bookish, looked at Julie with wide eyes filled with adoration and Y/n was willing to bet all her money that the most outlandish thing he had ever done was proposing to Julie after just two months of knowing her.

Rubbing his arm comfortingly, Julie offered Y/n a playfully scolding stare, interjecting; “What Y/n means is that we haven’t had enough time for me to tell her about you. But this is what tonight is about; my guy,” she pecked his cheek sweetly and he went red up to his ears, “And my gal,” Julie took Y/n’s hand across the table, “Getting to know each other.”

A couple hours later, just before they had called for the check, the three sat, comfortable chatter dominating the table. They had already gone through a bottle and a half of wine, though none of them seemed drunk in the least, but the alcohol did seem to break the ice; warming Y/n a little more to idea of their engagement and helping Eric open up a bit.

A brief break in to conversation when Eric handed over his credit card to the waiter saw Y/n leaning back into her seat, wine glass to her lips, eyeing the couple wistfully; Eric’s arm was draped over the back of Julie’s chair and her head was nestled comfortably in his side. If Keanu were there, Y/n knew that they might have looked just the same.

“What?” Julie knitted her brows, meeting Y/n gaze.

“Nothing,” Y/n shook her head, finishing off her drink, toying with the stem of her now empty glass. Emboldened, Y/n barely hesitated before adding, “You know Eric, when Julie told me you proposed, I was a little worried. But now that we’ve met, if someone is going to propose to my sister after two months,  I’m glad you were the one brave enough to do it.”

“What can I say?” Eric chuckled, glancing at Julie, “When you know you know, right? You just need to be willing to take that risk. Besides, Jules is worth any risk.”

As if forgetting that Y/n was there, the two fell into an episode of sweet kisses punctuated by soft giggles and whispered sweet nothings. With Eric’s earlier words and Julie’s little speech from Saturday still swirling around in her head, and seeing them so happy and in love, Y/n couldn’t help but miss Keanu more than ever.

It had only been two days, but still Y/n missed Keanu more than she missed past boyfriends that she had been away from for weeks. And yet there she was, calling phone calls and texts her best shot at reconciliation, just because she was too scared to march up to his house and offer him what she had been too frightened to before.

It had only been three weeks, Y/n didn’t know everything about Keanu, she probably never would, but she did know him enough to love him.

He was worth the risk.

And she had been waiting for something beautiful to make sense.

But what Y/n had only just realized was that the only thing that made sense about her relationship with Keanu was that she loved him. His laugh, the way it felt when they held hands, the warmth she felt down to her toes when they kissed, everything. Y/n loved Keanu, in the truest sense of the word.

She had to fix things.

Standing abruptly, Y/n grabbed up her purse from the table, startling both Julie and Eric. “I have to go,” she offered hurriedly, already searching for her car keys, “It was great to meet you Eric,” Y/n was already walking off, glancing back towards the table.

“But we wanted to tell-”

Y/n cut Julie off, “Uh, I’ll call you.....or something. But I really have to go.”

In no time, Y/n was out of the restaurant, in her car and backing out of the spot. Taking all the shortcuts she could think off, she even came close to crossing the speed limit. 

It didn’t take half as long as it would have via the usual route, and twenty minutes later, Y/n was parked on curb, in front of a familiar house. The same one she had left in a frenzy on Saturday, while the rain poured down on all of Los Angeles. 

With her heart in her throat, Y/n got out, shoving the door shut and making her way to the front door. Her breaths were ragged with anxiety and her palms were sweaty. Exhaling loudly, she pushed the little silver button; the automatic hum of the doorbell faint from the outside. Not long after, the front lights turned on, bathing her with a bright white warmth. And then, seconds later, the front door was pulled open, revealing Keanu, already in his pajamas; lounge pants and an old t-shirt, his hair messy and renewed hurt painting his handsome features at the sight of her.

Licking his lips, Y/n thought that Keanu looked as if he were contemplating shutting the door but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Swallowing tightly, she willed herself to speak, “Hey,” Y/n croaked and when he looked away without replying, she continued, “Can we talk?”

******

Tagging- @kindainlovewithkeanu​ @harrisongslimited​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @soarocks​ @baphometwolf666