#thank you ms-flood for your service

[angel-fruitcake]

yeah there is no peace and we are not done as long as the official supernatural youtube admin has anything to say about it

[lavenderchqn]

✧・┆comfort of mundaneness — furina

— you finally return to fontaine after a long time of being away... and things are most certainly not as they were when you left

content warnings: hurt/comfort (on furina's part); the story is set closely after the events of 4.2 archon quest; reader is referred to as [y/n]

this piece took a long long time, I'm so sorry for the wait dearest furina anon... hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

The difference in air could already be felt as you entered the elevator at the bottom of Romaritime Harbor. The humidity in Fontaine was much more pleasing to your throat compared to the dryness that the dryness prominent in Sumeru. 

Say what you’re gonna say - the healthcare provided by the nation of dendro might be stellar, albeit there’s nothing like home… and it’s a good thing that you can finally return to where you feel like you truly belong.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Hello, Mx. [Y/N]!” A high-pitched voice greeted you, as soon as you stepped onto the aquabus. 

“It most certainly has been a while, hasn’t it, Aeval?“ You answered cheerfully, having taken your place in one of the seats. “How’s life been treating you?”

Upon your question, the Melusine proceeded to ramble regarding all the experiences she’s had while you’ve been away from the land of hydro. You barely noticed how quickly time flew in her company, You could’ve sworn you only just got onto the boat, and yet now it has arrived at its destination. 

“Thank you for the safe trip. As always, your service is worthy of five stars.” At your comment all Aeval could do, was mutter embarrassed thanks, as you left the station. 

There’s much you could do as of that time — for starters, you could visit the Palais Mermonia to schedule a meeting with the Iudex. Although, he no longer was regarded as your boss… there’d be no harm in trying to maintain a cordial relation with Chief Justice. 

On the other hand there would be nothing wrong with taking a simple stroll around the city beforehand to reacquaint yourself with the beauty that is the Court of Fontaine. Deciding to procrastinate the inevitable, you’ve taken the longest possible route, spotting familiar establishments and people you’ve been acquainted with well before your injury…

The buildings have also remained the same, with the noticeable showing of water damage — as if a flood has happened pretty recently. Said thought reminded you of that old prophecy, one that had most definitely kept your dearest Archon awake for many nights. While Furina had never said anything regarding her thoughts on the matter… you knew it must’ve been difficult to live with said fate dangling in front of her day-by-day. 

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself in front of the administrative office, pushing its door to get inside. Dearest archons, it’s been … how many years? This place always smelled the same… as if the cleanest of waters had been mixed with the scent of old paper and coffee. You’ve swiftly made your way to the front desk, politely greeting Sedene. 

“Good afternoon Ms. Sedene.” Your voice was hushed, not wanting to disturb people working.

“Hello, hello. What brings you to Palais Mermonia, Mx. [Y/N]?” She asked, flipping papers containing the schedules of everyone in said office.

“I’ve returned to Fontaine just today and felt it would be appropriate to say hello to the Iudex in person. Although, if not possible, please don’t worry… I’ll have multiple opportunities to speak with him again.”

Once you finish speaking, as if on cue, the Melusine excused herself, making her way to Chief’s Justice office. There was quite the possibility, that she was trying to slot you in the soonest possible spot. Which made you a tad bit uncomfortable… Your position as a past Champion Duelist shouldn’t allow you to skip lines like that…

“The Iudex is ready to meet you, Mx. [Y/N]” Sedene kept the door slightly opened, gesturing you to go inside. Here it goes, you thought to yourself. 

“Good afternoon, Chief Justice.” You bowed politely, abiding by all the rules you had to learn as a Duelist. Amusing how not even years spent in the Land of Dendro made you forget them. 

“Good afternoon to you as well. Please have a seat.” Mr. Neuvillette proceeded to keep up his authoritary persona, although it was quite noticeable that you’ve been treated in a different way compared to a regular Fontainian… 

To be quite honest, in all the years you’ve spent as designated guard of the Hydro Archon, you had never gotten closer with the Iudex. It’s inevitable, given his upholding of the law — not even cordial relationships could meddle with his views of justice. Admirable.

The conversation the two of you had was surprisingly long, multiple glasses of water shared between the two of you. You’ve learned that the prophecy had indeed come to life, but was managed efficiently by the shared effort of all people of Fontaine. You’ve been starting to get ready to leave, when the Iudex started jotting something down on a small piece of paper.

“Mx. [Y/N]” He stood up. “This is the address of Ms. Furina’s current place of residence. While I’m unsure whether you’ll find her there tonight, I’m certain your appearance will bring her much needed joy.” 

You nodded quietly relieved that you didn’t have to ask Sedene personally for Furina’s schedule. Having thanked Neuvillette for his time and the lovely conversation, you left his office with a quiet shut of the door. 

You may have gotten yourself into quite a dilemma. Comparing your location to the given address… you were almost there. And yet there was quite the worry you had bubbling inside your mind. 

It’s been years since you had seen her. Not only was she the star of Fontaine… but over the years she must’ve had multiple different Champion Duelists protecting her back. Who knows, if she even remembered you… Dear archons, you must’ve looked as if you just lost your mind — muttering to yourself and pacing back and forth in a circle. 

You’ve stuck yourself into this cycle of temporary negative thoughts… and the chain was broken by none other than Furina de Fontaine herself. 

“Are you serious…?!” Her high pitched voice followed the sound of a bag ripping and a bunch of produce falling out. She did her best to pick anything in close proximity to her, looking around for anything she might’ve missed. Some of which has rolled into your direction. Might as well make yourself known. 

“You look as if you could use a hand.” You said quietly, bringing over the remaining food, sharing a soft smile in her direction. The gasp that answered didn’t shock you in the slightest… if anything, you’ve been quite certain she might’ve attacked you for addressing the biggest star of Fontaine with a lack of politeness. 

“Oh. Uhm…” Furina couldn’t bring herself to say a singular word… That’s the worst situation you could’ve find her in — an absolute mess. “Would you be so kind, as to help me carry it all inside?” 

“Lead the way.” 

The apartment Furina resides in seems to match her persona at least partially — grand and elegant on the outside and yet small and cozy on the inside. While it might be a bit cluttered up, you don’t bring it up in order to not stress her further.

“Thank you so much, [Y/N].” She says as you place the remaining groceries in her kitchen, followed by a small sigh. “That is most certainly not the way I expected to meet you again.”

You finally get the opportunity to take a good look at your old friend. The grandiose Archon hasn’t changed all that much… the shorter hair being the most noticeable of a difference. “You’ve cut your hair.” 

“That’s the first thing you pay attention to?” She looks at you, laughing partially. “That’s so [Y/N] of you!” Furina has to be right… During the years of your collaboration, you had never been the one to bring attention to the unimportant in your eyes. Noticing the hidden details had always been your specialty.

“Well, it’s something about you… obviously, I pay attention to that!” 

Her laughter fades into a gentle smile, and she shakes her head slightly as if reminiscing about old times. "You always did have a knack for the details, didn’t you?" She pauses, her eyes softening. "I suppose that's why it felt different with you as my bodyguard. You saw beyond the surface, to the heart of things." She gestures to the cluttered table, inviting you to sit. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get things ready in a minute. Can I interest you in a drink?” 

“A glass of water will do just fine, thank you.” 

In a second, a cup makes it right under your nose, while Furina starts preparing lunch. 

“When did you return to Fontaine? Must be pretty recently, since I haven’t seen anything about the previous Champion Duelist in the Steambird.”

“Just today. I left Sumeru as soon as I got the pass from the doctor. The air was quite literally killing my throat.” You gesticulate dramatically as you speak, raking in another laugh from her. “How are you, then?” 

At your question, she looks quite uncomfortable, trying to distract herself with cooking. “Different, I suppose. Getting used to living on my own and all that…” She sighs. 

It’s quite easy for you to pick up the tension. You instinctively decide to uphold your past profession by protecting Furina using a distraction. Even if you have to protect her in this moment… from herself. 

“Would you like to hear about the performances I watched while in Sumeru?” 

“Oh— Of course!” 

The conversation once again returns to a joyous one, as you continue to talk about the magic in dance performances you got to witness.

“I’m telling you… It’s such a blessing the theatre stage was quite close to the medical facility… Otherwise, the doctors would never allow me to go there as frequently as I did.”

“But isn’t movement a crucial part of physical therapy?” Furina ponders. “It’s just weird for me… that they would be against more exercise.” 

“I asked them the same thing… got some very complicated answer mentioning the nervous system and other medical blabber. I’m certain they were saying all that, to have me drop the topic.” She nods whenever you speak, finally sitting down opposite you — two plates of food in her hands. 

Surprisingly, the meal Furina made was quite delicious. You had known that your archon had been a master of anything sweet, but making savory dishes was - according to her own words - not her forte. 

“[Y/N]… Could I ask you something?” She asks, her body showing signs of being a nervous wreck. 

“Of course? Do you need any help cleaning the table or?” 

“No, no… Silly. Proper etiquette would never allow me to ask that of you.” She rolls her eyes at your question, but it seems to ease her mind a bit. Good. “It’s just that…” 

“Aren’t you curious in the slightest as to why I’m living here and not at Palais Mermonia? Not to mention other things.”

By her own, sheer curiosity, she put herself on an uncomfortable pedestal. Each second of silence adding more and more negative thoughts into her head.

“Not particularly? It’s a decision that you had made yourself… It’s not my place to pry, especially if you’re feeling uncomfortable. I’d care more about you being healthy rather than where you reside.” As soon as you finish the sentence… you realise one thing.

Furina’s eyes are full of tears. 

You scramble off your chair to get to the girl to try and comfort her in any way possible, praying on the inside that it’s not your indifference that has made her upset.

“I’m sorry— I don’t even know why I’m—“ Furina keeps on wiping her face from tears, breathing heavily. Maybe she wasn’t expecting you to be different from so many Fontainians, who have done nothing but ask her all the unwanted questions and give their suggestions on going forward.

“Furina, can I hug you?” You collect her into your arms, as soon as she nods in agreement. Swaying back and forth, you wipe away any tears that still lingered on her cheeks.

“You… have no idea how much I needed that.” She whispers into your shirt. “For someone to just hold me and not ask questions…” 

“And I’m here to do it again, if you ever find the need for it… My beloved star.” 

date of posting — july 4th 2024

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 3

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 3 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

“You're in a good mood today, Ms. Rosie,” you commented as you wrapped up her unusually large order of flank steaks, happy that something has managed to finally cheer her up after Franklin's untimely demise during the last Extermination.  You'd taken it upon yourself to personally dismember Franklin's body, making every break and slice as precise as possible before packaging up her remains and delivering them to Rosie.  

It had been a spur of the moment decision to separate Franklin's heart separately from the rest of the offal, boxing it up and tying it with a length of silky black ribbon.  You'd carefully passed the box into Rosie's shaking hands; averting your eyes and pretending to not notice her tears as she slipped the sentimental hunk of muscle into the back of her icebox with a guy-wrenching sob.  

“Sure am, sweetie!” Rosie grinned, adjusting the brim on her wide hat until it fell just so .  “An old friend is back in town after seven years and I finally got him to agree to visit!”

“That's wonderful, Ms. Rosie!  I hope you have a great time catching up.”

“It's gonna be a bloodbath,” she cackled in delight. “I'll make him regret up and disappearing on me without so much as a postcard!”

“Oh,” you murmured thoughtfully, still not quite used to the volatile nature of relationships in Hell, especially amongst the more aged population.  “Can I sharpen your knives before you go?”

“That would be fantastic, darling!  Thank you,” Rosie said, reaching into the handbag at her side and slowly pulling out no less than half a dozen ornate looking blades, lining them up carefully on the counter while you prepped a nearby whetstone.  

The large brass bell on the wall rang cheerily, indicating the presence of a salesman at the back door.  

“Fresh Meat handles deliveries!” the man at the sausage stuffer called over his shoulder with a grin, laughing as you threw your hands up into the air with a frustrated groan.

“This is ridiculous!” You hissed in irritation, wiping your hands off angrily on your apron.  “It's been five flipping years of this!  When are we going to hire someone new so I can have a break once in a while?”

“You think Hal is going to pay for a new employee?” The shift manager said, ladling blood into large glass jars.  “He barely even pays us!”

Still grumbling, you throw open the back door, customer service smile in place, and nearly scream at the sight that awaits you.

Angels, dozens of them, being dragged down the alley and thrown into careless piles by the butcher shop stoop. 

“What's the going rate for angel meat?” The man at the front of the line asked, his suit jacket torn to shreds and face splatter with glimmering angel blood.

“I- I don't know,” you whispered in shock, examining the angel closest to you, multiple bites taken out of the visible flesh of their arm.  “But whatever it is, you aren't getting full price for the ones you've been nibbling on.”

It had been days since you'd been able to grab more than a couple hours sleep at a time.  Cuts of angel meat had become an instant delicacy and sinners were flooding into Cannibal Town with loaded wallets, ready to spend any amount that would guarantee them the right to try the smallest morsel; not knowing when or if they'd ever have the opportunity again.

And since you were the only employee Hal trusted to break down the angels without helping yourself to a bite or two, you had been working pretty much nonstop since last week.  

“Have a good rest of your day,” you managed to squeeze out in-between yawns, lazily waving goodbye to the pug-faced demon walking away with his newly acquired angel femur tucked securely under a beefy arm.

“I c’n help whoe’er's next,” you slur, the fist that's propping up your heavy head squishing your cheek and distorting your mouth and any words that tumble out of it.  You closed your eyes, determined to catch a moment of rest while the next customer perused the assortment of angel parts stacked artistically behind the glass display case.  A loud huff startled you awake, your body jolting when you realized you'd drifted off to sleep while the milling customers became increasingly irritated by the indecisive customer at the head of the line.  

“I can offer suggestions if you're having trouble deciding,” you offer, doing your best to focus back onto your patrons and not your all-consuming exhaustion.

“My sincerest apologies for taking so long!” The man sighed, voice crackling as his eyes darted from one cut of angel to another.  “It all looks positively divine!”

“That is the notable selling point,” you agree with a yawn.  “There isn't a bad cut amongst the bunch, but if you're really undecided then I have to recommend grabbing a couple of rib eyes and some salt.

“Oh?” The man asked, nose nearly pressed up against the glass in front of the briskets.

“Mmhmm.  That way, even if you made a mistake, salt makes m'steaks taste great.”

You had been expecting one of the regular responses to your puns, a polite chuckle or pained goan, but your customer did neither.  Instead, much to your great surprise, the bright red man threw his head back and cackled.  

“Rosie said this place had the best angel meat in Cannibal Town, but she failed to mention anything about complimentary comedy show!”

“Well, we have to keep that part on the down-low,” you say conspiratorially, lowering your voice into a fake whisper. “We aren't zoned as an entertainment venue.”

“My lips are sealed!” The man promised, using two black-tipped claws to close an invisible zipper across his saw-toothed grin; his lips nowhere near touching each other, let alone sealed.  “I'd hate for my favorite new shop to be closed down just when I discovered it!”

You rang up his order, every angel steak you had available, and he left with the promise that he would return for a visit soon, the crowd of customers parting in front of him as he made his way towards the exit, hand twirling in the air as he bid you adieu.

Dorcas was beside you in an instant, squealing at such a high pitch that your ears folded back against your head protectively.  

“You were so cool!,” she gushed, tugging at your arm excitedly.  “I can't believe you were able to act so casually around him!”

“Him?  Him who?”

“Alastor!”

“Alastor?” 

“You know, the Radio Demon?” Dorcas asked incredulously.  “One of the top Overlords?”

“The steak guy is an Overlord?” You gasp in horror, desperately grasping your coworker's boney shoulders to keep your legs from buckling beneath you.  “Please, please tell me I didn't crack stupid jokes at an Overlord!”

“You did.  And I think he expects you to do it again.”

“Oh,” you mutter distantly, saliva turning sour in your mouth as your mind reeled with the multitude of painful and bloody ways your overly familiar interaction could have ended.  “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Need me to get your barf bucket?”

“Yes, please.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers: Part 5 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW. (It's finally happening.)

masterlist

Suguru stares at the screen in disbelief.

"I don't know what else to say," you breathe, eyes wide. "I think that we should go to the Grand Council or my parents and--"

"It's a hoax," he frowns, shaking his head. "None of this makes any sense. And I've seen fabricated shit like this before."

"But the timestamps!" you retort, pointing at the metadata.

"Those can be fabricated by using an old machine. You can't trust anything these days unless it comes from the Archives."

"But--"

"I think you need to delete these and forget about it. This is someone's sick idea of a joke, y/n." Suguru stands, scowling at the computer one last time before turning away. "I'll figure out who did this. Don't worry. Just delete that shit and don't mention it to anyone." Suguru stalks out of the room and you look at the files, dragging them to the trash before turning your computer off and trying to put it out of your mind.

_____________________________________________________________

You're back at the club with your friends, sitting among new faces and old ones just the same. But the nagging feeling that something isn't right is dragging across the pit of your stomach like a rake. When you glance at Suguru, he's laughing with his other Leviathan friends, but barely touching his only drink.

He must be unnerved by it, too, you think, and rub your forehead before watching Yuji try his best dance moves on Nobara, which fails miserably, of course. Yuki sits to your left, also watching the show with varying degrees of amusement before looking over at you.

"Why the long face, Ms. Successful? Is this too boring for you?" You consider telling her what's really bothering you, turning to her in the dim lighting and pressing your lips together. Her face changes and you know your secret can't be kept for long.

"What would you do if someone played a really bad prank on you?"

"What, did Suguru piss on your curtains?"

"Huh?" You look at her in shock, and she shrugs.

"Alright, maybe that's just a Toji thing. My bad." She sips her drink thoughtfully. "What kind of prank are you talking about?"

"Someone..." You hesitate, but decide to keep going anyways. "Someone put files on my computer to make it seem like my parents were involved with something called Project Kudzu and Project Redroot." Yuki frowns deeply, blinking rapidly.

"Y/n, I've never heard of those things before." You sigh, shaking your head. "Did they have any real proof?"

"Yeah, some audio files, two videos, and a bunch of TS-CO labeled documents that--" A hand lands on your shoulder, and you look up to see Suguru standing above you.

"That pre-game was wild, wasn't it?" Pre-game? "Sorry, Yuki. Y/n here had a whole bottle of red wine and played some weird game before coming. She's been going on about it to me for hours... projects and stuff." Yuki laughs, waving him off.

"It's okay! I was a little confused, too, but I get it. Girl," she turns to you, shaking her head. "You should probably go home and get some rest. If I had known you were drunk already I would've--"

"I'm not drunk," you reply, looking back and forth between Suguru and Yuki. "I swear, I'm not--"

"Let me get you home, party girl," Suguru mumbles, pulling you up from your seated position and gripping your hand tightly as he drags you along with him. "It's been a long day."

"But I'm not--" The look Suguru gives you is deadly, and you shut your lips as he takes you to the car you both came in, opening your door silently. You slide into the seat and he shuts the door with force, climbing into the driver's seat, but not starting the car. He grips the steering wheel and clenches his jaw, finally muttering,

"Didn't I tell you not to say anything to anyone?"

"Suguru, this has been bothering me for days! I don't know what to do!"

"I'm trying to find out who would break into your room and do this to you. Can you let me work?" he asks tersely. "For once in your life, can you let someone look out for you?" His black eyes are blazing in the dim light of the parking lot, and your bottom lip quivers.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he exhales, starting the car. "I just... I just need you to let me figure this out. Someone isn't playing nice in our own organization and if it comes at the expense of my partner, I'm not having it. Lay low for me for a while, got it?" Suguru places his hand on your thigh and you nod, feeling your heart pick up an uneven rhythm. Your mouth goes dry at his lingering touch, but before you can think about it any further, he removes his hand and pulls out of the parking lot to take both of you back to the base.

When you get back to your barracks, you pause in the living room, looking over at your Leviathan as he removes his leather jacket and deposits it on the couch, sighing. You slowly approach him from behind and touch his back, which makes him flinch a little.

"I don't know why you continue to put up with my antics," you murmur and he huffs a breath out, shaking his head. "But thank you for saving my ass... and for looking out for me." Suguru turns to you, his lips quirking up a bit.

"Little Ms. Successful is thanking me for my service? Are you drunk?" Your cheeks heat up at the nickname and you roll your eyes, about to turn away from him when he catches your wrist. "Don't do that," he breathes, bringing you in close so your chests are touching. Your breathing hitches and he raises his knuckles, grazing them over your cheek. You close your eyes at the contact, and he slides his fingers down to your chin, tilting it up and humming softly.

"Open your eyes," Geto whispers, and you do so, trying your best not to seem too flustered. He leans down, brushing his lips across yours for permission, and your close your eyes again, letting him kiss you. When his lips separate from yours, he touches your nose with his, and you raise up on your tiptoes to feel his lips on yours again. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he wonders as you pull away. You nod your head, and he laughs softly.

"I do want to keep kissing you, yes," you reply, and he wraps a hand around your waist, lifting you off your feet and wrapping your legs around him.

"Nothing good comes of that," he warns, but you scoff.

"I'd beg to differ."

And that's how you find yourself on his neatly made bed, legs pushed up to your chest as Suguru greedily laps at your cunt like a starving man. "Su..." you moan, and he grunts in response. "That feels so good."

"I bet it does," the Leviathan replies, raising his brow at you salaciously before flicking your clit with his tongue. Your toes curl painfully as he dips a finger into you, then raises it up to your lips, tugging your mouth open so you can taste yourself. You suck on the digit with pleasure, humming when he pulls it back out and finger fucks you while sucking on your clit.

You buck under his grip, but he raises off of you, denying you an orgasm so soon. Geto kisses you deeply, swiping his tongue across yours so you can taste yourself again, then sits up, motioning for you to do the same.

"You want to do this?"

"Yeah." Suguru pulls his long hair up with an elastic and removes his pants, climbing back onto the bed and sitting against the headboard. He pulls you into his lap and raises you up, allowing you to grasp his hard length before sliding onto it carefully.

"Easy, easy..." he hisses, and you slow down, taking him inch by inch. You place your arms around his neck and rock back and forth, closing your eyes when you feel all of him nestled inside of you. Suguru groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward onto your shoulder. "Hold on, I'm gonna lay on my back." You allow him to slide forward, and he pushes you down onto his chest with a broad hand before pumping into you methodically.

"Oh, god..." you moan, and Suguru exhales shakily. "Su, you feel amazing."

"Say it a little louder so our neighbors can hear you," he jokes, but you clench around him and his laughter is cut short. "Fuck!" The man beneath you smacks your ass, and you yelp in response. "Keep doing that and this will be over faster than you can spell your own name."

"Then fuck me and quit being a smart ass," you gripe. Suguru shrugs and mutters,

"You asked for it." before slamming his hips into your ruthlessly. You cry out at the sensations his pace brings, and he grips your wrist as you lift off of him, holding your left hand against his chest. "Stay right here, princess. I'm not letting you go for shit." Your mouth seems to maintain its "O" shape the entire time he's fucking you senseless, and you can't say a word, eyes crossing and making you see double of your partner.

"Oh, god," you finally shudder, and Suguru lets go of your hand to lean you back down, mouth latching on one of your breasts.

"Cum for me," Geto challenges you before going back to sucking on your nipples relentlessly. You feel something inside of you break - almost like a busted dam releasing a flood of sensations and emotions that you've held at bay since you arrived here. "Oh, you're doing so good," Suguru grunts, holding you as you tremble fiercely while his hips stutter. "Just let it all go."

And for some reason, tears - actual tears - come out of your eyes as if this sexual release also broke your heart in two.

"Did I hurt you?" Suguru asks, swiping at your tears with a worried expression.

"No," you reassure him, shaking your head fiercely. "Not at all."

"Hmmm..." He rests your head against his chest as his breathing slows, hands stroking your back and hair with care. "You've had a hard couple of days. Just rest, alright? I'll be here when you wake up." So, you fall asleep, trusting your partner who's never betrayed you before.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut@r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23@rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story{23}

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, Slight NSFW

Words: 4.3k

Note: Italic text signifies a past memory/conversation.

*Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. FICTION! Think twice before you come @ me.

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 | Q17 | Q18  | Q19 | Q20 | Q21 | Q22 

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine Week Thirteen-

-Chris-

 “Knock, knock, room service.”

 Groaning, he lifted his head, squinting at the sun that was shining through the window.

 “What the fuck?”

 “Knock, knock, room service,” came the voice again.

 His head was pounding, and the light was not helping. Rolling onto his back, he used his hand to shield the sun before he rubbed his face hoping to clear the haziness in his eyes and head. When he felt steady enough to stand, he walked across the room to the door. Once there, he realized he was naked. Grabbing a discarded towel off a nearby chair, he wrapped it around his waist then cracked the door enough to see who it was. No one was there, just a room service cart. Poking his head out, he looked from side to side, still not seeing anyone.

 “Did I order room service?”

 Not wanting someone to happen to come out of their room and see him, he quickly rolled the cart inside his room, leaving it just before the bed. As he dropped onto the bed, he took the notecard wedged between the coffee mugs.

 I let you sleep in yesterday and work through whatever it was that you were going through, but today is business as usual. We have meetings.

-M

 Groaning, he dropped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes. As soon as he did, it was your face he saw. Memories of your last night together flooded him like always. They always came when he had more than ten minutes to himself. So nights were sleepless, showers were torture, and getting any work done was next to impossible. He’d left because there was nothing else to do. He’d been getting plenty of emails about possible work in London and meetings to take, but he’d pushed them back time and time again. One reason was the pandemic that was still ravaging the world, but the other reason was you. He wanted to be near you, learn more about you, begin building with you. That didn’t look to be what you wanted, though.

 He groaned again and rubbed his face hoping to stop the onslaught. It didn’t work. Your voice echoed in his head, and he swore he could feel your hands on him. God, he wanted you here. He wanted to still be in his cabin with you still resting your head on his chest. He wanted to be breathing in your scent, coconut oil, flowers, brown sugar, and pineapples. Your scent was seared to his memory.

 “Fuck!”

 His shout echoed in the hotel room. He sat up and stared at the cart with the breakfast spread. He’d done everything he could.

 “She just doesn’t want me.”

 With that, he stood and began getting himself ready for his meetings. He had three in total, and that itself told him it would be a long day.

 Sure enough, by two in the afternoon, he was still busy and hadn’t had the time even to get lunch. The first meeting went on for three hours, and now he’d taken an unplanned zoom one regarding his project with Mark and Joe. Things were always moving behind the scenes, and though the last few weeks were a nice vacation of sorts, it was time for him to get his head back into the game, no matter how difficult it was posing to be.

 As two meetings turned to three, then four, he found himself running on empty, and the longer that went by without you reaching out to him in any way, the angrier and more bitter he became. Never in his life had he been in this situation. He’d pursued plenty of women, but they all were receptive. They all showed interest of some sort. They all wanted him. he may not have wanted them on the level they wanted him, but there was a minimal basic understanding. With you, he felt he was always the one chasing you. It was disconcerting.

 When he got in for the night, he was exhausted and ready for a shower and sleep. The ringing of his phone said it was not to be.

 “Yes, Meg.”

 “Did you look over that proposal I sent earlier?”

 Sighing, he sat and hung his head back. “What proposal?”

 “Hear me out before you shoot it down. What do you know about Letecia Jemison?”

 “Who?”

 “The model turned actress,” Meg clarified.

 He sighed again, then put the phone on speaker and typed in the name into his Google search. In seconds images of who Meg was talking about populated.

 “She’s pretty, right.”

 “Meg, what’re ya doing?”

 “Nothing, just listen. Her team has been in contact with me, and I know her publicist. We've come up with a way to help both of you. With quarantine, everyone has reverted to a home-based lifestyle. This means maybe some names aren’t on tongues, and that means the roles are slowing.”

 Already he didn’t like the way this was going.

 “Meg--,” he began.

 “It’s just a few photo ops. The press will get a few pictures, people will start talking, and the rest it easy. Plus, I think you two would hit it off; maybe this will jumpstart a relationship.”

 “Oh god. Meg. I am not in the market for a relationship.”

 “Chris, you’re a good looking guy. Quarantine has been going on for weeks. Not to be invasive, but when was the last time you were in the company of someone who wasn’t family?”

 He scoffed and sat back while scrolling through the pictures.

 “Meg. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

 “It’s harmless. One or two dates, you get to blow off steam and maybe get something more,” Meg finished.

 The picture on his screen was of this Leticia woman in a figure-hugging dress that accentuated her figure. She wasn’t bad to look at; he had to admit.

 “And what does she have to say about all this?”

 “According to Mike, he said she sounds open to it. If the idea of a photo op sounds deceiving, think of it as a date or spending time with a friend. You can never have too many contacts in this business.”

 Meg always knew how to spin things. Her goal was to keep him relevant for as long as it was in his interest, or he decided to remain in the business.

 “We have to talk first, Meg. Set up a facetime or zoom, or something,” he suggested.

 “All right. I’ll text you. Get some rest.”

 After ending the conversation, he stared out the window and immediately thought of you. Even a conversation for a meet up felt wrong to him. Weeks ago, he wouldn’t have cared.

 “Unbelievable.”

 Standing, he walked to the bathroom, determined to find some peace for the night.

  ~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

Staring at the cabin, it looked the same, but it felt different. Whereas it felt warm and inviting before, now it felt cold and so far away. It had been three days, and you couldn’t believe he’d just up and left without so much as a goodbye or see you later.

 “Of course he left. Why would he stay?”

 “Because he’s in love with you.”

 Spinning, you saw Ms. Lisa standing there. You sighed and looked back at the cabin. The last three days, her, Shanna, nor Carly brought up the elephant in the room. They didn’t treat you any differently, but you saw the questions in their eyes. You thought they would just let it be one of those things people brushed to the side and ignored, but seeing her here you knew it would not be that. When she stood beside you, you glanced at her.

 “Let’s take a walk to the beach,” Lisa suggested.

 You walked in silence through the wooded area from the cabin, around the guesthouse, and down the steps to the sand. Once there, you both kicked off your shoes and walked down the beach until you sat. You dug your toes into the hot on the surface but cold underneath sand and sighed out.

 “How are you doing?”

 You couldn’t help but laugh. What was supposed to be a quick chuckle turned into an elaborate laugh that went on for a full minute. She probably thought you were insane. You felt insane. When you stopped, you sighed then swallowed the lump in your throat.

 “I’m fine.”

 “Are you as fine as Chris is?” Your eyes met, but you were the first to look away back to the waves. “I can see just how fine he is.”

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t plan it, and I’m sorry you found out the way you did, and I’m sorry if I broke your trust,” you rushed out. Lisa grabbed your hand and held it in her warmer ones.

 “Y/N, no, no, no. You didn’t break my trust at all, and you certainly have nothing to apologize to me for. You are a grown woman, a beautiful grown woman at that. Honestly, I saw this coming years ago.”

 You snapped your head to her, giving her a quizzical look. “What? How?”

 Lisa smiled and rubbed the back of your hand. “I know Chris and all my children like the back of my hand. I raised them and have paid close attention throughout the years. While it’s more difficult to understand him now than it used to be, I do. He’s always been drawn to you. From day one, and against your better judgment, you’ve also been drawn to him.”

 You sighed again, looking away from her kind face and back out to the ocean.

 “You never understood it until these last few weeks. You saw his apprehensiveness and labeled it as hate. This quarantine has allowed you to see past that, see him on a level you probably weren’t ready for. You also weren’t prepared to like that side of him.”

 She was spot on, but you were not going to admit that, not out loud at least.

 “I’m here for you, Y/N. If you want to talk or not talk, I’m here. I’m not going to judge you or chastise you. It is not my place, and truly Y/N, I love you like you were part of my family.”

 A tear slid down your cheek, making you roll your eyes. “Oh great,” you groaned.

 Lisa put her arm around your shoulder and slide closer, but she didn’t speak again. She was letting you decide what you needed rather than her coaxing you in one direction or the other. You didn’t know how long stretched with only the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, but she didn’t seem to care. As the sun was beginning to set, you opened up to her, letting her know about your past and its effect on you. You steered clear of recent events with Chris or even the fact that of the two of you becoming intimate. Once you began, it felt like you were letting something go that you’d been holding on to for such a long time—shame. That feeling of unburdening shifted to you, spilling your guts telling her things you probably shouldn’t have.

 You told her how much you’d hated her son for the first year, then told her how much he confused you and had you doubting yourself by the first have of the second year. Then you admitted that that hate and confusion turned to you being annoyed that you thought about him and even liked seeing him when you did. Your diarrhea of the mouth went further when you admitted that you’d probably thought about sleeping with him long before it actually happened. Still, Lisa didn’t speak. She let you say all you had to, and it turned out you had a lot to say.

 You expressed your remorse over lying and sneaking around the last few weeks but admitted you weren’t sorry about it. That was when you felt able to confess that you loved all the conversations you and Chris had, you loved learning new things, loved seeing the vulnerable and soft side of him that he never showed. You even felt comfortable enough to voice your fears.

 “I’m afraid if I let him in like I let Thro in that he’ll destroy me worse than he ever could. I was stupid with Theo. The signs were there, but I bypassed them. I didn’t listen to my gut, and by doing that, it cost me more than I ever dreamed. I am not the same person I was then. Everywhere I go, no matter who I am with, I have this barrier between them and me, and Chris is the only one who has ever been able to get behind that barrier. There are so many things that take me away and make it impossible for me to allow him to remain behind this barrier.”

 You sniffled and wiped your cheeks while trying to get a hold of yourself.

 “Do you want him behind the barrier?”

 “It doesn’t matter what I want. The question is, can I afford for him to be behind it, especially with everything I have going on and this new bullshit. It’s a lot.”

 Lisa nodded. “That’s where you’re wrong. It matters. We have one life to live, Y/N. Tomorrow or the next is not guaranteed. This one existence is what we have. Our only purpose is to live a happy life, one that is fulfilling, rewarding, truthful, and full of love. To do that, we all have to find our truth, and we have to live in it. We have to unravel who we are, come face to face with our weaknesses, fears, strengths, and live unapologetically in all that glory. You have to do that. If you can’t, would you really want to look back on your death bed with nothing but regrets and no time to make it right?”

 You hated how right she was. She wasn’t saying anything your mother hadn’t told you time and time again. She’d tried to drill this into your head after Connecticut, but you weren’t listening—you couldn’t. You still couldn’t. Everything in your life was now pointing in one direction, and you still couldn’t bask in it. Your past still gripped you and hovered over your head.

 “Remember,” Lisa began drawing your attention to her. she wiped your cheek with the back of her hand the way only a mother could do. “Nothing and no one can keep two people apart who are meant to be. No matter how much time has passed, and no matter what plans are formed against them or promises are made. I guarantee when it’s the one, Y/N, you’ll have no hesitations. You might fight it, but it won’t change anything. No amount of fighting off what’s meant to be will make an ounce of difference.”

 You snorted because you remembered her saying the same thing a few weeks ago on this very beach. She’d known all along. She must have known you knew because her smile was warm.

 “It’s a sixth or seventh sense. You’ll see when you become a mother whenever that may be, sooner or later, or sooner.”

 You busted out laughing so loud that your laughter carried in the wind and out to sea.

 “All I’m saying is he can’t do any better than you,” Lisa added, making you laugh harder, a laugh she joined in on.

 ~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

After another sleepless night, he was in a shit mood and feeling like he was going through some form of withdrawals. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing your face every day or rolling over and bumping into your body that not doing it felt strange, incomplete sort of. When he recognized those feelings, he began to feel angry. He didn’t know what he was angry at, the fact that you’d rejected him or the fact that you hadn’t even given him a chance. He knew you felt something. You had to. Every time he looked into your eyes, he saw something there. You spoke very little about your feelings, but he remembered the words you had said that last night when he’d asked you what you were thinking.

 “You. Always only you.”

 Maybe he was grasping at straws, but that meant more than what it sounded like. He felt it.

 “I told you that you’d like her,” Megan’s voice infiltrated his thoughts.

 “Sorry, what?”

 “Where are you? For the last few days, you’ve been here but not here.”

 He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged. “I’m here.”

 “Okay. Have some fun tonight. It’s not really work,” Meg advised.

 He sighed and looked himself over in the mirror. After a Zoom call with Letecia that lasted about thirty minutes, he was able to get a better feel for her. She was beautiful and funny. After thirty minutes, he wasn’t rushing off the call, so he bit the bullet and suggested dinner that night, all with the ideology there was no harm in a meal in mind.

 “It’s just a quick dinner, Meg. No one is putting rings on fingers.”

 “Don’t rule it out,” Meg sing songed.

 It still felt disingenuous, and maybe that was why he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he’d made a commitment, and he was a man of his word if anything.

 “The car will be downstairs in about ten minutes, so knock em’ dead,” Meg said, winking at him as she walked out of his room.

 Once alone, he was finally able to take a breath. Hitching his hands on his hips, he hung his head low and sighed again. “Get your head in the game, ya’ clown.”

 He heard the ringing of his phone, and he felt it was someone from his team or even Meg trying to pump him up. When he looked at the screen, it was a number he didn’t recognize.

 “Hello?”

 Silence.

 “Hello?”

 He wasn’t in the mood for some robocall. Just as he was going to hang up, he heard sniffles.

 “Who is this?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 He’d recognize your voice anywhere. The war within him began. Part of him wanted to console you and push aside any hurt he felt to make you feel better, but the other half was what kept him quiet. He didn’t want to make this any easier. He supposed it was a little of that resentment seeping through. The silence stretched from minute to minute until neither of you had spoken for a full five. Every minute the war within him waged.

 “What do you want?”

 “I—I--,” you stuttered before sighing and sniffling some more. No words actually came out.

 Another minute of silence passed, and it was his anger and annoyance that piqued, not his sympathy.

 “Y/N, what!?”

 “I fucked up,” you shouted, then immediately got silent again.

 “I fucked up bad, and I’m—I’m sorry.”

 He took a slow breath in and tried to get control over the part of him that wanted to yell. As a child, Mary-Go-Rounds were his least favorite carnival ride, and nothing had changed.

 “Did you hear me, Chris?”

 “I heard you. I’m just—what do you want from me, Y/N?”

 He walked to the seat by the window and dropped his head in his hand.

 “I don’t know what you want from me. I let you bring me as close as you want, then you tell me to back off and give you space. I am kind and respectful to you, and you push me away and tell me about my whorish ways. I treat you with nothing but care and love, and you tell me to shut up pretty much. I don’t—what do you want from me?”

 “I have a lot going on right now. I, there’s so much you don’t know and understand about me and my life, and I--.”

 “—So tell me. I don’t know where along this path you thought that all I care about is sex, but that’s wrong. It’s never been about sex with me—us. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

 Silence. The only thing he heard was the return of your sniffles. A few moments later, you cleared your throat.

 “I care--about you.”

 The hiss of his breath slipped out, but it was an accurate depiction of his frustrations.

 “Care about me? Wo--Okay. Has the last few weeks meant anything to you?”

 “Chris,” you whispered.

 “See, I don’t even need you to say the words back. A few days ago, I was wrapped up on that, but tonight it’s not—I felt that maybe I’d been rushing you, and I didn’t even mean to say them, but more and more, I just feel like a fucking idiot when it comes to you. I’ve been this—open book to you, and you’ve shown me next to nothing. So I guess I need to know once and for all, plain as day. Has the last few weeks meant anything to you?”

 This time your silence was louder than anything he’d heard. After ten seconds, he should have hung up, but he sat there for a minute, then two, all the while, his heart just broke.

 “They do mean something,” you whispered.

 He felt like a contestant on some gut-wrenching game show, and he was on the edge of his seat and filled with so much anxiety.

 “Do you want me, Y/N?”

 You sighed loudly, then whispered his name.

 “All you have to do is choose me like I’m choosing you,” he finished.

 There was rustling and muffled voices that he couldn’t quite make out. What he could make out was your last name, and the words “case” and “update.”

 “I gotta go. I can’t do this right now; I really can’t.” You were crying.

 Then the call ended. He sat there for several long minutes going through so many different emotions, pain, sadness, confusion, hope, then anger. That was the emotion he left his room with, anger. Long gone were the words of his mother’s text from earlier, “Don’t make permanent decisions with temporary hurt feelings.”

 At dinner, Letecia was great. She was funny, charismatic, sweet, and flirtatious. They talked about each of their experiences in the business, which led to talk about what different directors and producers were like, which led to joking about them. The conversation easily flowed from one thing to the next with little to no awkwardness. Still, his mind was distracted. He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with you barely an hour ago. When his brain couldn’t make sense of it, he moved on to comparing you to Letecia.

 He compared your voices. Hers was more high pitched, yours softer. He compared your smiles, yours more genuine and bright, hers looked freer. He compared your eyes. He liked yours better. He compared your scents. They were both pleasant, yours won out, but he was not against hers. By the time dinner was finished, he knew Letecia didn’t stack up to you. He knew it with every fiber of his being, but there was something in him that had him progressing with the night. He could see her attraction to him, and he had to admit that he liked being wanted.

 When they left the restaurant, they climbed into the waiting car together and laughed the entire way back to his hotel, a suggestion of hers he hadn’t objected to. Once they pulled up to the hotel and began walking to the entrance, Letecia leaned to his ear and whispered something flirty that told him where the night was headed. As soon as they’d gotten comfortable in his room, he got her a drink, and they talked a little more before she’d made a move to climb on top of him. Letecia pulled him into a flirtatious kiss, one he didn’t pull away from. She took his hand and placed it on her ass, taking the lead. It was like this was a first for him. His actions were slow and delayed. Nothing felt natural, and he hated it only felt that way with you.

 As if to prove something to himself, he held Letecia’s head steady and kissed her with intent to forget your face. Her moans filled the room, and soon she was sliding odd his lap to sit on the floor between his legs. He watched as she unbuckled his pants and helped him lower his pants. Once the garment was at his ankles, Letecia wasted no time lowering her mouth onto his shaft. A groan escaped him as he watched her bob on his length, all the while slurping against his skin. It took him several minutes to get into the groove of what she was doing because his focus shifted perilously between her and you. No matter what, you resided in his head.

 The feeling of doing something wrong constantly nagged him, distracting him from feeling much of anything though Letecia tried her best to draw a reaction. He dropped his head back, hoping that maybe not looking at her would help matters. It didn’t. His memories fluctuated between you doing the same things to a different reaction and the reality before him. He tried to forcibly get his head right, reminding himself that he’d done this plenty of times, and it shouldn’t have been hard. Even that didn’t help.

 When Letecia stood before him to remove her burgundy dress, he skimmed her body, taking in every detail. It was underwhelming when he thought back to you, and the sight of her, while beautiful, didn’t excite him. She came closer and kissed him teasingly before walking behind him. When he looked back, he saw her crawl onto his bed then lie down to spread her legs, showing him what he could have. It was decision time.

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

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[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 18

18/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

Scully, Mulder, and Missy travel to California to meet Emily and wrestle with the future.

------------------

The echo of Scully’s heels against the linoleum is almost enough to drown out her racing heart. Mulder’s thumping steps and her sister’s daintier ones help too, but their collective power does nothing to ease Scully’s awareness that the Earth circles the sun at a thousand miles per hour. Today, she’s feeling every bit of it. 

The three of them round a corner, and a broad-shouldered man and tiny-waisted woman come into view. Agent Feniston and the lawyer, this must be. Outside of conference room C--as planned. 

Straightening every disc in her spine, Scully extends a hand and exchanges a firm shake with each of them. Mulder and Melissa hang back. 

“Dana Scully,” she declares. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“That decision rested with the foster parents,” the male agent insists. “As does any from this point forward.”

“Yes, and I’ll be sure to thank them as well,” Scully acquiesces.

“Hello, Ms. Scully.” The lawyer uncrosses her ankles. “I’m Tanya Joyce, you can call me Tanya. As a representative of the state of California, my priority is guarding the child’s wellbeing and ensuring that any choice made is what’s best for her.”

“Of course,” Scully murmurs. “Thank you for being here.”

Tanya thumbs toward the closed door of the conference room. “Brian and Cecily are eager to meet you. The foster system has extremely limited information on little Emily. Your testimony will help us all fill in some blanks.”

Scully nods. “Me as well...this is as much a surprise for me as all of you.”

“Are we to understand that you were not aware you bore a child, Ms. Scully?” Agent Feniston asks. 

“Yes, sir. I know it’s quite hard to believe, I feel the same. I was missing for a period of time last year and was comatose when I returned.”

“Yes, and how long was that period of time, Ms. Scully?”

The edges of her lips fall. “Approximately five weeks.”

“So is it safe to assume that though the child shares your DNA, you did not carry her?”

“No sir, not that I know of. I believe that my eggs were harvested, and she was...well, she comes from one of those.”

The agent hums a note of acknowledgement. “As I told you over the phone, the federal database contained no viable DNA match of a father.”

Scully nods. “Yes sir, and I have no knowledge of what sperm may have been used.”

“Noted.” He rubs his neck. “We were lucky, we only found you because you were in the missing persons database.”

“I had no idea I was still listed there,” Scully says. “I’ve asked the FBI to remove it.”

“Well, it was a stroke of luck for us,” the agent tells her. “This little girl’s foster parents encouraged the state to pursue child abandonment charges against whoever left her. She was found outside a local care center at two weeks old, as I’ve told you.”

“Yes.” Scully purses her lips. She imagines a baby with her eyes, nose, toes, chromosomes crying on a nondescript doorstep...she and Mulder did not know what they were doing when they said they wanted the truth. 

“We’ve already confirmed your story with the FBI,” Feniston continues, “and we have proof that you were working on cases in the east at the time of Emily’s delivery to the foster center, so you are free of any child abandonment charges.”

“Wonderful,” Scully replies, but really, those were the least of her concerns. “May I see my daughter now?” 

That’s the first time she’s ever said that sentence, and she didn’t expect terror to shoot up her spine. Is this what it is, having an extension of your life outside your body?

The lawyer steps forward. “I’ll introduce you to Brian and Cecily, they’d like to speak with you first.”

Scully does not like the way that sits in the air. Still, she musters a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

---------------------------

Mulder and Melissa make themselves at home on a pair of leather chairs outside the conference room. They have been the pall-bearers keeping Scully aloft as her crushed dreams reinvent themselves as high hopes. They don’t understand how it happened any more than Scully herself: one phone call turned into multiple consultations with Agent Feniston, then Tanya and California Social Services and finally, DC social workers who performed background checks and prepared forms so that Scully could come here today to meet her baby and, God-willing, bring her home.

It doesn’t happen this fast, it never does--different voices said these same words to them a dozen times. And yet, barely two weeks after Agent Feniston’s fated voicemail, here they are. On All Hallow’s Eve, no less. Just in time for Emily to complete her first rotation around the sun.

They both play contrasting yet crucial roles in Operation Miracle Baby, as Mulder dubbed it. Dana has sobbed into Missy’s shoulder every night for the past two weeks; happy tears (her baby! she has a baby!), sad tears (she has a baby…and she didn’t even know...), scared tears (a baby! a baby, Missy! probably already walking, and maybe even talking if she’s exceptional...). The situation--and its implications--are impossible to reconcile in such a short time, if at all. Scully’s petite frame could not physically contain it. 

Mulder’s the comic relief, the distraction, the reminder that nothing can be so grave if there's still breath left in your body. He bought a CD of nursery rhymes and stuck in it his beat-up office radio, playing it through the day while Scully labored over this form or that and he pretended to alphabetize the case file drawer. Now, he hums himself to sleep every night with one of those rhymes; he’s hoping this new skill will come in handy. 

He would’ve bought toys and baby clothes too, but Melissa made him swear not to in case the adoption falls through. And she’s right, he can’t bear to imagine the pain Scully would feel packing those away. For sale: baby shoes, never worn hits you no matter who you are. Still, he has a stuffed UFO and a Build-a-Bear fox (yes, he went in and filled it himself) hidden in his closet, and he hopes they won’t go to waste. 

Operation Miracle Baby has been as covert as anything Mulder’s ever been involved in. He, Melissa, and Mrs. Scully are the only ones in his partner’s circle with any knowledge of what’s going on. No one else, in Scully’s words, matters. Trinity too has received a full briefing from Missy and is ecstatic about her girlfriend potentially becoming an auntie. Skinner was told it was a family emergency--and well, it is--though surely he’s suspicious about both of his agents requesting time off. Bill Jr. has no idea they’re in San Diego, though they may seek “refuge” (the air quotes are Missy’s) at his place if the proceedings drag on. 

This is a triumph or failure to be shared only with those most beloved, that’s what Scully said to them the night before they boarded the plane. Mulder has never been included in anyone’s most beloved before. It feels pretty damn good.

----------------------

The perky lawyer raps on the conference room door, opening it in response to a voice on the other side. Scully’s breath catches….a strawberry-haired infant rests in her mother’s arms (Scully hates to think it, but surely this woman is more Emily’s mother than she is), pulling at a lock of the woman’s blonde hair. 

The woman turns her way, and Scully gets her first glimpse at Emily’s face. Emily. Her baby. She wondered the whole flight here whether she would feel a connection….a sense of recognition...upon laying eyes on her daughter. And my god, it’s like some chained section of her heart has burst open, flooded with all the good feelings of the world. Icy blue eyes and cherub cheeks...that’s her baby. That’s her baby.

She watches as her baby is passed to a woman in a CA Social Services button-up who slides past Scully in the doorway like she’s not even there. Scully has a split-second to notice the dimples on her daughter’s cheeks, but that’s it. Emily’s gaze misses her entirely. 

Tanya strides toward the couple in the room, Scully following behind. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace, this is Dana Scully, Emily’s biological mother.”

“We’re so glad to meet you,” the man says, shaking Scully’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Brian, and this is my wife Cecily.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Scully tells them, shaking Cecily’s hand in kind. “I understand you’ve cared for Emily since shortly after she arrived at social services.”

“Yes,” Cecily confirms. “She came to us when she was a month old. Raising her has been an absolute joy.”

Brian nods. “She’s the second infant we’ve fostered. We adopted our first one, Andrew, when he was a year and a half.” 

“I didn’t realize you had another child,” Scully converses, feeling out of her depth. “It must have been quite a transition, taking Emily in.”

“It sure was, but she’s an angel, truly,” Brian says. “We couldn't fathom that someone could abandon her and get away with it, that’s why we contacted Agent Feniston.”

Cecily chimes in--”We were told the chances of finding a DNA match in the federal database was slim. We didn’t expect to learn that you were unaware of Emily’s existence!”

“Yes, I’m still coming to terms with it all,” Scully replies. “I’m grateful that you’ve given me the opportunity to see her, at the very least.”

“When we heard your story, we knew it would be heinous of us to say no,” Cecily says, offering a sympathetic smile. 

“You’re an FBI agent, did we hear that right?” Brain asks.

“Yes sir, I’ve been with the Bureau five years now.”

“You live in DC?”

Scully nods. “Around the corner from the National Mall.”

“That’s exciting!” Cecily pipes up. “How did you find yourself having Emily in San Diego?”

“I actually have no idea, Mrs. Lace,” Scully murmurs. “My family lived here when I was young, but I haven’t been back since. Coincidentally, my brother lives not too far off.”

“Wow,” Cecily gasps. “They weren’t kidding about you being a missing person.”

“No ma’am.” She went from a missing person to missing a person. No wonder she’s spent the past year feeling so empty. 

-----------------------------

Mulder and Melissa get only the slightest moment to catch their breath before a child that is unmistakably the progeny of Dana Scully is carried into the lobby. Her hair curls around her ears in a cute mushroom top, her tongue dancing in her mouth like it has a mind of its own. They stare; they know better, but fuck it, if any baby is worth staring at, it’s this one. 

“Is that--?” Mulder whispers.

“Yeah,” Missy breathes. 

They’ve both seen the pictures, they are well aware that it’s her. They say these things for the awe of it. 

“She’s…” Mulder’s eyes are wide. “She’s bigger than I thought she would be. Not fat, I mean. Just...a whole tiny human.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Melissa smiles at her niece, who is now seated on her caretaker’s lap across the hallway. Emily’s big eyes blink at her, containing silent judgements. How like her mother she is.

Missy elbows Mulder. “I bet she orders mushroom pizza and then picks the mushrooms off because apparently ‘the cheese tastes better than on the regular cheese pizza,’” she muses, naming one of her sister’s quirks. 

Mulder likes this game. “I bet she vehemently denies the existence of extraterrestrials only to secretly believe that her dashing partner is right,” he offers.

Missy smirks. “I bet she would find this game very stupid if she understood it.”

“I’m all in on that one.” Mulder mimes pushing a pile of poker chips into the center of a table. 

Missy laughs, looks toward her seat partner with soft eyes. “She’s gonna be a great mom, isn’t she? Dana, I mean?”

“Oh yeah.” Mulder clasps his hands in his lap. “We should be so lucky to have a little Scully in the world.”

“Mm-hm.” Missy focuses on his face, watching for the slightest move that might give his thoughts away. “And she’ll be able to do it alone, do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll need some help from Mrs. Scully, and you, and…” he trails off before adding his own name, but Missy’s mind fills it in reflexively. “She’ll need help,” Mulder finishes, “but yeah, she’ll be incredible.”

The details have already been parsed out. As a single mother, Scully is required to list a guardian who would take custody of Emily if something were to happen to her. She listed her mother as the primary one--the social worker told her it’s best if it’s someone who has child-rearing experience--and Missy as the secondary guardian. She would, after all, already live in the child’s household. 

Then there was the matter of the job--its extensive time requirements, travelling, and danger level were all of concern to the agency. This came as no surprise to Scully; a single female FBI agent does not make the ideal adoption candidate. And though she hasn’t yet spoken to the Bureau, Mulder has promised her they’ll work something out. It can be like your leave of absence, he assured her. You tackle the paper trail and I’ll focus on following the suspect’s trail. Easy-peasy.

That’s what he says to her, though he’s terrified of losing her as his partner...Of her being reassigned to something simpler or leaving the Bureau entirely. She could teach at Quantico, that schedule would be a hell of a lot easier than running on Mulder time. Agent Scully can pack for hastily-booked flights at midnight then catch them at 7am, but Emily’s mother couldn’t. He will have to reckon with this if all the pieces fall into their graceful place. He’ll have to figure out how to rearrange their partnership for her, or even worse, how to live without her as his partner. Or maybe even at all. 

---------------------------

Scully glances at her shoes, then summons the courage to meet Mrs. Lace’s hazel eyes. “I hope you will consider my request. I know it’s not up to you entirely--the court will have the final say--but my abduction experience has left me unable to have a biological child, so learning of Emily was truly a miracle of the highest order.” 

Her voice clips as she takes a breath. “I understand that it would be a huge sacrifice on the part of your family, and that you’ve developed a bond with Emily over the past eleven months. I just ask you both to please...think about it.” Tears twinkle in her eyes. She made it, thank god, she made it without breaking down! She’s rehearsed that speech ten times over.

Cecily lays a hand on her husband’s arm. “Of course, Dana. It would be a painful sacrifice to us, you’re correct, but we understand that you’ve flown across the country to be here, and that you’ve brought witnesses to testify to your character, so your commitment is clear. We’ll listen and make as compassionate a decision as possible.”

Scully’s lips creep into a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She steps back, the weight of imminent sobs settling over her chest. 

“Ms. Scully has already undergone most of the requirements needed for adoption,” the lawyer tells Mr. and Mrs. Lace. “Medical clearance, psychiatric clearance, criminal background check, and home study. In the spirit of her unique circumstances, California and the District of Columbia have agreed to cooperate to make the process as smooth and expedient as possible, if you should choose to surrender Emily to her. I don’t mean to sway your decision in any way, just to give you all the available information.” 

The couple nods. “Thank you, Tanya,” Cecily answers. “We’d like to speak with the first witness now.”

Scully balks. She expected more questions, a barrage of them, as intense and prying as if she were testifying in front of Congress. And she was ready for that--she was prepared to do whatever they asked of her, to show that there are no lengths she wouldn’t go for Emily. She’s already documented every detail of her life for social services and given over the necessary specimens to prove that no, she’s not a drug user, and yes, her thyroid is hyperactive, but she takes medication for that and her doctor will confirm that it’s under control. 

And if they wanted to know more, she’d tell them. She’d tell it all. Her deepest, darkest secret (telling Daniel that yes, he should leave his wife & kids...all for her, to be with her), the most petty thing that haunts her (stolen cigarettes, smoked on the family porch at 1am), what she wants to say most but can’t (I love you)...a part of her was taken to create Emily. She would give the rest away to keep her.

There was a moment, in one of the drab little interrogation rooms at DC social services, where Scully was met with a question that lunged toward her like a time-bomb. Pull the fuse, pull the fuse it taunted her. See what happens. Instead, she played it off. Pretended she didn’t hear its doomed tick. Feigned none the wiser. No, she isn’t aware of any potential medical condition that would inhibit her life expectancy or ability to care for a child, she told the nice woman. Thank god they got the chip out of her neck before it showed up on any x-rays. 

She snaps back to reality, watching as the conference door opens, and her sister enters the room. 

“Thank you, Dana,” Tanya says, and she assumes that’s the lawyer’s way of telling her to get out, so she does. Outside the room, she settles next to Mulder in a seat that’s still warm.

“How’d it go in there, champ?” he chatters. “You need some water or anything?”

Scully’s not listening. Her eyes are trained on the baby girl across the way with hair too auburn to be brunette that’ll require a smattering of box dye every two weeks to qualify her as a soulless ginger. 

Emily’s eyes land on the woman she does not know is her mother, studying this new face with an infant’s usual curiosity. Mulder has realized by now that the little girl is of much more interest to his partner than he is, and he watches as mother and daughter wave to each other.

Scully lets out a laugh so strangled that for a moment Mulder thinks it’s a cry and jumps to comfort her. He relaxes back into his seat once he sees the joy on her face.

“She’s a sweetheart, huh?” Mulder wisecracks as the young girl jams her fingers into her mouth.

Scully beams. “She’s a baby, that’s her way of learning the world!”

“Hey, I’m not knocking it. That’s my personal preference as well,” he says with a lop-sided smile. 

“Yeah, well, she’s not licking evidence,” Scully quips. 

Mulder shrugs. “A man can’t help his oral fixation. Haven’t you ever heard of Freud…?” he lets it slide off his tongue. 

Scully rolls her eyes. His inability to maintain an appropriate manner is nothing if not inspiring. 

She gestures toward Emily. “You’re already encouraging bad behavior. Tsk-tsk,” she teases. 

“That’s my job as--hey, wait. What’s she gonna call me?” If you get custody, of course passes silently between them.

“I don’t know, Mulder,” Scully says, watching her daughter out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. She’s sat up during the night trying to decipher Mulder’s relation to Emily. He would certainly be the male authority in her life, but that doesn’t make him a father figure. Right? 

Scully adored her father because he was the head of the family, and he embraced the responsibility, always making sure they had what they needed. While her mother was often the one doing the grunt work of caring for them, her father provided for them. His long deployments with the Navy protected them. Scully understood his sacrifice and loved him for it 

That’s not how it would go with Emily. If she were so lucky as to get the child, Scully would be the caretaker and the provider. A two-in-one deal with a high price. What would that mean, for Emily? Scully could do it, she believes that. Not that it would be anything less than utterly exhausting, but with a little help from her mother and her sister, she could make do, and they say it takes a village to raise a child anyway, so what’s so bad about that?

Since she’s filling those roles herself, that leaves...well, Mulder could be the fun uncle, that fits him. Bill Jr. isn’t gonna cut it, and neither is Charlie, considering that he’s god knows where. Besides, it’s unlikely that Mulder will get a chance to know a biological niece or nephew. He and Emily could fill missing pieces in each other’s lives.

Scully’s eyes trace the contours of her partner’s face. “Do you have a preference about what she calls you?”

“I was hoping for His Royal Highness Fox Mulder of Martha’s Vineyard--is that too much?”

Scully lets a strand of hair fall over her face. “It might take her awhile to get her tongue around that.”

“Or it’ll speed up her speech acquisition,” Mulder replies. 

“Oh, you’re a child-rearing connoisseur now?”

Mulder twiddles his thumbs. “It is my goal to raise the first kid to transcribe canine language into English.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware of that,” Scully tells him, a smile flitting on her lips. It’s this kind of banter that keeps her sane. A few minutes out here with him, and she’s forgotten that what happens in that conference room will dictate the rest of her life. 

Across the hallway, Emily giggles at the air, and it fits, doesn’t it? Here she is, already laughing at Mulder’s jokes like the Scully girl she is. 

------------------------------

It feels like a prisoner exchange when witness number one in their civil-that-sure-feels-like-a-criminal case joins Scully back in the hallway, and Mulder is called forward “to the stand.” He swears he found a penny in the parking lot this morning & promises to bring back good news. Scully’s pretty sure he made that story up, but she’s no less hopeful that it’ll come true.

Returned from her brief stint in captivity, Missy dives right into a discussion of her niece: “Look at her, Dana, she looks just like you!”

“Well, she does have fifty percent of my DNA,” Scully concedes with an admiring glance at the little girl.

“Have you gone over to see her?”

Scully shakes her head. “I didn’t think that would be proper.”

“Are you kidding me?” Missy retorts. “First of all, Brian and Cecily are very nice people, and I’m not supposed to say this, but I think there’s a chance that Emily will be yours. Secondly, this could be your only opportunity to interact with your daughter and you’re not gonna take it?”

Scully bites her lip. Her sister knows how to craft an argument. “Alright, but you have to back me up.”

“Trust me, I wanna see her just as badly as you.”

Scully steels herself, then approaches the woman in the polo shirt. “Hello.” She does a polite half-wave, which she’s never done before and which makes her feel ridiculous. “I’m the potential adoptee, and I was wondering if I could say hello to this precious little girl.” It all feels completely out of character, like she’s reading lines from a script. But this is it, this is her reality.

The woman’s face offers little in the way of recognition. “You can have a supervised visit with her, yes,” she recites, as rehearsed as Scully. 

“Great.” Scully claps her hands together. “May I take her to my sister right over there?”

The woman nods. Scully lays her hands on Emily’s waist and lifts the girl gently from the woman’s lap. She is heavier than Scully imagined, or maybe just heavier than she hoped. Every ounce is a reminder of unseen existence and unwitnessed growth.

Emily does not balk, just stares up at her mother with those probing eyes. 

“Hi baby girl,” Scully coos to her daughter as she settles her against her hip. “Can you say hi? Have you got that one yet?”

The girl blinks. “Ma-ma.”

Scully crooks her neck, tries to reign in her racing imagination. All babies do this at this age, don’t they? Calling every woman mama and every man dada. Emily’s no exception. And yet...for that to be the first word her daughter has ever said to her. God winked at her, and she’s glad to have caught it. 

The pair makes it to Missy, who blows a kiss in Emily’s direction. “Hey there little one.” She extends her index finger, and the girl latches onto it. 

Scully cradles her baby’s head, Emily’s fine hair soft beneath her fingers. 

“She’s even-keeled for a baby,” Missy remarks, wiggling her finger and watching Emily crack a smile. 

“Yes,” Scully gurgles out of the sheer joy. She settles into her chair with Emily in her lap. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Missy looks up. “What?”

“Mama.” Scully dons a triumphant grin. “She called me mama.”

“Oh, no way!” Missy squeals. It’s a bit too loud and sudden, making Emily jump. The ladies laugh, and Scully pulls her daughter in closer, kissing the crown of her head. She still has that baby smell; the freshness of new life and all its purity. Scully sighs. It must have been even stronger when she was born.

Scully closes her eyes. If she had one chance to pause life somewhere along the way, to linger in a perfect moment longer, she would do it right now and she would never regret it. 

“My baby…” she breathes into Emily’s ear, hoping it will stick. That one day she’ll remember and find her way home, should she need to.

A warm tear slides down Scully’s cheek and lands in Emily’s lap, a dark drop on the girl’s corduroy pants. “Mama loves you, Emily.” She tightens her embrace. “That’s me,” she sniffs. “I love you, Emily.”

Observing this, Missy feels that she is an interloper and slips off to the bathroom, leaving mother and baby to have their moment. 

Scully strokes the girl’s tiny palm with her thumb. She has missed so much already, and my god, she could miss so much more. What is love, if not sacrifice? Hadn’t that been the takeaway from each week of Sunday school?

The conference door opens, and Scully finds herself irritated that life has failed to pause. Oh, what wouldn’t she do to take the reins from God, even for a moment? She looks up at Mulder, doe-eyed as he processes the optical illusion that is Emily and her mother. Said mother sees the tenderness on Mulder’s face as he comes to terms with this sight, and something in both of them breaks, and something else opens. 

Mulder approaches quietly, apprehensive about ruining the moment. Little does he know, he’s not ruining it; he’s completing it. 

“Hey,” Scully swoons. “How was it?”

He’s too earnest to crack a joke right now. “Less nerve-wracking than I expected,” he murmurs. “Brain and Cecily are good people.” 

Scully can’t help but wonder if they’re hammering this point about Brian and Cecily to make her feel better when the gavel falls in their direction. Mulder directs her train of thought away from this when he kneels in front of Emily.  His eyes are as soupy as ever, Scully notices; she could sink right into them.

“May I?”

Scully chuckles under her breath, like a stranger has just asked if they could pet her dog. “Of course, Mulder. Say hi.”

Over the past weeks, Mulder spent considerable time anticipating this initial interaction. First impressions are important, after all, and there is no one he has wanted to impress more than this sweet girl. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t care what their meeting was, as long as it would be. And now that he’s here, knelt in front of his two favorite girls, he’s ready to make a promise.

He envelops Emily’s closed fist with one hand and uses the other to caress Scully’s palm. “I want you to know,” he begins, shifting his gaze between mother and daughter, “that I’ll always be here for you.” 

He looks to Scully, realizing that Emily is unable to comprehend what he is saying. “Regardless of Brian and Cecily’s choice, I am prepared to make every sacrifice so that you two can be a family. The family you deserve to be. I know what it’s like to not have that, and christ, Scully, I’m not letting you go through that. You’ve had enough for one lifetime.”

Scully’s face puckers. She is moved on a dimension that transcends the spiritual, if such a thing is possible. She closes her eyes, lets the tears slip out, then softens her focus on him. 

“Thank you, Mulder...Fox,” she effuses, needing to heighten the intimacy. “Emily and I…” she kisses her daughter’s temple again. “Well, you know. You already know.” Her voice is somber almost, reminiscent of a wedding vow’s binding utterance.

Mulder smiles up at them, pats Scully’s hand. “I know. Me too.” 

There are many phrases that could fill her blank, but he chose his favorite, and he’s got an inkling that he’s right.

Scully sucks in a breath, and it’s the first one that has ever counted. Earth is new to her, again.

The door opens a second time, and the lawyer approaches with Brian and Cecily behind her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lace would like to take some time to think about their decision,” Tanya announces. “You will understand, they hope…?”

Scully nods, swallowing back a lump in her throat. She would like to break into a tantrum, throwing chairs and screeching every obscenity she knows. Begging please, please, don’t let me miss another heartbeat. Let me live in this Heaven I’ve found. But no answer is better than an immediate rejection, so she screws her lips into a smile and gives away two more handshakes. 

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lace. I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

[euphoniumpets]

Nothing left to say | Diego Hargreeves x reader (1/10)

Prompt: ‘’Everybody is afraid of something, and she will become their fear who they cannot control.’’ 

Authors note: hiya, and welcome to the first actual chapter of nothing left to say! here we go for the wild riiiide. also a quick reminder, Elijah Jenkins is Dylan Sprouse! tag list is still open for those want to be tagged! Also, send an ask or an comment of what you guys thought of this chapter!!Also, so sorry for the late update, school have just begun and it’s going crazzy. 

Warnings: may come up some disturbing scenes in the future chapters such as child abuse, manipulation etc. 

Tag List: @losers-club6 @frantasmic @guineverebeckilicious @emma-is-a-nerd @white-wolf-buckaroo @irenne-stans

As you fiddeled with your keys, you let out a heavy sigh. It has been hours since you worked from the hospital and you couldn’t wait to come home, shower, and then sleep for the rest of the hours. You shared your apartment along with Vanya and the two of you were close. y/n Hargreeves were just an ordinary girl with no special ablitites like the rest of the family. 

Along with Vanya, they had been told that they were just ordinary and they were being isolated from the family. When you decided to leave the umbrella academy alone, Vanya followed into your footsteps. You and Vanya worked to get an nice, cozy, small apartment that could fit the two of you. 

After you had earned some money, you decided to get your phd and then worked at a Hospital as a nurse. Ever since you were a child, you wanted to help people, you were always the one who made sure that everyone was okay. Even though, when they didn’t wanted your help. 

You opened the door as you took off your coat. It was like everyday, you would go home, blame yourself that you could’ve saved the patients you would take care of. Working at a hospital is not an easy job. Seeing people die, was not an easy job either. You thanked Vanya since she was the one who would often comfort you after work. 

‘‘Hey, Vanya, you home?’‘ You called out after you put your coat away and walked towards the kitchen. ‘‘Yeah,’‘ You hear Vanya’s small voice as she approached in the kitchen. You saw her dull look which made you frown. ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ You asked her as you crossed her arms. ‘’It’s Dad,’’  Was all she replied before you got to hear the news. 

-

After hearing the news about your father, that he had died from a simple heartattack. You and Vanya packed your stuff as you mentally prepared when she decided to go back where you spent the rest of your childhood, the umbrella academy. Vanya had called an uber as it took some hours before the two of you arrived. 

Watching from outside as you stared at the big mansion in front of you, you took a deep sigh as Vanya came and stood next to you. ‘’You okay?’’ She asked you with a frown as you looked at her. ‘’Shouldn’t I be the one who’s asking you that?’’ You questioned her as she let out a small smile on her lips. 

‘‘Besides, I bet you that they are still pissed about that book,’‘ You huffed as Vanya’s look turned into a guilty one. ‘‘Yeah,’‘ She responded before you walked in. Standing in the hallway along with Vanya, you heard footsteps to your right as you saw the familiar figure of Pogo. You let out a small smile towards that apeman. 

‘‘Pogo,’‘ You replied as the two of you walked towards him. ‘‘Welcome home, Ms. Y/n, Vanya,’‘ He greeted to the both of you as you hugged him and then Vanya.

‘’God, it’s been a long time since we was here,’’ You replied as you felt immedieatly flashbacks towards your childhood. Dread filled your body whenever you would think of when you were little. 

‘’I won’t be staying here for long, I’ve got work,’’ You informed him as he nodded. ‘’I understand, how’s thing going on the hospital you work for?’’ He asked you. ‘’It’s hard but, it’s something that I enjoy saving people,’’  You replied as Pogo left a smile. 

‘‘I’m going to my room, if that’s okay?’‘ 

‘‘Of course,’‘ Vanya replied. 

You waved towards them before you walked upstairs. As you sighed softly, you tugged onto your backpack before you approached your bedroom. You placed your hand as you opened the door, gently and as you expected, everything was the same when you left the place. 

You walked in as nostalgia consumed you as you placed your bag on the bed. You began to pack out your clothes for the night before you heard the familiar voice. ‘’Y/n?’’ Turning around, you saw Diego in his black clothing. ‘’Diego,’’ 

You and Diego had an odd relationship. 

You and Vanya were the ordinary ones and were left out of the group. You couldn’t be with your sister and brothers without the whole family ignored the two of you, until one day, Diego approached you outside asking what book you were reading. 

‘‘Hi,’‘

‘‘Hi,’‘ 

An awkward silence began to form between the two of you. You always hated it whenever that would happen. Besides, it has been years since when the two had talked to each other because of that promise you made each other. 

‘‘Did you made her to do it?’‘ Diego suddenly asked. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘‘What do you mean?’‘

‘‘I meant that did you support her when she started to write the book?’‘ 

Ah. The book. The book where one day Vanya had her idea to start her writing career. Revealing about the secret what really went inside the umbrella academy. 

A defending glare showed up. ‘’And why should you care?’’ You spat. 

‘‘I care because I’m your family,’‘ He retorted back as he walked closer to you. 

‘‘Last time you were my family, you dissappeared without me,’‘ You sneered as all memories flooded back to Diego. 

‘‘Besides,’‘ You cut him off his thoughts. ‘‘It’s her own damn decision, the last time I remembered because my siblings weren’t the most supportive when we were young,’‘ 

‘‘It’s because you were-’’

‘‘we were ordinary ones. I know,’‘ 

Silence. 

‘’Did you... Did you love me? Back then, when we were kids?’’ Diego’s eyes snapped towards you. 

‘‘No,’‘ You could feel your heart breaking because you hoped that he would feel or felt the same way because the feeling never left. 

‘’Why then? I always asked myself when why did you come to me when I was the one who were isolated from all of you?’‘

‘‘Because Dad made me to do it,’‘ 

‘‘He wanted me to distract you so that’s why,’‘ He replied. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes and you could tell that he wasn’t lying. ‘‘Why?’‘ You choked out. Diego hated himself now because he still, even when he had grown up, he still didn’t know why his father made he as a distraction to you. 

‘‘I didn’t ask any questions,’‘ A knock was interrupted as you turned to look over Luther in the doorway. ‘‘Hey,’‘ He called out softly as you didn’t saw Diego rolls his eyes as he turned towards him. 

‘‘Everybody’s downstairs,’‘ Luther replied awkwardly as soon he saw Diego’s glare before walking away. You sighed as you followed after Luther before Diego’s voice stopped you. ‘‘Did you love me?’‘ 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Diego had tears in his eyes and he looked broken than ever. ‘’No,’’

-

Walking downstairs as you tried to calm yourself down. You took out your pills from the bottle before placing it in your mouth. You could see that Luther was right and you saw everyone down there. 

‘‘Hey, y/n,’‘ You heard Allison’s voice as you looked at her. ‘‘Wow, hey, it’s been ages since we saw each other,’‘ You both chuckled as she nodded. ‘‘Yeah,’‘ 

‘‘How’s Claire?’‘ 

‘‘She’s fine,’‘ Allison replied with a smile. ‘‘It’s good to see you,’’ She told you as you sent her a soft smile. ‘‘It’s good to see you too,’‘

‘‘Do you guys want anything?’‘ Klaus asked everyone. Vanya shook her head as you were about also to decline but saw Diego walking inside the room. ‘‘Actually, yeah, I need a drink that I could survive for just today,’‘ You muttered. 

Klaus nodded as Vanya looked at you with concern. ‘’Don’t you have work tomorrow?’’ She asked you as you shrugged. 

‘‘Yeah but a drink can’t hurt, right?’‘ 

‘‘That’s my girl,’‘ Klaus replied before he went towards the bar as you sent him a smile. There’s only a few minutes where the only noise is coming from Klaus behind the bar. 

Luther stands up as he cleared his throat as he tried to get yours attention. You watched him with amusement. ‘‘Uh, I guess we should get this started,’‘ He began. Klaus is still in the background as you held your laugther when Klaus tried to make much more noise with his drinks as Luther glared at him and cleared his throat. 

‘‘So, I figured out we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dads favorite spot-’’

‘’Dad had a favorite spot?’’ Allison interrupted with a question look. 

‘‘Yeah, you know, under the oak tree,’’ He replied as he noticed the confused glances you all gave him. 

‘‘The oak tree?’‘ You repeated.

‘‘Yeah, we used to sit there all the time...’‘ He paused for a moment. ‘‘None of you ever did that?’‘ He mumbled. Klaus then barged in with your drink in his hand as you sent him a grateful smile. 

You accepted the drink as Klaus held a trophy in one hand and a cigarette along with his drink. ‘’Lovely,’’ You muttered as you sipped in delight.

‘‘Will there be refreshments?’‘ You chuckled towards Klaus reply as he looked at each sister with a smile. ‘‘Tea? Scones? Cucumber sandwiches are always a winner,’‘

‘‘What no!’‘ Luther replied seriously. ‘‘And put that out, dad didn’t allow smoking in here,’‘ Klaus shrugged and placed the cigarette between his lips as he twirled around the room.

‘‘Is that my skirt?’‘ Allison replied in disbelief as she pointed towards her brother.

‘‘What?’‘ He turns around. He looked down at his legs before he admired the fabric and looked up. ‘‘Oh! yeah, I found it in your room, it’s a little dated, I know but, it’s very breathy on the...bits,’‘ You let out a snort towards his comment.

‘‘Listen up! There’s still some important things we need to discuss, alright?’‘

‘‘Like what?’‘ Diego snaps as you turned towards his voice. Locking with his eyes from a second, you snapped away as you gulped and continued to drink. 

‘‘Like the way he died,’‘ 

‘‘Aand here we go,’‘ Diego replied as he rolled his eyes. Vanya tilted her head in confusion and shifts her seat next to you. You moved to the middle so Klaus could sit next to you. 

‘‘I don’t understand,’‘ Vanya replied slowly. ‘‘I thought they said it was a heart attack,’‘ 

‘‘Yeah, according to the coroner,’‘

‘‘Well, wouldn’t they know?’‘ Vanya asked. ‘‘Theoretically,’‘

‘‘Theoretically?’‘ Allison echoes. Your attention is full on Luther this time. ‘’What are you talking about? Are you telling us that they lied?’‘ You asked him as he looked at you. 

‘‘I’m just saying that something else could’ve happened,’‘ He replied. ‘‘Last time I talked to Dad, he sounded strange,’‘ 

‘‘Oh, quelle surprise!’‘ Klaus exclaimed as he gurgles on his drink. ‘‘Strange how?’‘ 

‘‘He sounded on edge, told me to be careful who to trust,’‘ He replied to Allison as he glanced all over his siblings. 

‘‘Luther,’‘ Diego sighed. ‘‘He was a paranoid, bitter, old man who was starting to lose what was left of his marbles,’‘ You watched Diego stand up from his seat and approach Luther. Luther shifts uncomfortably. 

‘‘No, he must’ve known something was gonna happen,’‘ Luther stops as he looked towards Klaus who is in his own world. ‘‘Look, I know you don’t like it but, I need you to talk to dad,’‘ 

Klaus brings his head down and looks between you and Vanya. You look down towards the ground with guilt before his gaze turned towards Luther in disbelief and pointed at his chest. 

‘‘I can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like, Dad can you just...stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?’‘

‘‘Since when?’‘ Luther scoffed. ‘‘That’s your thing,’‘

‘‘I’m not in the frame..of mind,’‘ He explained. 

‘‘Your high?’‘ Allison questioned without looking up from her drink. 

‘‘Yeah! Yeah! I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense!’‘ Klaus laughed.

Klaus slumps back into his seat and chug down his drink as Luther sighed deeply and pointed towards him.

‘‘Well, sober up! It’s important,’‘ Klaus groans in response. You patted Klaus leg gently as he sighs and closed his eyes while continue to smoke his cigarette.

‘‘Then there is the issue of the missing monocle,’‘ Luther begins but is interrupted by Diego.

‘‘Who gives a shit about some stupid monocle,’‘ He scoffs. 

‘‘Exactly!’‘ He exclaimed as he turned to look at Diego. ‘‘It’s worthless so, whoever took it, it must have been personal, someone close to him, someone with a grudge,’‘ 

You could feel the air was becoming thick with tension as everybody glanced at each other. ‘’Where are you going with this?’’ Klaus asks as you let out a scoff. 

‘‘Oh, isn’t obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed dad,’‘ Diego responded. 

‘‘You do?’‘ Klaus asked him.

‘‘How could you do that?’‘ Vanya asked him with disbelief. 

‘‘Great job, Luther, way to lead,’‘ Diego leaned in and patted onto his shoulder. Everybody started to leave as you let out a snicker and shook your head with your drink as you followed everyone, leaving Luther alone in the livingroom. 

[writemarvelousthings]

Let It Snow.

PAIRING: Reader x Bucky

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: A little tiny bit of angst if you squint but mostly fluff, and Bucy hating the cold. 

A/N: This is for @arawynn​ ‘s Festive Winter Wonderland Writing Challenge!  There are still lots of prompts and scenarios left if anyone is interested you should defiantly check it out! My prompt was “Everything is ready for an afternoon in front of the fireplace”  And a big thank you to @bucky-plums-barnes​ and @abovethesmokestacks​ for beta reading and pointing out things I missed! Would be lost without those girls! I hope you all enjoy and it puts you in the Christmas mood x 

Gif, not mine. 

The cold seeps in slow and undetectable at first, the falling leaves are the first clue. Crunching crisp leaves turn into sludge. One wrong misstep could send your ankle rolling unnaturally and your heart rate skyrocketing. The cold nips at your nose and cheeks, it makes you shudder stepping out into the elements, large coats and woollen hats appear in the streets as people move more quickly, desperate to find a place of warmth. Then suddenly, all at once. The snows arrive and the world is bathed in a pristine white glow that brings the promise of YuleTide and once again Bucky is reminded how much he hates the cold.

Sam rips into him, howling at how such an imposing man could look like a petulant child swaddled in jumpers and scarves that cover the bottom half of his face his ice blue eyes rivalling the icicles that shine in the low morning sunlight. He tries to hide his discomfort from you, but you can see right through him.

You notice the way he favours his left shoulder in the mornings, the cold stabbing at the torn and reassembled muscle to steel. Not even Shuri’s genius with vibranium can fix seventy years of damaging scar tissue, you know it will be something Bucky will carry with him always. Just like how the cold brings back flashes of old memories, a fast-moving train. Steve screaming, cold sterilised rooms Hydra kept him in during his years of “service”. The memories don't keep him awake at night like they used to, but the cold always brings them back, how ironic that the Winter Soldier despises the very season he’s named after.

On this particular day morning arrives as usual, sunrise bathing the room in soft pink and orange hues. It catches the dust particles floating through the air before disappearing into the shadows, you smile softly, snuggling into the large heat source next to you. Tilting your chin upwards, you watch the sleeping man. There was a time you’d be the one waking up to him looking down at you, ice blue eyes crinkling at the edges as he gives you a soft smile only reserved for you. It’s a smile that sends a thousand fireflies bursting in your chest.

He’s on his back, one arm curled around your waist, the black vibranium tucked under his pillow beneath his head. His plump lips opened slightly, he’s relaxed. Open and vulnerable in your presence, it makes you reach out to trace the curve of his nose. The light touch makes him follow you, turning his head towards your smiling face.

“Good morning handsome.”

“Morning, sugar.”

Soft kisses press against your palm and wrist, sleeping snuffling noises akin to a puppy fall from his lips make you chuckle.

“You got that meeting in an hour.” you remind him gently, your fingers finding home against his skull. You scratch against it lightly as Bucky starts purring in earnest.

“But it’s nice and warm here, don’t wanna get up. Too cold.” To prove a point he tucks his toes behind your calves. The freezing offending toes in question make you squeak, donkey kicking back in retaliation you try and wiggle your way out of his grip. Bucky pouts grabbing at you gently.

“Why are you running from me, pretty girl, you wanna break this old man’s heart?”

You roll your eyes shifting quickly to straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him soundly on the lips. “I’d never dream of it, but Sam might break something if you’re late again. You’re debriefing Peter and Carol remember,” you try not to grin at Bucky's expense as he groans pulling a pillow over his face.

“Come on, the sooner you get up, the sooner you can come back to the fun activity I’ve got planned for us.” You watch as the pillow is flung off his head, hands instantly on your hips as he gazes up at you through thick black lashes.

“Pretty sure we already did a fun activity last night… twice.” Despite fully remembering said fun activity, his words still manage to make you blush as you slap his hands off your hips springing off him with as much grace you can muster at eight in the morning.

“Up and at 'em, Sarge, the day is dawning.” You wander into the bathroom away from Bucky's soft groaning, the cold already settling in his bones.

~~

Bucky often wonders what his life would have been like if he never fell off that damn train. If he made it back home after the war if Steve never crashed the plane into the glacier. Would they have settled back in Brooklyn, would he have found a pretty dame that could have handled all the trauma he had gone through. Probably not, he doesn’t like to think about that too much. Because that world didn’t have you, or the small apartment you both shared in Brooklyn (at least the idea of settling in Brooklyn still stuck, just like the damn snow under his boots) The white offensive substance crunched merrily underfoot as he stomped up the steps to the apartment building. The cold he felt this morning still clung to his insides like frost, he still didn’t feel any warmer as he trundled into the lobby of the building. Stomping and shaking the snow off him like a dog, hair hanging limply against his cheeks, he really needed to start wearing that beanie you got him last week. Going through the mundane checklist of opening the mailbox, he relishes in the normality. Especially after reprimanding two superhumans about how-

“Just because you’re indestructible and can shoot webs out of god knows where you can not Instagram live a mission.”

With a handful of what he assumes is more Christmas cards, he thumps heavily up the stairs, no doubt to the irritation of Ms Jenkins on the second floor. Miserable woman, Bucky couldn’t recall a time where he has seen her smile.  

“I'm home,” he calls through the familiar space as he shoulder opens the door, instant warmth floods through his damp coat, his skin tingling sharply.

Shrugging off the offending damn coat, he hangs it by your bright red one, the woollen material a bright contrast to his black. He smiles as he recalls your comment as you pull it out from the depths of your wardrobe.

“Red is such a festive colour! Everyone should have a Christmas coat, James, it should be the law.”

“I swear that’s the last time I’m letting Sam put Danvers and the Parker kid on missions again. They cause more havoc than they stop, I swear to…”

The words die on his throat faster than the Central Park lake freezing over in January. The living room, which had looked relatively normal this morning, was now what can only be described as an explosion of Christmas. Fairy lights strung along each wall and shelving. Small ornaments stood proud on the mantle, the familiar sight of the pine tree towered in the corner of the room like a festive sentinel standing guard looking over the room, but what makes Bucky's heart simultaneously melt and expand is the pile of pillows and blankets in the middle of the room. His eyes gaze around the room till he finds you, stood by the tree, fuzzy socks on your feet as you push the sleeves of his grey hoodie up your arms.

“Help a girl will you, Sarge?” The grin that spreads across your lips is slow and sweet like molasses. Innocently holding out the glistening star towards him, Bucky toes off his boots and strides towards you, curling the black and gold arm around you as he takes the star gently out of your hand.

“You going to let me do the honours, sweetheart?”

“Wouldn’t feel like Christmas if you didn’t.”

He feels your wrap your arms around his waist as he leans upwards to place the twinkling star atop the tree, warm hands slide under his shirt, leaving a burning trail against his skin that shoots down to the very nucleus of his cells.

“Perfect,” you whisper into his shoulder as you both stand back looking at the tree, your hands rub small circles on his lower back as you feel him drop his lips to the top of your head.

“You really are.”

“I was talking about the tree, you old sap.” You poke his side for good measure only to be pulled back into his embrace.

“Well, everything’s ready for an afternoon in front of the fireplace. Go get changed then meet me back here.” You give his ass a light tap as you push him gently towards your bedroom.

“Alright, alright, woman, can’t a man enjoy holding his sweetheart in his arms for a few moments?”

You knew his words were empty, especially with the bright grin radiating from him. With a spring in his step, he makes quick work of changing into the soft grey sweatpants and red sweatshirt laid out on the bed. Eager to be back in your arms and under the soft blankets, the cold winds whipping against the windows, but Bucky can’t find a reason to pay them any mind. Not when you’re sitting pretty in front of the fire, two steaming cups in each hand, no doubt with It’s A Wonderful Life queued up on the tv. He doesn’t think of the seventy years spent cold, alone and in pain. He’d walk through the worst blizzard till his toes were purple and his nose frostbitten to hell if it meant you would be at the end waiting for him, with all the warmth in the world to thaw him out, calling him back home.

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Hands 2

Previously on Hands

The sun wasn’t a fair representation of the absolute drudgery of the entire day and the feelings that hung heavy in the hospital suite. Spring didn’t care about the bitterness that festered and stewed despite all the best intentions, and so it shone brightly and left streaks of yellow across the bed and floor, warming the sterile hospital bed. 

None of that mattered until a certain doctor breezed into the room and threw open the curtains, not letting the beauty go wasted. 

Lena didn’t move when the lights flooded her room. She didn’t blink or look up, but rather stared at her hands as they laid on the pillow in her lap. The scars were starting to heal, the faint red lines becoming pink, the hardware being removed. Sometimes she was afraid to move them, not because they hurt, but because it didn’t feel the same as it did before. 

“I’m glad you’re up. You get so grumpy when I wake you.” 

Only then did Lena look at the stranger in the room and roll her eyes. 

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You are frequently grumpy.” 

The stare that she gave didn’t really support her position that she wasn’t grumpy, but rather expressed a resigned kind of deference, wherein she knew that her grumpiness would be coddled and tolerated and eventually lightened by the girl who came in with the sunshine behind her. 

“I have a lot to be grumpy about, if I actually was grumpy.” 

“Why? You still have your hands, you’re not terrible to look at, you’re a reasonably good conversationalist--”

“And I can’t even play Twinkle Twinkle,” Lena interrupted. 

“Yet. I will say,” Kara nodded, as she pulled up the stool and sat beside Lena’s bed, “that you are insanely bad at patience.”

“Give me a time then. You won’t give me a goal.” 

“I had to see the progress and healing, wait for the hardware to come up, factor in any subsequent surgeries.” 

“But I’m all done with that and being discharged today.” 

“Yes, you are,” she nodded and pushed up her glasses. 

Gingerly, Kara cleared her throat and reached forward to take Lena’s hand as she was now growingly increasingly good at doing without blushing. She blushed often when she was in a certain Luthor’s suite, and even more so when she touched her. 

Lena watched her face with interest, something she was known to do frequently, unable to stop herself. She didn’t want to. Desperately, Lena wanted to sulk and let bitterness eat her alive and to hate life, which was made exceedingly difficult by a girl like Kara. 

So instead of watching Kara’s intense eyes, Lena looked down at her hand because it was a safe place, even with Kara’s hands on her own. 

To and fro, up and down, pushing against tightness and waiting to gauge Lena’s reaction, Kara went about her work professionally. She didn’t betray anything as she did the usual tests, which was unbelievably frustrating to the patient who thought herself getting used to the small tells of her brow or lip or eye. 

“How does it feel?” Kara asked, still not looking up.

“Better. Hurts sometimes.” 

“You’ve been doing the exercises and stretches I told you about?” 

“I have been. All day. But I’m careful.” 

Kara nodded and smiled to herself before setting down the hands in her own and taking a deep breath. She met Lena’s eyes and cocked her head to the side. It felt like an eternity and Lena waited eagerly. 

“Two months until you’re doing scales. Six months until you’re getting very frustrated by your body not doing what you want it to do, and getting mad that I can’t make it work quicker.” 

“I am going to have to learn to play all over again.” 

“No, that skill doesn’t just disappear.” 

“It does.” 

“I don’t believe it, but if you do, do you think you can get it back?”

“I hope so.” 

“You have to do more than that. Are you in this with me, Lena? Even if you end up hating me, even if you think you’re never going to get back, you have to believe you’re going to be the girl that blew me away when I watched you play on old videos.” 

She didn’t think there’d be a hesitation, but something about the earnestness in Kara’s eyes made Lena really think over how much she meant the words and how tough the journey might be. When her voice failed her, she just nodded, slow and steady at first before quickly picking up the pace when the determination, and what some might call stubbornness, peaked its head. Kara grinned and nodded as well. 

“I’m in it too,” she promised. “Whatever you need.” 

“I’m going to put up a fight.” 

Kara snorted a laugh and sat up, pushing away from the patient. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Ms. Luthor.” 

“Ugh, don’t call me that.” 

“Call you your name?” 

“Yes. You know I hate that.” 

“I’ll refrain as best I can.” 

“It’ll be easier when I’m not a patient.”

“You’ll be my patient for at least six months, didn’t you hear my timeline?” 

With her back turned to the hospital bed, Kara jotted down a few notes while Lena stared at her shoulders and debated what it would mean to leave. She wasn’t sure, suddenly, what it would mean to be without the sunshine in her life. 

“You’re going see it through with me?” 

“I plan on being front row of your next big concert. Complimentary tickets and all.” 

“I can arrange that.” 

Lena soaked in the smile as Kara made her way toward the door. 

“I’ll see you before you leave, okay? Behave.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Halfway through her day and Kara had too much to get done, just like every other day. A neverending barrage of patients and follow ups kept her bouncing around, keeping it together as best she could, but by lunchtime, it was already a long day she couldn’t wait to escape. 

She didn’t want to think about the fact that her favorite patient was leaving. That wasn’t something that felt real because she couldn’t remember a time before Lena. It didn’t seem right. So Kara avoided that wing and she didn’t have lunch with Lena like she normally did. In fact, she kept checking her watch during sessions, afraid of what the end of the day might mean. 

When she got the call to see the head of the department, she genuinely had no idea what it meant, but she wasn’t eager to do it. 

“You wanted to see me, Cat?” Kara asked quietly as she tapped on her bosses door before being ushered in. 

“How is it going with the Luthor?” 

“To be expected, honestly. She’s coming along well enough.”

“The Luthors have requested your services, so I’ve split your cases to the department, and your focus will be on the youngest and her recovery.” 

“I have patients though. People I’ve worked with--”

“And you’ll continue to work with them, but I need you focused on her recovery.” 

“I am, but I have--” Kara furrowed and shook her head. 

“This isn’t a request, Kara. This is what your schedule is going to be geared toward over the next few months.” 

While she wanted to open her mouth and argue, and while she wanted to get more specifics, the look on her bosses face was disinterested enough for Kara to know that the conversation was over. 

“Thank you. Please shut the door on your way out.” 

As soon as the door clicked, Kara furrowed, even more confused about the rest of her day and aware that she didn’t have to parse those feelings about the youngest Luthor just yet, because even though she thought she’d see her often enough in physical therapy, it seemed like now it was going to be more often. 

XXXXXXXXXX

With vaguely the same level of apprehension as she felt the very first day she read the folder that had Lena Luthor’s name on it, Kara found herself awkwardly shifting between her feet and re-reading the piece of paper with the address and passcode for the fancy high rise downtown, still unsure of how she got herself into this situation. Surely there were world-renowned doctors and specialists that money could have bought that would have done the same thing she was about to do. 

The nerves didn’t leave her as she got onto the elevator she was directed toward, nor when she punched in the number and code for the penthouse but for just a moment, when all was quiet and she was somewhere halfway up the tall building, she took a deep breath. 

The door opened to a well-lit space, open and inviting, and oddly almost exactly what Kara would picture for Lena, if she allowed herself to think about her. But she didn’t want to think about her friend that way, or rather, her patient. 

From the quiet, a noise came, the soft twinkling of some piano keys, not particularly a song, but just a few key strokes, the same sound methodically before it changed to another. There wasn’t a melody, but Kara followed it anyway, moving through the open area toward a room bathed in sunlight. She passed a tall wall filled with shelves of books, with vines of green plants dripping down the sides. Plants covered almost everything, greenery seeping into the rather minimalist decor. 

So naturally, Lena sat at the piano bench, the large grand, as if she was part of it, as if it was her natural habitat. Fingers ran along the keys. 

“You’re jumping ahead a bit in my rebah schedule.” 

“I don’t think I can go a day without touching the piano,” Lena smiled as she turned her head to greet the visitor. “Even if this is all I can do.” 

“We’ll get you there.” 

“I sure hope so.” 

“Well, your family has effectively booked me to be your personal trainer for the next foreseeable future, so I’m all yours, Ms. Luthor.” 

Lena just smiled and rested her hands on the keys, nodding to herself. Shyly, Kara sat beside her and looked down, afraid to touch such an expensive and important machine. But she moved her hands and began to play the notes, not making any sense, just making noise. And Lena followed, trying her best to add some sort of rhythm to the cacophony. All Kara was doing was echoing what she imagined a piano player would do, and as she stretched her hands, she focused on the movements, and realized just was was asked of the tendons and muscles. She was lost to the sound and picked up only on the movements, flexing and testing and knowing full well that things were even harder than she imagined. 

Though she stopped all of a sudden, Lena followed Kara’s lead and took a deep breath, laughing as she finished the song. 

“That was fun. You’re a natural.” 

“You’re being too kind.” 

“No no,” Lena laughed. “All you need is about 17 years of training.” 

“I wasn’t meant to do this. You were though.” 

“How can you tell?” 

“You made chaos sound beautiful,” Kara explained. “That’s a gift.” 

“I don’t believe in gifts, just practice.” 

“You should. You have at least one.” 

Normally, she’d fight it, but Kara was smiling and honest and sitting right there so that there shoulders were touching, and Lena found herself blushing at the idea of someone admiring her ability, so she just nodded. 

“I’m sorry my parents did what they always do.” 

“I can’t say I’d do anything different,” Kara shrugged. “If I had the money, I’d never stop demanding the best for my family.” 

“I find it hard to believe you’d behave that way.” 

That earned a snort.

“Maybe. But I’d want the best. I get it.” 

“They’re overwhelming and overbearing, but they mean well.” 

“I’m just honored they deemed me worthy of pulling strings.” 

“You’re the only one I might listen to,” Lena informed her, shifting and walking away from the bench. “I have problems with authority. My father says it’s because I’m smarter than most in the room. I don’t think it’s that, just a very long stretch of my teenage years being obsessed with British punk.” 

“Really?” 

“Did you think I only listened to Mozart and Bach?”

“Kind of.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” 

“Are you ready to get started?” 

“Do we have to?” 

“We should. I want to hear you play, and I’m not going to stop until I do.” 

The renewed burst of purpose made Lena feel empowered enough to agree, and despite herself, she thanked her parents for knowing exactly what she needed.

[ofendlesswonder]

omg can you do “We could get arrested for this.” for supercat pls? and thank you very much! hope you stay safe and have an awesome day! xo

11. “We could get arrested for this.”

Kara crashes through the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse with an almighty crash, landing in a crouch on the ground so hard that she makes a dent in the concrete.

It sends the men within scattering, and it’s reallyeasier than it ought to be, to dispatch the lot of them, fighting with a fury that she doesn’t even know she’s capable of, her laser vision leaving burnt streaks on the walls.

In the centre of the warehouse, a woman is tied to achair, blindfolded, and as Kara approaches, she begins to tremble, doesn’t stop even when Kara pulls the blindfold from her head, kneeling in-front of her and carefully releasing her from the ropes that tie her hands to the back of the chair.

“Ms Grant?” Kara asks, gently rubbing the red weltsaround Cat’s wrists from where she’d struggled against her restraints. “Ms Grant, are you okay?” As she waits for an answer, Kara gives Cat a cursory once-over with her x-ray vision to check that there are no broken bones.

“I’m much better now.” Cat’s voice is quiet, shaky, and her face is streaked with dirt, her eyes a little dazed as they focus on Kara’s face. “Tell me, does Supergirl usually lower herself to search and rescuemissions?”

“She does when it’s someone she cares about.”

Cat had been kidnapped whilst on her way to apolitical rally in National City, and Kara has no idea what the motive of the attack had been beside a high ransom demand, but she knows she won’t rest untilshe finds out.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Kara murmurs, keeping her voice low because Cat still looks very shaken, and Kara hates that it had been three days before she’d found out Cat was missing, because if she’d knownsooner, she wouldn’t have spent so long fearing for her life. “Do you trust me?”

“It’s very hard not to trust the person who just savedyour life,” Cat replies, allowing Kara to help her up and guide Cat’s arms around her neck.

Pressed against her front, Cat is warm, but she’sstill shaking, and Kara can both feel and hear her heart, hammering against her ribcage. She feels so fragile, as Kara scoops her up, making sure to hold onto her tight as she pushes them off the floor, and Cat flinches as below them, the warehouse door crashes open as police file in to arrest the perpetrators that Kara has helpfully left scattered across the floor.

She leaves the clean-up in the NCPD’s capable hands, shooting back through the hole she’d made in the roof, and taking Cat straight to another pair of capable hands, landing them on the balcony of the DEO that she favours whenever she flies into the building.

She doesn’t let go on Cat’s hand until she’s got herinto a treatment room, Alex already waiting for them, and Kara is tense the whole time Alex is checking her over, sagging with relief when her sister assures her that there is no lasting damage.

“Does Carter know I’m safe?” Cat asks, jumping out of the bed as soon as Alex gives her the all-clear, and gratefully shrugging into the DEO hoodie that Kara hands her, noticing she’s still shivering.

“Yes, he’s been staying with his father while you were… gone,” Kara answers, “but I called him when we found you, and he should be here in a couple of hours.”

“Good.” Cat’s face floods with relief. “Can you… canyou get me out of here, please?” She asks, turning on Kara with pleading eyes. “I hate hospital rooms.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” Cat answers, stepping close to Kara andwrapping her arms around her neck without being prompted, her breathing still shaky, her mouth pressing against Kara’s collarbone, breath hot against her skin. “As long as you stay with me.” She says that quietly, but Kara still hears it, her breath catching as she holds Cat close, and if she makes Cat feels safer, then she won’t ever let her go.

She flies out of the window and hovers high in the sky for a moment, debating where to go, and, deciding that Cat would probably prefer to go somewhere secluded, drops somewhere where she knows no-one will bother them.

“You can open your eyes, now,” Kara murmurs, knowing that Cat hates heights – probably even more so since Kara had launched her offher balcony.

“Are we standing on what I think we’re standing on?”Cat asks, dropping her arms from Kara’s neck but not stepping away as she takes in her new surroundings. “Kara, we could get arrested for this.”

Kara doesn’t acknowledge Cat’s slip, and instead flops down so that she’s seated, her legs swinging over the side of one of the Hollywood sign’s O’s.

“If anyone comes, I can fly us away,” Kara assuresher, patting the space beside her.

“Everyone would still know it was you,” Cat pointsout, but she folds herself down beside Kara all the same, huddling into her side. “Your cape isn’t exactly subtle.”

“Pretty sure no-one would try to arrest me,” Karareplies, enjoying the view that this vantage point offers them. “Are you okay, Ms Grant?”

“No.” Cat turns towards her, eyes more than a littlehaunted. “But I will be – nothing that a bottle of scotch or sleeping pills won’t fix.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Kara.” Cat reaches out tosqueeze the back of Kara’s hand, and Kara can’t help but grab it before Cat can move away, tangling their fingers together. “You did find me, and that’s all that matters. Although I do wish we weremeeting again under better circumstances.” Cat manages to crack a smile, and Kara matches it with one of her own.

“Me too.” It’s been years since Cat left forWashington, and they haven’t spoken since, but when she’d seen the footage of Cat being taken, Kara had seen red, and it had felt like no time had passed at all. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but…”

“Wonderful, until two days ago,” Cat quips, alreadysounding more like her old self. “Who’d have thought that working for the President would have put a target on my back?”

“Maybe you should think about another career change,” Kara suggests, gently nudging Cat’s shoulder with her own. “Come back to CatCo.”

“CatCo is thriving without me,” Cat replies, “as are you, Pulitzer prize winning journalist.” Cat meets Kara’s eyes, her smile fond. “I never reached out to congratulate you, and I should have done, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Kara shrugs, more touched than Cat will ever know to realise that she’s kept up with her career even though she’s long gone. “But thank you.”

“I always knew you had it in you.” Cat runs her thumbalong the bumps of Kara’s knuckles, and Kara tries very hard to remember how to breathe – if she’d thought for one moment that any of those feelings she’d had for Cat all those years ago had ever faded, she’s finding that she’s sorely mistaken, now that Cat is back by her side.

“Always?” Kara asks, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “What about when you were waxing poetic about millennials the day I walked into your office? Or yelling at me for not getting your lunch order right, or your latte being too cold, or - ”

“Watch it,” Cat grumbles, though there’s a sparkle inher eye, “you’re starting to make me sound like a terrible boss.”

“You weren’t,” Kara assures her, and Cat shoots her alook that suggests she thinks that Kara is lying. “You weren’t! Sure, you were a hardass, sometimes,” she grins as Cat’s eyes narrow into a glare, “but you were a lot of other things, too. Kind and compassionate and always trying to push me to better myself. I learned a lot from you. I never would have won that Pulitzer without you shaping me into thejournalist I am today.”

“Thank you, Kara.” Cat looks touched, and Kara doesn’t know if she should acknowledge the casual way that they’re talking about working together whilst Kara is wearing her cape – she’s known that Cat’s known for a long time, but they’ve never acknowledged it, had always let it be the elephant in the room, until today.

Not that she’s complaining – it feels freeing, to nolonger have to hide a part of herself from Cat.

“For being kind to me, and for saving me. I can’t tellyou how relieved I was to have you be my saviour, and not one of those insufferable secret service agents – you are much nicer to look at.”

“It was really no problem, Ms Grant.” She’s blushing,which only seems to amuse Cat further, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Surely we’re past such formalities at this point, hm?” Cat’s eyes are still on her face, her gaze so intense that Kara struggles to remember how to breathe. “If you’re letting me call you Kara without any protest, I think it’s only fair that you call me Cat.”

“Okay,” Kara nods, “Cat.” Kara feels her phone buzz in her pocket, and she sees a text from Alex on her screen when she glances at it. “Carter’s just arrived at the DEO,” Kara reads. “Are you ready to go back yet?”

“Only for my son,” Cat decides, climbing to her feetwith Kara’s help. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kara replies. “It’s beennice to see you again – even if I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Yes, it has,” Cat agrees, her hand still claspingKara’s tightly, and Kara never wants her to let go. “I’ll probably be staying in the city for a few days, recuperating – feel free to fly by and check I haven’t been kidnapped again?”

“No-one will get close to you on my watch, Cat,” Karapromises, and she’ll station a DEO agent at every entrance and exit to Cat’s hotel of choice if it will make her sleep better at night.

“Oh yeah?” Cat’s voice, unless Kara is very muchmistaken, has turned flirtatious, and it leaves her shaken. “And how are you going to make sure of that, hm?” She lets go of Kara’s hand to slide them towards her neck, dragging her palms over Kara’s collarbones and up and over her shoulders, touch deliberate enough to make Kara’s knees weak. “By staying the night?”

“I-if that would make you feel safe,” Kara says,amazed that she can speak at all with Cat so close. “Then yes.”

“Do you mean to tell me that if I wanted to getSupergirl into my bed, I merely had to ask?” Cat asks, and she’s arching a playful eyebrow but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes, and Kara’s hands are gentle as they slide down to rest on Cat’s hips.  

“Did you hit your head when you were held captive?”Kara queries, her voice so soft it’s almost carried away by the wind. “Do we need to get you a brain scan? Because the Cat I used to know definitely didn’t want little old me.”

“Oh, but she did,” Cat says, and Kara’s heart nearlystops. “I wanted you very much, but there was a very long list of reasons why it would be a terrible idea.”

“So what changed?”

“I thought I was going to die,” Cat murmurs, and Kara’s jaw clenches at the mere thought. “And all I could think about, stuck in that damn chair, was all the mistakes I’ve made in my long, long life, and through it all, my biggest regret has been letting you slip away, even though I’d convinced myself that leaving CatCo was the best thing for the both of us.”

“I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I never wanted you to know,” Cat replies, “but now, I… I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try, and if you don’t feel the same way, then that’s fine, because it’s been years and I’m twice your age, and - ”

Kara cuts her off with a kiss, soft and chaste,because she doesn’t want to hear another second of Cat putting herself down. Cat gasps against her lips before she’s kissing her back, and Kara sighs as shepulls her closer, because as far as first kisses go, it’s pretty damn perfect.

“Come over tonight?” Cat asks when they part, the both of them hyper-aware of the fact that time isn’t on their side, with Carter waiting for them back in National City. “And we can talk about everything?”

“Just let me know when and where.”

Cat kisses her again before they take off,open-mouthed and messy, and Kara’s head is spinning so much that it’s a miracle that she doesn’t crash into any buildings on their way back to the DEO.

[justthehiddleswrites]

The Reluctants | Chapter 3 | The Reluctant Agreement

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary:  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Chapter:  Adam struggles with Charlie being around while Charlie just struggles. An unlikely arrangement is created.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

-

Adam walked Charlie backwards until she bumped up against the kitchen counter.

“Take it off.” he commanded. He pressed against Charlie, making his arousal known against her.

“Take what off?” Charlie questioned, looking up at him through her eyelashes

“The fucking sweater. Take it off. I want to see your tits.” He towered over her. She teased the hem up before lifting the sweater. Her breasts bounced softly as Charlie lifted her arms. Adam’s cock jumped.

“Bra too.”

Charlie grumbled while reaching behind. “You could say ‘please’ or do people lose all manners when they turn?” The bra joined her sweater on the floor, she hoped it was clean but didn’t hold out much hope given the state of Adam’s place.

Adam lowered himself to take one of Charlie’s nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, taking care not to bite down. His fangs made that difficult. Charlie moaned and gripped the counter as he worked it to a hard pebble. Silently, he moved to the other giving it the same treatment. His lips trailed down Charlie’s stomach, nipping a it.

With long fingers, he tugged and teased at her skirt before pushing the hem up around Charlie’s hips. Adam could smell her and it didn’t take his heightened sense of smell to know she was aroused. A large wet spot soaked through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Panties.” Charlie glanced down. “Please.” he added. Her hands moved to push them down and Adam helped her step out of them. He tossed them aside, never to be found again.

“Hey those are—” Charlie started.

“Less talking.” Adam interrupted while he pushed her legs apart and licked a fat stripe along her folds. Charlie’s knees buckled, but she remained standing.

The tip of his nose nudged against Charlie’s clit, sending electric shocks right to her core, causing her to flood against Adam’s mouth. He hummed against her, grabbing her ass to pull her close to him. She tasted incredible. He wondered how the rest of her tasted.

Charlie whimpered when Adam’s lips left hers, her orgasm aching inside her. Her walls clenched in anticipation. Adam nipped along her thigh and gripped her hip and knee tight.

“Still hungry.” He growled against her.

Understanding, Charlie nodded. “I wouldn’t want to leave you unsatisfied.” he teased.

His fangs sunk into the smooth flesh of her leg. The blood rushed from Charlie’s femoral artery and he knew in that moment; he was gone. She tasted as no one ever tasted before. Adam had to resist the urge to drown in her. Charlie slumped at the loss of blood and the heady pleasure. Once he had his fill, he licked the spot, sending shivers through Charlie. He tied a towel around the wound, to help stave off her bleeding out.

Adam rose and cupped her breasts before kissing her lips, his tongue tasted metallic and warm inside Charlie’s mouth. It was heady, and she wanted more. He tugged at his jeans, releasing his cock, purple and angry.

“Still hungry.” he grunted as his tip teased along her folds. Charlie’s fingers dug into his biceps. She hooked a leg up and he caught in his hand while pushing inside her.

The two of them moaned. Charlie’s pussy gripped and molded around him.

“Fuck.” Adam cursed. “I am already going to cum with the way you feel.”

Charlie bucked her hips in response and Adam’s head fell forward. He snapped his hips to bottom out inside her and Charlie moaned.

“Fuck me, Adam—”

Adam’s eyes snapped open, and he punched the pillow, cursing as his cock throbbed. Adam never realized that vampires could experience blue balls until that morning. After he stroked himself to completion, Adam still ached. Not physically although his cock would argue that point. The ache was for something more than flesh and blood. It was a hunger he hadn’t felt since Eve. Adam didn’t let his mind dwell on Eve much these days, he didn’t trust himself and feared that if he allowed himself to wallow, that wooden bullet would sing its siren song once again. Best to tuck it all away and lock those feelings, well all feelings, somewhere they couldn’t do harm.

And then there was Charlie. The fucking skeleton key to those feelings. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he woke up with a raging hard-on like a sodding teenager. And that fucking dream. He stood up and headed to the living room to feed and grab one of his guitars, hoping some writing would clear his head. Although he doubted it.

It was well after midnight when Adam remembered the leaking bathtub.

“Fuck.” he headed to the interior staircase connecting the basement to the ground floor. True to her word, Charlie had unlocked the door, and he stepped inside.

The apartment was cleaner than the last time he was in there, searching for Charlie’s phone to erase that video of Adam talking delivery of his stash. She had tidied up for their date, no appointment, Sunday night. The telltale drip beckoned Adam to the bathroom.

He kneeled on the tile, wondering how zombies managed through life with such inefficiency. With deft motions, he stopped the leak and set about reconfiguring the pipes to work in a manner they should.

A soft whimper called out from Charlie’s bedroom, and Adam moved to check on her. He didn’t know what he expected to see when he pushed the door open with his knuckles. He certainly didn’t expect to see Charlie’s knees pulled up, tenting the quilts and sheets. Adam exhaled seeing her safe and asleep. Not that he cared. It was just that it would be hard to rent the apartment out if someone was murdered there, he lied to himself.

As he turned to finish his work, Charlie’s voice called out. “Adam!” her voice breathy, raspy. Not the usual uptick tone.

His head snapped around to see if Charlie had woken up. She hadn’t but her hands and hips were moving in unison. Adam’s eyes widened as he realized she was getting off and somehow he played a part in that. His cock remembered the dream from earlier and pressed against his thin jeans.

“Shit.” he hissed while attempting to will the erection to subside to no avail. “Again?” This was becoming a problem. It hurt to move and recognized he would need to take care of it to return to the task of fixing the bath.

Adam popped the buttons of his jeans and pulled himself out. The tip already dripping. His forehead pressed against the wooden door frame while his hand fisted around his shaft. He grunted softly and Charlie continued to moan, both his name and other words Adam didn’t think polite to repeat.

“Fuck!” he groaned in a whisper as he came into his hand, spilling onto the floor, making a mess.

Charlie let loose a long moan as her back arched, orgasmed herself. She turned onto her side and her breathing returned to a deep, even tone.

Adam rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath as he hunted for a mop.

Charlie woke for work and padded off to the bathroom. She noticed the floors freshly mopped but pushed the thought aside. She squealed a bit to see that Adam had fixed the tub and had in fact, improved it. Although it now looked like a failed Tesla experiment. As she stripped down to shower, she stopped as she remembered the tendril of a dream from last night. She didn’t remember much except Adam being naked, his cock, and lots of moaning.

“God, I hope he didn’t hear that!” Charlie wondered as she stepped in the hot shower.

-

Charlie sailed through the work week. She secured a settlement for Mrs. Santiago for her slip and fall and an injunction for Mr. Jameson against a disgruntled customer. Charlie loved her work and helping people, even if it meant not making the amount of money she should.

“Ms. Bock!” Jason’s head popped over his cubicle wall. “A word.”

Elise threw a pitying look as Charlie marched over. She had no idea what Jason could want on a Friday afternoon. Come to think of it, shouldn’t he on his way to pick up Ms. Shanks-a-lot?

“Please take a seat.” He gestured to the stained chair.

“I’ll just stand, if that’s okay.”

Jason glared, unamused. “Sit. Down. Ms. Bock.”

She slinked down to perch on the edge. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Charlie chewed on her lip.

“There’s no easy put it, but this,” He gestured his hands between them, “isn’t working out.”

Charlie stopped fidgeting. “What?”

“I’m saying your services are no longer required.” Jason almost smirked. Hot tears threatened to stream from her eyes. She balled her hand into a fist in her lap.

“Can you give me a reason why you are firing me? Because last I checked I had the highest win rate of any associate.” she demanded.

Jason steepled his fingers. “Your employment at Legal Aid is at will, so I am under no obligation to provide an explanation. I expect your keys on my desk by 5 and your desk cleared out.”

Charlie nodded. Jason reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Charlie.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. Her stomach turned. “Even though this has not ended the way you hoped, I would like to remain friends.” His mouth widened into a jagged smile reminding Charlie of Heath Ledger’s Joker.

“Uh, sure. I’ve got to go clean out my desk.” she choked out.

Elise wrapped her arm around Charlie and only then did she allow her tears to fall.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Elise commiserated, running her nails in circles on Charlie’s back. “We are here for you.”

“Thank you.” she sniffled. Charlie grabbed an empty banker’s box and packed up what little personal items she had. A funny bobblehead of Spock from Star Trek. A framed quote and few other knick knacks plus three books stashed in her bottom drawer.”

“Remember to tell Ms. Mason to show up at Municipal Court on Tuesday. And the Fisher response is due on the 13th.” Charlie continued to rattle off tasks.

“We got it, sweetie.” Marie comforted her, rubbing her shoulder. “Listen, you head out early to Sullivans and we will wrap up here. Drinks on use”

“Okay.” Charlie wiped her cheeks. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you two!”

They squeezed Charlie tight. “Probably be dating Richard the Serial Dater.”

That earned a laugh from Charlie. That laugh was the only good thing that day.

-

Charlie, beyond buzzed but not sloppy drunk, stumbled to her front steps. Her shoes in her hand and jacket over her forearm. The harsh light of reality would sting tomorrow. Unemployed and precious little savings loomed. But tonight she would revel. The sound of leaves crunching brought reality back into semi-focus. A figure stepped into view.

“Jason?” Charlie squinted to make out the shape of her boss, ex-boss in the shadows. “How do you even know where I live? I never told you.”

“Personnel files.” Jason sneered. He swayed on his feet. You were not the only who had imbibed that night.

“I thought those were confidential. Why are you here?”

“I always keep an eye on my girls.” He ran his fingers along Charlie’s arm. She vomited in her mouth a bit. “Come on, let’s party. You, me and a hotel room in Cambridge.”

“She’s not your girl.” A drawn out English accent called out. Adam stepped out to grab Charlie’s shoulders.

Jason looked Adam up and down, sizing him up. “Hey buddy, isn’t it a little early for Halloween?” Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on Charlie.” Jason reached for her hand but she jerked away, pressing herself against Adam’s chest. His arms wrapped around her.

“Who do you think you are, Ozzy? Her boyfriend?” Jason took a step forward and Adam tucked Charlie between him.

“I’m the landlord, asshole. And I believe the lady has indicated she’s not interested. I suggest you leave now, before I get angry.”

Jason danced in mock fear. “Oh, what are you going to do to me, pretty rocker boy, sing me to death?”

Jason reached around Adam to grab Charlie. With those lightning reflexes, Adam snatched Jason’s wrist and twisted it back until she heard the sickening sound of cracking bones. Charlie stumbled to the bushes and heaved up the contents of her stomach.

Jason cradled his broken arm, screaming in agony.

“Come near her again and I’ll break something more important.” Adam threatened cooly.

“Come near her again and I’ll break something more important.”

Jason crawled and Adam picked up Charlie by the waist cradling her against him as they walked to his apartment.

The door slammed, and Charlie slumped on the couch. Adam filled a glass of water from the tap and shoved it into her hand. He paced the floor in front of her.

“Who the fuck was that?” Adam stood, hands balled into fists. “Answer the question.” he demanded.

Charlie broke down into tears. “My boss, ex-boss. Jason.” she spit out the words between garbled sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would be here. He shouldn’t even know my address!”

Charlie’s head fell into her hands. She just repeated “sorry, so sorry” over and over. Adam winced knowing his harsh words had sent her into a tailspin. He sat beside Charlie, his hand hovering over her knee before landing next to her on the velvet couch.

“I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. Drink.” He lifted the glass to your lips. “How long?”

Charlie took a long draw of water before returning the glass to her lap. “How long what? I wasn’t dating him?!” She shuddered, her senses returning.

“How long have you been out of work?”

“Oh…” she sniffled again. Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Today.”

Adam blinked not knowing what to say. Charlie broke the silence after draining the glass and placing it on the one clear area on the table.

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You could stay here tonight.” he blurted before he realized what he was saying. Charlie stay here? He wondered. Would his libido survive?

“No. I don’t want to disturb your…” she waved a hand over scribbled sheet music and other notes written in Adam’s unintelligible handwriting. “… work.”

Charlie chewed on her lip as she lingered in the room. She didn’t want to stay the night in her apartment alone. Not for fear of Jason. Just the fear of the all-consuming silence and loneliness. And anyone’s company, even a brooding vampire with a penchant for funeral music was better than the alternative.

“I insist. You can take the bedroom. I would feel better if you stayed.” Charlie’s cheeks flushed, her hands twisting at the ends of her curls, a wild halo around her head. He wanted to run his fingers through them, getting caught up in the twists. Adam cleared his throat. “I mean I would hate to come up at night should that reprobate return.” He covered.

“I can’t take your bed. The sofa is fine.” She patted the cushion.

Adam shook his head. “I’ll be up all night composing. I’ll find you something to wear.” He left the room.

“That really isn’t necessary. I have…” He returned with an oversized t-shirt. “… clothes upstairs.”

“Here. It’s clean.”

“Thank you.” She ducked into the bedroom. “For everything.” she whispered the last two words.

The shirt was soft and came down to the middle of Charlie’s thighs. She put her clothes in a neat pile in the corner. She inhaled Adam’s scent on the shirt. Sandalwood, and musk, and something that was like men’s cologne from another century. She pulled back the dark sheets. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

-

“Fuccck meee.” Charlie moaned as her head felt as though Athena herself was attempting to escape. She blinked her eyes open to find a dark unfamiliar room. Surely, it can’t still be night. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she realized this was not her bedroom.

“What the—” She attempted to sit up but was weighed down.

Whoever was beside her groaned. She remembered the night in snatches. Lots of drinks, Jason. Oh fuck, Adam. She retched at the sight of Jason’s arm snapping. And then falling asleep. In Adam’s bed. In his shirt. Panicking, her hands smoothed over her body. Panties in place.

“Well, that is at least one awkward conversation we can avoid.” she muttered to herself.

Again she attempted to sit up but Adam’s arm pulled her tight against him. It relieved her he was wearing pants, choosing to ignore what she noticed pressing against her backside. Charlie laid there for several minutes, wondering whether Adam was that strong, she was that weak, or when you became a vampire, you weighed a cubic ton.

Adam huffed as he rolled onto his back releasing her from his grip. She scrambled to her feet before he entrapped her again. She smiled at the glass of water on the nightstand, left by Adam at some point last night. Charlie scrambled across the room to grab her clothes. She glanced at Adam’s sleeping form. The way his taut muscle twitched at the slightest movement. It was impossible to ignore how the sheets tented unnaturally around his crotch. Charlie giggled when her foot connected with something hard and sharp sticking out from underneath the bed.

“What the—?” she questioned rubbing where her knee came down hard on the unforgiving floor.

It appeared to be a mini fridge. The door flipped open. Charlie moved to shut it when she saw the metal canisters like the one from the weekend before. She gasped. This must be Adam’s stash. There was only one canister in the fridge.

Charlie wondered when he would get some more. She closed the fridge and tucked it out of the way under the bed. She grabbed her clothes from the corner when Adam called out.

“Charlie!”

She spun to see if he was awake, ready to chastise her for sneaking out. But his eyes were squeezed shut, his face marred as his brows furrowed. As she tried to determine the reason for him calling out her name when her eyes widened when she realized Adam’s eyes weren’t the only part of his body being squeezed. It may have been awhile since she had shared a bed with a man but Charlie could tell Adam was stroking himself underneath the sheets. While calling out her name. She gathered her things in a hurry and bolted up the interior stairs, slamming the door behind her.

-

“Shit!” Charlie slammed the laptop closed. She rose and paced the living room. “Shit… shit… shit.. FUCK!”

Charlie couldn’t make rent at the end of the week. No matter how much she scrimped and ate ramen, the numbers wouldn’t add up.

“Fuck this!” She cursed at not saving more. “I’m going to have to sell a kidney or some… thing.” Charlie snapped her fingers and reached for the phone. “Scathingly brilliant idea.”

The person on the other line picked up.

“Hello? I was wondering if you had any appointments for today.” A pause. “Great! I can be there in thirty minutes. Perfect!”

Charlie threw on a pair of ratty jeans and Boston Red Sox hoodie then grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Adam woke up in bed that evening. The one problem: he didn’t remember falling asleep there. What he did remember was telling Charlie to take the bed. And then him passing out on the sofa. But here he was, in bed, no Charlie and his hand sticky.

“Fuck.”

He flashed on that fucking sweater again. And Charlie’s tits bouncing. While on his cock. He hoped Charlie had been asleep through all that. Now he was hungry. Adam fished around until he found the mini fridge. One canister left. And at least three more weeks before his connection returned from vacation.

He would need to source out another connection. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He poured out a carefully portioned serving, smaller than usual and drank with fervor. All these sex dreams were taking a toll on him.

-

It was late on Sunday evening when Charlie knocked on Adam’s door. He answered like usual, shirtless, bathrobe, hair mussed in a dangerously sexy fashion. Charlie fiddled with the folded piece of paper in her hands and smoothed out the dark green sweater. It was identical to violet one. Jesus Christ, Adam swore in his mind, how many of those infernal sweaters does this woman have?

“We need to talk.” She moved to step into the apartment but Adam held out his arm.

“If this is about Friday night, I can—”

“Not it’s about… wait about Friday night?” Charlie narrowed her eyes at Adam.

“Unimportant.” He lied. “What did you need to talk about?”

She took a deep breath. “So you remember how I lost my job on Friday?”

Adam tilted his head. “And?”

“I’m not going to be able to make rent.” the words spilled from her mouth. She glanced up at Adam, a flicker of something crossed his face. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was sadness, disappointment, or relief. It was gone as soon as it appeared.

“I’ll be sad to see you go. If there was any way to make this work…” Inside, Adam was a tangled mess. On one hand, he hated to see Charlie leave. As far as zombies go, there were worse options. On the other hand, he go could back to a quiet existence with little to no sex dreams involving low cut sweaters.

Charlie stopped him from shutting the door. “I might have a solution to both our problems.”

Adam huffed. “I don’t have any problems.” He crossed his arms.

“You’re looking awfully gaunt, Adam? And not in that cool I’m-a-rock-star-I-live-on-cigarettes-and-espresso gaunt. Are you eating okay?”

His eyes flashed. “My supply is fine. Now if you excuse me—”

“Liar.” Charlie retorted, not accusing but more of a statement of fact. “I found your stash the other day. One canister left. And by all appearances you would seem to be rationing. How long before your dealer,” Adam held up a finger in protest. “sorry, your source is back in town.”

She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms and giving that stare she reserved for asshole landlords in court. At the moment, it was appropriate.

“I’m waiting for an answer.” She tapped her foot.

“Too fucking bad.” Adam hissed.

Charlie sighed and uncrossed your arms. “Look, I need a place to stay and you need a reliable source of blood. All I am suggesting is an exchange. You get to feed on me and I get to stay in my apartment. It’s a win-win. It’s not like I am asking you to sleep with me.”

Adam stiffened at her last statement. She must be a mind reader.

“I don’t fuck zombies.”

“Good, I don’t fuck musicians.” She thought ‘any more’ to herself. “Now what do you say?”

“How do I even know that it’s safe you could have a disease or something wron—”

Charlie shoved the piece of paper at him. “I already went to the free clinic. They ran a full panel. Everything is clean and in normal range.”

“O negative.” Adam commented, licking his lips. “Your cholesterol is on the higher side of normal.”

“I’ll cut back on the fast food. Are you in or is it couch surfing for me and the local blood bank for you?”

Adam didn’t think it over long. He pushed the door open wide.

“Let’s discuss things further inside.”

Charlie stepped in with a smile on the outside and butterflies on the inside.

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 10

Word Count: 1539

POV: Reader

Warnings: Maybe language

Notes: So you guys threw me for a loop on this one. I totally thought you’d pick Jamie, but I fear all the Jamie fans left when Tyler got chosen. So here’s the reason behind the Kathleen coverup. Enjoy! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

The fact that Tyler chose this moment to tell you why he was covering up for the crazy Kathleen, was not lost on you. You could hear Jamie calling for you in the background, but at the same time, you needed to know what was going on with Tyler. So as a nurse passed by, you asked her to tell Jamie you’d be in, in just a minute.

“Give me the highlights, as we really don’t have time for a huge discussion about this; but I need to know why you’re covering up for that whore.” He flinched at your choice of language, like you’d struck him or something; which you found odd.

“It’s complicated.” You tapped your foot in your impatience. “It was about eight months ago. I was out with some of the guys here from Dallas, not anyone from the team mind you.” Why would he specifically point that out, you wondered. “We were loaded; shitfaced really. I had no idea what the hell I was doing but we didn’t have practice or a game the next day and it just felt good to let go.” You nodded for him to continue. “Anyways, we had pretty much called it a night and were just waiting for the cars to be brought around. That’s when we saw Kathleen, with a couple of other women. They were just all standing there kind of nonchalantly.” Ok so far you could see where this was going, a drunk hook-up basically, but that didn’t call for covering up a major accident involving your best friend.

“I think it was Mike who was like let’s go up and talk to them. I’m not sure. Anyhow we did and well Kathleen was all up on me, you know.” You rolled your eyes, memories of her naked in Tyler’s living room came flooding back. “At any rate, we ended up bringing them all back to my place, and things…well you know escalated. But before we did anything, she made some damn joke; or at least I thought it was a joke, about wanting ‘paid for her services.’ So, I whipped out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her. I had no idea that one of her friends was videotaping us or that she set her phone up in my bedroom to tape us having sex.”

You shook your head in disbelief before you whispered yelled. “Is Kathleen a prostitute?”

“Not exactly. Turns out she’s just some crazy-ass fan girl, that had an elaborate scheme to trap me into being her boyfriend.” Closing your eyes, you tried to make sense of the information Tyler was telling you. “She sent me a blackmail tape, saying that she would tell everyone I paid for sex if I didn’t agree to be her boyfriend.”

“But wouldn’t she be exposing herself as a prostitute if she did that?”

“She obscured her face in the video, so no one would recognize her, only me. I took it to my legal team, to see what they could do, but that fact that I did pay her and we did have sex didn’t look good. I was already in jeopardy with Stars management, if this got out it could be my career.” God, it seemed as if drama followed him everywhere. You were beginning to think you’d made the wrong decision of choosing him again. “My legal team called her in and worked out a deal. That I would be her ‘boyfriend’ for a period of time and then she would hand over the tapes.”

“Yeah, but what would stop her from not handing over the tapes when the time ended.”

“Well, they thought of that as well. They made her sign a nondisclosure agreement, stating that she’d never speak of the incident; it also stated that if she didn’t turn over the tapes, she would be sued for over three million dollars.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re beholden to this…. bitch for what, a year, two?”

“Actually, it was only six months, she turned the tapes over a month ago.”

You blinked rapidly if she willingly turned them back a month ago; why was it only a few days past that he was bringing her on a double date? “I’m sorry, I must have not heard you right. Did you say she already turned them over?”

Tyler looked down at the ground ashamed to answer your question. “Yeah, she did.”

“Then why the hell were you still with her up until today?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “So, my manager thought it would be good for my image to have a girlfriend. Sort of look like I’d tamed my wild way, I suppose.”

“And he thought some two-bit whore, who blackmailed you would make a good girlfriend?” You threw the words at him as if they were a bad taste in your mouth. “My god, you’re both as crazy as she is; but it still doesn’t explain why you kept her around.”

“I don’t have a good fucking answer for that.”

Well, that’s obvious. Have you changed any at all?” He moved, trying to grab your arms and pull you to him, though you wrestled out of the embrace.

“Of course I have. Jesus, can’t you see that?”

You were stopped from answering him as Jamie’s doctor came out of the room. “Ms. (Y/LN) could I talk to you a moment about Mr. Benn’s condition?”

“Of course.” He guided you away from Jamie’s room, over to the nurses' station in the middle. Tyler followed closely behind.

“As you know Mr. Benn has suffered several injuries as a result of the car accident.” You nodded, a look of concern on your face. “We’ve been able to determine that he fractured his right knee, which will require surgery.” This would devastate Jamie, for you knew he’d be out long-term from playing hockey. “But that’s not the injury that’s concerning us at the moment.” Your heart sank, that there was further bad news for him; however, you kept praying that it wasn’t that bad. “Mr. Benn was knocked unconscious for a few minutes, which worried us; however we don’t see any swelling on the brain, which is good news.” You released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in. “Though he seems to be suffering from traumatic brain amnesia. He seems to believe that it’s sometime in June and not October.”

“What does this mean?”

“Well currently, we’re still evaluating him. I’d like to get an MRI of his brain, just to see if we can assess anything from it.” You nodded your agreement.

“Of course, that makes perfect sense.”

“I’m glad you agree, though there is something I need to ask of you both.”

You looked at Tyler, before answering; not even realizing how close he’d been listening to the doctor as well. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

“Good, because I need you to let Mr. Benn recover his memory on his own.” There must have been confusion on your face, for the doctor continued. “Basically, let him think that it’s June. I’ve already told him that it is October and it seemed to confuse him extremely, almost if he is trying to block out something traumatic that happened between this time, something other than the accident; I mean.”

You knew the event the doctor spoke about, for it occurred this morning when you chose Tyler over Jamie. Needing a bit more clarification you asked. “So you want me to act like it was a couple of months ago; which would mean I hadn’t met Tyler yet.”

“If that’s the case, then yes, that’s exactly what I’d like you to do.”

“And how long do you think this amnesia will last?” It was Tyler who chimed in asking the question this time.

“Well, we really won’t know until we do some further testing. His memory could come back in a couple of hours or a couple of days.” That seemed reasonable. “But then I’ve also seen cases last several months.”

Tyler spoke up again, asking. “And what exactly would happen if we told him the truth?”

“I’ve seen patients experience even more memory loss as a result and I’ve seen patients be completely fine. It’s just safer to let them recover their memories on their own though.”

“We understand and we’ll do whatever is best for Jamie.”

“Thank you Miss (Y/LN), I’m going to take Mr. Been down to get that MRI, I believe he’d like to see you before he goes down if you think you’re ready.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Tyler grabbed your arm before you could follow the doctor back to Jamie’s room.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

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

Here we go, it’s your turn again to make some choices. Gotta say you guys threw me the last time…haha

A)    Hell no, you’re not ready for this, you don’t want to lie to Jamie about not being with him anymore. B)     Of course, you’re ready. You’ll do whatever you have to so that Jamie can get better. A little lie can’t hurt. C)      You're not ready for any of this and want to move back to Toronto where life was simpler.

[soybeantree]

a baby changes everything

pairing: do kyungsoo x (reader)

genre/warning: artificial insemination, drama

word count: 2.3k+

description:  when you decided to have a baby, you knew everything would change, but this is not what you expected...

a/n: november installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series.

parts: o1 | o2

Cars splash through puddles as they whiz down the streets. Rain continues to patter down on the bus stops awning. Resting your hand on your stomach you attempt to quell your little one’s movements with a soft whisper. He continues to push against his boundaries, ready to enter the world or perhaps eager to protect his mother. Your nerves have much to do with his unease. Your internal whispering have had the same affect on you as it did on him. There is no calming your nerves.

Your bus arrives, and with a deep breath, you push yourself up and board. A thirty minute commute stretches between you and the upcoming encounter. It drags on, while simultaneously rushing ahead. You’re not ready for the meeting, but neither would you be given more time. They gave you a week to come to a decision, even though you knew your answer the day they asked. Your son is your son, and you will fight to keep him.

The first day you met your son’s father was the day his family requested you relinquish to them your rights to your unborn son. He sat silently at the end of a long boardroom table, his eyes fixed on something beyond the room’s windows. His lawyers and secretary were anything but. They chattered incessantly and at a speed which left you confused and irritated. Eventually, you tuned them out as your focus rested on your sperm donor. He was rich, presumably well-educated, and based on the current diatribe due to become the CEO of his family’s company. The question which circulated most through your head was “why?”. 

Why would someone like him go to a sperm bank? Clearly not for money. Perhaps treatment for an illness. Was he saving it for some future spouse? Were you given his sperm by accident?

In the end, why didn’t matter. What mattered was that your son was his son, and his family wanted his son. Your son was to be his heir and the heir to their company. You would become his surrogate, relinquishing all legal rights to him.

At the end of the meeting, they offered you a contract which outlined your duties for the remainder of your pregnancy and beyond. It included a gag order and the information regarding your compensation. They gave you a week to decide. As you prepared to leave, they delicately advised what would happen should you reject the offer. They had the means and the legal team to ensure your son ended up where he belonged, and when they succeeded you would end up desolate and destitute. The world passes by in a blur of gray. Water droplets race down the bus windows, and you watch them, betting on which will win. The distraction fails, so you stop. Your hand returns to your stomach, and this time you hum instead of whisper.

Telling your family you were going to undergo artificial insemination had released chaos. Your mother went silent, but her judgment was tangible. Your sisters vocalized their disapproval. You were still so young. You had plenty of time to find a guy and get married.

Telling your co-workers had started the gossip mill. Their disapproval stemmed from the opposite direction. You were a successful career woman, steadily climbing the corporate ladder. A child would complicate your life, and a woman didn’t need to have a baby to be complete.

You smiled politely and thanked everyone for their concern. On the day of your insemination appointment, you arrived early and prayed for success. A month later you received the wonderful news.

The comments petered out after you shared the news. The disapproval remained in their eyes though. You continued to smile politely as you planned for your new life.

Everything was going to plan which should have been a red flag that something would go wrong. Early in your third trimester after all your baby-showers and after you had completed your baby’s room, you received a visitor at work. His business card identified him as a legal representative of EXO Corporation, a corporation known the whole world over. You doubted the validity of his claim. Your employer had no connection with EXO Corporation, and your only personal connection came via the products you buy from their subsidiaries.

The man assured you he was indeed a part of their legal team and requested to arrange a meeting with you and the corporations president. You had snorted, the reaction involuntary but accurate. With a clipped smile, he informed you that they would send a car to pick you up the coming Saturday.

A car had arrived that Saturday, a week ago. It took you to the meeting which has haunted you and robbed you of sleep. This Saturday, you left before a car arrived.

The bus pulls up to your stop. You whisper a thank you to the driver as you descend the stairs. The EXO building looms over you, leaving you in its shadow. A chill shakes your shoulders. Raising your umbrella, you square the and march forward.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” You skitter to a stop and glance around for the source of your name. Do Kyungsoo stands beside a sleek black car, reminiscent of the one which came for you. From beneath his umbrella, he raises a hand in greeting, and you unconsciously mimic the gesture. Snapping your hand to your side, you politely nod before resuming your march. Ire burns in your stomach, but you smother it with reason. You need to be clear headed for the coming battle.

Arriving at the elevator, you tuck your umbrella in your purse and wait in vain for the doors to open before he comes. Kyungsoo takes the spot next to you, but the crowd of workers inhibits conversation. You board and ensure the crowd separates you. As the elevator ascends, the workers exit on their floors until only you two remain.

“I had hoped to speak with you before today’s meeting.” And he had tried. Every day at exactly 5PM, he would call, and after going to voice mail, he would send the same text. If you are available today, I would like to speak with you. “We still have a few minutes before the meeting. I intend to grab some coffee. We have water and juice.”

“I’m fine.” You decline with a polite smile. “I’d prefer to keep my time here brief.” The elevator dings, and the doors open. Kyungsoo motions for you to exit. He falls into step beside you and opens the door to the boardroom. Your upbringing forces a ‘thank you’ from your lips.

While you and Kyungsoo may be early, the legal team is earlier. They already sit around the table, vultures ready to pounce. When Kyungsoo enters, they stand and show their respect. He returns the greeting and situates himself at the head of the table. The legal team sits and motions for you to do the same.

You remain standing and meet their eyes. “Thank you, but there’s no need. I’m not selling you my baby.” Anger burns in your chest as you utter the vulgar response.

The head of the legal team smiles with all the sincerity of a fox. “Ms. Y/L/N, that’s a rather crude way of looking at this situation. We are merely compensating you for your services.”

“I don’t need compensation because I haven’t provided any services to your president or this company. I chose to have a baby. I chose the sperm from the options given to me. I chose to be inseminated. This baby,” you rest your hand on your womb, “is my baby. As we have no further business, I will be going. Goodbye.” You nod to them before exiting the boardroom. Indignation and threats fly at your back, but as the door closes behind you, they fade into silence.

Once more setting your hand on your belly, you feel peace. Your son has finally settled down to sleep.

In the nursery, you sit in the rocking chair you spent weeks agonizing over. Relaxing into its plush cushions, you commend yourself for your good decision. You have no regrets regarding your son, but certain decisions weigh heavier on your mind. The EXO corporation has maintained silence since you gave your decision, but their threats linger. If they decide to pursue legal action, you may lose your son.

The door buzzer breaks you from your revere. The rocking chair cushions are easy to sink into but difficult to climb out of. After much struggle, you free yourself. Eying the chair, you second guess your decision. The buzzer sounds again, and you table that thought for later.

Staring at the door cam screen sends fear winding through your veins. Kyungsoo’s face stares at you. He reaches for the buzzer again, but you open the door before he can push it. Body blocking entrance, you meet his eyes. He offers a smile which you refuse to return. With a nod, he pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a take-away bag from your favorite restaurant. Your eyes narrow as you inch the door closed.

Clearing his throat, he lowers the bag. “I probably should have gotten something generic and not from the background check we did.”

“Probably.”

“It’s a peace offering. I was hoping we could talk. If not, the food is still yours.” He extends the bag, the smell of the food wafting forward. Your stomach growls, and your son nudges you. With a sigh, you grab the bag, keeping your fingers far from his. His arm returns to his side as he awaits your decision. Curiosity and fear mingle in your mind. Stepping back, you open the door wide.

You leave him in the entryway as you head to the kitchen. He enters as you finish transitioning the food from the container to a plate. The bag only contained one portion of your favorite dish. You settle at the table with your food. He takes up position in the kitchen’s center, hands clasped behind his back.

“I wanted to let you know that my corporation will not be suing you for custody. I have told them that we will respect your decision.” He begins as you chew on your first bite. Relief floods you as tears prick your eyes. Swallowing, you nod in acknowledgment but keep your attention on your food. “I also wanted to apologize.” Your next bite lodges in your throat as your knuckles whiten around your fork. Kyungsoo silences.

“Continue.” You offer before standing up and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

“I’m sorry for the way my company and my family treated you.” You pull a water pitcher from the fridge. “I’m also sorry for allowing them to harass you, my reasons for doing so were cruel.”

“Because you wanted to steal my son.” Your voice remains steady despite the roiling in your stomach. You set the pitcher beside your glass. Your hands are shaking too badly to pour.

“Because I didn’t trust you.”

“Trust me?!” Your eyes flash to him, your hands balling into fists on the counter top

He maintains your gaze. “I had concerns that you had chosen my sperm on purpose and intended to use the baby to exhort money from me. After meeting you and seeing your love for your son, I put my concerns to rest.”

Anger still burns inside, but you release your fists and pick the pitcher back up. You guzzle the first glass and pour yourself another. This one you hold in your hand, swirling it and watching the ripples. “Is that all?”

"No." You glance back up. He continues to stand in the middle of your kitchen, his attention fully on you. "I also came to ask you to consider allowing me to be a part of my son's life."

“Why?” The word snaps out.

“Because he is my son, and the only child I will have.”

“What?” You breath the question as you set your glass back on the counter.

“Last year, I was in an accident.” The tabloids had covered it ad nauseam. “What was left out of the news report was that the accident left me infertile. Information which could be detrimental to the corporation.”

“Did they have you save your sperm in case of something like this?” The “whys” you pondered resurface as you take your glass and return to the table.

A smile cracks his face, and he chuckles. “No. That was a lucky happenstance.” Curiosity tingles the tip of your tongue, but you seal your lips. The smile continues to play on Kyungsoo’s lips. He motions to the chair across from you, and you nod. As he sits, he continues. “After high school, I went through what my parents call my rebellious stage.” You snort around a bite, pieces of food flying to the table. Covering your mouth, you clear your throat and attempt to regain your composure. With him sitting across from you in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, you find it hard to imagine him going through a rebellious stage. He shakes off your reaction. “I ran away from home, lived on friend’s couches, worked odd jobs. At one point, I became desperate for cash, and my friend suggested selling my sperm. Any option was better than swallowing my pride and crawling back to my parents.

“After the accident when my parents and the board began to worry about the future of the company, I told them about the sperm. They went to the bank, but-” He shrugs. You know the rest of the story.

Running your thumb through the condensation on the glass, you contemplate his story and his request. “If I say, ‘no’?”

“I will respect your decision, but will request that if my son ever wants a relationship with me, you will allow it.”

“If I say, ‘yes’?”

“I will respect the boundaries you put in place.” You settle your hands in your lap and meet his gaze once again. You search beneath his calm demeanor and find the flicker of hope. 

“You know a lot about me.” He swallows but nods. “May I get to know you better before I decide?” The hope brightens, and he nods again.

[carrotsofavonlea]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Six: Just Friends

[AO3]

Anne was helping Marilla cook dinner. They didn't get much time now that Anne was almost at college, but they tried at least once a week to spare the evening of no homework or responsibilities, just the two of them. Since Matthew had died a few years ago, Anne wanted to spend as much time with Marilla as possible, just so she wasn't too lonely.

"I see you and Gilbert Blythe are friends again."

Anne stopped cutting the carrots. "I...I suppose so."

"I always wondered what happened to you two. You were so close when you were little. He's a nice boy."

"He is. I guess we kind of just forgot how good friends we are." Anne resumed cutting, but could feel Marilla's gaze burning.

"Is it not something more?"

Anne didn't look up, "Why would you think that?"

Marilla shrugged, "You just seem in a better mood. Especially since Roy is no longer in the picture."

"There is nothing romantic going on between Gilbert and I."

There came a knock at the door and Marilla suddenly acted strange.

"Marilla?" Anne looked at the door, Marilla clearly knew who was behind it. "You didn't…"

But Marilla wiped her hands on her apron and briskly walked to the door, Anne almost dropping the knife in her hand.

"Gilbert, how lovely to see you." Marilla opened the door to see Gilbert stood holding a small bouquet of flowers.

"Ms Cuthbert." He handed her the flowers, "You haven't aged a day."

"Flattery will not work on me, Gilbert." She laughed. Marilla actually laughed. Anne was stood in the kitchen bewildered at what she was witnessing.

But it hit her that Gilbert was stood in her house and she looked like a mess. She quickly ran her hand through her hair, checking in the reflection of the oven before he entered the kitchen like he owned the place.

"Need a hand?" He nodded towards the carrots and picked up the knife Anne had left lying around, continuing to cut them for her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ms Cuthbert invited me." He shrugged as if that was a good enough answer.

"Call me Marilla, Gilbert. You used to."

"Ok, Marilla."

He looked over at Anne with a smug smile and she rolled her eyes. They were supposed to be keeping families out of it, but here he was at her house.

Anne watched him as he cut the carrots. Since when had he ever cooked anything? She hadn't realised she'd been staring, until he made eye contact with her and she jumped, turning away to help Marilla with something else. But she caught him smiling to himself. How dare he mock her.

/////////

"That was absolutely delicious, Marilla." Gilbert said, leaning back in his chair. "I've missed your cooking."

"Perhaps we'll be seeing more of you at our dinner table?" Marilla raised an eyebrow, not subtly looking at Anne.

"I hope so." He smiled, before rushing to stand when he saw Marilla getting up. "No, please. Allow me."

He started clearing away the plates, taking them to the kitchen.

Marilla leaned over to Anne, "He's certainly grown into quite the young gentleman."

"I guess." Anne shrugged. It felt weird having him here, like it was all becoming too real. But they were friends again, and friends had dinner at each other's houses right? They used to eat at each other's houses all the time as kids, nothing out of the ordinary. "We're just friends Marilla."

"I think you better tell him that." Marilla smiled knowingly, before Gilbert re-entered the room. "Well that was very kind of you to clear the dishes, Gilbert. You didn't have to do that."

"It was no trouble."

After a few moments of silence, Gilbert finally sighed. "I suppose I should be heading home. Thank you so much for having me over, Marilla."

"It was our pleasure Gilbert. Feel free to come round anytime. You know you're always welcome. It's been a few years, but it's so nice to have you back."

"I feel the same. Anne's...a wonderful person. I'm glad we're friends again."

There was a weird feeling in Anne's chest at him saying those words. She almost felt like crying. Things finally felt right again, as if those years of arguing and ignoring each other had never happened.

"Well, goodnight Gilbert."

"Goodnight Marilla." He smiled, heading towards the door. Anne followed him, leaving Marilla to continue tidying up.

They stood on the porch together, Gilbert lingering. "I know we were supposed to keep families out of it, but I couldn't say no to Marilla."

"She was right though, you were practically family once. And I guess you still are." Anne mumbled the last part.

He smiled, but there was something different in his eyes. Something she hadn't seen for years. It made her insides flutter.

What was she doing?! This was Gilbert! She needed to snap out of it.

"I missed your house. It's always so warm and inviting. It's a proper home." He looked up at the house, memories flooding back. "Remember the time we played pirates, and you used Marilla's brooch as the treasure?"

"She was so angry. I was grounded for a week when I lost it!" Anne laughed, and Gilbert couldn't help but join in. The sound was so infectious.  "I remember you cheered me up. I was Princess Cordelia trapped in the dragon's keep, and you were Sir Gilbert the heroic knight come to rescue me."

"We had some good times." He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.  Those days with Anne seemed like a lifetime ago now. Back then he would have done anything to see her smile, and whenever she was upset he would find a way to make her laugh again. He almost laughed at how embarrassing it was, maybe he'd had a tiny crush on her, but that was all in the past.

"We did."  

"It's never like that at Winnie's house." Anne almost forgot about Winifred. The reason for them hanging out again in the first place. Whatever warm feeling she'd had in her chest suddenly disappeared at the mention of Winifred's name.

"But her house is huge."

"Exactly. It's so big but it feels impersonal. Things are expensive but they still seem artificial. Here it feels like a home, not a house."

"Well thank you."

"I guess I just missed this all so much. I guess I missed you too." He lowered his voice, and their eyes met. Neither could seem to pull their eyes away from each other.

But Anne was first to break out of the spell, shaking her head as if coming back to reality. "Should I walk you home?"

At that Gilbert smiled, pretending to gasp in shock. "Is Anne Shirley Cuthbert walking me home? How could I refuse such an offer?"

"Come on." She playfully pushed him and they slowly started making their way across the patch of grass linking their two houses.

Whatever weird tension had been between them a few moments ago had disappeared.

"Roy was pretty mad today. About us." Anne kicked a bit of grass with her shoe as they walked.

"Glad I can be of service." Gilbert laughed, stopping outside his front door. "I was thinking, how about a big ask."

"A big ask?"

"To the dance. I ask you in some big way. It's bound to make everyone jealous. As we've established I can be quite romantic."

"Don't flatter yourself." She folded her arms. "But it could be funny to see their faces. Roy was so rude about you, he deserves a little pay back."

"Was he?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't know you, he just thinks you're some no good Casanova who just breaks girls' hearts. But I put him in his place."

"And those were his exact words? Casanova?" Gilbert was on the verge of laughter, biting back a smile at Anne's phrase.

"Well not exactly…."

"You have the references of a 70 year old, carrots." He laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But I appreciate you slaying those dragons for me. You're my hero."

Anne felt her cheeks growing warm at his touch, but thankfully it was dark out. "It's no big deal. What are friends for?"

Something in Gilbert's eyes changed, and for a moment Anne thought it was because she'd called them friends. Was he uncomfortable because they weren't actually friends? Or was it...no, she wasn't even going to finish that thought. It wasn't because he thought they were more. But she didn't even want him to think that either. It was just a moment of weakness.

"Well, I better be heading back." Anne rocked on her heels. "Have a good night, Gilbert."

She stepped backwards, skipping across the grass to her house, leaving Gilbert on his porch watching her.

"Goodnight, carrots." He mumbled to himself.

"Was that Anne?" Bash opened the door behind him, making Gilbert jump out of his trance.

"Huh?" Gilbert stepped inside past Bash.

"Your new girlfriend?"

"What?! No! We're friends. Just friends." Gilbert spluttered. In his panic he tripped over a pair of shoes he'd left by the door.

"A friend who makes you smile like an idiot?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. We used to be friends before dad…" Gilbert trailed off. "Before you got here. And we just happened to reconnect again."

"I haven't seen you this happy for a while." Bash laughed, "are you sure it isn't more than friendship?"

"It's not like that with Anne. Maybe I did have a crush on her as kids but she reminded me a long time ago we'll never be anything more than friends. And then I met Winnie, who likes me back."

"Until she dumped you."

"Well that's her mistake. But Anne's got nothing to do with that." Gilbert sat on the staircase, pulling off his shoes.

"Just... don't hurt the girl, ok?"

"Bash you sound ridiculous." Gilbert laughed but it was forced. "I'm going to bed, getting away from your madness."

"You can't run from your feelings!" Bash called from the bottom of the stairs.

"I can't hear you!"

Bash sighed, whatever the boy was getting up to, he just hoped no one got hurt.

///////

Tag List: @rohaintahquil @hakunamademons @thxnderclouds @awaeforlife@m1rkw00dpr1ncess @mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe @nerdybrunette @i-ammischiefmanaged @sarahisatotalgeek @neomikaha @etsatymton @parkeroffline

[ficsainty]

[NCT] Johnny Suh.

Simple Little Things.

part 1

This is a work of fiction. Anything that is being written here shouldn't be compared to real life incidents.

"yeah, and one more order of a large pizza with extra cheese and please don't add any pepperonis." you added to your order while holding the phone between your shoulder and ear.

"Okay, ma'am, I will read out your order. So one Filet mignon which is medium rare, one bottle of Sauvignon blanc wine, and a pizza with extra cheese and no pepperonis, am I right ma'am?"

"yes yes you are, so how much does it cost?"

"yes let me do the calculations, mmm it'll cost about 850$ in total, shall I proceed?"

"yes go ahead"

"Kindly provide me your name and address ma'am"

"Okay it's (Y/n) Suh, 27 S State S, Monroe, Chicago"

"Thankyou ma'am, you may expect a delivery in about 40 minutes maximum".

"Thank you for your service"

"No mention ma'am, have a good day. Phone again at Sidebar Grille!",

The employee hung up only for you to replay what she said in the end.

'huh I can call again only if I'm alive after this'

"Finally",You breathe out

"My last meal I guess", Your voice trailed as you laid your back on the soft mattress of the bed.

A lot happened in that awful life of yours. Nothing went the way you hoped it to. Losing hope was one thing but having no hope to even begin with was another.

"Perhaps next time, if reincarnation is a thing then I wish to be born as one of them",You giggled pointing towards all the handsome men in the poster of your all-time-favourite band, NCT.

"But bleh my soul inside the body of that masterpiece? nah I don't wanna do Mark dirty like that".

Thinking about this,  you knew you were doing something unforgivable and how much the pain of your death would linger around people.

But no matter how much you tried deciding against the idea of taking your own life, no reason seems to stand out to why you shouldn't.

You had no rent or loans to pay off, no extra hours at work, no lack of money, no lack of friends, no lack of love then why were you deciding to do this?

It's because you did'nt have anything to live for. Nothing more or new  to see. The thrill of what might  happen to you after death seemed much more inviting than a perfectly normal life.

Lost in the cloud of  thoughts that flooded your head you heard the faint sound of the doorbell ringing.

You jolted up from bed knowing it's the delivery guy. Grabbing your purse, you ran downstairs to open the door to get the delivery.

°•𝗿𝗶𝗶𝗶𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗻𝗴𝗴𝗴𝗴𝗴•°

"yes I'm coming!", You shouted quickening your pace.

You opened the door to reveal the guy who had your dear food in his rather large and veiny palms.

"hey", he said then looked down on the reciept and looked back at me.

"(y/n) Suh?", he asked

"yes and you?", you legit mentally facepalmed at yourself for literally asking his name, but you can't help it, you had award winning socialising skills.

He looked confused for a millisecond before he replied.

"ahh!, Sorry, I'm Johnny Suh and your total is $850, ms. Suh", he said politely.

"ookay, let me get my change", you got your purse and handed over the money to this handsome creation of a man here, not gonna lie, he was really cute.

"Thankyou ma'am", He said as he flashed you what seemed like a forced smile as he hands over your bag of food.

It wasn't that Johnny was annoyed or frustrated at you, but more like he was tired, he's been delivering packages for like the whole day now so he could save some money up to buy his sister a present. So he was just tired.

He bowed and walked towards his bike, which was nostalgic to you because no one really bows here in America.

You were almost gonna close the door when you realised that you forgot to tip the handsome guy.

'might as tip him a couple extra dollars since he looks overworked', you thought as you grabbed you purse again and ran towards him.

"Excuse me? Johnny?", you tapped his shoulders as his back was facing you.

"I forgot to tip you", you started to dig into your purse, while Johnny pulled the stand back on his bike and waited.

"here", you said as you handed him a total of $500

His eyes widened as he looked at the money. It didn't happen always, that someone would even tip him let alone a $500 for delivering food.

Heck even his weekly pay didn't come close to that so it was natural for him to be taken back a bit by her offer.

"wait are you sure? that's a lot for a tip..", his voice trailed slowly as he held the bills.

You shrugged, "yeah but pays to be hardworking now doesn't it?" you gave him a smile and turned around and walked towards the door.

From the corner of your eyes you did see his lips curl up into a loving smile and knowing that you did one thing right before dying, made your feel more than elated.

"well guess I'm gonna drink my night away", you exclaimed to yourself as you popped open the bottle of your fancy Sauvignon blanc.

One the other side of the page, Johnny was driving back to the restaurant.

Usually the last delivery he makes would always end up into a fiasco of turning up at the wrong door because of it being really late at night and him not being able to find the right door number and ends up getting yelled at by the customer because of the order being delivered after a long wait.

But today it's was different. Not only he turned up at the right door but the woman who lived there was kind enough to offer him such huge sum of dollar bills as a reward for working his ass off.

He was beaming but at the same time he felt a bit guilty for judging her during his way to deliver her food because most of the rich folks were extremely rude to him. But he got to give it to you for taking the chance and ask his name like that. Your embarrassed face was enough for him to drop the 'all rich Americans are karens' thought he had.

After dropping the bike back at the Sidebar Grille, The walk back home from the restaurant was gleeful for Johnny.

Of course he didn't tell the staff there about the tip he got because it's kind of against the restaurant policy to suck such huge sum of tips from customers.

Also because the manager was a jerk and would obviously get a more than half share from the tip because he 'manages' the worker

plus he finally joined up enough money to buy his sister a pretty decent quality laptop as she is starting college next week.

He couldn't help but feel indebted to you.

"Thankyou so much, Ms. Suh, I really hope you live a long and happy life", he said through his smile as he hopped along the dimly lit night roads of Chicago.

Perhaps that short but sincere prayer of his worked wonders in your life. It's always magical when it's sincere.

[irwintry]

The Teriyaki Incident

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: here it is! idk that’s all i have to say

Word Count: 5.8k

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry–– so sorry!”

Shoulders were brick walls as you sped through the thick crowd of the airport terminal. With your luggage clunking around behind you, you managed to avoid knocking strangers over with your backpack. The heat had hardly been noticeable until you took a moment to breathe. Suddenly, you were overcome with an asthmatic-like pressure filling your chest cavity. Perspiration built beneath your armpits and against your forehead, and your legs wobbled with every step you took.

But you were so close.

“Shit, how did I–– “ A few people glanced your way as you pivoted on your heel. Immediately, you headed in the opposite direction after realizing you managed to pass your gate.

This is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 7850 to Los Angeles at Gate C6. That is C for Charlie. Please make your way to Gate C6. C for Charlie. Again, this is a final boarding call for American Eagle flight 7850 to Los Angeles. Thank you.

You skidded to a running stop as you approached your designated gate. The attendant, a short woman with her hair slicked back into the tightest bun possible, eyed you down, an amused smile gracing her features.

“I’m sorry I’m the worst,” you huffed and nearly slammed down your phone onto the ticket scanner. She simply chuckled as a positive beep sounded, and then another followed when the lights around it turned green.

“Seat 14A,” she said, reaching for a printed strip of paper before handing you a small confirmation. As she slipped the other paper around the handle, she continued to say, “the overhead compartments are most likely full, so we’ll be complimentary checking your bag to your final destination. You can just leave your bag at the end of the jet bridge. Are there any fragile items, large tablets and electronics, or batteries included in your carry on?”

“Uh, no.” You could hardly contain your breathing.

The woman smiled. “Enjoy your flight, Ms.”

“Thanks,” you said quickly gathering your belongings again, “you too.” And then you sped off, face contorting into a wince once you realized what you said.

It no longer mattered, however. You made it in time. Now, you had to mourn.

-

There was no sign of hurry by the time your connecting flight landed. No welcome wagon at baggage claim, no ticker tape parade while you waved down a taxi. The world had not expected your arrival. You sat in the backseat of a cab with a knot in your stomach, wondering how on earth you would be prepared for this. If he knew you were coming, maybe the nerves would subside. You weren’t ready to face him as much as you weren’t ready to be sad.

You watched the taxi fare climb while the number of tall buildings dwindled. High rises became neighborhoods, and soon, you were turning down the same street you broke your elbow on when you were only eight years old. Your gaze hit his house first. Almost nothing had changed–– even the basketball hoop was still intact. And when the cab slowed in front of your address, you nearly asked the driver to turn back around.

On the curb before the house you grew up in, you stood with your bags at your sides. Dogs barked in the distance, and a few kids cheered, but you sighed, regret flooding over you before you took a few strides towards the porch. The same, familiar Gerber daisies greeted you in their large pots–– you could remember countless summers planting annuals with your mother. She had the world’s best green thumb, and you nearly murdered every root.

“Hello?” you called as you stepped into the house. It was a cold welcome; even your dog Bentley didn’t come to bark at you.

You stepped through the foyer, dropping your bags by the stairs as you continued on through the kitchen. Not a soul could be found. You shouted once again, but your voice only echoed. Of course, there was a possibility your family was out, yet just as you settled with that conclusion, a soft commotion could be heard from outside.

There was no one in the backyard when you stepped out. But, when you turned to slide the glass shut behind you, your eyes caught sight of the figures darting behind the fence of your neighbor’s.

Your parents were already with the Hemmings.

You quickly gathered your thoughts (and your nerves) and headed over to the gate connecting your backyard to theirs. It reminded you of all of the times you snuck over––no matter the age––to say hi to your friend. Only a few people were situated on the back porch–– your parents, the Hemmings minus the unspeakable one, and your other neighbor Trish. Not a single head turned in your direction, so you made your way over.

“Well, no, it’s such a shame that she thought that because–– Y/N? What on earth–– holy cow!” Your mother jumped from the patio chair and embraced you in a tight hug. “This is such a nice surprise,” she said into your ear, then quickly pulled away to say, “when did you get here?”

You glanced around at the others. All of them were smiling up at you, and it was almost if everyone had forgotten about the memorial service in a few days. “Just a few minutes ago,” you replied. A second later, your gaze fell to the Pit Bull nuzzling against your leg. “Hey there, Bent.” You pet his head before making your hugging rounds.

It felt natural to be in everyone’s presence again. Stories about college and your career were shared, and nobody dared to mention the reason why you were here.

And then, the back door slid open, and out walked the reason why you almost didn’t come. He had a beer in his hand, and his hair had been pulled back into a bun to keep the sweaty strands out of his face. You had to admit, he looked fantastic, even in a simple gray tee and mesh shorts. But, all-in-all, the motive of your staring was only because he was staring right back.

“Stranger danger,” he mumbled with a smirk and a wink. After that, he tore his eyes away and found a spot to sit beside his mum.

The conversation carried on, dull laughter and mumbled chatter filling the warm air. You remained quiet as time passed, and you kept your ears focused on the birds chirping in the distance. Occasionally, you’d look back to Luke, but you wouldn’t let your gaze linger long. If you did, you’d be left to think about the memories you shared and to wonder where all of those years went.

“D’ya want something to drink, Pet?”

You had previously been staring at the ripples in the pool when your head snapped over to Luke. Like before, his stare burned, and you were restraining the urge to stutter. A part of you forgot he used to call you that, but the sound of his voice triggered something in your brain. You missed it.

You nodded, smiling weakly before saying, “yeah, thanks. Surprise me.”

Luke sent you a smile in return. But as soon as he left, your lips fell into a frown, and once again, the conversation carried on.

The day slipped into night, and the older adults soon made their way back into their homes to pop a few pills of melatonin before nodding off. They’d dream of sad things, but they’d wake up forgetting they ever existed. You took to the old tire swing in your backyard while the crickets chirped from miles away. Although your brain felt fuzzy, and your limbs were quite tired, you couldn’t imagine a better place to be.

And you hadn’t even noticed the grass crunching from behind you as you looked up at the stars.

“’s been so long,” he said, voice so hushed you could have sworn you imagined it. He sat down in the grass below you, continuing, “almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed a lot. Good changes, promise.” He then laughed, and you finally decided to look down at him. Now, he was in a hoodie, and he wasn’t looking at you.

“Don’t think I could ever forget a face like yours,” you said, hinting at a smile in your tone. “So ugly it hurts.” When Luke laughed again, you broke out into a grin. It had been forever.

The crickets droned on through the silence between the two of you. It was like the nature resembled the tension you felt–– an uncomfortable tension, like one of you had something to say, but you weren’t sure how to say it. You weren’t even sure what it was that you wanted to say. Maybe you just wanted what you lost.

“I didn’t expect you t’come,” Luke said. “But somethin’ convinced me you would. Intuition or just a lot of fuckin’ hope. I’m–– I’m jus’ really happy you’re here.” He finally turned his head to meet your eyes. Even through the dark of the night, the moon lit his features up enough to show you the beautiful man he was. The back-porch light certainly helped.

You smiled. “I didn’t tell a soul. Mostly because I didn’t know I was coming until the last minute. Nearly missed my flight because I scheduled it right as I left for the airport. But I wanted to be there for you. And your family.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes glossy as he took a sip of the beverage in his hand. You knew it was for the pain. You knew he struggled to find healthy ways to cope. “It means a lot. Y-you loved him, too.”

You nodded, then, peering back up at the night sky as you thought about how to keep the conversation rolling. There were a million things you could say. You could ask him about his career, about his friends, about his life... but it didn’t seem like the time for that.

“Do you remember when your uncle taught us blackjack and let us drink some of his beer?” you asked. “And then, we pretended to be drunk because we didn’t understand that one sip didn’t do shit.”

Luke chuckled. “Yeah, damn Molly hid from us because we kept fallin’ on top o’her. Haven’t forgotten how to play blackjack either.”

“Really?” You leaned back and kept your feet planted on the ground before letting the swing sway.

“Yeah.”

“I have,” you said, laughter following. “I was so drunk.”

Once again, Luke let out a chuckle, and it filled your heart to know you were making him forget about the sadness for a bit.

“How’ve you been?”

The silence settled, and Luke took the next moment to lay back against the damp grass as he pondered your question. The more time he took to answer, the more you started to worry. And then he sighed. “I’ve been ready to come home.”

-

“Holy shit. It’s still here.”

It had been two days since your unexpected arrival, and there were two more days until the big, unfortunate day. Truth be told, hardly a soul spoke about it–– that was left for tomorrow, for table talk and wine-stained tongues. But the past few days hadn’t been all that trivial concerning emotions and comfort levels. You were able to speak to Luke as if the missing years tugged away, and his family still treated you like the daughter they never had. It seemed as though nothing had changed.

Yet everything kind of had.

The person you used to know had become a friend to the world, but now he was mowing the lawn in a pair of old sneakers he used to wear to gym class. You could speak to him the same way, although you couldn’t look at him the same way. He didn’t look like the person you knew. Dare you say it, he looked like a man, and that terrified you.

You weren’t supposed to grow older. You were supposed to run around as dumb kids and chase the tails of set curfews until your legs grew tired. You were supposed to make slushie runs at two in the morning until the day you die. You were supposed to never see the day you turn thirty because that day didn’t exist–– at least, not when you had been friends with Luke. But now you weren’t really friends anymore, and thirty was looking like a little less hazy. You couldn’t remember when you last had a slushie.

And, Luke... he looked like someone you’d let yourself fall for.

The leaves crunched underneath the weight of your steps as the two of you neared the small fort in the trees. The years had taken a toll on the poor little house, yet you couldn’t believe it was still there.

-

“I feel like you’re taking me out here to murder me,” you said, eyes squinting tight to pay closer attention to your surroundings. The pitch-dark night had only just fallen less than an hour ago, and Luke insisted on taking a trip to the woods by your neighborhood for a surprise. With the summer air cooling for the arrival of fall, you shivered beside him, arms clad against each other to keep yourself warm against the breeze.

“Well, you totally just fucking ruined it then,” he replied and shrugged, turning on his heel swiftly. “Guess we just better go back.”

You giggled, pulling on his arm to lead you deeper into the small forest. “C’mon. I wanna know the surprise.”

“You’re gonna be underwhelmed.” Luke hit you on the arm with his flashlight.

“Is it a dead animal?

“No.”

“A dead person?”

“No.”

“A dead–– “

“We’re here,” he said, tilting the light towards an overhang of branches. Above your heads, a treehouse with missing panels sat abandoned. The ladder had lost a few planks, but it was usable. Truth be told, the whole thing was pitiful, but again, usable. And kind of cool.

You quirked a brow, your forehead creasing as you glanced Luke’s way. “A treehouse?” you asked, and he grinned.

“I know we’re not like, eight anymore, but we’ve always wanted a hideout!” he exclaimed. Luke handed you his flashlight and began to climb the tired planks on the tree. “My basement just did not have enough privacy.”

“Why’d you bring me out here at night?” You soon began to climb up after him, the flashlight tucked in the pocket of your overalls. “Are you actually planning to murder me?”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. Once you made up to the small enclosed space, he took the light back from you and placed it in the center of the fort. The floor was littered with broken branches and leaves, plus some old cigarette buds. Other than that, it wasn’t as pitiful as you assumed.

After that, the treehouse became another home to the two of you. Pillows and blankets were gathered to make the tiny space livable, and you spent the rest of the summer up in the trees. The world felt simple and new. You didn’t think about the fact that Luke was going to leave in a matter of weeks to find a whole new world. You tried your best not to think about the day you would have to say goodbye. Goodbyes meant a very long time apart–– you didn’t know how long the two of you would be apart.

You sat in the treehouse by yourself after school, fingers tracing the guitar picks Luke left after the times he played for you. And you missed him, a little more than you wanted to admit. He was a presence you didn’t want to live without.

But you learned to live without him after a while, and soon it all was like the back of your hand. Luke had left your life with as much of an impact as he had when coming in.

-

You were last to climb the rotting fort, your movements slow as you pushed back memories. You had stopped using the treehouse during your last year of high school–– with Luke already gone for quite some time, it felt useless to one day hope you’d find him sitting there, waiting for you. And now, too many years had passed since then.

“Oh, shit, these are mine,” said Luke as you crawled into the tight space. A pillow had been left behind, plus a small handful of the guitar picks he forgot to take with him. Since then, you were sure he had gone through a few thousand. He picked up the worn stubs to examine them.

“God, it smells like ass up here,” you said, and he chuckled.

The last time you saw him in this environment, his hair was shorter, and his fringe was way too long. He was just trying to figure out what he liked and who he was. Now, with him sitting against the same wall he played All Time Low songs against seven years ago, you could tell he finally found himself. But it was nice to see the man he became in a place he used to know better than ever.

It made you happy, but it also made you incredibly sad.

He noticed your frown a few seconds later; however, he didn’t say anything. He set his hand against the wood beside the two of you, palm open for you to take it. And you did. Your fingers splayed themselves between his long ones as if the years had fallen away.

It was like he knew every single thought in your head. Maybe he still knew you better than you originally assumed.

“When you left,” you said, a sigh following as you fought to find the right words, “I kind of wanted to forget about you.”

Luke let out a small laugh, but it died as soon as it came, and he muttered out a quiet, “why?”

“Well, I guess–– I guess because you were off exploring the world,” you said. “And it was falling in love with you; because who wouldn’t? All the while, I was just struggling to find my place in it. I don’t really know if I just wanted to be you, or still be with you. But I couldn’t have either, and it pissed me off.”

He was silent for a moment. The forest outside had begun to wake up with the setting sun. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Neither did I.”

His grip on your hand tightened. “Well,” he spoke, “since we’re admitting things, I guess I can tell you that I almost didn’t leave.”

“Why?”

He shrugged limply, and his opposite hand came up to push away a few curls that had fallen against his forehead. Before he continued, he pursed his lips in thought, and you almost became entranced in them for a split second. “Didn’t wanna leave you. Also, I, uh–– this is kinda embarrassing, but I kinda had a little crush on you. Or something.”

Your mouth fell open. “You’re lying.”

A grin spread on Luke’s face as it did on yours. “Nope. It fuckin’ sucked.”

“I can’t believe you never told me!” you exclaimed, retracting your hand from his to hit his arm.

Luke broke out into a fit of laughter, and he was quick to grab your wrists and keep your hands away from him. Something about the moment felt natural, like the years had once again slipped away, and you were once again fifteen and fighting back butterflies.

“I never–– “ He heaved out one more quick whiny laugh before settling back against the wall. “I never told you because it was so obvious you didn’t like me back.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at hiding my feelings.”

Luke’s smile fell. “Wait, d-did–– did you like me back?”

“Possibly.”

“That’s a yes or no question, Pet.”

You bit your lip. “I think so.”

“Still yes or no.”

“Okay, yes!” you replied, nudging him roughly.

Luke smirked. “Right then, I’m satisfied. Let’s get out of here though; I think a bug crawled down my pants.”

-

The next day, the world spun. You hugged the toilet in the morning and chugged ginger ale during the afternoon. By the evening, you finally emerged from your childhood bedroom, a fuzzy blanket around your shoulders as you hobbled over to join your family at the Hemmings’. Dinner had already been served, and everyone eventually migrated into the living room for wine and chatter. It didn’t shock you that hardly a head turned when you walked in. Only Luke glanced your way–– he immediately stood to greet you.

“Hey Pet,” he whispered, eyes gazing down at your exhausted state. “Are–– are you okay?”

You shrugged. Meanwhile, you had made eye contact with your mother in the room behind him. “’s been a bit rough today. Jus’ kinda nauseous.”

Luke’s expression was laced with concern. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Like, a slice of toast a few hours ago.”

He frowned. “C’mon, lemme make you some soup.”

You followed him into the kitchen, heart warming slightly as he maneuvered around the island to find a pot below the stove. “Where was this Luke when I was thirteen and had the flu?” you asked, your voice low and somewhat hoarse.

“I wasn’t a gentleman then,” he said and chuckled. It was a dry laugh–– the careless kind that meant little, but somehow, your heartrate still spiked at the sound of it. You assumed it was because you had gone years without hearing it, so it was simply associated with nostalgia.

You sat yourself down at the counter while he darted around to find where his mother stored the canned goods. Even in his lazy state, he looked better than you had originally imagined. You spent the whole flight back home with him on your mind, just wondering how on earth he would act and if his presence would make you nervous. You loved that he did his best to avoid the awkward. He could have easily pretended you didn’t exist.

“Okay, so,” he started, eyes raking the pantry as he moved a few things around, “looks like we have... tomato, but you don’t like tomato soup.”

“I don’t mind it now,” you said, “but what else is there?”

He glanced over at you, eyes wide as he said, “you vehemently hated tomato soup. Now, you don’t mind it? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You chuckled, and he kept looking.

“Uh, chicken noodle?”

You shook your head.

“Clam chowder?”

Another shake of the head.

“Broc–– shit!” A loud clatter followed his shriek, plus the shattering of some glass. When you glanced over, Luke was hovered over the mess of a fallen bottle of teriyaki sauce, shards of glass scattered around the tiled floor.

“What was that?” hollered Liz from the next room, and panic flooded over Luke.

“N-nothing,” he replied. In that split moment, you envisioned him as the shy thirteen-year-old he used to be. You pictured the rosy heat rising to his spotted cheeks, his nerves climbing high into his chest as he fears the worst. Luke had always been timid, yet bold, but he feared Liz’s wrath.

You smiled, and when he looked at you with wide, terrified eyes, you truly saw the person you once knew. It was as if nothing changed, but everything had. And somehow, that made you nervous. Nervous because you were now viewing him the way you had years ago, meanwhile, you were completely aware of the new person he’d become. Nervous because maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see more than what you were limiting yourself to.

“Do you need help there?” you asked him, smirk evident while you watched him panic on his hands and knees.

“I, um, I d-don’t think–– “

You sighed, tossing your blanket over the stool you had been seated on before searching for paper towels and cleaning wipes. “You’re incompetent,” you said. You sat beside him, and he began to gather the small shards of glass. “Careful there, big boy. You may hurt your–– “

“Shit,” Luke seethed, and the glass clattered back onto the tan tiles. He gripped his wrist as he stared at the bright red, jagged line across his palm. “I’m really a whole ass idiot, huh?”

You giggled. The nausea had subsided since entering his home, and now you were hardly thinking about it. Your mood had boosted from his company. “Let’s go, whole ass idiot.”

The two of you found yourselves in the bathroom, Luke clutching his bloody hand over the sink while you searched for disinfectants and bandages. You meandered back over to him, arms full of unnecessary first aid items before setting them on the counter beside him.

“How did you cut yourself?” you questioned, grabbing his hand with a force that caused him to let out a small yelp. “Like, you’re twenty-two. They were baby shards.”

Luke pouted as you cleaned up his palm. “I’m stupid,” he replied lowly, and your grip on his hand loosened.

A bit of heat climbed up to your cheeks at the skin-to-skin contact. Maybe you hadn’t been so observant on how Luke made you feel, but now you were starting to notice the excitement of being around him again. It felt heightened, like a sudden ecstasy high, and you feared the fall of leaving it all unresolved.

You liked the way he felt under your touch. His skin wasn’t too rough, nor too soft. You had held his hands plenty of times, but you never thought about it like this. You never thought about how his hands would feel on your cheeks or your waist, or even––

“Pet? Bleeding to death here.”

“Shit, sorry,” you gasped, grip once again tight on his wounded palm. “Um, okay, here.” You sprayed a bit of disinfectant on the cut before wiping it clean with a bunched-up roll of toilet paper. The laceration continued to bleed as you wrapped it over and over with gauze.

“Real nurse, you are,” Luke said, patting you on the back as he passed you. “Don’t deserve you.”

Your brain clouded with thoughts. Luke deserved everything in the world. You wanted to give him everything in the world. This time, things were going to be different. You weren’t going to lose him again.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Hm?”

You turned to him, eyes examining his relaxed features before you made your way over to him in the hallway. Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist as you pressed yourself against him, and he was quick to receive your hug. His arms were strong against your shoulders, his chin nestled atop your head while he let out a satisfied––possibly happy––sigh. The two of you rocked gently, and neither of you wanted to pull away for quite some time.

When you did, he was smiling.

“Really missed you, Pet,” he said, tracing his fingers along your cheek before pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. “You’ve no fuckin’ idea.”

-

You hadn’t seen Luke cry in ten years.

When adolescence met your teens, he figured out how to hide his honest emotions. He hardly spoke about the things that bothered him, but you were young, and you didn’t question his coping tactics. You hadn’t seen him cry in ten years, so you assumed he couldn’t remember how.               But now, he was a few people away from you on a pew of your old church, eyes red and cheeks slick with tears. The quivering of his lips as his dad spoke about fond memories of his brother made your heart sink in your chest. You ached to reach over and hold his hand, but he was too far, and you were crying as well.

And the lunch afterwards was bad. Luke sat beside you, fingers drumming on the table with his face contorted in thought. He did his best to nod and smile when the friends of his uncle came to spark a conversation, yet he didn’t speak to you. No matter how many times you glanced his way, hopeful to get his attention, he kept his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on his knees. He refused to eat the slice of cake you set down for him.

His uncle was the only topic of conversation for the rest of the day.

You felt like an unwanted guest, mostly by him, at the dinner table. Stories continued to be told, and Luke’s fingers still rapped against the cherry wood. When you looked over at him, something tugged. A wave of nerves washed over you every time he crossed your mind. It was inappropriate, but you thought about his skin on yours again, knuckles grazing your cheeks down to your stomach. You thought about the curve of his lips when he pouted or grinned, and you forced yourself to nudge the thoughts away when the heat would climb to your face. The nerves were a bit too much to handle.

The laughter and chatter tore you away from his features.

But, with your hands deep in sudsy water, and with Luke beside you as he dried the dishes with a hand towel, the melted tension thickened again. Words fought their way to the tip of your tongue, yet they soon dissolved as your nerves resurfaced. You were sure you spent a good five minutes just searching for the right thing to say.

“Your uncle was a really–– “ You sighed and gazed up to read Luke’s expression. His actions paused, but his face remained still. “He was a really great guy. Let me name his pittie Pinky. He even threw me a birthday party when–– “

“—can we— can we not talk about him?” Luke interjected, eyes shut tightly as he held the damp plate against his chest. “At least, not right now?”

Your lips parted at his request, and you ceased your actions of washing dishes to peer up at him. Under the glow of the dull light above his sink, he looked untouchable. His forehead, although slightly shiny from the long day, had little a crease, and the apples of cheeks were simply rosy and fragile like porcelain. You wanted to trace the lines and edges just lightly enough so they wouldn’t crack.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, and his eyes met yours. Soft chatter could be heard from the den in his basement, so there was no need to be hushed; you felt as though the world had fallen asleep, and you and Luke were the only two people left awake.

Four whole days had passed since your arrival. You were content— comfortable in his company, and then you ruined it by opening your mouth to speak. And, the butterflies had complete control over your mind. It was Luke, just Luke, but it wasn’t the same between you two. You could feel it now.

You were content, but the air felt so heavy.

Luke sighed, his eyes still trained on you as your hands slipped back into the sudsy water. But the dishes had been done, so you pulled the drain and dried your hands.

“Can we talk about–– about something?” he asked you. His own voice fell into a whisper, and his gaze burned through you.

You nodded, facing him with your hip against the counter. The rest of the room was pitch black except for this little area, yet you felt as you could see every inch of him. You could see the internal battle his brain fought back; it was showing in his frown.

And then he glanced down, his burning gaze leaving you to scorch his socks instead.

“What do you wanna talk about?” You tried to smile, and you thought you had hinted at it in your tone. You just wanted to cheer him up. “Petunia? Bentley? Maybe your fans— “

“No,” he said and shook his head. Eventually, his chin lifted, and his small pout was still evident. It was cute, but you wanted to erase it.

You nodded again, breath catching in your throat. The space between you and Luke felt a little smaller than it had before. Your eyes met his, and the heaviness tightened in a twisting grip. You couldn’t look away.

It seemed as though years had passed. And then his hand met your cheek, fingers curling in to barely brush your skin as his other hand rose slowly behind. His thumb grazed the skin beneath your eye, and he started to lean in.

All thoughts froze as his lips captured yours in a gentle kiss. Your body ignited, and he pulled away just barely before closing the gap once again. Nothing was rushed, nor desperate as his lips melted against yours in a heartwarming kiss. His kisses were the kind you longed for on sleepless nights. They were kind, soft, and they left you wanting more.

Your hands went up to hold his wrists when your lips parted again, but no one made an effort to move back in. However, you were unable to move. You could feel his breath on your skin while you attempted to understand what had happened.

“I—,” you started to whisper, moving back slightly to catch his eye. The pinkish hue on his cheeks had darkened.

A lazy smile found its way on his lips as you fought to say what you were feeling. He had left you speechless, and he knew it.

He kissed you again. When the two of you returned to the den where you parents sat and shared stories, he made sure to never leave your side.

-

“Can–– can you call me when you land?”

Your knuckles were pale from your tight grip around the handle of your suitcase. Strangers rushed by the two of you, eager to join the large line at security in order to catch their flights. But you didn’t want to join them. You didn’t want to be at the airport whatsoever.

“I–– yeah,” you whispered before Luke nudged your chin with his fingers to get you to look at him. When you met his gaze, you immediately fell into him. Your hands met around his shoulders, and you were furious. Furious because you had yet to familiarize yourself with his embrace, and now, you wouldn’t get the chance.

“Pet,” he murmured. “I’m gonna visit as soon as I can. Promise.”

You nodded. “I-I know. It’s just–– “ You glanced up at him. “It was all natural again, y’know? It was like we were young and stupid, and–– “

Luke’s lips met yours before you could finish your final thought. With his arms around your waist and his body against yours, it felt like home again. The world held warmth, and your heart felt complete, and it was all being stripped away.

“A promise is a promise, Lu,” you whispered, pulling back to look at him. “I don’t wanna lose you again.”

A soft smile spread on his cheeks, and he kissed your forehead before saying, “ya won’t lose me, Pet. I’ve been yours since the day we met. I’ll always be yours. Don’t you worry, not one bit.”