#thankfully a lady got out her car to put some distance between them too

[algrenion]

i love Glasgow so much and it will always be my home but jesus christ man i have witnessed two physical assaults from my window in the last three days and it's like "oooh hsss ahh that's... yeah i guess it's not like... perfect..."

[eggtoasties]

Pairing: Miya Atsumu X Reader

Rating + Notes: T: mentions of swearing, nausea, vomit but FLUFF

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After getting his wisdom teeth removed, the score is: Miya Atsumu: 0, Miya Osamu: 2

“Remember when ya’ almost threw up in m’ car?” Atsumu asks from the passenger seat, lowering the volume of the music and grinning.

“God, shut up. I thought you promised not to bring that up again,” she huffs, eyes focused on the road.

“Well anyways,” he says sunnily, sticking his hand out the open window, “I won’t need this.” He kicks at the plastic bag she brought for emergencies. “When Samu got his wisdom teeth out a few years back, he was high for like, two hours then jus’ passed out for 10 hours. An’ besides ya’ almost yakking in my car,” he looks at her over his sunglasses, “ya’ also just slept. So, this is gonna be easy breezy,” he sing songs, kicking his feet up on the dash.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, “you’re already such a handful, you better be well behaved.”

Waiting in the lobby together, Atsumu absentmindedly thumbs through a gossip magazine and peers over her shoulder at her phone.

“If I act all loopy, will ya’ video me so I can show the team?” resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You better not, I have to drive us back. And besides,” she says, turning her head towards him, “thought you said this’ll be easy breezy?”

Atsumu throws a cocky grin and rests his hands behind his head, sprawling in his seat. “Yeah, yer right babe.”

Getting called in from the lobby, Atsumu stands up. He hands her his phone and throws her a wink. She rolls her eyes but shouts after him.

“Good luck!”

.

After forty minutes, Atsumu is escorted back into the lobby with two dental assistants next to him.

“He’s pretty lucid after the surgery, so you’re free to take him home,” the one in green scrubs says. “Here’s a pamphlet on what he can and can’t do, eat, and drink and here’s gauze,” he finishes, handing the items to her.

“How’re you holding up, Miya-san?” the assistant in blue scrubs asks.

Atsumu has a dazed expression on his face, lids half dropping—almost reminiscent of his twin. Looking between the two assistants holding his shoulders, his eyes finally registered who was in front of him.

“Oi, yer real pretty,” he drawls, head tilting to one side.

Trying not to let the heat rise to her face, she turns her head ignoring the amused glances from the dental assistants.

“We’ll help him to your car,” one of them says.

Thankfully, Atsumu was compliant and walks relatively steadily to the passenger’s side. Strapping him in the assistants reminds her to call if any problems arise. Thanking them one last time she gets into her seat for the journey home.

“Hey,” she says softly, getting Atsumu’s attention, “how do you feel?”

He was resting the crown of his head on the head rest, chin jutting up towards the roof. Turning his head, he looks down at her with a bleary expression.

“’M fine, tol’ ya’ easy breezy,” he replies with a mouthful of gauze. “Lets g’ home an’ sleep,” drawing out the last word with a whine.

Chuckling, she puts the car in drive and heads home.

.

Turns out, Atsumu wasn’t the one who needed luck. She did. Twenty minutes into the ride, Atsumu taps into some drug induced energy. Writhing in his seat, trying to take out the gauze in his mouth, and repeatedly screaming that the doctors had stolen his tongue, she is at her wits end.

On the car ride to the appointment Atsumu had been going on about how since he and Samu had the same genes, it was only natural that he had the same subdued reaction to the anesthesia.

She questioned how true that was when his wisdom teeth didn’t grow until recent, years after Samu, to which he replied, “’M no geneticist, babe.”

Twenty minutes into the car ride with ten minutes to go, she whips her phone out at a red light and hits Video Call. Hearing, rather than seeing Osamu’s confused state, she shoves the phone in Atsumu’s hands, similar to an exasperated mother with a small child.

“Osamu. He’s a mess, do something about it,” she bites out, hitting the gas at the green light.

At her words Atsumu lets out an indignant screech and through the gauze he mutters, “Pretty ladies shouldn’t be so mean to the injured.”

“What am I supposed ta’ do with the idiot,” Osamu complains from the phone.

“I don’t know make him stop moving!”

From the corner of her eye she sees her boyfriend hunch over her phone and hold it extremely close to his face.

Squinting, he asks, “Why’re ya’ so ugly?”

A string of explicative comes pouring out her phone and Atsumu cackles, toppling over towards the middle console.

Clenching the wheel with two hands and taking a deep grounding breath, she repeats to herself like a mantra, five more minutes.

.

Finally pulling into the parking garage of their apartment complex, she was ready to pour herself a large glass of wine.

Atsumu and Osamu were still yelling, throwing playground insults about the other’s looks. She figures Atsumu’s claims about being the smarter twin has to be a lie and briefly rests her forehead on the steering wheel, summoning the strength to get her boyfriend to their apartment.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she catches Atsumu frowning and fixating out the window, ignoring Osamu. She leans over to unbuckle his belt and jumps in her seat when his shoulders and neck lurch forward. She lunges for the plastic bag and holds it under his mouth swearing.

“’Tsumu do you think you’re gonna puke or can you make it to the apartment?” she asks, praying it was just a bout of nausea.

“Yeah ‘mfine, ‘mfi—”

She lets out a screech as he throws up into the grocery bag and clamps down on her own gag reflex. After a minute, Atsumu throws his head back into the head rest and looks at her with spit dripping down the side of his lip.

“The gauze left me.”

“Yes,” she responds gingerly, tying the bag carefully. “I see that.”

Leaving the car as fast as possible to throw the bag away, she catches Osamu howling through the phone.

“Ya’ absolute scrub,” he chokes out between heaving breaths.

.

Hours later after rinsing out Atsumu’s mouth, shoving gauze back in without getting her fingers bitten, and forcing him in bed, he blearily comes out of the bedroom into the living room.

Nursing a glass of wine and watching some reality program she peers at him over the rim.

“Well,” she asks, “are you done?”

Stepping carefully towards her, he sits next to her with his hands in his lap.

Cheeks swollen he mutters, “’M sorry.”

She hums and swirls her stem. She’s not angry, but seeing Atsumu puffy and shy is filling her with an unbridled amount of glee. Leaning her head on his shoulder and noticing how he melts into her, he presses a kiss into her hair.

“Thank ya’ for takin’ care of me,” he whispers.

Before she can respond, their phones vibrate. Both getting a message from Osamu, they share a concerned glance before tapping at the message.

It’s a shaky video of Atsumu. The angle is low and unflattering and Atsumu’s staring out into the distance until he gags and a plastic bag obscures his face from view.

Atsumu stares at his phone in disbelief as text bubbles pops up.

From Osamu: HAHA u ugly SCRUB

From Osamu: sent this to ur whole team too better give your girl some apology flowers LOSER

Groaning, Atsumu buries his head into her lap as she laughs. Shoulder shaking, she cards a hand through his hair.

“I’ll get ya’ yer favorite,” he mumbles.

Leaning towards his head, she kisses his temple and scratches his scalp. Her lips ghost the shell of his ear and she whispers, “Pick up dinner too.”

[mctherofdragons]

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny​ @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Daring - Chapter 3

This is the last chapter for Daring! If you haven't, read part one and two first 💛 This is just a very fluffy chapter with vanilla smut at the end (with love for all of you who got whiplash from my last fic).

CW for alcohol consumption, language, talk of loss/trauma, sex and SPOILER WARNING for Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water. I will spoil the ending for the movie here so if you want to watch it first and haven't yet, now's the time! Honestly, it's an amazing movie and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, so lmk if you have ~thoughts~

Chapter 3 - Home

The days until Thursday went just as excruciatingly slow as the days before your first date had. The only difference was that now you knew what to expect. Or did you? You knew she liked you, too. Wanted you, too. She had told you every night on the phone. Every day after you finished at work you waited patiently for Abby to get off her shift, too. She was on day shifts at the moment, usually from 6 am to 4 pm, but more often than not it took a few hours longer.

Abby was very kind with her patients, often taking people back home from the hospital or helping them get accommodated in their hospital rooms. It cost her a lot of time, but when she told you how grateful they all were you could hear how much she cared.

“I’m telling you Y/N, she actually cried in my arms. This poor old lady, I think she must have been over 80. She could barely raise her arms to put on the gown, the fall had stunned her pretty bad.”

You and Abby were cooking on FaceTime, or rather you were pouring yourself some cereal and Abby was making pasta with fresh tomatoes and herbs. You wished you were there.

“I hope she recovers fast,” you said, pouring in the milk. “It must be awful, being away from home in that state.”

“Yeah,” Abby sighed, “but she luckily didn’t break anything. It’s horrible though, the way elderly people bruise. She is going to have every single step of those stairs visible on her torso for at least a week.”

You took your phone and bowl, using your elbow to open the door to your room. Leah winked at you from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and water dripping from her hair. She was going out with Nora and Jordan, seeing some action movie.

“You’re incredible for taking the time to help her. Did she really have no one else?”

Abby sprinkled some basil into her pasta sauce.

“I don’t think so. She was pretty confused, but she said her daughter lives in New York and she didn’t want me to call her. I’m gonna check on her tomorrow when I have a minute between calls.”

“Oh speaking of…” You leaned back against your headboard and propped up your phone against your thigh, staring into your bowl. “Are we still on tomorrow?”

Abby laughed quietly.

“Baby, I’ve been counting the hours. I can’t wait.” You felt a pull in your stomach at the name. She had never called you baby before. Looking at her, you could see she was trying to hide her nervousness. You smiled at her.

“When can I come over?”

“I hope I get off at 5 and they don’t rope me into an emergency in the last minute of my shift. I’ll just call you as soon as I head out and you can come over straight away. I’ll buy all the groceries we need tonight.”

“Hey, I can -” you protested, but Abby cut you off.

“No, you just grace me with your presence, that’s enough. You don’t know the exact ingredients anyway.”

You smiled and finished your cereal. You couldn’t wait.

-

Abby called you at 6 pm, still sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner.” Little strands of hair had fallen out of her braid and framed her face, some of them looking damp with sweat. There was a flush on her face and dark circles loomed under her eyes. You felt just a little bit guilty, having stayed up with her on facetime until after midnight the night before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not the one working extra hours. How was your shift?”

“Honestly? Terrible.” You knew Abby was not one to complain, so that really had to mean something. You saw her sway in the seat as the ambulance pulled into the garage and finally came to a halt. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’ll be home in half an hour, so just come over whenever you want. I’ll leave the front door unlocked in case I’m still in the shower.”

A prickle went over your skin at the thought, but you quickly pushed it away. Abby was obviously exhausted, this was not the time to imagine her and you in a shower.

“Are you sure you really want to cook? We could just order takeout and call it a night.”

Abby considered it for a moment. It had to have been the worst day. She quickly spoke to the person next to her in the driver’s seat, then you heard the car door being shut. Abby looked back at you.

“Abby. Let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft. You wished you could brush the loose strands of hair behind her ear. The blonde sighed and unfastened her seatbelt.

“Just come over, okay? We can decide then. I just want you with me.”

You jumped up and grabbed the bag you had already prepared for sleeping over, a bottle of Merlot on top of your clothes.

“I’m on my way. I can’t wait to see you,” you said as you struggled to put on your shoes with one hand.

“See you soon,” Abby smiled and ended the call.

You called out a goodbye to Leah and she yelled back “Go get her!” Smiling to yourself, you closed the door behind you and rushed to the train station.

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seat of the train, you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous, just like the last time. But this time was different, you reminded yourself. This time you could make your way straight into Abby’s arms, straight to her lips. You secretly checked your breath in your hand. The train arrived both too quickly and not fast enough.

After knocking at the front door twice without any answer, you made your way inside the house. Abby had told you to just come in, but you felt like an intruder nonetheless. Where could you wait without taking up space that wasn’t hers?  You didn’t want to be sitting there like a movie villain when she came down. You called out but there was no answer, only the bass of a rock song playing upstairs and the sound of water rushing through pipes in the wall.

Deciding to make your presence as visible as possible, you dropped your bag on the stairs and took the bottle of the wine to the kitchen. Abby’s heavy paramedic jacket was thrown over a chair and her keys were on the table. An empty glass was standing next to them, water droplets running down on the outside and leaving a wet ring on the wooden surface. You picked it up and placed it in the sink, drying the spot with a tea towel. Then you took out two wine glasses from the cupboard you had put them into after cleaning up the last time and put them on the counter. You leaned against it, wondering what you should do now.

Thankfully, you heard the water shut off upstairs and a few seconds later there was the soft thump of naked heels on tile floor. You decided just to wait until Abby came down. It only took two minutes, then you heard her on the stairs. She slowed when she reached the bottom, probably noticing your bag.

“Y/N?” Her voice was light, but there was excitement in it, carefully restrained.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands and reached for the bottle, then realized you didn’t have an opener and you probably wouldn’t be able to use one either. You let your arms drop to your side and Abby entered the kitchen, stopping a few steps from you.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing a light grey cutoff shirt and dark navy sweatpants. Her hair was still wet and hung loosely over her shoulders, darkening the cotton where it touched the fabric. Her face was still tired and her shoulders slumped slightly, but her eyes had lit up at the sight of you.

“You’re here!” She held out her hands, still not moving from her spot.

You closed the distance and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her neck.

“I’m here,” you mumbled and Abby’s arms closed around you, encasing you completely. She smelled wonderful, moisture still evaporating from her skin and warmth spreading from her body to yours where you touched. Your excitement didn’t falter, but your nervousness did. A wave of calm came over you. You were here.

“I’m sorry your day was so terrible,” you murmured, lips brushing the skin of Abby’s throat just above the neckline of her shirt. “Wanna spend the rest of it on the couch?”

Her upper body fell forward into you and her forehead came to rest on your shoulder. She nodded and you gave her waist a gentle squeeze before drawing back, resting your foreheads together and cradling her cheek with your hand.

“Come on, then. Let’s order you some food. I brought wine as well if you want some.”

Abby sighed.

“I’d love some.”

You wanted to step aside and take the glasses to the living room but Abby’s arms around you tightened and the corner of her mouth lifted.

“You’re an angel,” she whispered. And then she kissed you.

It was sweet, gentle, and tired, her lips soft and warm. You melted into her, both of you clinging to each other for a moment until Abby pulled away smiling. She took the bottle of wine and rummaged through a drawer for the opener. You held the glasses and watched her open the bottle, brows knit together and her tongue peeking out between her lips. It was both adorable and incredibly hot. You sat down on the large sofa together and Abby poured both of you a generous amount, then you clinked glasses and the blonde stole another kiss.

“Alright,” you unlocked your phone, “what are you craving?”

Abby gave you an amused look before she let her head fall back on the sofa cushion and thought for a second.

“Do you like Mexican food? Burritos?”

“Love it,” you said, searching for the closest restaurant and checking their website for delivery service. Abby just hummed in approval when she saw which one you had picked out. You placed the order together, Abby’s right hand never releasing yours as she clumsily used her left to pick her food. When the order was sent, you threw your phone to the foot of the sofa.

“So,” you said, turning to your side in order to get a better look at the blonde. “Wanna tell me about work?”

Abby sighed and opened her arm for you to crawl into. You gladly scooted closer, resting your head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her stomach. When she spoke, you could feel the thrum of her voice in her chest.

“I went in early to check on the old lady who fell yesterday and found out she’d fallen again last night. She hadn’t told anyone because she was embarrassed, but I could tell something was wrong. Turns out her arm was broken in three places. I had them call her daughter even though she begged me not to bother her. I don’t know what her daughter is like, but I hope she takes care of her.”

You hummed and pushed yourself even closer to Abby’s side.

“After that, we had a call because of a domestic violence case. The police were there already, it was horrible.”

She rubbed a hand over her face and you pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“After that, we had to go straight to another family dispute that ended in someone being stabbed with a steak knife. We got them to the hospital fast enough and it all went well in the end but I just hate cases that revolve around psychological trauma as well. All those family issues… I hate it.”

You could only imagine how horrible this must be for her after what had happened to her dad. Though you still didn’t know the whole story and you could probably find out easily by googling her name, you didn’t want to feel like an intruder in her past. She would tell you when she was ready.

“I’m glad you’re telling me about it,” you said, trying to sound firm and gentle at the same time.

Abby let out a little huff that sounded slightly surprised.

“Yeah, I don’t usually do that. Normally I would have just shoved all that into the back of my mind and tried to make this evening go perfect. Not that I don’t want to put in the effort with you-”

“I know,” you interrupted her, raising your head to smile at her, noses brushing against each other. “I think this is perfect. You are.”

You moved in for a kiss and Abby placed a hand on the back of your head, holding you gently as your lips touched. She deepened the kiss soon, breath going a little faster as her arms pulled you even closer. You threw your leg over her thigh, half on top of her now. Her tongue was smooth and hot against yours and when her teeth scraped over your bottom lip, you let out a whimper that she caught in another kiss. Feeling bold, you finally moved on top of Abby, straddling her thigh and placing your hands left and right of her flushed face. You rolled your hips forward and she made a guttural sound, low and hungry.

Her hands were all over you, pressing between your shoulder blades, wrapping around your waist, grabbing your hips to make you grind forward again, then finally cupping your ass and digging her fingers into the muscle. You stopped trying to keep yourself from panting and leaned forward to kiss Abby’s jaw, then the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She drew up her leg behind you, pressing her thigh between your legs, and you whimpered into her ear.

“Abby,” you whispered, “what are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” she murmured against your cheek, “anything, baby.”

You could hear your pulse drumming in your ears as you kissed the blonde fiercely, then moved your lips over that chiseled jaw again before biting the delicate skin of her throat. You dragged your tongue over her pulse point, actually feeling the beat of her heart fluttering against your sensitive nerve endings. She smelled intoxicating, warm, and earthy, and it made you want to take her in completely, to drown in her and never come to the surface again.

Her hands were on your hips again, guiding them against hers as she let out another low moan, lips parted and pupils blown as she looked at you with a mixture of amazement and pure, burning desire. You let your hands wander down her torso, trailing your fingers along the hem of her shirt and slipping them underneath. Abby’s skin was radiating heat, her stomach flexing beneath your touch.

“May I?” You asked, your voice breathless. Abby just nodded, lifting her arms over her head and arching her back so you could push the fabric up, revealing her broad frame, toned abs, and a black sports bra. You threw the shirt to the side and fell back onto her, your chests pressing together as you enveloped her in another heated kiss. You ground down against her thigh, the seam of your jeans pressing against all the right places. Abby’s hands were on your back again, broad and warm and reassuring.

You stayed like that for a while, melting into each other, catching the other’s breath, and trying to move in ways that would get the other to moan even though you were both still shy and careful about making noise. Abby twisted her pelvis ever so slightly so you could keep riding her thigh and hit her hipbone at the front of every movement. You responded by pulling her damp hair and making her hiss before she pulled you in and kissed you fiercely.

“God, Abby…” Heat was pooling at the bottom of your stomach and there was a sudden, almost painful sensitivity to your core. Pleasure had sneaked up on you without you noticing, completely surprising you with its intensity as Abby rolled her hips upward and you had no choice but to cry out. There was a hunger in her eyes, a triumphant glint and she held your face gently with one hand while the other was tight around your hip, guiding your movements against her and pressing into your flesh.

“Fuck, Abby, fuck, I’m so -” She swallowed your whimpers with another searing kiss, her tongue pressing into your mouth and her thumb stroking your cheek.

“Come on, baby, you’re so good, so beautiful, baby,” Abby mumbled against your lips, followed by more sweet compliments and hot kisses, her eyes always on yours. You found the perfect angle at last and dug your fingers into her shoulder, your moans going high and fast as you pressed your forehead to hers. She placed a last gentle kiss on your lips and you came undone on top of her. Her hands caught you easily, stroking you through your high, her lips caressing every inch of your face. Her skin was warm beneath you and slightly sweaty. You licked a small stripe up the side of her throat and kissed her jaw.

Abby pulled back just an inch to get a better look at your face, running her hands through your hair and over your cheeks, then down your shoulders and coming to rest around your waist.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” she said quietly and with a blissful smile. “An angel.”

Her gaze was so piercing, so raw and knowing that you suddenly had the urge to bury your face in your hands, to hide from this infinite feeling inside of you that you could see in Abby’s eyes as well. You forced yourself to hold her gaze and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I’ve never… this has never happened to me before,” you confessed softly. “You are doing things to me I never even dreamed of.”

Abby chuckled at that and caught your hand, kissing every knuckle and then the inside of your palm.

“We fit well, don’t we?” It was cautious, a step forward with no weight on it yet, a hand on a door handle.

“We do.” You grinned at her, and maybe it was the rush of the high that still hadn’t faded or a rare wave of courage, but you decided to rip open that door from the other side. You sat up and placed a hand on her sternum, feeling her heart thrum beneath your palm.

“Abby, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. You don’t have to have an answer right now, but just know that I’m already yours, no matter what.”

For a moment, Abby didn’t seem to fully comprehend. Then she frowned, the smile not fully leaving her lips but turning bittersweet. You felt your stomach drop. Had you spoken too soon?

“Y/N.” Abby’s hand covered yours on her chest. “I’d love nothing more.” A weight fell off your shoulders. Abby wasn’t done talking yet.

“I’m a difficult person to… be with. I’ve really put in all I had with you so far, but there are times when I will be cold and closed off and I won’t be able to let you in, to let anyone in. I don’t know if I could hurt you like that.” She squeezed your hand now, her eyes glossy. “I’m not saying this because I’m scared or unsure, I’m saying this to give you an out. Or at least some more time to really get to know what it’s like with me in your life. I can be exhausting. At least that’s what I’m told.”

You felt something hot flare up in your throat. That was not fair.

“Who told you that?”

“Owen. I mean, he’s the only person who knows what it’s like being with me and he certainly didn’t like it very much.” Even with her broad shoulders, her set jaw, all her muscles, she looked strangely small now. You felt like you were going to burst with rage.

“Abby, do you honestly think an ex’s opinion of you counts? To me? I don’t give a shit what Owen thinks because I’m not him and this is not the same thing. I get to decide what it’s like and so far it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” You placed both your hands on her cheeks and leaned forward. “Babe, stop trying to deny yourself happiness. You deserve to be happy. And if I make you happy, if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Abby sat up straight, her face now directly in front of yours, and wrapped her arms around you tightly. She blinked the tears away, a smile beginning to tug on her lips.

“You’re mine?”

“Only yours.”

She kissed you and you could feel her grin against your mouth, smooth teeth softly clicking against yours.

“Mine,” she mumbled and began trailing kisses down your throat, hands now wandering down your back and under your t-shirt where they immediately provoked goosebumps to spread over your entire body. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both of you pulled back with surprised faces.

“The food!” you realized and you had to laugh as you scrambled to get up from the couch. You had almost forgotten how hungry you were. Abby quickly pulled on her shirt, grabbed her wallet, and opened the door, hair wild and her lips still red and swollen. You hovered in the background, probably looking just as disheveled, and tried not to giggle like an idiot.

The delivery guy took one look at you and just gave Abby an amused smirk as he handed her the food. She tipped him generously and thanked him before closing the door and turning to you, both of you frozen in your spots for a second. Then you both burst out in laughter. Abby was next to you in three strides and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before you let yourself flop down on the sofa together. Abby had ordered two large burritos, you had chosen a vegetarian taco bowl and a big bag of tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole. While you unpacked all the food and laid it out on the coffee table, Abby turned on the TV and scrolled through the movie options.

After some looking around, you decided to watch The Shape of Water, which you hadn’t seen yet despite being a big Guillermo del Toro fan. You ate in silence, letting the film pull you into a cold war era story of a mute woman, her gay best friend, and a strange fish-human being in the facility she was a cleaner at. You generally avoided watching more artistic, less Hollywood-typical movies with other people in fear of them constantly ridiculing the story to hide their own discomfort with monsters, but Abby was just as immersed in the story as you were. Sally Hawkins was a fantastic actress and the amphibian man was beautifully designed and a fascinating character. Del Toro’s handwriting was all over the film - beautiful colors and cinematography, fairytale monsters next to very human, real-life ones, the fear of the Other and the idea that maybe if one just dares to look beyond, the Other may have a story to tell and love to give.

When you had finished your food, you snuggled up to Abby, occasionally feeding her chips with guacamole and kissing the salt from her lips. During the final scenes when the shooting happened, Abby tensed up next to you. You hadn’t even thought about movies possibly triggering her or making her uncomfortable. Fuck, you should have looked it up beforehand. Now all you could do was press your temple to her collarbone and wrap your arms around her as tightly as possible.

“Do you want to turn it off?” You mumbled, your thumb drawing circles on her ribcage. You could feel Abby shake her head.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. The movie is almost over anyway.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you close. The ending was beautiful and heart-wrenching and you shed a few tears, staining Abby’s shirt. She just smiled and kissed the tears from your cheeks.

“Did you like it?” You asked tentatively, not sure if the shooting may have ruined it for Abby.

“I loved it.” Her expression was warm. “That scene in which she talks about the way he sees her without any of her flaws, just her, and how her fight for his life is what makes her human was beautiful.”

“And then in the end she wasn’t human after all,” you added, “I’ve never really seen it that way around. Usually, the beast turns into a prince at the end. I always hate that. Why can’t the monster stay a monster after having proven their love and their honor and whatever else is needed to redeem them, you know?”

Abby thought about that for a moment, her eyes going unfocused.

“That’s true. In so many stories, all the things that make the monster monstrous are stripped away as soon as they have proven their worth and found true love. It doesn’t work like that in real life. We all have things inside that could deem us monsters and it’s only when we hope to have found love that we can dare to reveal them and hope the other person loves us anyway.”

Something warm spread inside you, reaching out to every corner of your body, every toe and every fingertip. You leaned in and kissed her gently.

“The silver plate.”

Abby looked confused for a second, then she remembered the things she had said during your last date.

“Yeah, my own monstrous silver plate.” She smiled. “Scared?”

“Not at all,” you grinned and climbed on top of her. “I’ll devour you.”

You pressed your lips to hers her and it quickly turned into another heated makeout session. Your limbs were tangled together and her hands roamed your body as you kissed her neck and when she finally asked: “can I?” you almost knocked your head against her jaw trying to sit up so she could take off your shirt.

Sitting up on her hips, you dragged your nail from her ear to the hem of her shirt, scratching the skin and making her hiss, eyes burning.

“Want to show me your bedroom?” you asked, trying not to lose your focus at the feeling of her hands wandering up your thighs. You yelped as Abby sat and stood up in one swift motion, arms secure around your waist and thighs so you’d stay pressed to her chest. You wrapped your legs around her and laughed into her mouth before she kissed you again.

The tall blonde carried you up the stairs like it was nothing, making soft noises when you bit into the soft skin just below her jaw.

“Y/N…” She kicked open a door and didn’t give you any time to look around, crawling on the bed and trapping you under her large body, attacking you with kisses, all teeth and tongue. It was glorious.

You pulled on Abby’s shirt until she grunted and took it off herself, then her hands were trailing the skin above the waistband of your jeans. More, more, more.

“Can I take those off?” Abby asked, sitting back on her knees between your legs.

“Please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips for better access, but Abby had other plans. She let her hands wander over your upper body, her fingers teasing your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette, then softly tickling your stomach on their way down. Finally, she opened the button of your jeans and slowly opened the zipper, her eyes flickering up to your face and back down to her hands.

“Come ooon,” you begged, “please, Abby.”

There was the hint of a smirk on her lips, but she complied and pulled off your jeans, both of you laughing as they caught around your ankles and Abby had to wrestle them off. Then Abby’s hand was on your foot and she held it in place on her shoulder, slowly kissing her way up your leg. Your breath got faster with every inch she came closer to your heated center, that place that had gotten a taste of what was to come and wanted more. She dragged her lips over your clothed core and your legs trembled, a gasp escaping you.

Abby took her time with you, kissing your stomach and chest before taking off your bralette and teasing your nipples with a gentle tongue and fluttering fingers. You were squirming beneath her, a mess of pleasure and want for more, begging her to touch you. Finally, she sat back up and hooked her fingers under the waistband of your panties, keeping eye contact and pulling them down slowly. Her gaze was burning, pupils wide, lips hanging open and breath going in shallow pants.

Her tongue was heaven, it was heat and silk and everything at once, enveloping you in waves of ecstasy and making you moan and bury your hands in her hair. She was gentle, cleaning up the mess you had made earlier and the one just now, broad tongue and small circles sending your hips up to meet her, her fingers around your thighs too far away.

“Abby, please…” you gasped and she looked up to meet your gaze. You melted inside.

“What do you want, baby?” Her voice was deep and husked, lips shining with your juices.

“Your fingers.” You gave her hand a light push downward and with a smile, she complied.

If you had thought you had already reached the pinnacle of pleasure, the best there was, you had been oh so wrong. Abby’s fingers were magical, teasing you and filling you up, stroking against that tender spot inside you, then slowing down as her tongue made you see stars, complying when you begged her for more, faster, harder. Your legs hadn’t stopped shaking in what felt like forever, your fingers were cramped into Abby’s beautiful blonde mane and you were crying out her name over and over again as she brought you to your peak, guiding you through it and moaning along with you as your juices covered her fingers and her tongue.

When she finally crawled back up to meet you, her arms were shaking slightly and her face was flushed. You still felt like you were somewhere far away, but her smile pulled you back to the present. She kissed you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Slowly, you let your hand wander down and play with the seam of her sweatpants and the hem of her boxers peeking out underneath.

“Wanna take these off?” you mumbled in her ear and you could see she was trying to keep her composure as she tried to get out of her pants as fast as possible before coming back to you. She stopped and looked unsure suddenly.

“Is it okay if I keep these on for now?” She gestured to her sports bra and underwear.

“Of course, baby. Can I touch you?” You whispered, one hand on the back of her neck as the other wandered lower. Abby nodded and kissed you again.

“Yes, please,” she whispered back. You slid your hand into her boxers and were greeted by wet heat, desire practically pooling in your palm. Both of you gasped at the same time, eyes flying open to meet each other’s, bodies grinding together.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” you cooed and watched Abby dissolve in front of you, blood shooting into her cheeks before she buried her face in your neck and began leaving lovebites on your throat. You dragged your fingers between her folds, relishing in the tiny noises she made whenever you touched her clit or came near her entrance.

You put all your strength into throwing Abby to the side and rolling on top of her, hand never leaving her center. She laughed in surprise and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in, and at that moment you slid a finger inside her. Her eyes went wide and the noise she made would visit your dreams for the rest of your days. You kept your lips wandering over her throat and back to her lips, pulling moan after moan from her with your fingers, gently pushing inside her and curling upward, your thumb drawing circles on her clit. After a while, you could see her abs flexing as her core convulsed rhythmically, her moans getting higher and breathless, her fingers digging into your waist.

“Will you come for me, Abby?” you whispered and kissed her again. Her hips bucked up into your hand and she made a strangled noise, then her legs clamped together around your fingers and she sighed, tongue darting out to brush against yours as you slowly pulled your hand from her sensitive core.

You threw your thigh over her hips and pressed your face into the crook of her neck, giving her time to breathe as you drew patterns on her bare stomach with your fingers.

“Baby…” she mumbled above you, voice vibrating through her chest. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

You grinned up at her and she brushed your hair behind your ear. Her gaze was full of love and adoration, like sunlight warming your skin, soft fingertips caressing your cheeks.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder so you could look at her. “You’re so careful.”

Abby smiled and followed the path of your fingers with her eyes.

“I’ve had other experiences in the past that made me realize how important it is to always check on your partner.” She looked down at her clothed hips. “Thank you for… not making this weird. I’m just… one step at a time.”

“Of course, baby.” You moved your lips closer to her ear. “I think it’s really fucking hot, you between my legs in those boxers, all muscles and freckles. But then when I touch you, you’re so needy, just a wet mess, coming on my fingers in your underwear.”

Abby let out a shaky breath, chest trembling at your words. She laced her fingers between yours and pressed them to her sternum.

“You leave me speechless every time,” she said, voice quiet and content.

“I love it.” You pulled the blanket up with your foot and covered both of your bodies up to your hips, yawning into her shoulder. Abby chuckled quietly.

“Do you need to set an alarm for tomorrow?” She reached over to the bedside table, then let her arm drop. “Our phones are still downstairs.”

You groaned and rolled onto your back before blinking up at Abby innocently, hoping she would go and get them. She just laughed and got up, stretching her arms and making the muscles on her back dance beautifully.

“You need to go pee,” she said with raised eyebrows. You sighed and lazily rolled out of bed, pulling the blanket up around you.

Abby showed you the bathroom across the hall and made her way down the stairs, a bounce in her step. You could hear her clean up the takeout containers and throw away the trash in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a noise outside, a deep voice and the jingle of keys at the door. You froze with the towel in your hands. The front door opened and Manny tried to stay quiet in that completely ineffective way most men do, dropping his shoes with loud thumps and whispering into his phone so loudly you could hear every word.

“Hi, Manny,” Abby said in the hallway. Keys dropped to the floor with a clunk.

“Dios mio! What the hell are you doing sneaking around here, Abby? You just get back from the gym?” You could hear her laugh quietly as he tried to catch his breath.

“I could ask you the same. Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?”

You snuck back into her bedroom on tiptoes, wrapping the blanket around you tightly and staying near the door to hear the conversation downstairs.

“Had to go early, my dad had a hot date tonight.” You could actually hear his grin.

“Yeah, well, me too.” Abby’s voice was dry, but you could tell she wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Really? Y/N? How'd it go?” A pause, then another loud whisper - “holy shit, she still here?

“Y/N, Manny’s home!” Abby’s raised voice rang through the house. You grinned. She knew you were listening.

“Hi, Manny!” You looked around for any clothes you could throw on quickly but came up empty. Sighing, you checked your blanket placement and went to the top of the stairs, looking down at Manny and Abby in the entrance hall.

Abby was still just in her sports bra and boxer shorts but didn’t seem to mind at all. Manny wore sweatpants and a green sweater, along with a hat that said women want me, fish fear me. Behind him were two large bags, one of them clearly full of fishing equipment. His smile lit the room.

“Hi Y/N, nice seeing you here. You two have a good night?”

You nodded and he made a knowing ah-ha sound. Abby elbowed him and red spots formed on her neck.

“Well, I’m gonna eat something and pass out. Breakfast tomorrow?” He threw a hopeful look in Abby’s direction. “When does your shift start?”

“Noon, I get late shift for the next two weeks. Y/N, what about you?” Both of them looked up at you and you shifted your weight, very aware of the way you looked right now.

“I just need to study, I can sleep in for once.”

Abby nodded and patted Manny’s shoulder.

“Breakfast at 10.”

She came up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and grinning from ear to ear. Manny vanished into the kitchen, continuing to scream-whisper into his phone. You made out the words “finally… girl is here” before Abby simply picked you up and carried you back to bed, kicking the door closed behind her.

You snuggled up together and Abby stroked your hair while she told you about her friendship with Manny and how glad she was to have him. He had been there for her through everything and he had wanted her to make a move and ask you out for weeks. You felt yourself drift away slowly.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” you mumbled, hand stroking Abby’s chest.

“Me too, baby. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.” The bliss in her voice was the same you felt in your heart.

“Finally.” You craned your neck for a last kiss and melted beneath Abby’s soft lips and warm hands.

She held you wrapped tightly in her arms, almost as if she was scared you could vanish in the night. As if you'd ever leave her now. The last thing you thought before falling asleep was that you were finally home.

-

Author's note: Have you seen The Shape of Water? Did you like it? Let me know here 💌 If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here 🤎

[heresathreebee]

Wearing THAT

[Dewey Finn X Female Reader]

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You have a really hard time saying exactly what you want... Masterlist Next

Word count: 3.1k words (no beta) 

Warning(s): 17+ | teasing, lots of teasing and boners, lap sitting, near nudity, touching

AN: only Thots here, thots about Dewey Finn also is Ned British? He's British in my head

This was some sort of test. It had to be. God was testing him through you and you were not playing fair. It’s a costume party not a competition, you pompous little sycophant. And yet he can’t help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It’s not even anywhere near his throat but why else would he feel so constricted? It’s certainly not because of you…

You walked into his shared apartment wearing that and you had no idea the effect it had on him. 

Dewey watches you sling an arm around Ned and kiss Patty’s cheek in greeting. “Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been dying to put this on.” 

“Oh you look lovely,” Patty coos. She plucks at one of the plastic leaves on your corset. “Did you make this?! It’s so intricate.” 

You bark out a laugh. “Oh hell no! I have this cousin, right? And him and his fiancé own this shop where they make costumes for movies and theatre and if you pay ‘em right, ‘personal use.’ And they don’t ask questions what ain’t their business either.” 

“Well, I’m sold.” Ned raises his beer for a toast and Patty clinks it with her bottle of mysterious green juice. “Prost! What’s the name of the shop? Wanna see if they’re online– you know, for... support.” 

“Ned,” Patty swatted his empty hand (no need to be shy, we already know they’re freaky). 

You pat your friends on their backs and take a step towards the kitchen. “Gonna get myself a beer.” 

“Oh honey you don’t have to do that. Dewey!” The man in question nearly covered himself in his own drink when he heard his name. “Be a good host and get this lady her beer!” 

“Yes captain,” Dewey salutes and Patty can do nothing but glare in her Star Trek yellow shirt costume. Original series, of course, nothing but the best for Patricia Di Marco. 

Dewey takes a hold of the moment he has his back to you to take deep, calming breaths. He will not let this be the end of him. Your friendship means so much more to him than that and a little fancy green corset was not going to make him fuck things up with you. 

He’s ready for you when he hands you your beer. Your one arm hug is appreciated because he’s sporting a bit of wood and he’d hate to find out your corset isn’t thick enough to hide it– or god forbid you feel him on your thigh. And god, your thighs… those sheer green nylon tights were doing unspeakable things to him. Maybe if he kept you close and kept your legs out of his peripherals he could make it through the night without embarrassing himself. 

Or maybe not. 

“Are yoooouuu a college student?,” you ask and point at his inconspicuous clothes. 

“Actually– ” he opens the buttons of his shirt to reveal another shirt with a superman logo on it and buttons it back up clumsily as you laugh. “Ssshhh! Don’t tell anybody. Protect my secret.” 

“Of course,” you giggle. God you feel good hanging off him– usually he loves how physical you are but he has to figure out a way to keep his distance without offending you and quickly. “You like mine?” 

The way you pick up a thick swirling red lock and direct his attention to the very thing he’s trying not to look at is killing him. Of course you look even better up close. The leaves of your corset give the thing depth and texture, your gloves are fingerless and go over your elbows, and your heels are high, like make- him- feel- his- below- average- height high. 

“I like these.” Dewey plucks at the ring of leaves at the top of your gloves. It’s a way to keep his mind off your everything else. “Did you dye your hair?” 

“It’s a wig.” You tug on the top and then the bottom, wincing a little. “Sew in, so don’t go snatch it.” 

“I would never!” 

“Poison Ivy, eh? Think that’s one of Dewey’s favorites,” Ned blabs. 

Dewey sends him a death glare so powerful Ned chokes on his beer but you’re looking at your Spock-dressed friend so you can’t see it. 

“Oh, really?” You return your gaze to Dewey and say, “well you must be loving this, then.” 

Dewey swallows. No words come to him and there is nothing to stop the awkward silence that follows. You appear unbothered by it, maintaining eye contact as you smile almost knowingly… 

“We should play twister,” he says with the most unsure voice ever. 

“We don’t even have twister,” Patty mumbled. “Come on, there are like twenty other games setup, let’s play!” 

~

Dewey gives it a minute and when he’s free from you, he catches Ned by his pointy green ear and drags him into the hall. “Hey? What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Whah– what are you talking about?” Ned slaps at the hand fisted in his shirt but Dewey doesn’t budge. 

“You can’t just go telling people I’m into them, dude! Do you know how close you came to giving me away?!”

Ned scoffed. “Her? I hardly think she’s ignorant to your feelings, you’re not like that Steven from Austin fellow.” 

“– Are you talking about stone cold Steve Austin?"Dewey buries his face in his hands- "It’s his last name, not his birthplace–” 

“And besides…” Ned peeks around the corner to see you in the middle of some sort of posing game. Everybody's trying to take the form of some sort of vehicle, and you've got Chloe in a headlock and Vance's leg in the other hand. Ned never got to finish his thought because someone dropped a huge bowl of popcorn and that too became a game of ‘how many can you eat off the floor before Patty cleans it up.’ Ned’s got to help and he’s got to help now. 

Dewey finds himself on the couch with his fifth beer of the evening. Vance, Jeremiah, and Chloe are talking baseball stats when suddenly Dewey’s vision is filled with green and red just before you sit down. Right between his legs. He unconsciously scoots up to make room for you and before he catches on to your game, you nestle into his space by the arm of the couch and sling your legs across his like you belong there. 

Ok, something is definitely up with you. 

Would he describe you as cuddly? A little. Perhaps a more appropriate word would be… hands on. Long before he started wanting more than friendship with you, you two were always just touching. Your presence and your love language was physical. Dewey never felt like you were invading his personal space or overstepping his boundaries because he simply had none with you and the feeling was mutual. But this was something else. Something that wasn’t there before. 

Was it him? Was he fucking up his perfectly in sync companionship with you because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or (his heart for that matter)? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you closer or push you flat on your ass right now. 

You were listening to Chloe chew Vance out for hating Gritty the mascot when you felt Dewey plant a hand on your forehead. “Hey, are you feeling ok?” 

You gently shake him off and raise a single eyebrow. He seems serious, his voice gone all soft and making you feel gooey inside. 

“You just seem… I dunno,” he fumbles, “do you want me to take you home after this?”

Hellooooo opening! “Actually, can I stay here tonight?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Fuck, who said that? Dewey? Ah, shit… 

 “Thanks,” oh oh you should not be rubbing his thigh right now… “I think I’ll go change here in a minute.”

Oh please do, please please puh-leeaaase–  

~

After a brilliant movie drinking game (which Dewey tapped out of), the crowd began to disband. 24 became 20, then 18, then 12. You went out to your car to grab your overnight stuff and Dewey was hoping for a brief reprieve from the assault of your visage. He just needed a few more people to leave so he can sequester himself and rub one out– you know, get his head straight. Ever since you left his lap he’s been rock hard, there’s not enough blood flowing to his brain. The guest count is down to 3– 2 with you in your car, and he can’t wait anymore. 

Dewey slipped into the only bathroom in the house and prayed to god nobody noticed him. He barely got his hand wrapped around his shaft when Patty’s fist banged on the door demanding he help clean up. Sulking and agitated, Dewey managed to calm down while cleaning up red solo cups, glass beer bottles, cans, and small pocket sized objects that would need to be returned to the guests after their hangovers subsided (no keys, thankfully, everybody’s got a DD). His “predicament’ is nearly forgotten when you finally return with a bundle of clothes, disappear into the bathroom and reemerge in loose sleepwear with your makeup wiped clean and uh… braless. 

You catch him looking. Dewey– surprisingly sober after he gave up drinking half way through his sixth beer– does nothing short of raise a slightly irritated eyebrow at you. “Cold in here, huh?” 

“Shut up. You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep in a bra?” 

You help him collect a couple bottles that rolled under the couch and walk with him down to Ned’s car. Patty would sort the recyclables from the trash in the morning (late morning, she did a couple rounds of tequila shots thanks to you). It’s almost like the party never happened; you’re shooting the shit again and everything is right in the world. He’s got no ulterior reaction to putting a hand on your hip– that’s just a normal thing in your perfectly platonic relationship. God, he really must have been imagining things, he was beginning to think you were actually trying to flirt with him! 

Ned’s bent over the kitchen sink with Patty and holding her hair back. He looks up as you enter the apartment and shakes his head. You and Dewey make yourself scarce by slipping into the shared bathroom to hide. You try to giggle quietly as Dewey surveys the skincare products you covered the counter with. He points to your head and asks, “you wearing that to bed?” 

“It’s sewed in, I’m not taking this off for three weeks at least,” you answer. “Get my money’s worth. I can work it like my natural hair.” 

Dewey nods. You rub your arm nervously and look for something to say, something to circle back to the whole point of showing up looking like a sexed up goddess. What do guys like? Girls wearing their clothes, right? But you need to phrase it perfectly… 

“Dewey?” He looks up from the scrubby lip balm in his hands. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet and it… it is a little chilly in your place. Can I wear your jacket?” 

Just to bring your meaning home, you tug on his sleeve– the very jacket on his back. You don’t want just any jacket, you want that one, already warm and scented by him. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance past you like he was reluctant to comply. And yet… 

“Yeah, here.” He slips out of it with ease and drapes it over your shoulders. You miss the sigh of relief he makes when you pull the zipper closed and obscure your pebbling nipples. “Think I’m gonna go help Ned put Patty to bed.” 

Ned was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t carry her by himself, and she needed to be carried. Competitive by nature, it’s easy to talk her into virtually anything, especially if it feels like girl time. You need Patty in a deep sleep for your plans tonight (sorry not sorry). Dewey’s very sexy as he bears most of Patty’s weight. She’s clinging to Ned, arms around his neck and babbling incoherently while Dewey’s got an arm around her waist and legs, keeping Ned on his feet. You skirt ahead of them and open the bedroom door, help pull her shoes off, her captain insignia, her earrings, you even wipe the spit from her lips and the eyeliner smeared on her cheek. 

“You’re my favorite ever,” she whimpers, “I love you so much, you’re like my best friend ever…” 

You shush her gently. “You say that about everybody when you’re drunk, baby. I promise I’ll make you a fat breakfast in the morning but you gotta go to sleep now, OK?” 

Patty nods. She snuggles into her pillow just as Ned is taking up position as the big spoon when she looks back up at you and asks, “can we go for a run together?” 

You blink evenly. “Yes.” You already regret it as she smiles big and wide. It would be just your luck this is the one thing she doesn't forget in the morning.

Finally it's just you and Dewey in the hallway. It feels like you're standing between two choices: his open bedroom door and the living room. But it seems like only you can feel the weight of it. 

"Are you sure you want to stay over?," Dewey asks, "you can use my bed." 

You perk up out of your heavy mood. "Really?" 

"Yeah, I'll take the couch tonight." 

He can't possibly miss the way you instantly deflate but he's still not putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Dewey. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room." 

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll grab a few blankets." 

There's a storage closet in the main building with this one extra soft blanket that Dewey knows you'll love. You on the other hand have got no more patience left. Once the man leaves, you stomp your foot and decide to try one final act.

Dewey returns to the apartment to find an empty, quiet living room. Ned and Patty are in bed, but where are you? He wanders past the bathroom door because it's dark inside and checks his room. There you are reclining on his bed. He could have sworn you were wearing pants before but your legs are bare and his jacket hugs the tops of your thighs. He also could have sworn you were wearing a shirt. He finds both items folded neatly beside you with your underwear right on top. 

Oh…

This cannot be happening right now. He just survived tonight by the skin of his teeth and now you were doing this to him. He’s going to pull his hair out, going to scream, it’s so frustrating because he can’t just ask you what you want– you’ll turn the question back on him and he’ll fuck it up. He lets the blanket fall from his grip and with a heavy sigh he whispers in a weak voice, “straight answers only. What are you doing to me? Why you doin’ this?” 

You cock your head and answer leisurely, your eye drifting across the items in his room. “You know that’s not how I roll, but if you want me to address the elephant in the room: I'm naked in your bed right now." 

Against his better judgement, Dewey moves closer. "I can see that." 

One step closer and your eyes find him again. Like an invitation you lean back more, even uncross your legs but go no further. Dewey swallows his tongue and waits for you to elaborate and every second is agonizingly slow. 

"You think you can just walk around here with your pretty face and cocky little attitude like it’s nothing,” you said accusingly. 

Dewey glared at you. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” 

“Well we're in agreement then,” you’re almost sneering at him, but he knows it’s because you’re really frustrated with yourself, “I look and I touch and I feel but I don’t know, you know?” 

“Not a clue,” he sighs and sits himself beside you. He’s done trying to keep his distance. “Let’s go back to you being naked in my bed.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Do I like it?,” he repeats incredulously. Dewey leans back on his elbow to look you over from top to bottom. You look damn good in nothing but his jacket. You’ve got the long ends of your red hair in braids that sweep down to your navel. The zipper rests tantalizingly right below your ribcage. Dewey dares to reach out a mollifying hand and give a tiny stroke to that silver keeper. He cannot bring himself to speak above a whisper as he nods, “yeah, I… I like it.” 

The tension leaves your shoulders and you wear a small grin. “It’s not too late to take it back. Say no, and I’ll put my clothes back on and sleep on the couch like none of this ever happened. This,” you point between the two of you, “doesn’t change unless we want it to.” 

… this was real. In answer, Dewey’s chin wrinkles and he watches his finger travel upwards, drawing a light line up the expanse of your chest between your breasts to feel you shiver at his touch. Thing is he doesn’t want to say no, but wouldn’t it be better? Safer? He asks the question he’s been dying to know all night. “What do you want from me?” 

“Whatever I can get,” you answer truthfully. “Whatever you’ll allow. Don’t trouble yourself with labels and things ‘cause what we have has always been so much more than that.” 

Dewey feels a weight lift off of his chest. His hand works around your waist and drags you closer, halfway under him and he rests his perspiring forehead on your breastbone. Whatever happens next happens, for better or for worse. 

You’re not troubled when Dewey moves the jacket to expose one of your breasts, however you are taken aback when he bites you. You barely manage to stifle your yelp when you feel him growl against your flesh and the sound vibrates straight to your core. Dewey drags his head up and stares you dead in the eye as he kneads your savaged breast. 

“All night,” he growls, “all fucking night for this? We could have done this ages ago. The salon, the drive in, Chloe’s cat’s birthday– grocery shopping last week. But no, instead you pick a party full of people and you’ve had me riled up for hours.” 

Dewey pinches your hardened peak and you keen. “‘m sorry…” 

“No you’re not, but don’t worry: you will be.”

AN: Check Out Part 2 @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape @softbeej @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

[utterlyinevitable]

Hurricane (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Rating: T+ Warning: angst Summary: A hurricane is falling over Boston. Edenbrook has been evacuated and some very different doctor’s end up seeking shelter together.  

A/N: The ending is trash. But it’s my trash. We’ve got one more chapter to go and then that’s a wrap on this project! 

________________________________________

Naveen drove the car back to the cabin before parking it on the cobbled drive, the engine shutting off with a quick flick of his key. Still caught in an awkward silence as heavy as the rain clouds above, the trio padded back towards the cabin. Ethan watched Becca out of the corner of his eye, holding a few paces back with Naveen to let her approach the porch first. In the doorway, Sienna was waiting with two bath towels draped over her arms. A wave of relief washed over her petite form as she saw them; her big eyes softening and bottom lip quivering with all the emotions she saved for the worst of outcomes.

“Becca!” Sienna called as she closed the distance between her and Becca, wrapping her soaking wet friend in a hug around a large, plush towel. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

For someone who’s life nearly drifted away with the current earlier, Becca seemed strangely quiet and calm. She didn’t even look at Sienna; darkened eyes trained on her peripheral, towards the unrelenting waters. “I’m fine, Si. Just went for a little swim.”

Sienna looked at her with critical eyes, not believing a single word coming out of her friend’s mouth. She would have said something in any other circumstances, but she was too thankful that Becca was breathing at the minute. This conversation would have to wait. She turned her attention to the other rogue swimmer now coming up behind them, handing him the other towel still draped on her arm.    

“Ethan, are you okay?” she asked the attending, her trained doctor’s eyes scanning him for obvious injuries. 

He took the offered towel gratefully. “Please, there is no need to worry about me.” He wiped his face first then draped the burgundy fabric over his shoulders, shivering as the cold wind caught his wet clothes, “Where’s Jenner?” 

Sienna nodded towards the ajar door, her arms still wrapped securely around her best friend. “In with Elijah.” 

Ethan nodded and went inside to his dog, sparing one last glance towards a despondent Becca on his way. 

With a small, resigned sigh, Sienna turned her full attention back towards her friend and guided her to the door. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” 

Sienna led Becca inside and up to her room. Elijah didn’t notice the girls as he was in deep conversation with Ethan in the archway to the den. For that, Becca was thankful; they could just slip upstairs and rest.  

 As soon as the girls reached the threshold of the master suite, Sienna closed the door softly behind them and reached for her friend, her eyes severe now that they were blessed with the privacy they didn’t have earlier. “You okay?” She asked with a concerned hand gripping Becca’s forearm; her tone of voice emitting a firm warning that she would accept the truth and nothing else.

Becca shrugged Sienna off, taking a step back to shed her wet clothes and throwing on her pajamas. Biting her tongue this round, Sienna gathered up the strewn garments into a pile and wrung them out in the bathroom, making a mental note to wash them once the power came back on. Becca didn’t waste a single second before immediately crawling under the covers while Sienna watched with a very careful eye.  

Sensing the stare, Becca sighed heavily. “Si, I’m fine. Truly.” 

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “That’s what you say, but you were literally being ripped down stream, you could have died.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

Light pads of sock-clad feet walked to the bed with private determination and sat on the edge of the mattress, her eyes begging. “Talk to me, please.” - a hand reaching for the top of Becca’s thigh - “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

But Becca wasn’t waving, keeping her gaze on the darkwood bedpost in front of her to avoid Sienna’s concerned one. “That I really need to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

“Bec-” 

There was a knock at the door, making both ladies tense in place. Sienna reluctantly moved to open it and was met with Dr. Banerji’s warm smile, his medical bag cradled against his hip. 

Ever in dire situations like this one, the senior doctor never seemed to run out of positive energy. He stepped in the room and glided closer to the bed, a comforting smile decorating his lips. “I’ve come to take your temperature and listen to your lungs,” he informed them. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

Becca rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. She swung her legs off the bed and sat on the edge, letting Naveen inspect her. Thankfully, she only had a few cuts on her hands that were in need of bandaging, most likely inflicted while she fought to hold herself against the current earlier 

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he applied ointment and bandages to her palms.  

“Tired.” 

“As expected,” he nodded. She wasn’t forthcoming, so he made sure to update her on what has been going on downstairs; “Ethan has a gash on his leg. Dr. Greene is stitching him up.” The gossiper in him carefully gauged her reaction while his more romantic side hoped to see something pass along her features, possibly akin to relief, but he was disappointed there was nothing but the tired eyes of a woman who’s been through hell that afternoon. 

She felt his critical gaze searching her. The third one silently scrutinizing the last hour; and it made her blood begin to boil.  

“I didn’t need rescuing. I know how to combat a riptide. What he did was stupid,” she clarified, indifferent to his comment.  

Naveen chuckled and offered her a kind smile, although one that hid a hint of seriousness in it. “We both know exactly why he did it, Becca.”  

Becca scoffed and shook her head, looking away. 

The older doctor sighed and put away his medical tools. He obviously wasn’t going to get anything out of her tonight, and he’d been around this kind of temperament long enough to know when to resign. It was almost comical just how similar she was to his protégé, especially when it came to their ironclad stubbornness. “You’ve been through a lot today, dear. I’m prescribing you some much-needed rest.” 

Becca rolled her eyes.

With a taut smile, Naveen gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder before taking his medical bag and leaving the room.

  While Naveen was with Becca, Sienna had excused herself to make some tea. The petite resident was now staring at the kettle, transfixed, but not actually watching the steam spill out into the shadows of night. The worry for her friend still ever present in her mind and the creases on her forehead. In a daze Sienna poured two two mugs full. 

She was just setting the kettle back down on the hob when a gruff sound had her jumping out of her trance and turning on the balls of her feet.  

“Let me,” Ethan said quietly. 

The two shared the same despondent look, though one of them had a deeper reason for it. 

Sienna’s eyes expertly roved over him. He’d changed into clean pajamas, his hair wild and partially dry from drying it in a towel. His weight being carried on one side of his body, no doubt from his injury. His eyes were dark, and there were prominent purple circles under his eyes. And his large hand was extended towards her, waiting with all the patience of a dying man. 

With a small smile, she hands the mug over without a single reservation. 

And Sienna watches intently as Ethan gingerly makes his way through the cabin and up to Becca. 

 *

In the few short minutes she was left alone Becca snuggled deeper into the blankets. Rolled onto her side so her back was to the door and her face buried in a pillow begging her to spill everything all over. 

Over her tormenting thoughts she recognized the patter of footsteps against the hardwood of the hallway and sniffled all the emotion back. If Sienna saw her crying it’d become a much bigger thing than Becca ever wanted it to be. She’ll save her tears for later. 

When the steps grew louder, crossing the threshold, Becca muttered, “You should just sleep here tonight instead of going up and down to check on me.” 

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Even in the minimal light of the candle on the dresser Ethan could see her stiffen. Could hear the discontented sigh that escaped her when his words met her ears. 

He stood suspended in the doorway, questioning every instinct he thought he knew.    

Becca shifted under the sheets, moving to sit up in bed. 

“Thought you were Sienna.” Her tone was still and level and wildly indifferent as she chanced a look at him.  

“Sorry to disappoint,” he muttered back. Crossing the distance Ethan held out a mug to her; “Are you okay?” 

She took the offering, a forced smile on her lips. “Peachy.” 

“Becca…”

“I’m fine, Ethan.” She groans, deflating. “What do you want me to say?” 

“You can start with why you’ve been upset with me all day.” 

Becca couldn’t help the absolutely indecent chortle that erupted from her. 

“I’m not upset with you. I’m mad at myself.” 

Ethan made a garble akin to Huh?

And that just fueled the fire that’s begun to rage within her the last day and rivals the treacherous storm this hurricane caused. 

“Why did you come after me?” She all but spat the accusation. “It was so reckless and stupid. You could have been hurt. You have stitches for Christ’s sake!” 

“You could have drowned. I wasn’t going to let that happen.” 

The audacity in his unbridled poise had her stirring under the sheets and gripping the mug tighter. 

“Superman Complex already belongs to someone else. Why, Ethan.” 

It was a standoff between them. Him in his dry clothes - white tee and gray sweatpants, standing at the side of her bed. Becca was shielded by the blankets but still sitting tall and commanding for someone of her stature. He couldn’t read her ever-telling body language in the dim light of the master bedroom. All he could make out was her silhouette, rigid and doing all she could to cloak herself behind an unsuccessful curtain of hair.  

Holding onto the sliver of revelation he had earlier, Ethan spoke truthfully. 

“Because I care about you. You have such a fulfilling life ahead an-” 

It certainly didn’t have the intended impact. For she cut him off with a resoundingly offended; 

“Can you stop.” 

His darkened azure eyes were wide with panic. “What -” 

“I’m sick of these mind games.”

Her tone was flat, and that scared Ethan Ramsey more than anything. It would be better if she was yelling. He found himself wishing she was yelling even if he had no inkling as to what this argument is actually about.  

“I know you care about me, Ethan. But is that all this is?” 

She finally looked him in his eyes. The darkness of the room complimented the depths of her darkened irises, and he couldn’t see a single emotion in them. All he could see was all of his failures. 

“I - I’m in too deep with you. I may have almost drowned this afternoon, but it was nothing compared to this choking feeling of swimming in all this doubt and uncertainty.” 

He moved towards her. Placing his mug on the bedside. This close he could just begin to make out the hurt in the creases of her frown. 

“Becca,” he reached for her. His hand suspended in midair, waiting for her permission to cup her cheek. 

Instead, she looked down at her fingers tracing the Edenbrook logo on the pristine white ceramic mug between her palms. 

Ethan waited. 

And waited. 

Frozen in place until she said something, anything. 

“Be honest with me,” the words came out on an exhale. “No one else is around. Just me.” Her voice so frail as she turned her whole form towards him. “Tell me.”

The outstretched fingers on his hand curled inwards. His fist raised -- once, twice punching against an invisible opponent as his inner self weighed all his options.

He could tell her - he could finally be truly honest. 

He could do what’s right. 

He could lay everything out there and let her take the reins. 

More realistically, he could continue to hold onto the values he’d had all his life. 

The longer the silence hung between them, and the pattering of the storm echoed throughout the bedroom walls, the more a reality without her became apparent.

Rebecca Lao is a strong woman - he knows this. And Ethan is ever so aware that she won’t wait for him forever. If her stint today told him anything it’d be that it is he who couldn’t survive a life without her. 

Every millisecond that passed, every slight turn of her head and stroke of her finger against the mug, he knew he was losing her. And for once, Ethan Ramsey - renowned doctor, known for his belligerent voice and affluent vocabulary - couldn’t find the words.  

Just as she let out a disquieting breath, he took the leap. Knees pressed flush against the side of the mattress. Long, deft fingers grazing the quilt at the side of her hip. His eyes never leave her. Becca was looking down as if all hope was lost. As if his silence spoke for him.  

It didn’t - 

“I want to be with you.” 

Becca felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs. How long had she been waiting to hear them? How long has she been hoping Ethan Ramsey would commit to only her with a promise of forever? Far longer than she’d care to admit, that’s for sure. 

Ethan watched her lips part, her jaw slacken. Every pretty feature he adored more than life itself stunned stiff. 

In true fashion Becca schooled her features as soon as his words rang through the mahogany room. Bitter words formed on her tongue, accompanied by a desolate huff, 

“You sure about that?” 

Not a single hesitation as Ethan responded, “Yes.”  

“You sure have some fucked up way of showing it.” She watched him from the corner of her eye, shifting in his place and a rueful tug at the corners of his mouth. 

Ethan kneeled down beside the bed, coming to her level, “I know.” 

This is never how Becca imagined getting Ethan Ramsey down on his knees. All those fantasies didn’t join a near death experience or a fight. 

His palms spread out on the quilt. All of him itching to touch her. If he could touch her, everything would be okay. 

A beat forced itself between them. Ethan staring at his fingers inching towards her above the horrid colored quilt, and Becca looking blankly at the top of his head. 

And then she murmured;  

“I can’t be with you if you’re going to treat me like shit all the time.” 

“It was never my intention. I just want what’s bes-” 

“Best for me, I know. But you don’t get to dictate that. It’s my life, I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.” 

He was listening. He was guilty and listening. 

“I want you, Ethan.” 

Those words were like music to his ears - to know she really, truly shared the sentiment. His deep blue gaze flickered up to her; staring at her from under long lashes and hanging on to her every word. This was everything they’ve both wanted - a proper admission of devotion. Then why did she look so sad?  

“But not if you’re going to keep pulling away from me.”  

Ah. There it was. All his faults coming back - his one mistake at abandoning her after she needed him most digging deep.  

“I’m sorry. All of this was to protect you. I’ll always, always protect you.” 

Becca’s heart skipped a beat at the unbridled conviction in his tone against her better judgment.  

“I don’t need a hero, Ethan.” Becca shook her head in kind admonishment. “I want a partner. Someone who will let me make mistakes and just hold me through it at the end of the day.” 

A bolt of lightning cracked in the distance. Their stare on one another so strong, devoted, that she couldn’t see through the clear blue of his irises and deep into his soul the moment the fleeting lightness peered in. 

“Okay,” was all he said.  

He responded quickly and with such fortitude that she couldn’t help but be skeptical. 

Becca rose a brow. 

Ethan moved closer and grabbed her hand, adding a squeeze. 

In a low voice she said, “I want to make the most of the time we have left. If I get a job elsewhere… I don’t want to regret anything.” 

His brows pulled together as this little known fact wormed its way into his rationality. “You’re thinking of leaving Edenbrook?” He held onto her hand just a bit tighter. 

“I don’t know,” she half shrugged. “If…”

He finished the question for her. “Of course you’ll have a job. The spot on my team is yours.” 

“Yeah, I know. But if…” Becca didn’t know how to accurately explain her fears. If they didn’t work out after all this would she still be able to work with him? Would he be able to? What if she received an amazing offer elsewhere. What happens to them if she takes it? 

“Can we not think about this right now.” 

Taking both her cold hands in his, Ethan simply nodded. 

He could feel the scary stirring in the pit of his stomach. Every pang of it subsiding the longer her warmth was within reach. The last of his fears overtaken by the most adorable sound as she stifled a yawn.  

Ethan let go of her hand just long enough to brush some strands back from her face. Un-showered and salty from the day’s events her cheek was still soft under his touch. He leaned up to press the lightest of pecks to her forehead. 

Ethan was less than a few centimeters away from where she wanted him most. One movement and it could all be right and well. Becca brushed her nose against the stubble of his chin, coaxing him downwards. She could feel his grin against her skin as his stubble marked her nose. Every second he didn’t succumb, the tip grew redder and redder. 

Ethan pulled back - too far for a quick descend down to her lips - and Becca almost threw a tempered fist into the mattress. Almost. 

He was looking at her with such reverence it made her whole entire body tingle. Like his stares were the hand of Da Vinci trying to capture her image - immortalize it for the rest of time. Trying desperately to paint this to memory - this moment where everything for them seemed to change for the better. This was the moment Ethan Ramsey knew. 

Becca was mere inches away. One more movement and she would know - know that he is irrevocably her. One more movement and he’d seal their fate. 

Her eyes flickered down to his chapped lips, and this time she didn’t look away. This time there was no enchanting classic playing on the television, just the person before them. This time Ethan was thankful for her focus. He let out the breath he was holding in. Watched her eyelids flutter as the warm gust met her lashes. Leaned in and listened. Listened to the erratic thumping. Thumping of his heart or hers or the hurricane, he didn’t know. 

Didn’t care. Couldn’t give a damn about anything other than her. 

Their lips met. Softly, tenderly. The shortest, most endearing kiss they’ve ever had. Neither wanting to ruin this with overzealous lust.  

They pulled back, unencumbered smiles gracing their features; and then she yawned again. 

Light with strange happiness, Ethan gently pressed her back into pillows. Pulled the covers around her to tuck her in. 

He kissed her chastely once more. Then pulled away. 

Every step he took from her side of the bed had her chiding herself for being so stupid for believing him this time. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. 

Ethan moved through the darkness. The raging winds of reality jolted through them, pounding on the expansive windows. Getting louder and more unruly the further he got. 

But then he did something so unexpected. So surprisingly unlike the man she thought she knew. 

He pulled back the covers of the other side of the bed and slipped in. Ethan shifted closer and closer atop the king sized bed until his arm wrapped around her waist, the other snaking under her neck. Becca welcomed him without a single hesitation or ill thought. This is exactly what she hoped for yesterday. 

Ethan had that smile - that one smile reserved only for her - as he dove into the covers with her, never intending to come back up. Their sweet embrace was all the sustenance he needed to survive. In this moment - and all of them to come, he’s sure - he and Becca were the only two people in the universe.

The storm outside was moving miles and miles away. 

________________________________________

A/N: there was meant to be a cute bathtub scene at the end before they went to bed. it required too much effort so it got the axe. oh well! thanks for sticking around <3

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[oumaheroes]

Character Study P.2

Summary:

A character study of the softer moments between England and France. Part 2: France is followed home by an overworked England.     

Word Count: 4589

Characters: France, England, (FrUK)

Previous part can be found here.

.......

Despite the busy crowds and how tired he was, it did not take France long to realise that he was being followed home.

It was early evening. He had just left the hotel they were using as a location (battleground) for the latest UN meetings and was hoping to catch his favourite farmers’ market before they packed up and closed for the day. There were some things he’d been eyeing up for dinner that, now he’d set his mind on it, he knew he would be loath to change and if there was something France would never compromise on, it was ingredients. So, as soon as the last meeting of the day had ended, he packed up his things, bade his assistant and president a tired farewell, and hurried out of the door before anyone could grab him and ask him for something.

The meetings themselves were nothing fancy, just long national security and trade talks with government officials and other such persons, but which were thankfully being hosted in Paris. France did not like travelling about much these days, he’d done quite enough of that in previous centuries and he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was happy to enjoy a more relaxed lifestyle at a polite distance from politics. England might call it lazy, but France knew that his northern neighbour was just as old and content to stay at home in his own lands, left to his own devices and away from the angry, irritating buzz of politicians.

‘It’s not the same!’ England had lamented to him once only a decade ago, too drunk on good wine that was wasted on him for how quickly he drank it, ‘We don’t even really get to give our opinion anymore; we just sit there and then help do all the bloody admin whilst they argue about this that and the other. What’s the point? If they don’t want to listen to our advice or let us make decisions, leave us the fuck out of it.’

France had sighed at him and shook his head; not because he disagreed, but because when England felt like he was being patronised he’d puff up in a ruffled indignation that France found too funny not to risk his person provoking. England had sworn at him, as France knew he would, and the evening had ended up with them sprawled on top of each other at the bottom of France’s vineyards.

Thinking with a bitter happiness that there was only one more day of this tedium to go, France made great strides in removing himself from the premise, ducking and weaving his way through the pedestrian traffic and losing himself in the flow and thrum of his people as they made their way across town.

He hadn’t got very far, only managed to cross a road and turn down a right-hand street, when he noticed that he had acquired a shadow.

Many centuries of existence had given him a sixth sense for this sort of thing- a keen awareness of people who followed for too long, a feeling for eyes watching the back of his head. Even in peacetime his mind was sharp, alert for tiny movements that could indicate a potential threat and hooking his attention to make him zero in on certain behaviours, regardless of whether he wanted this additional mental fatigue or not. Such things were second nature to their kind. He hadn’t survived for this long by relaxing and blindly trusting those around him, after all. Nations could be brutal things, humans just as much, and the complacent among them never remained for long.

But this presence was familiar, a known gait and step that France had learnt to recognise the fastest, out of necessity as much as from repeated encounters.

France smiled to himself and slowed his pace.

England wasn’t trying to hide himself; Lord knew that when the man wanted to, he could simply disappear into a crowd and never been seen again. If England wanted to follow someone without them knowing, they simply wouldn’t know about it. MI6 didn’t have the reputation it did for nothing and England enjoyed, with a smug superiority that France often couldn’t stand, putting whatever talents and skills he’d worked out with them to use when the mood took him; presence undetected, footsteps light and soft, manner and bearing disguised and changed as quickly as if he were shedding clothes.

No, England wasn’t hiding himself or trying to remain unseen, but that didn’t mean that he would appreciate France drawing attention to the fact that he’d noticed him so soon. Let him think France was frequently oblivious, it always made for fun later.

Besides, France didn’t think now was the best time to push him.

He’d noticed that England had grown quieter the last few days, withdrawing more and more into tense silence as the week went on. There was something happening at home, he’d heard through his own ministers, something brewing that kept England working later and later, pushing himself more and more. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to England about it himself, hadn’t had the chance to talk to Arthur at all, but France had seen him grow steadily more stressed and taut, like a tightly wound string.

An impatient man anyway, England grew snappy when stressed, biting and prickly and quick to shout and vent his temper at whatever poor unsuspecting victim fumbled the small task he’d given them. After this though, if nothing changed, England would turn into a muted white noise, all tension wrapped and bound and condensed until you could feel it pulsating from him in palpable waves. All of his energy would go towards surviving what was happening and finishing whatever it was, and he’d go and go and go until either the source of the stress went away, or he’d collapse somewhere- a boneless puppet with cut strings.

The way things had been going, France wouldn’t be surprised if he were nearing the latter of the two and he’d been expecting England to seek him out eventually, for one reason or another.

France stopped at a crossing just as the light for pedestrians turned red, and he felt, rather than saw, England close the distance and approach him from behind. ‘You’ve left earlier than I expected.’ He said to him over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the cars. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d be out for another few hours at least, the way you’ve been working these last couple of days.’

England grunted but said nothing further, shuffling to stand closer to France to avoid an old lady and her grandchildren when they stepped too near to him.

France turned to look at him and, up this close, noticed the slight flush to his cheeks and the paleness to his face, eyes tired and drawn as they regardless the traffic. The day was not a terribly cold one, but England had burrowed himself deep into his coat, collar turned up high to cover his neck and hands tucked into his pockets.

France hmm’d and hooked an arm through England’s, pulling him closer. He didn’t shrug it off. ‘I’m going to the market before I go home.’ France informed him, because he knew that that was what England was planning on doing- follow France home and expect to be fed. (He would be, he always was).

He felt England shrug, a slight upward twitch to his shoulder. ‘That’s fine.’

The lights changed and the crowd around them moved forward, taking France and England with it. They followed the rush along for a while before France tugged them down an alleyway to break onto another street, smaller with cars parked on the pavements and less people around. They stuck to the side streets from then on, winding their way through the back alleys of Paris in a comfortable silence with France leading the way.

The market itself, when they eventually arrived, was a small one, tucked in a small cluster on the cobbles of a square, but the produce was fantastic and it was a local secret. France, as a local to all in his lands, adored it. ‘I was thinking of cassoulet for dinner’ he told England as he slipped his arm free to approach a stall for vegetables and other farm produce, eyeing up the selection of carrots. ‘You like that, yes?’ There was no answer, and France turned around to find him staring vacantly off at the next display. ‘Arthur.’

England blinked, coming back to himself, and turned to him. ‘What? Sorry…’ he frowned, ‘did you ask me something?’

France tutted at him. ‘Yes, but no matter, you weren’t going to get a choice anyway.’

England said nothing but turned away to stare at the table display again, a selection of cheeses France could tell he wasn’t really paying any attention to. France pursed his lips but let him go, purchasing the necessary onions, carrots, and tomatoes that he needed before hurrying England off to the next vendor, handing him the bag of vegetables to carry which he accepted without complaint.

After the butchers for sausages and mutton, France handed England the purchases and taking out his notebook from his pocket, checking that there was nothing else he needed whilst he was here. ‘Do you need anything?’ He asked, turning to England.

England shook his head and shivered, rearranging the bags on his arm. ‘No, thank you.’

France reached to take one from him, freeing up an arm, and drifted his hand down England’s coat to hold England’s own, buried in his pocket. He was displeased at how cold he found it and squeezed it tightly, pressing the pad of his thumb over England’s knuckles. There was a slight squeeze back, the smallest increase in pressure, but there was something, at least, and France let it go.

‘Come on then, before you lose one of my bags somewhere.’

.......

Back at home, France unlocked the door and pushed England inside first, closing the door behind them. ‘Go and take a shower, I’ll start dinner.’

England frowned at him, confused. ‘I don’t need a shower.’ He turned to make his way to the kitchen, bags in hand, but France caught him by the elbow and took them from him before stepping forwards and pressing a kiss to his temple. His skin there was just a touch too warm, but the rest of him felt chilled. ‘Go, you’re cold and it’ll help you relax.’

‘I don’t need to relax.’

France looked at him, unimpressed. ‘You need to relax; you’ve overworked yourself stupid again.’ He nudged him with his elbow. ‘I’ll not start cooking until you do.’

England managed a weak scowl at him but didn’t protest and shrugged off his coat before hanging it by the door. ‘Fine. If it makes you feel better.’

‘It will.’ France slipped his shoes off and rolled his eyes when England nudged them with his foot so that they sat straighter against the wall. ‘Go.’

After England had safely moved away in the direction of the bathroom and France could hear the comforting sound of his shower in use, he walked through his flat to the kitchen and set about getting things ready for dinner, collecting his knives (always the best quality, always sharp) and washing the vegetables before chopping them as needed. Before too long, he heard the hot water turn off and the bathroom door open, the one to his bedroom closing shortly after that. A while later, England emerged in the kitchen, slightly damp and dressed in some of France’s old clothes: baggy, large things that France couldn’t bear to throw away, even though he hardly ever wore them. Kept for times like this, maybe. For either one of them when they were needed.

Evidently, the shower had revived enough of England’s energy to allow him to dig about in the depths France’s wardrobe and drawers; he’d pulled on an old woollen jumper that he’d left behind the last time he’d visited France’s Paris flat, a frumpy looking thing with bobbled thread and stretched sleeves that fell past his hands to graze his fingertips.

‘What state have you left my bedroom in?’ France asked. He uncovered the white beans that he had left soaking the day before and regarded them seriously. They looked ready.

England moved past him to sit at the table, slow and sluggish, before leaning forward to bury his head in his arms, cheek cradled in the crook of his elbow. He sighed and shut his eyes. ‘It’s fine.’

‘I’m sure it is not, I tried to bury that hideous thing at the very bottom so it couldn’t be seen; every time I opened my wardrobe it quite ruined the overall look when I caught sight of it.’

England didn’t answer him. France filled the kettle up with water and flicked it on before grabbing a mug- a bulbous, large bottomed monstrosity that England had got him a few years ago to spite him for something or other. It was incredibly tacky but France found that it was growing on him most annoyingly.

He didn’t need to ask if England wanted tea, this would have been a pointless, silly question, and nor did he ask if England wanted the honey instead of sugar that he put in it. His voice had sounded ever so slightly hoarse, maybe from talking all week for hours on end, maybe not. Either way, England would not ask for anything that hinted or implied that he had some sort of physical weakness and France had learnt, over many frustrating years, that the best way to handle England like this was to simply not say anything and give him what he needed anyway. Asking whether he was feeling well would imply that you had noticed signs he was not, and would, for reasons France still did not even try to understand, make him more stubborn in pretending that there was nothing wrong at all.

Roundabout methods for a roundabout man.

‘I don’t know how you can possibly believe you have the right to insult Wales on his clothes when you own something like that; you’re lucky I didn’t mistake it for rags and throw it away.’

England made a sound that could have been a laugh. ‘This one is Scotland’s, actually.’ (1)

‘Well, all the more reason to be lucky, then. You should be grateful that I didn’t throw you to his ire.’

‘Yes, I do plenty enough of that myself without your assistance.’

England sounded almost fond and France allowed a smile, keeping his head turned away to focus on cubing the mutton. England’s relationship with his brothers has always been much like his own with England: stormy, rough, and quick to change but long lasting and durable, nonetheless. Some bonds do not need frequent, pretty words and kind acts to keep them strong. Sometimes, seeing someone fester at their ugly worst and choosing to keep them your life anyway was a greater sign of affection than anything else. What are sweet words and acts, to ones who live as long as they? Fleeting things, whispers that fade quickly into the long yawn of time. Years do not remember the small niceties; after centuries and millennia, you remembered who stayed, who came back, who didn’t take the shot that would have hurt the most. The ones who did take it, and then helped put you back together.

Sometimes, that was enough.

The kettle clicked itself off and France put the knife down, washing and drying his hands quickly before pouring the water in the mug and leaving the tea to steep. He glanced at the table. England was still hunched over, a curl of bent elbows and downturned eyes, and was wearing a slight frown as he squinted into his forearm. France couldn’t tell whether he was falling asleep or not, but he was very aware that England would not appreciate staying there if he was.

‘Your hair is still wet.’ He told him, pointedly.

England made an unhappy noise.

‘I won’t be looking after you, if you make yourself worse.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I’m sure you think so.’ France stirred the tea, squeezing the tea bag against the side of the mug with a spoon before removing it. Adding the milk, he stirred it again and took it to the table, setting it down in front of England who looked up, finally. ‘But like I said, I’ll be leaving you here to die of the consequences regardless.’

‘Leave it.’ England’s voice was firm but his eyes were soft; a foolish contradiction.

He sat up and reached out to cup the terrible mug in both hands, letting the warmth bleed into them. He took a sip and, very briefly, his face opened to show small, innocent pleasure. France always loved to catch the fleeting instances England let softer emotions shine through- a bark of laughter when a joke caught him off guard, the times he looked at his younger family members when they were turned the other way, the mornings he sang to himself when he thought no one could hear.

England was often pointy lines and sharp smiles, hard looks and careful study; cold emotions cut into him with intentional strokes and built there as a wall to hide whatever was bubbling underneath. There were few occasions, few people, that could peel him away so completely that nationhood and age would melt away and that for a second, just one second, he could be anyone at all.

France tucked this moment away carefully in his mind, committing it to memory, and clicked on the stove.

.....

Dinner was mostly a one-sided affair. France watched England pick at the food, pushing bits of it around his plate and taking small, tentative bites.

France kept up the conversation the whole time, happy to fill the noise. Regardless of what he said to contrary, England enjoyed the sounds of something happening, of life continuing, just as much as he enjoyed silence and solitude. France had always felt that, when England was in less-than-ideal moods, maybe noise and distraction allowed his mind to finally switch off and tune out, to fade away in the buzz.

Maybe the silence prompted him to think too much.

After they’d finished eating, (or, France had finished eating and it became apparent that England had given up), France permitted England to pack up the leftovers into Tupperware before prodding him to the living room, where he pushed him down on the sofa and ignored his protests about how the dishes needed soaking.

‘Leave it for tonight, they’ll be fine.’

‘But-‘

France sat on one end of the sofa against the armrest and reached out to grab England around the waist, causing him to stop speaking in surprise. France pulled and twisted him close to sit flush against his chest, head coming to rest by France’s collarbone. ‘You are being a very bad guest, my dear, to not listen to the wishes of your host.’

England muttered something about France being a terrible host who didn’t deserve to be listened to in the first place, but stopped struggling to escape and leant against him, heavy. If anything, this quick concession to something France wanted him to do, especially when that something involved leaving a job half finished, was more alarming than comforting, and France reached up to bring a hand to feel his forehead, pushing back his fringe.

‘Look what you’ve done to yourself.’ He chided him, feeling stronger heat than before. Pushing England upright again, France felt under his sofa for the blanket he had thrown there the other day and grabbed it, before straightening back up to lay it across England and pull him down again. One he was settled, France tucked it up around his neck, making sure that he was fully covered, and burrowed his arms underneath to join him.

England rearranged himself slightly to fit more comfortably, slightly on his side with his head turned to rest on a cheek and nudging one of France’s knees to fit better against him, and let out a deep breath through his nose, slipping his eyes shut. Under the blanket, France felt him begin to run a cold hand over one of France’s arms that was resting on his middle, fingers brushing gently over his skin. ‘Thank you for dinner.’

France hmm’d, burying his nose in England’s now dry hair. He could smell his own shampoo that England had stolen but, underneath that, the familiar smell of England himself- an unnameable mix of things that could belong to no one else. ‘How strange to hear gratitude from your lips.’

England stopped stroking his arm to pinch it and France chuckled into his hair. ‘And now abuse of the host; my, how terrible.’ England huffed at him but resumed the less violent ministrations to his arm. France extracted the one currently at liberty to bring up to England’s head and card his fingers through his hair, tugging gently at the roots.

‘So, what has caused all of this?’

‘Caused all of what?’

‘You know full well what I’m talking about.’ The long hours, the bags under his eyes, the compressed strain that radiated from him in the way he held himself.

England was silent for a moment and France wondered, briefly, whether he shouldn’t have asked. But there were few things England was shy to talk about and few instances when talking about something didn’t help him, whether he was consciously aware of it or not.

England opened his eyes. ‘Nothing too disastrous, initially. Fraudulent claims have recently been made against a standing MP, but he’s involved in a lot of charity organisations and political campaigns.’ He shuffled to rest himself higher against France, tucking his forehead to lay more into the hollow of his neck. ‘The other day it all came to light at once and now things are quickly unravelling; everyone’s digging about to see how deep it all goes and how big the fall out is going to be.’

France made a sympathetic noise. ‘The joys of damage control.’

England hmm’d and brought out a hand to rub at his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course, I know the most about all of them, so I’m being hounded from all sides for information: contact names, dates, expense amounts, sources of income. Who else was involved, what else he’d been involved in, how many sectors are affected…’ He trailed off, weary, and France felt him shake his head. ‘And slap bang in the middle of UN talks about national security.’

‘You do have impeccable timing, as always.’

England tutted and fell silent. France avoided thinking about the specifics of what he’d said too much and instead forced himself to keep quiet. It was all too easy for his ears to prick up at that sort of thing and apply it to himself with cold, analytical detachment. How will this affect my economy? Was this man involved in anything that could influence French interests and policies? Will this fallout affect me? It was all too easy to demand a name from England and begin research into this himself. The urge to sift through French banking and trade agreements, international policies and French government ministers was strong- very strong. The numbers were right there behind his eyes, words caught on the tip of his tongue whilst national agreements bubbled in his chest. But he swallowed them back.

France liked to think of himself as very capable of detaching that part of himself, choosing to think of it as a job he could turn off and on, a choice he could make. He was always France, would always be France first and foremost, regardless of anything else. But also wanted to be Francis, just Francis, sometimes.

England ducked his head down to stifle a sneeze into his elbow.

France blessed him. ‘I cannot let you go to work tomorrow, you know, now that you’ve got to this point.’

England lifted his head up and put it once more against France, who resumed playing with his hair. ‘I’ve got to worse points.’

‘Just because you’re previously done something foolish, does not mean that you need to continue to do so.’ France countered.

‘There is only one day left.’

‘Ah yes, but it is the worst one. Russia is speaking, and you know full well how that’ll go.’

England, presumably thinking of how America would no doubt behave, groaned and twisted to lay more on his front. France rearranged the blanket around him. ‘I can’t leave my Prime Minister there to deal with it all, they need me to be there.’

‘They’re all grown-ups, they can handle themselves. Come on,’ France cajoled, lifting a hand to pick at a particularly large loose thread on Scotland’s missing jumper, upturned against England’s neck, ‘you’ve skipped meetings before. If I remember correctly, in the 1600’s you didn’t turn up to a single one that you were supposed to have with me.’

‘I was at sea.’ England replied, a smile in his voice.

‘You were, and if I remember more correctly, you were requested to return many times.’

England snorted and lifted his head up a little before letting it fall back on France’s chest with a soft thud. ‘That’s different.’

France continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘You missed so many meetings with me and my Kings that it was very hard to convince them that it wasn’t an intentional slight against them.’

‘It wasn’t, it was a slight against you.’

‘Well then,’ France bent forwards to kiss his forehead, ‘as you have already demonstrated that you have no qualms about missing meetings with me, that means you are quite capable of missing a meeting that I am hosting.’

England frowned, caught by his own logic. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Who says so? I, who is the host, might I remind you, is actively encouraging your bad behaviour.’

England lifted his head to better look at him, shifting his weight onto a pointy elbow that was thankfully not pressing into France’s sternum. ‘So, you admit that it’s bad behaviour?’

‘Do you think it’s good behaviour to go to a meeting feverish?’ France countered easily.

‘I am hardly feverish.’

France reached out to press the back of his free hand against England’s too warm cheek and made only an unconvinced noise in response.

England moved his head and brought an arm out from under the blanket to bat France’s away from him. ‘I am hardly bedridden.’ He corrected, sounding somewhat petulant.

‘Is bedridden your standard for when to finally look after yourself?’

England ducked his head again and stifled another sneeze in reply.

‘Arthur.’

‘No, Francis.’

France pursed his lips. ‘Very well. I cannot stop you from making a stupid decision. As host, however, I am duty bound to inform the other attendees of your condition to ensure that they remain healthy.’

England sat up properly and turned to scowl at him, worst nightmare being threatened. People knowing. ‘You wouldn’t.’

France merely raised an eyebrow and gave a sly smile. They looked at each other for a moment, England searching for a bluff. Finding none, he shook his head and lay down again, arms coming to wind around and behind France’s back. ‘I’ll decide in the morning.’ He said, muffled against France’s chest.

France, extremely content that he’d won, tightened his arms around him. ‘Of course.’

....

AN:

I feel like I’m gonna be a busy bee for a while, so have something I wrote a while ago to tide me over whilst I potter about doing real life things.

The first part is a mirror to this second part, so to get the full effect I recommend going to read part one!

You all know I like my FrUK bitter and snarky and full of domestic banter, but I also really adore moments like this when they’re soft and let themselves show how they truly feel about each other. Theirs is a relationship that often needs no words and I love exploring about showing that quiet, consistent side to them, something hidden and tucked away behind a pat on the back or the brush of a hand.

I could go on and on and ON about my love for this pairing and these characters, but for now I shall leave it as this, my sappy ode to them both.

(1) I have the personal headcanon that England has quite an impressive collection of large jumpers that are not actually his. He has one of France’s too, an ugly thing that he bought in the 60’s and thought he threw away. It’s bright yellow.

Thanks for reading!

[youngerdrgrey]

I know you (even if you don't want me to) // a Batwoman fic, chapter 4

about: After finding out Batwoman’s identity, Sophie tries to trap Ryan with her newfound knowledge. If she’s going to be on the outside, she might as well have some fun – and maybe fall in love along the way. #Wildmoore

CHAPTER FOUR SUMMARY: Ryan’s on a mission to stop Sophie’s crush on Batwoman, but she is very unprepared for what a rejected Sophie is about to do. + read on ao3

previously: read chapter one, chapter two + chapter three

.

.

Unknown to SM (21:37) Hostage situation at the Krell Warehouse. Could use an assist. No Crows.

SM to Unknown (21:42) ETA 20m

.

.

Sophie crouches low at the rendezvous point. A few rusted shipping containers form a makeshift wall on the edge of the warehouse property. Ryan’s fully suited up with her favorite batons ready for the action. She turns them in her hands to try and get rid of her nervous energy.

Sophie nods her way. “Surprised you called for help.”

“Yeah, well….” Technically, Ryan hasn’t called for help. She needs to put space between Sophie and Batwoman, and doing this over text would be even more uncomfortable than doing it in person.

“What do we got?”

“Six people inside — mostly teens who thought cruising an old Wonderland haunt would be a fun way to spend their Friday night.” Ryan points to the second level of the building where a row of boarded up windows give them their best entry point. “One got out a distress call, but False Face is all over the lower level and all the reasonable exits.”

Sophie mulls that over. “Do they know they’ve got company?”

“They found one kid who split off solo. The others are hiding, waiting for us to get them out.” Ryan stands back up.

“How’d you hear about this before us?” Sophie asks.

In a word, Parker. The inherited back-up / hacker teen is a senior now, and she’d reached out to Mary for an assist. Mary caught Ryan up to speed, but there’s not really a quick way to clue Sophie in.

“A little doggy told me.”

Sophie side-eyes Ryan. “I didn’t know riddles were your thing.”

Ryan gets her baton ready. “Saving people’s my thing. Now, I’m going to break through the boards. Draw their attention to me. After that, you find the kids and get them out of here.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” Sophie salutes her.

Ryan hesitates. She could bring Sophie up with her. Get them both into the building the same way. “You want to take the shortcut with me?”

A slow smile curls onto Sophie’s lips. “Yeah?”

Ryan pulls Sophie to her with her left hand. “Hold onto me. Tight.”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She wraps her arms around Ryan from the left side. Ryan secures her arm around Sophie’s waist, then clicks the button on the baton, launching the zip wire and effectively sending them into the air.

Sophie clings to her tighter. She gives a little gasp that Ryan’s sure will live in her mind rent free. Ryan shifts her weight to push boots first into the wood boards. She kicks through, and the splintering will definitely be enough to get the False Face members’ attention.

She lands firm, and Sophie takes a moment to readjust. Ryan knows she shouldn’t, but she glances up at Sophie. There’s a breathless awe in her that Ryan can’t look away from. Sophie genuinely laughs.

“That was awesome!”

Ryan smiles back despite herself. “Go find the kids. Thank me later.”

.

.

Ryan takes out three different False Face goons. The two remaining ones chase her through the building and out the front doors. It’s not the most effective strategy, but she catches sight of Sophie leading the kids out from the corner of her eye. Parker has the audacity to wave at Ryan, like they’re friends. The girl might’ve been Kate’s chosen teenager, but Ryan is not taking in any strays.

She focuses back on her two shadows. “Aren’t you guys sick of getting your asses kicked at this point?” She assumes her fighting stance while they split masked looks and probably choose who is charging at her first. “I knocked out three of your buddies back there. I broke into your boss's hideout. Gotham is mine.”

A car starts in the distance. The guy in the Seal Mask cheats a glance towards the shipping containers. Ryan takes the opportunity to launch a Batarang at his shoulder. It slices through his jacket like butter. The Monkey Mask runs at her.

She blocks three punches and a kick before getting a roundhouse one of her own straight to his side. Monkey Mask crumbles with the kick. Seal Mask storms right at her, but thankfully, Sophie shocks him with a taser from behind. As he writhes his way to the ground, Ryan chops Monkey Mask in the side of the head to knock him out too.

Sophie pockets her taser. She wipes her hands after. “Kids are gone. They say thank you.”

“Did you tell them this was a one time thing?” Ryan asks.

Sophie nods. “I promised I’d haul them in myself next time.”

Of course she did. Because that’s who Sophie is. How many times has she said those same words to Ryan? Her solution will always be to lock people up and maintain the status Crow. Ryan cannot be a part of that.

She bites the bullet and announces, “There won’t be a next time. Not for us.”

Sophie’s smile drops. “I’m sorry, what? If it’s the Crow thing again, it was a joke—”

“No,” it wasn’t a joke, but it’s now or never to put an end to this. “It’s the Kate thing.”

The mention of Kate works exactly the way Ryan thought it would. A wall builds around Sophie in an instant. Her voice drops to a warning.

“Watch yourself, Batwoman.”

She has to watch out for Gotham. Keep them safe by keeping Sophie out of the Batcave and back with her Crows where she belongs.

“You said it yourself: she was the love of your life. Isn't it a little weird that you’re asking me out for drinks?”

Sophie’s nostrils flare. She grinds out, “It’s a drink. Not a marriage proposal.”

“You’ve already done that part, right?”

Okay, Ryan may have gone too far with that one. But the point is to drive Sophie away. If Sophie thinks Batwoman is a bitch, then Ryan’s in the clear. No more crush, no more problems.

But Sophie spins Ryan around with a vice-like grip on her wrist. She glares down at Ryan, and Ryan’s thankful once again for how the cowl and the wig cast her eyes in shadow.

“And what have you done, besides try to push away the one person who’s repeatedly saved your life? I’m not your enemy, and I’m not going to stand here while you try to use my dead ex against me.”

Sophie’s whole body shakes. Her rage is clear and channeled straight at Ryan. She practically growls, “You want to work alone so badly? Be my guest.” Then storms off into the night.

After a beat, the crackle in the Comms gives way to Luke.

He sighs heavily into his microphone. “Not cool, Ryan.”

Ryan clears her throat. Tries to sound a bit less affected. “Hey, mission accomplished.”

.

.

Screw Ryan. Sophie would normally go for more eloquence, but she’s a little sidetracked. She squares up her shot in the minimalist Crows shooting range. The small scale facility has a row of five shooting stations opposite the targets. On a Friday night, the other Crows are either working or relaxing, so the space is all hers. And Mary’s, who presses a pair of earmuffs tighter onto her ears and squeaks as Sophie takes another shot.

Mary practically screams, “Are you sure that this is how you want to spend Girls’ Night?”

Girls’ Night meaning yet another last minute outing to distract Sophie from how shitty Ryan is acting. At least the last time, Sophie could have a bit of fun. This time, her blood’s boiling, and she grinds her teeth so hard that she might upset a filling.

“Any better ideas?”

Mary gives an incredulous look to Sophie. “There are so many clubs in Gotham. You can take shots instead of shooting them. And… didn’t you used to go shooting with Kate?”

Sophie sets her gun down. “It’s great stress relief.”

“Yeah, so’s dancing. And it’s a lot more fun.” Mary pushes her ear muffs down onto her neck. “I don’t need to know what’s got you so…” She waves a hand at Sophie’s generally tense demeanor. “But you can find plenty of ladies who would love to help you forget about it.”

And forget about Ryan slut-shaming her for even looking like she was moving on. “Look, I can live my life however I want. It’s not disrespecting anyone to do that.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Mary turns knowing eyes up at Sophie. “I also feel like there’s someone else that you want to be saying that to, and it’s not me. So, you work on your speech, and I will cement our spot on the guest list, okay?”

Mary squeezes Sophie’s arm and then excuses herself from the room. She stays right outside, where the pop of Sophie’s next shot is on the other side of the glass. Her phone’s ringing before she really thinks about it.

Ryan groans into the phone upon answering. Then she must hear the muffled shots in the background. “Are you getting shot at?”

“Thankfully, no. Sophie’s got me at the Crows shooting range because someone pissed her off tonight.” Mary rolls her head in a circle and wills some of the tension out of her body. “An hour ago, you two were fine, so want to clue me in how you royally screwed things up?”

Ryan scoffs, and her voice pitches higher in indignation. “She’ll be fine. This is Crowphie we’re talking about.”

Mary watches as Sophie fires off three rounds before her arms drop. Sophie lays the gun down and plants her hands on the wood of the stall in front of her. Her shoulders shake with what may actually be a sob.

“She’s not invincible, Ryan. And you can’t hurt her just to push her away. It’s not fair.”

“When has any of this been fair, Mary?” There’s a thud on the other end, like Ryan’s slamming their fridge. Is she home right now? “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well, do better. I’m taking her out to hopefully dance through some of this intensity. Maybe tomorrow you can try to fix this. Okay?”

A bottle cap pops on Ryan’s side. She’s definitely got a beer from the fridge. This won’t end well for any of them, will it? Ryan takes a swig that’s loud enough for Mary to hear through the phone.

“Which club?”

Mary sighs.

.

.

Leave it to Mary to pick the one club playing decent music tonight. Ryan half expected Mary to have picked Curse, but Sophie’s not really an EDM kind of girl. Before tonight, Ryan would’ve assumed Sophie’s never been to a club at all. She’s the tight lipped, straight backed type. The type to think of a few drinks at a bar as a wild night.

Tonight, though, Sophie’s hotter than ever. In a tight dress that stops above the knee and heels that make her tower over half the patrons, Sophie’s got the attention of at least half the club. Ryan watches from beside Mary at their table. Sophie had taken one look at Ryan, downed her drink, and gone onto the dance floor.

“She’s not even a good dancer,” Ryan mumbles. Sophie’s a bit too stiff to really be good out there. She does have a natural rhythm though. Everyone around her bends to match it. One particular person with a mullet slips up behind Sophie. Their hand finds Sophie’s hip, and Sophie only misses a beat before dancing again.

Mary twirls the ice around in her drink. “She’s fine.”

She’s vengeful. Sophie gets told one time that she’s moving on too fast, and now she’s grinding with a stranger at a club. If anything, she’s proving Ryan’s point.

Mullet takes Sophie’s hand in their free one and spins Sophie around to face them. The move gets a laugh out of Sophie. The laugh gets a kiss from Mullet. Ryan groans.

She leans across the table to Mary. “I thought this was Girls’ Night.”

Mary shrugs. “Mullet's a girl. Maybe. I'm trying not to assume anyone's gender based on expression. Look, you rejected her, so she’s going to rebound.”

Ryan pulls a disgusted face. It’s not about Mullet in particular. Just, if Sophie’s going to rebound off of Batwoman, couldn’t she do it with somebody interesting? Somebody who will do more than kiss along her neck in a sweaty club surrounded by strangers. Now both of Mullet’s hands are on Sophie’s hips, and Sophie’s head is tilted back like she’s actually enjoying this. Like Mullet has found just the right spot and —

Ryan turns to put her back to the dance floor. “I’m not watching this.”

“You don’t have to. You also… didn’t have to come?” Mary’s voice lilts up at the end. Her face is that mix of carefully constructed curiosity that usually means Mary’s leading Ryan into a trap. “I get that you wanted to see how bad she’s taking it, but I could have just texted you. Imani would’ve loved an impromptu date night.”

Things with Imani aren’t as great as they were before. Imani’s still amazing, but she gets quieter and stares at Ryan like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last time Ryan bailed for Bat business, Imani looked absolutely betrayed.

Ryan could keep it to herself, but she blurts out, “Imani doesn’t trust me. I have to bail on half of our dates because of work and after meeting Sophie—”

“Why would she be jealous of Sophie?”

Ryan scratches at the back of her neck. “We may have gotten caught up in an argument in front of Imani.”

Mary hums. “And the two of you forgot anyone else even existed.” She says it like this is something that they do.

“I didn’t forget.” Sophie infuriates Ryan. She’s so sure that she’s right about every little thing, and if Ryan doesn’t correct her, then who will?

“But you didn’t care. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t the woman that you’re sleeping with have your full attention? Not your ‘coworker.’”

Ryan gives her a tight smile. “You’re forgiven.”

Mary turns her eyes back to the crowd. Ryan glances back, and of course, Sophie’s still with Mullet. But as Mullet kisses Sophie’s neck again, Sophie stares across the dance floor straight at Ryan.

Mary claps her hands together. “Alright. You two might want to talk about whatever this is. Preferably before I become an unwilling third and Imani ends up heartbroken.”

Ryan’s halfway out of her chair before she remembers to deny it. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Mary’s sarcastic mhm follows Ryan as she cuts her way through the crowd towards Sophie.

The heat of the bodies engulfs her. Somebody familiar tugs at Ryan, but she shirks out of the touch without so much as a look. Her eyes catch Sophie’s again, and she holds the stare as she slips around the last few people between them.

Mullet’s behind Sophie again. They possessively wrap an arm around Sophie’s stomach. “We’re good,” Mullet says.

Ryan ignores them to talk to Sophie. “Mary’s worried about you.”

Sophie’s dismissive. “Then Mary can come talk to me herself.” She turns her nose up at Ryan, and honestly, it’s enough to make Ryan see red.

Ryan’s here because Mary said Sophie was hurting. Ryan could be anywhere else. She could be at home, drinking a beer, in her bed. She could be patrolling the city. She could be with Imani, but she’s here because Mary had the misguided idea that Sophie was actually sad about being rejected. Mary was wrong.

Ryan huffs. “Whatever.” She starts walking back through the crowd.

Sophie calls out, “Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

Ryan glances over her shoulder to see Sophie push Mullet away. Sophie storms after Ryan, cutting through couples and dancers to get to her. Ryan speeds up. She makes a sharp turn in the crowd. No need to head back towards Mary and her leading comments.

The bathrooms are packed, as always, but there’s an exit door a bit further down the hall that’s normally unlocked. Ryan wiggles along the hall to get there and slips out into the night air.

A wave of humidity lingers outside the door. The stoop can barely fit Ryan. She pauses, which is just enough time for Sophie to push her way outside too. Ryan has to step down off the stoop. So she takes the remaining two steps to be firmly on the ground.

“Ryan, stop!” Sophie stomps down the steps. Ryan can’t move quick enough, so she ends up with Sophie standing over her. Sophie’s breathing hard. Her cheeks and neck are flushed from the club. Her lipstick’s in tact, but there’s a well kissed swell to them too.

Ryan can’t explain the fire in her veins. She shouldn’t have the power to get to Sophie like this. And maybe Ryan doesn’t. Maybe only Batwoman means something to Sophie.

“I have never seen you like that.” Ryan throws a hand towards the club. “Who was that in there?”

“You’re the one who said we didn’t know each other,” Sophie snaps.

“Maybe with good reason!”

Sophie quickly shakes her head. She stabs a finger into Ryan’s shoulder. “You do not get to judge me, Ryan. I am not interested in hearing some speech about how I should be acting. I decide what I want to do. I spent twenty-nine years denying myself that. And I am tired of letting other people tell me what team to be on.”

“You picked a clear one in there,” Ryan retorts. She should have worn her heels. Sophie’s a fucking Amazon woman right now, and it makes Ryan flare up. Makes her puff her chest out more than she needs to.

Sophie says, “I didn’t have a choice!” She catches herself. Her eyes cut to the wall before coming back to Ryan. “Did you know that I worked with the last Batwoman?”

Of course Ryan knows that. Everybody knows Sophie and Kate worked together. It’s why Sophie got suspended last year. Even low level non-criminals like Ryan heard about that. The Crows number two getting the deuces.

Sophie knows too. She keeps going, “For months, we worked together, and she never told me who she was. She never even gave me the chance to keep her secret. And you could say that she was protecting me, but really — ” Sophie’s anger fractures. Her lip trembles, and she sniffles before setting her jaw again. ”She was protecting herself.”

Luke always talks about Kate like she was perfect. Kate stood up for the people of Gotham. Kate had a code. Kate loved Sophie and established a legacy that Ryan’s supposed to carry on. Is hurting Sophie a part of that?

Sophie pushes her hair back out of her face. “I’m sick of playing games, Ryan.”

Ryan’s blood runs cold. “Meaning…?” Does Sophie know?

“Meaning I am going where I’m wanted.”

Ryan sighs in relief. A stressed laugh slips from her lips. It’s not about her. It’s still about the rejection.

Ryan lightens her tone. “You didn’t have to come to the club for that. There’s a line out the door at The Hold Up.” Sophie shakes her head, and the tension’s still tight between her eyebrows. Ryan needs this out. She takes Sophie’s hand in hers to swing it playfully between them. “I’m serious! Much hotter than Mullet. You should see the number of women checking you out every time you’re there. They are waiting for you to give them a chance.”

Sophie’s shoulders drop, like the fight’s slipping out of her. “You’re being nice.”

Ryan runs her thumb along Sophie’s knuckles to undercut her words.

“When have I ever been nice to you, Sophie?”

Sophie gazes down at Ryan in such a tender way that Ryan forgets how to breathe for a second. Forgets that they shouldn’t be toe to toe in an alleyway underneath the moonlight.

Sophie’s natural rasp pokes through. “You tell me.”

The quick hits: saving Sophie from Black Mask, cracking jokes with her and Jordan, the free margaritas. Sophie’s the nicer of the two of them. She stayed with Ryan on the island. She didn’t even look under the mask when she could’ve. She got Ryan back to Mary’s clinic with no questions asked.

She always plays along when Ryan wants a fight. She comes running for every text, every call, and she flips the Bat-signal to see Ryan. Not for some ghost of who used to be.

Sometimes Sophie smiles at Ryan like they’re the only two people in the world. Like now. Ryan gets lost in the warmth of it. The hopeful glow in Sophie’s eyes. Maybe Ryan should’ve been in heels. Sophie wouldn’t have to lean so far down to kiss her. Would it be so bad if Sophie did have a crush? If Ryan maybe —

“OW! What the —” The back door snags on the sleeve of Mary’s dress. She stumbles on the stoop, and her eyes jump up in time to spot them. Ryan and Sophie freeze, hands still together, faces angled towards each other but no closer to bridging the distance between them.

Ryan’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. Like she’s been caught in front of the whole of Gotham with her mask off.

Mary stares down at their hands. Ryan finally remembers to drop it. Sophie just licks her lips and steps back to turn to Mary.

The medical student points back into the club. “I… I could go back inside.”

Sophie walks back up the steps. “I’m calling it a night. Thanks, Mary. This was….” She glances over her shoulder at Ryan, who can’t bring herself to move yet. “Yeah.” Sophie slips into the club.

Mary lightly closes the door behind Sophie. She takes a deep breath in. “WHAT WAS THAT!?” She shrieks. Her eyebrows have practically left her face when she turns to Ryan. “You were supposed to be apologizing, not making out in the alley!”

Ryan snaps back to the moment. She readjusts her top, which she doesn’t have to do since it’s not like Sophie touched her. It’s not like they actually did anything. They just… stared? Looked? Saw each other, maybe.

“We weren’t making out.”

“Oh really?” Mary doesn’t believe her.

“We didn’t even kiss,” Ryan snaps.

Mary snorts. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” Ryan crosses her arms defensively. Mary’s eyes quadruple in size. “Oh my God, are you disappointed!?”

Ryan stomps up the steps to the door. Mary figuratively dissects Ryan with her eyes. Maybe Ryan could sprint through the club. If she starts running, the other Black people at least should run. It’s code. A little stampede, and she can ditch her roommate and this awful line of questioning.

Mary keeps up with Ryan as she speeds up though. Mary fast-walks beside her down the narrow hallway.

She says, “You can’t ignore me. You know that, right? We’re going home together. We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

Mary jogs to get around Ryan and stand in front of her. Ryan nearly crashes into her. Mary grabs both of Ryan’s shoulders so Ryan has no choice but to look at her. It’s almost not fair that Mary and Ryan are nearly the same height. It gives Mary an advantage when it comes to reading Ryan directly. Plus, Ryan can’t escape the soft concern in Mary’s eyes.

She asks it softly but like she already knows the answer. “Do you like Sophie?”

Ryan scoffs and laughs and shakes her head and does everything she can to look like that’s not true. Because it can’t be true. It shouldn’t be true. “No, I do not like Sophie.” So why does that sound like a lie?

.

.

Sophie shouldn’t be up here. She should be back home, like she said, not waiting under the Bat-signal. But she can’t exactly go to Ryan’s loft and ask Ryan what the fuck that was back at the club. At first, it just seemed like judgement. Ryan’s never been subtle about her discontent. She tells Sophie everything she dislikes from the way Sophie’s done her hair to the fact that Sophie’s committed her life to a police state that may never be capable of getting better.

Judgement doesn’t pinch Ryan’s lips though. Judgement is a self-assured raise of the brow. Judgement is that all-knowing smirk and a dimmer switch on Ryan’s normally bright eyes.

At the club, that was something else. That was heat. That was anger. That was jealousy. Ryan might’ve spun it into jokes about The Hold Up, but it started from there. They were so close in that alley. So close as themselves, and that should be the goal of all this, right? Sophie started messing with Ryan to get Ryan to be honest with her. Sophie could take the first step. Drop the charade and tell Ryan that she knows. Ask her to let Sophie in.

Ryan lands on the roof with a whoosh and a soft thud. The wind runs through the wig. What would it feel like through Ryan’s hair? What would Sophie’s fingers feel like?

Ryan shifts her weight from one side to the other. She gives a little “Hi” that sounds nervous even under the voice regulator.

If Sophie speaks, then those nerves will go away. This charade makes it easier. It gives them an excuse and an out. Because if Sophie and Ryan kiss, then Sophie has to change her life. Sophie has to quit her job, and Ryan has to bend her beliefs, and neither of them can ever go back to who they were before. But if it’s Batwoman….

Sophie summons all her strength. “You owe me an apology.”

Ryan glances down at the roof. “Kate was a low blow.”

“And Tyler,” Sophie reminds her. It’s probably a good thing Ryan doesn’t know enough about Julia to bring her up too.

“I’m sorry. I….” She licks her lips and steps closer to Sophie. “I panicked. You’re out here telling people that you have my phone number. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Sophie fakes a thought as she steps towards Ryan. “You could try talking about it, like an actual adult. You are an adult, right?”

Ryan takes another step. They’re only an arms length apart. “Yeah, I’m an adult.”

Sophie’s turn. “Good. And you want me?”

“I….”

Sophie stops. They’re almost toe to toe again. “Yes or no. Do you want me?”

A few agonizing seconds creep in. Ryan doesn’t move, or speak. Dread sinks in. She read this wrong. Ryan really was being nice in the alley, and now Sophie’s pushed too far. She’s gone back on her word, and it’s only going to give Ryan more ammunition against her. She’s going to kill Mary for bringing her out tonight.

“Yes,” Ryan whispers. Sophie jumps forward at the word. “I think…. Yes.”

Sophie drapes her arms around Ryan’s neck. The wig tickles against her bare skin. Ryan’s breath catches in her throat. Tentatively, her hands come up to Sophie’s waist. The gloves bunch her dress. Sophie’s eyes drop from Ryan’s down to Ryan’s lips, then back again. Sophie leans in, so close that their lips almost brush.

“Do you trust me?”

Ryan tenses around her. She says, “I want to. I just… can’t.”

Sophie nods and swallows around the immediate lump in her throat. “Then I can’t do this.”

Sophie detangles herself from Ryan and heads for the doors. She only gets a few steps away before Ryan grabs her hand. Ryan runs her thumb over Sophie’s knuckles the same way she did in the alley.

“We can work on it. It’s not just me, you know,” Ryan says. “I don’t have to work alone.”

Right, there’s Luke and Mary, who lie to Sophie every single time she sees them. There was Julia. Even Alice gets to be in on the action sometimes.

Sophie asks her, “So what’s wrong with me?” Why keep pushing her away? She’s done everything she can think of to prove she’s trustworthy. The last few weeks of jokes and games aren’t the problem. Ryan doesn’t care about kids thinking Sophie’s friends with Batwoman. She doesn’t care about drinks. There's something else at play here. Something Ryan won't admit.

“Soph….” Ryan starts, but no explanation follows. Sophie can’t set herself up like this. Not again.

Sophie pulls her hand back. “Figure that out, and get back to me. Until you do, I’m done.”

.

.

a/n: So many fun things in this chapter! Let me know what's working for you and how you felt about our near kisses (one of which was almost a full one -- can you guess which one?)

END OF CHAPTER UPDATED, MONDAY JUNE 21ST AT 10AM.

it's going to be a busy week for me. give me some fun comments and reblogs to keep my energy up?

[profmori]

;Daiharu au 💴🌸💎

Summary : Haru Kato overworked himself as usual and Daisuke is trying to take care of him.

Note : yeh! first tumblr fic, let's get it ✨😗✌️

Haru sometimes hated his job.

Or rather he hated his strong sense of justice, which made him constantly push his boundaries to do what was right. Most of the first division members usually shied out when he asked them for help, and no way in the world he could go to Daisuke Kambe for the same.

Everyone tells him to lay off multiple times but he doesn't needs them to take care of him, damn it.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Haru fell back in his chair, making the rusty old thing creek in protest. Everyone turned around to witness his loud and grumpy arrival, probably testing the waters before making a move. He paid them little to no attention, knowing he'll lash out otherwise.

The board gave him a hard time, the first division gave him a hard time, Daisuke blew him off like nothing and then Cho-san yelled at him --- Haru straight up wasn't having the best day. Now the last thing he needed was more people pestering him.

Luck, however, wasn't on his side.

The phone on his table starting ringing the moment Haru got comfortable in his chair, the loud sound made the headache double up a few notches. Haru tsked and picked up the receiver, putting it against his ear.

“yes?”

“Oh my god!” the lady at the other end screamed. “Pleass hurry there has been a robbery at my store, everything is wrecked.”

Haru tried to hide his sigh. “Please stay calm and tell me your address. Don't be alone in the house, as it might be dangerous and don't touch anything until help arrives.”

The lady hurried up with details as much as she could while simultaneously sobbing into the speaker, somewhere in the distance was a dog barking at her. Haru kept down the receiver and turned to Kamie, holding up the slip of paper with the address on it.

“There has been a robbery, can you go and see to it?” Haru asked, waiting patiently as the other completed typing on his computer. Kamie looked up with a guilt ridden smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he fumbled for an answer.

“You see, I've been dead tired after all the cardio you put me through---”

“Nevermind.” Haru cut in,“I'll take care of it myself.”

Haru stood up rather fast, making his head go blank for a solid second. He managed to hold himself up just before he could fall forward, the sudden movement causing the table to shake with impact and catch everyone's attention.

“Are you okay?” Mahoro asked, her hand stopped midway with a candy between her fingers. The pink haired officer gave him a worried look. “Would you liked this limited addition candy?”

“I'll pass.” Haru waved his hand and went out of the office lounge, momentarily leaned against the wall to regain his left over energy --- only god knew how worse the robbery was going to be, he needed to get every bit of patience and energy to deal with it.

Once sure that he wasn't going to collapse, Haru shrugged on his jacket and went to the crime scene.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ah Kambe-san.” Kamie called out as Daisuke entered the room, the millionaire gave him a nod and went over to his desk. The inspector pulled Daisuke down to talk quietly into his ear.

“Is there a problem?” Daisuke asked, his voice even like it always have been. Kamie felt himself shiver at the calculated coldness in his eyes, he has to shake his head to get back on his tongue.

“Did something happen with Haru and you?”

Daisuke stared at him for a long moment, eyebrows lightly scrunched in concentration. Then he simply shook his head in denial, making Kamie sigh in confusion. He was well aware of Haru's habits of pushing himself too far, but there was no way you could stop him from doing so.

“Could you please go and check on him then?” Kamie asked with a requested smile, pressing his hands in a prayer position and ducked his head. “I'm afraid he might pass out or something.”

“Okay.” Daisuke said and straightened up, fixing his suit as he exited the lounge for second time this day. “HEUSC track Haru Kato's location.”

“The location has been found.”

Daisuke got in his car and glanced over to the screen, a map displayed in front of him with a green dot blinking inside a cafe. He got the car in ignition and put it on the road the moment it's engine roared.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ehhh . . . what do you mean it wasn't a robbery?”

The woman in front of him laughed in embarrassment, a blush spread across her pale cheeks. Beside her, in a vile grip was a child yelling at her to let go, probably the culprit of the robbery. She bowed to Haru while winding up apologies, forcing the kid down with a hand pressed on his head.

“S-Sorry inspector, my son and his friends created a ruckus before I opened the cafe. I panicked and thought it was a robbery.”

“Are you sure everyone in safe here?” Haru asked; Except for the kid obviously, he thought but knew better than to voice it, his mouthy self already got him in trouble multiple times, he didn't want anything more.

“Yes inspector, our apologies for the inconvenience.” She said again and forced the son to say sorry as well, which Haru just accepted with a laugh. He then nodded to the lady and made his way out of the cafe, yawning as he started walking back to the office, his body however was screaming for him to rest.

Haru stopped as a sleek black car pulled up next to him, a colour and design he was all to familiar with now. The door opened with a smooth motion, inside seated was Daisuke with his usual bored expression, the one that seriously ticked him off.

“Oi Kambe, what are you doing here?”

“I was told to pick you up.” He replied monotonously,“Please get in the car before the traffic rolls up.”

Haru didn't want to be anywhere near Daisuke right now but he found himself rushing over inside the car and sighing once he was able to shut himself in the silent atmosphere. He may not admit out loud but Daisuke's car was more comfortable than his bed --- soft seats, warmth and his rich perfume. Haru instantly felt like he was going to fall asleep, and that would have been embarrassing.

“So what makes you come here?” he decided to ask instead.

“I was told to pick you up.”

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.” Haru didn't expect him to say anything more to so he just let it drop, but Daisuke cleared his throat and continued. “And I owed you an apology.”

Haru was in no mood for having that conversation so he just shrugged it off and let his eyes stay fixed outside the window, looking at nothing in particular. Daisuke waited for an answer before he decided better than to question him further.

“Are you tired?” Daisuke asked as he killed the engine and Haru shook his head, hurrying out of the car before he could seriously fall asleep. He shut the door to cut off any further complaints, making his way back to the office and hopefully avoiding Daisuke any further. Thankfully, the conversation never came up again, not until the shutting time atleast.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Haru are you sure you're staying back?”

“Yeah I need to write the report for today.”

“Okayy, bye!” everyone cheered as the hurried out of the office, glad that the day was finally over. Haru watched them leave, wincing when the door shut loudly after the departing crowd.

He let his head fall on the table and groaned. The cursor blink on the empty sheet of the word document, waiting to be worked on; problem was Haru's lack of motivation, he couldn't even lay it off with the board monitoring him and finding all the ways to pick more mistakes on him. It would he easier on their pockets if they could cut more of pay --- and with the deadline for his rent, a pay cut was the last thing he needed right now.

So with the last bit of energy left in him, Haru rolled his sleeved his sleeves up and got to work.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Daisuke stared at the empty cup holder and realized that he left his wallet in the office, he killed the engine and got off the car. The last bit of left workers nodded as they moved past him, rushing out to go back home. He wasn't half surprised to find Haru bend over his computer and typing sluggishly, his eye bags reached on the floor and casted a dark edge to his golden eyes.

“Kamie? . . . no Kambe." He mumbled his words,"What are you doing here?"

“I left my wallet.”

Haru nodded and went back to typing, taking a sip out of coffee which was most likely cold by now. As Daisuke crossed him, he could see Haru shivering in his seat and having trouble to get a better grip of his coffee. He watched him struggle.

“You need to rest.” Daisuke said.

“As if the guy who threw up off the bridge would care.” Haru replied and then his words turned quiet. “Nobody cares.”

“huh?”

Haru send him a simple shrug and got to work again, mumbling as he typed, backspacing more and actually writing something. Daisuke then turned his head and spoke into the ear piece.

“HEUSC type the report for the incident today.”

“Command in processor. Estimate completion time in 10 minutes.”

“Let's go--- Haru!” Daisuke grabbed him just in time, saving him from hitting his head on the table edge. Haru groaned and fell against Daisuke's torso, eyes barely open and sweat pooled over his eyebrows; despite the obvious temperature rise, he was shivering. “Come with me.”

“I'm fine!” he said, words mingled into each other. “Just a little bit---”

“You just passed out.” Daisuke removed his glove and pressed his hand against Haru's forehead, feeling it burning under his cool skin. Haru straightened himself up, pressing a firm hand against Daisuke's torso too keep him at the arm length.

“I said I'm fine.” he said,“If I don't complete this by today, they'll probably fire me. Unlike you some people are limited on their resources Kambe.”

“I told HEUSC to do it for you.” He replied,“For now just come with me.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

“To apologize.” He said without missing a beat .

“What for?”

“For everything.” Daisuke said.

Haru could only stare. He wanted to say no and deal with himself, since Daisuke also did the same. The last thing he wanted was to become a burden on someone who refused his help.

He was a burden.

Denial almost went past his mouth but stopped when Daisuke reached out and grabbed his hand, his fingers cold against Haru's wrist. The millionaire's face was stoic as ever but his words were soft.

“Haru . . come with me.”

Seemed like he wasn't getting anywhere with denial tonight.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

continues part two

[withyounct]

What’s wrong kid? (9)

Reader x Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Words: 3.2k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: tw// panic attack 

The religion aspect of Christmas wasn’t something you were necessarily into, but the aesthetic was something you were a slut for. Every year, you would spend an outrageous amount of money for the holiday. This year was no different. With Christmas Eve approaching in just a few days you were on what your friends would like to call “crazed mode”.

Jaehyun was “gifted” the experience at the early dawn the next day. The minute the sunlight pierced through the blinds you were awake mercilessly pinching at Jaehyun’s cheek.

“Wake up we have things to do.” You whined cutely, smushing his cheeks playfully. Half asleep he wrapped arms around you to keep you in place.

“Calm down. It’s too early.” He slurred; voice heavy with sleep. Gently, he tugged your head down to his chest, rewrapping the covers you pulled off your bodies in your excitement. Tickling his side, you wormed yourself free. Knowing Jaehyun wasn’t the type to fall back asleep, you skipped out the room and to Hyunjin’s room. Cautiously, you opened her door laughing at her strewn plushies on the floor, her body contorted in an awkward position.

“Hyunjin~” You sang as you shook her awake. Whining, she buried herself in her pillow looking up slightly to check the clock on her wall.

“Y/n it’s early.” She pouted, pulling the covers over her.

“You are your father’s daughter.” You snickered. You picked her up, covers and all, and walked down the hall to her bathroom. You placed her down and ruffled her crazy bed hair. Giving her a light push, you told her to get ready for the day. Wrapping her cover around yourself, you walked back to her room to carelessly toss it back on her bed, silently reminding yourself to make it later before you leave. You loudly announced to the house that you were making breakfast as you walked to the kitchen.

After about twenty minutes, Jaehyun and Hyunjin filtered into the kitchen freshly showered and considerately more awake. Hyunjin now more in tuned with the world around her was excited for the day ahead. Jaehyun walked over placing a kiss on your cheek, complaining he could have helped with breakfast.

“It’s okay. I have way too much energy.” You laughed off, reciprocating the kiss.

“I see. It’s quite terrifying.”

“Very.” Hyunjin said under her breath. Squinting at her you chased her around the kitchen. Jaehyun laughed, but made no attempt to save her as he walked around you two to take the plates to the dining room.

Catching Hyunjin, you lifted her laughing figure and sat her down at her chair.

“Okay Ms. Excitement, what’s the plan for the day?” Jaehyun asked. You were mid-bite when you looked up confused at him.

“Plan?”

“Yes love. What time do you want to head out? What’s the first thing you want to do? When and where is lunch? Do you wan-”

“Whoa there Mr. Structure.” You fed him a piece of toast to stop him. “Ever heard of going with the flow.” You laughed.

Hyunjin very quietly commented “sick burn” and you fist bummed her as Jaehyun finished chewing.

“Okay then, I hand off the day completely to you two.” He leaned back in his chair. The smile that worked its way on your face was that of a cheshire. “I’m going to regret that aren’t I?

“Yep.”

Getting ready after your shower was easy since half of your wardrobe was there. It was cold and snowing out, so Jaehyun took precautions and wrapped you and Hyunjin in ridiculously large scarfs.

When he said the festival was right by his office he wasn’t kidding, it was literally the next street over. Exiting the car you looked back to see the building in the distance. The park was more packed than you expected, but you forgot to factor that literally every school was out for that holidays as children and adults alike ran around. The snow was a comfortable fall and you basked at the scenery. The smell of hot chocolate wafted in the air, the distance blow of the replica polar express train chimed, laughter heard from everywhere.

Hyunjin expressed that her first mission was to hunt down Santa. The look of fire in her eyes wasn’t something to take lightly of.

Wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s forearm, you brought Jaehyun down to your level. “Why do I feel like she’s going to fight Santa?” You whispered.

“Because she will. He/I messed up last year. I’ll tell you later.” He whispered back. “Oh look Hyunjin a candy shop!” He exclaimed in an attempt to distract her. He picked her up and held your hand, walking you both to the little gingerbread house a few feet away.

Once inside you struggled to undue your scarf since the store owners decided to raise the heater to levels that would make hell jealous. After you were able to breathe you held Hyunjin out of hers. Since it was a small store and Jaehyun could see over the shelves, Hyunjin was allowed to run around to her heart’s content.

“I thought Hyunjin knew you bought her Christmas gifts?” You asked dropping all the gummy worms on the shelf into your basket. Jaehyun sent you one amused judging face before chuckling.

“She thinks it’s a collab between the parents and Santa because there are so many kids in the world. So, he gets half what the kid wants and their parents get the rest. I have no idea where she got that from, but I decided to roll with it. He forgot one of her gifts and she has “ words for him” direct quote.”

“Poor guy that Santa suit is going to get an earful.” You laughed apologetically. Hyunjin skipped back over to you two, basket filled with about the same amount of candy as yours.

Jaehyun looked between you two in disbelief. “That’s way too much candy.”

You got down to Hyunjin’s level and mustered up your best puppy dog pout, Hyunjin following suit. Not even a second later Jaehyun was whipping out his card. Behind him you and Hyunjin shared a high five.

Successfully wrapped up again you exited the store.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asked rocking back and forth on her heel.

“I know the owners of the ice rink made an outdoor skating rink somewhere passed the lake if you want to check it out.” You looked between the two. Without a second thought Hyunjin yelled yes and grabbed you and Jaehyun’s hand. She got mid step before realizing she didn’t know where exactly she was going. Chuckling, you copied her actions and pulled the two further into the festival.

Jaehyun was skating around with Hyunjin while you sat down on one of the benches. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Hyunjin pull her clumsy father around. Every now and again you would take a picture saving it and sending them to the group chat Jaehyun’s friends created with you.

“You have such a beautiful family.” An elderly lady who was sitting next to you chimed. You glanced between her soft smiled and Jaehyun and Hyunjin. A blush quickly spread across your face.

“Oh they’re not um I mean I’m not.” You fumbled. “I- Thank you.” You ultimately said face hot with the embarrassment of how flustered you were.

Thankfully Hyunjin skated towards you loudly complaining that she was tired of pulling her dad around and that she wanted to skate with you. You looked back at a tired defeated Jaehyun and laughed. He was happy to trade off with you as you switch places.

You and Hyunjin played around for a while, successfully showing off your skills and impressing on lookers. Hyunjin expressed that she was getting hungry, so you gave skating a rest and returned back to Jaehyun.

It was just reaching the afternoon, so you suggested to grab something light since you still had other things to explore. Hyunjin agreed as Jaehyun tied back on her shoes.

You ventured further into the park towards the food stands and hated how packed it was. You watched Jaehyun pick Hyunjin up as you moved passed the various bodies.

“Okay Hyunjin. What are you in the mood for?”

“Corndogs.” She answered after giving it some thought. You made a face and called her a weirdo for her choice, but looked around for any stands selling corndogs. You found one as Jaehyun’s phone started to ring. He took it out his pocket and groaned at the name displayed.

“It’s work. I’ll be a minute.” He said passing Hyunjin onto you. He wandered off to a less crowded spot not too far away. With Hyunjin in your hands you walked over to the stand.

Smiling at the vender you asked for two corndogs, one for Hyunjin and Jaehyun since you weren’t hungry yet. You placed Hyunjin down to take out your wallet. Rummaging through it you suddenly remembered that you left your card sitting on your nightstand. Sighing, you started to looked down to apologized and that she’ll have to wait for her father.

When she wasn’t there.

You whipped your head back to the vender. “Did you see where she went?”

He shook his head and went back to serving the next customer.

You turned around and she was nowhere in sight.

There was a brief pause in your breathing before panic started to set in.

“Hyunjin.” You called quietly at first, thinking you were overreacting; that she was standing somewhere near and you were overlooking her.

“Hyunjin.”

Nothing.

You yelled her name louder and was meant with the same silence. You felt your airway constrict and now you were in a full panic. You started screaming her name when you felt some one touch your shoulder.

The look Jaehyun gave you was that of confusion and concern.

“She was just- I put her down for a second- she was just here.” You said winded.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he pushed passed you calling his daughter’s name. You felt your heart rate rise and you knew you should be calling for her, but you couldn’t. Your mind traveled to the worst places; episodes of criminal minds invading your every thought.

“Jaehyun.” You said weakly. “Hyunjin-”

“You were supposed to watch her!” He snapped obviously panicking too.

You tried to bite back the tears that swelled.

Jaehyun paused, taken aback by his own outburst. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He sighed before returning to calling for Hyunjin.

You allowed yourself a second to wipe your tears and gather yourself. You called out for Hyunjin as you ran past booths, stopping to ask random people if they’ve seen a lone child. None of them were any help since the place was filled with children running around.

You were four seconds away from calling the police when you spotted her walking away from a toy booth. Running and pushing people out the way you grabbed her, falling to your knees.

She looked confused at you as you feathered touches on her face.

“I want to see the elf plushies.” She informed, puzzled at why you looked so upset.

“You can’t.” You chocked on a sob. “You can’t just wander off like that.” You sobbed pulling her into a hug, sobbing in her chest.

“Oh thank god.” Jaehyun exclaimed running up. You pulled away from Hyunjin and she ran into her father’s arms, visibly upset. Jaehyun picked her up, hugging her tightly.

“Hyunjin you know better than to scare us like that.” He scolded. Tears started to fall down her cheeks as she apologized.

Standing up, you ran your fingers through your hair. Unconsciously you took a step back, distancing yourself as you watched Jaehyun cradle Hyunjin in his arms.

Sighing, Jaehyun looked at you. “Let’s go home.”

You bit down hard at your bottom lips, shaking your head. “No. You guys go. I’ll text you later.” You said quickly before turning to walk away.

Jaehyun started to say your name, but you were already disappearing into the crowd. When you were a safe distance you pulled out your phone to call Ten.

“Can you pick me up?”

When you arrived back at your apartment you said nothing, walking straight to your room, and crawled under the covers. You felt your phone vibrate on the pillow next to you, but made no attempt to get it. You laid staring at the wall as the orange light from the sun cascaded down the wall as the hours passed. It almost reached the ground when there was a knock on your door.

“Can I come in?” Ten asked faintly. You softly chuckled to yourself since Ten was the type to open the door regardless.

“I guess.” He opened the door and leaned on the frame, cooing pitifully at you. He pushed himself off and made his way over to the bed, asking you to scoot over so he had room to lay down. Reluctantly you do.

“Kun and I were sure we wouldn’t see you until after Christmas, so you can imagine my surprise when you called.” He tenderly tucked a stray strand behind your ear. “Talk when you’re ready.”

Your eyes traveled up to his and his usual mischievous gaze was replaced with one of soft understanding, something that was more common with Kun’s.

“I’m a terrible person.” You started.

“False, but continue.”

“I lost Hyunjin.” Ten’s eyes widen. “We found her, thank god.” You added.

“But I lost her and I don’t even know how to describe the feeling. I just panicked.” Tears started to swell once again. “I panicked and I hated it. When we found her my first thought was I can’t do this. She’s a small human being that I'm partly responsible for and I have trouble taking care of myself sometimes. Then I was mad at myself for even thinking that. She's his whole world and I just.” Ten wiped the tears that fell. “I didn’t even apologize. I just ran away like a coward.”

He gave you some time to calm down, continually wiping all of your tears, “Do you want my advice?” He asked genuinely.

“No, not really.” You answered honestly, leaning your head on his chest.

“Okay. I won’t advise you on anything, I’ll leave that to someone else. I will say this, you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Jaehyun is in the living room. He came to see if you were okay since you weren't answering your phone. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want too.”

You sat up and wiped your tear stained cheeks. “No, he can come in.” You tried to ignore the blinding smile that he gave you as he hurried out of the room.

Looking around, you shrugged off the chaotic mess that was your room.

“Hey.” Jaehyun’s voice brought your attention to the door. “Can I come in?”

You nodded and your breath hitched as he stepped closer. His disheveled appearance completely throwing you off guard, hair strewn in odd places, his eyes clearly red from crying, the tired husk of his voice. Guilt immediately started to eat at you.

Smiling weakly, he sat next to you.

The silence that surround you was something you’ve ever experience with Jaehyun before. Awkward. Unsure.

“Jaehyun.” You started quietly.

“Can I go first?” You nodded, unable to look at him. “Hyunjin is fine. Johnny’s at the house taking care of her. She’s a mess. She’s sorry she upset you and is afraid she scared you off forever.” There was pain in his voice.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you. I should have never done that. All you’ve done is help Hyunjin and I. She's at the age where she wanders and that’s not your fault. You didn’t sign up to be a full-time parent and I'm sorry if I’ve put unnecessary pressure or stress on you.”

You bit down on your lip to stop it from trembling so much. “No.” You wiped your tears for what seemed like the hundred time that day. You turned towards him, grabbing both his hands into yours. “Jae I’m so sorry for losing Hyunjin; I should have said that the moment we found her instead of running away. It wasn’t my proudest moment and it will never happen again. It’s not Hyunjin’s fault she’s a curious child; I’ll watch her more closely next time.

You gently touched his cheeks, beckoning him to look at you. “You’ve never pressured me into doing anything I didn’t want to do Jae. I’m not Hyunjin’s mother, but I love her so much and I would do anything for her. The thought of losing her and you is something that terrifies me so I’m sorry.”

The tears that ran down Jaehyun’s cheek surprised you, causing your tears to do the same. Leaning in he engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“I love you so much it hurts.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” You confessed a light laugh following. “So I'm forgiven?” You asked.

“As long as I am.” Grabbing his face, you place one long kiss on his lips before jumping off your bed.

“Come on, I have a child to apologize to.”

You saw two cars park outside when you arrived at Jaehyun’s place. You looked at him confused.

“He probably called reinforcements.” He shrugged.

Once inside you heard Hyunjin’s wails and saw a stressed out Johnny and Taeyong catering to her. Johnny was the first to see you and let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ve never been so happy to see you shorty.” He exclaimed, head hitting the back of the cushion.

“Oh thank god.” Taeyong did the same.

Hyunjin stayed in her spot on Johnny’s lap, glancing up at you with quivering lips.

“Angel.” You said softly. The moment the word left your lips Hyunjin full sprinted into your arms. You lifted her up as she sobbed into your chest. You kissed the crown of her head shushing her as you rocked back and forth.

“I'm so sorry Hyunjin.” She shook her head, arms reaching to wrap around your neck.

“I'm sorry. Please don’t leave.” She cried.

You gently pulled her away from your neck so you could look at her.

“I love you too much to ever leave you.” You smiled leaning in to kiss her forehead. It hit you that it was the first time you told her you love her.

Turning to Jaehyun, the smile on his face was something that made your heart flip. From the corner of your eye you could see Johnny and Taeyong high five before getting off the couch.

Not long after Hyunjin drifted off in your arms, completely exhausted.

“Welp that was enough excitement for one day.” Johnny announced, quietly walking towards the door. He ruffled your head was he passed. “See you later.”

“Bye kiddo.” Taeyong lightly pinched your cheek.

Jaehyun followed them out thanking them before locking the door.

“I’ll go put her to bed.” You informed when he returned.

He nodded. “I’ll get a movie ready?”

You smiled as you turned to walk away. “Horror please.”

You smiled more when you heard him laugh.

[gaiapaia]

Kermit And Friends: Tony Ricca WWE

Imagine a church where the reverend is threatened to be locked into a chicken coop by his fiancé at the beginning of service and then threated to be killed Nicole Simpson style by a love interest of said fiancé towards the end of service.

Ladies and gentleman, I welcome you to Kermit and Friends!

The show started off this week with both bad news and good news. The bad news was that Jennifer Lopez’s 6th engagement broke off, but the good news is Elisa’s very 1st engagement is still going strong!

That’s right, despite all the naysayers, Elisa Jordana and Andy Dick’s engagement has survived yet another week. Elisa even has 4 new rings to show for it! But let me tell you... it almost did not survive this show, literally.

First off, Elisa is getting fed up with not being able to reach Andy whenever she wants, so she came up with this brilliant idea of building a chicken coop to keep him locked in. I mean, why not? Andy’s skinny frame combined the long neck sort of does resemble a chicken, so it seems like the perfect fit! Andy doesn’t seem to keen to the idea though so he better just get his act together and start answering every time he’s blessed with a phone call from his gorgeous fiancé Elisa.

This week’s KAF special guest was none other than former WWE Superstar, Tony Ricca. Elisa has a little history in pro wrestling, appearing on WWE Monday Night Raw and starring in a reality show that was hosted by pro wrestling star Chris Jericho. Kermit and Friends also has big wrestling fans on the show such as Socky, Corey, Johnny B, and many more in the chatroom.

Elisa started the interview off by asking Tony about why he wanted to become a pro wrestler. Tony shared it was actually his friends who wanted him to do it, and Andy revealed that’s exactly how he got into acting.

There was more wrestling talk and Tony kindly answered questions from Socky the Sock Puppet, Corey, Eric and other KAF superstars like Trumpster Bob asking Tony to partake in his “Butthole Challenge.” Andy Dick also got Tony to show off his abs so he could gush over his hairy belly. The interview went swimmingly, if you ask me.

During the interview, Andy started facetiming with his handsome friend Lucas. This caught Elisa’s eye and she immediately pounced. “THE Lucas? Aren’t you Andy’s ex, Lucas?”

Lucas denied the claim but Elisa is no fool. She can read Andy like a book and she knows when Andy is really into someone. But Elisa put the claws away and started to have a nice normal chat with Lucas about Andy. As it turns out, Lucas is also a former pro wrestler so he asked Tony a couple of questions too. Maybe we’ll see Lucas back on the show very soon and get to the bottom of him and Andy’s true feelings toward one another.

Kermit’s old friend Kleenex (screenname Christopher Dick) made his return to Kermit and Friends this week. Sitting in his car smoking cigarettes, I could sense Kleenex was in prime form ready to steal the show as the premier Dick on it. After complaining about Elisa’s lack of enthusiasm in her introduction of Kleenex to Tony and Lucas, Kleenex hounded Elisa about the content the show was producing compared to when it first started back in November. Kleenex then set his sights on Elisa’s relationship with Andy Dick, and just as Kleenex’s meter was about to hit red... All. Hell. Broke. Loose.

But not from Kleenex... from ERIC RIGGS! That’s right, Elisa’s friend Eric came flying in like a bat out of Hell and relinquished his fury on Andy Dick.

It was unbelievable. To this point, Eric has perhaps been the sweetest guy on the show. Yeah, he’s out there and his love for Elisa has probably left people baffled, but he’s been consistent in his sweet nature. To see him snap like this was surprising, to say the least.

So what set Eric off? When he talked with Tony Ricca before, he seemed perfectly fine. What I personally believe got Eric’s blood boiling was when Andy bragged to his friend Lucas that Elisa invited Andy to spend the night at her apartment Sunday night.

I did a break down of Elisa’s love history on Kermit and Friends for Valentine’s Day. You can read it here. Eric is featured in the blog. Elisa first met Eric at work, and he became very smitten with Elisa. Hey, who can blame him? He even proposed to Elisa, but Eric had to move to Seattle not long after, so their 'relationship’ became a long distance 'relationship’ following that.

Did they really date? Was Elisa really engaged to Eric?

Elisa is too sensitive towards Eric’s feelings to give a straight answer to these questions, but I know the answers and I will give them to you.

Elisa hung out with Eric many times. His desk was right behind hers at work and naturally as a group they spent many lunches and ‘happy hours’ together with other co-workers. Is that dating? Eh, I’m fine with calling it that if Eric really wants to but you can see where the line is blurred.

As far as Eric’s proposal... there’s an episode of the 90′s sitcom Full House where DJ Tanner’s baby sister Michelle (who is 5 or 6-years-old at the time) falls in love with DJ’s boyfriend, Steve. Michelle asked Steve to marry her and of course Steve said yes to play along and to not hurt Michelle’s feelings. That episode pretty much describes what happened between Elisa and Eric.

Eric proposed in a public setting and Elisa did not want to embarrass Eric by saying no, but she also never led him on by making promises, flirting, doing anything sexual, etc. She genuinely adored Eric as a friend and knew he had a puppy dog crush on her and wanted to never hurt him.

Eric’s move to Seattle was a blessing for Elisa because it meant she never had to break his heart. If you remember the Forgiveness episode of Kermit and Friends, Eric told Susan Shapiro that he was finally over Elisa and looking to move on. Of course, since then Eric has professed his love again with poems, songs, and even a damn book, but still... you just had to think he was somewhat over the idea of truly marrying Elisa.

Boy, is that NOT the case. Not the case at all. Eric full on believes he’s the next Jeff Benzos and that he will help skyrocket Elisa’s career by booking her to perform with him as a duet at Madison Square Garden. And they will do this as husband and wife, despite the mafia, Vice Lords and the people who shot down Kobe Bryant’s plane all being against the idea. In Eric’s mind, the power of he and Elisa’s love can overcome anything. Including and especially Andy Dick, who is a part of the Satanic Cult of Walt Disney, according to Eric.

Eric claims to have super powerful Jewish friends in super powerful places. One phone call from Eric and he can have Andy wacked like OJ Simpson killed his wife Nicole. Or Eric will just do it himself. This would probably be a very scary threat if it wasn’t coming from someone as harmless as Eric Riggs, so it’s just funny. Very funny.

But it’s also a bit sad. Eric obviously has some issues upstairs and has created a fantasy World for himself. Honestly, Kermit and Friends is a wonderful fantasy World as well but most of us are capable of separating our fantasy Worlds from reality. We can tell which is which. Eric doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference and that’s very unfortunate.

Eric’s rant lasted nearly 30 minutes straight. Non-stop. No one could get a word in edgewise. Elisa didn’t even try for the most part; she was completely silent for well over 10 minutes after it first started. Whenever Andy tried to chime in, Eric was not having it. Thankfully, Andy took it in stride and seemed amused by it all. It was one of the most surreal half hours you will ever witness if you’re lucky enough to watch this incredible show every week.

Elisa abruptly ended this week’s Kermit and Friends after asking Andy if he was ready to go to the Four Seasons during Eric’s tirade. This is one KAF episode that will never be forgotten. If you have not watched it yet, this review is nowhere near giving it justice. Just stop whatever you’re doing right now and click play.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Fast and the Furious: Spectral Drift || Morgan, Nell, & Constance

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @nelllraiser @constancecunningham @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Just gals being pals.

CONTAINS: car theft, drowning

For once, Nell was gaining a moment of mediocrity in her otherwise far too lively existence. Not that she minded the chaos. Parts of her thrived on it, but she’d been learning as of late that not all chaos was good, and a spot of normality was welcome in an otherwise unforgiving world. She and Morgan had gathered at Coffee Plus, taking advantage of the quiet day to do a bit of catching up between one another. Leaning forward to take a hearty bite of her chocolate muffin, Nell finished chewing and swallowed before finishing the story she’d launched into. “I’m just saying- maybe if he couldn’t handle the whole sandwich, he shouldn’t have stuck his fingers in the hanyo.” Her tone was bright with a laugh as she remembered the ridiculous expression that had been on the man’s face. Ready to launch into another joke about the poor guy’s predicament, she stopped mid-sentence— realization dawning over her as movement caught the corner of her eye. “Morgan...isn’t that...your car?” Pointing towards the vehicle in question, Nell stood to get a better look. Sure enough, she recognized the license plate that was ever so slowly inching away from the curb, the back of a mysterious head seeming to fumble with the controls. “Someone’s taking your car!”

Morgan was relieved that Nell wasn’t so bothered by her Constance drama as Blanche had been. She missed her young friends and whatever good she was able to imagine she did for them by being around. They certainly did plenty enough for her. Nell, especially, never backed down from a fight or a favor if it seemed right to her, and she could brighten any day with stories from her daily whirlwind adventures. Even though Morgan couldn’t really enjoy anything at the cafe, she didn’t feel ill at ease slurping at her seltzer water with Nell across the table. Listening to the latest turn, Morgan couldn’t help but snort. “You know not everyone is in your league, right, Nell?” She asked. “A lotta guys who call themselves brave would pee their pants getting up to some of the stuff you do. Although, gotta say, even I’m not woman enough to go anywhere near that ‘hanyo’ stuff, even for money.”

She had another question on her lips when Nell’s face changed. “M-my what?” She couldn’t have heard that right. But she followed Nell’s finger and— “That fucking bitch,” she hissed, tearing her bag off the chair. “I gotta go, I’m sorry, Nell, you might wanna run.” She stumbled outside in disbelief. “You’ve got three seconds to get out of my fucking car!” She cried.

Constance jumped, startled at the fury in the woman’s face. She was still getting used to being seen by any old soul, and not just her fellow damned and dead. She could still get out. Apologize for the mischief. This crime was small, impulsive, childish. She had only been wondering at the miraculous contraptions since they had first frightened her months ago. And seeing Morgan, this other Agnes, slide in and out of hers with more pride than any girl she’d seen give to a bicycle. It hadn’t even been locked. How grateful could this woman be for it if she didn’t think to have it locked? Thus, Constance’s resolve solidified. “I think you’re wrong!” She called. Her foot tested one of the pedals and a delicious roar came out of the engine. “I only need three to get away with it.” She moved the lever next to her and pushed the pedal again. The automobile shot backwards, crunching into something behind her. Constance fixed the lever again and she was flying forward, into the road like a comet. “Try and stop me, Bachman!” She cried.

Immediately electing to ignore Morgan’s recommendation of running, Nell’s head whipped around in search of something that might help, an idea that could get Morgan’s car back, and possibly give Constance some hell at the same time. It came to her in the form of a bright and shiny sedan someone was just pulling up in, putting their own vehicle into park alongside the curb. They didn’t have a chance to take the keys out of the ignition before Nell was on them. “Can I borrow this?!” she yelled at the startled driver who was frozen in shock. His confused voice matched the hopeless alarm on his face.

    “Wha-? No! It’s my car! Who the hell are you?” Without answering, Nell wrenched open the driver side door, grabbing the shirt of the poor man to firmly remove him from his seat, and deposit him on the asphalt. “Sorry!” Nell quickly apologized, another idea quickly coming to her. “Uh- official police business! Detective Vural thanks you for your service and so does White Crest!” It’d only taken her a quick second to Summon the fake badge she’d magically made when she’d pretended to be police to Regan and shove it into the face of the driver. As Constance and Morgan’s car rocketed down the street, Nell quickly put her ‘borrowed’ car into gear, also ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a license, and had mostly driven tractors. “Morgan!” she called out, rolling the car to her friend. “Morgan, get in! We’ll catch her!”

Morgan screeched with outrage. “My girlfriend bought me that Subaru!” She started pelting the car with whatever she had on hand. Her drinking straw, crumpled up receipts, post it notes, half used packs of Trident, pens, embroidery needles, her planner. They all bounced off the red car and fell pathetically into the road as Constance reversed right into a light pole, switched gear, and drove straight into traffic.

Morgan followed her as far as the stoplight, screaming wordlessly until the car behind her honked. “Hey, lady! Don’t make us late too!”

Morgan stumbled back into the parking lot, just in time to see Nell wielding a police badge as she dove into a random suburbanite sedan. “D-detect--yeah! Detective Stryder thanks you for your service too! Call the station with my name if you have any questions!” She didn’t slide so much as topple into the shotgun seat, junk still spilling from her bag. “And thank you!” She called behind her. They sped off in the direction Constance had gone, fast enough for Morgan to feel plastered to her seat before she could even buckle up. “I uh--didn’t know you had a lot of getaway experience, Nell,” she said, laughing breathlessly.

Broken glass and confused drivers littered the road ahead of them. Skid marks striped the road. Up ahead, the faintest streak of banged up red zig zagged through the lanes before jumping the curb and tearing into the town common.

A snarky chuckle fell from Nell as the familiar name of Marley Stryder was thrown into the mix. “I didn’t know you knew Marley,” she said as casually as a person could while beginning to give chase to a car that had been hijacked by a ghost who could have belonged in Downton Abbey for all Nell was concerned. As for getaway experience… “Oh, I don’t! Unless you count racing games and tractors!” she answered brightly, the rush of piloting a car that was careening down the street in a chase already causing delicious adrenaline to pump through her veins. It’d been a long while since she’d gotten to enjoy a high like this without also fearing for her life. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to drive a getaway car! Or be in a car chase! I just didn’t think I’d get to since I don’t have my license or whatever.” The witch dropped the news as if it were the most inconsequential fact one could say at a time like this, accelerating all the while. A light turned red. Nell didn’t hesitate as she blew through the intersection. Thankfully, Constance had run the same light, clearing the way for Nell to pass through safely. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her!” In a jerky movement, Nell followed the ghost onto the grass of the common.

“We’re acquainted,” Morgan said, wincing at the memory. It clearly wasn’t in any way that could be considered ‘good.’ “Wait, what do you mean you--oh my fuck, Nell, no!” Morgan yanked the wheel, swerving the car away from a tree, bouncing painfully back onto the street. She could see her red Subaru swerving down towards the docks in the distance, the bumper just barely hanging on and sending a fireworks show worth of sparks down the street. “She can’t get much farther like this,” she hissed between her teeth. Morgan let go of the wheel and reached into her bag for her salt pistol.

This wasn’t really the ideal time for Nell to question Morgan further about her and Marley’s relationship, even if her need to be nosy was in full force and trying to get her to ask anyway. Later, she told herself before punching her foot to the gas once more. “Hey!” she objected as Morgan jerked the wheel. “I wasn’t gonna hit it! Talk about a backseat driver,” Nell grumbled. But the disgruntled mood was quickly past her. How could she stay upset when she was zooming along in a car chase? A grin split over her lips as she took the time to roll her window down, laughing as the wind whipped her hair with the sudden gust of air. “What is that?” Nell asked, not entirely sure what kind of gun the strange thing in Morgan’s hands was. However, she did know that if Morgan was going to get any kind of decent shot, they needed to be closer. Yet again, Nell stomped on the gas, laying the pedal flat against the floor of the car. Finally, she managed to catch up to Morgan’s car, the front bumper of Nell’s ‘borrowed’ car kissing against the back of Morgan’s Subaru. The nudge was more than enough to knock the Subaru’s bumper loose. “Ha!” Nell exclaimed as the piece of plastic clattered beneath them before remembering that it was Morgan’s car she’d just tapped. “Ah- I mean- oops?”

Morgan cried out to see her poor bumper. Her fingers stretched out helplessly to the windshield. “S-subaru…” she whispered. That did it. Morgan cranked down the windshield, because of course it still had a fucking crank, and leaned out, pistol raised. Three short pops burst through the air. Three brusts of smoke. The salt rounds exploded against  the Subaru. One landed in the spiderweb break in a window, melting on contact.

Constance’s joy was short lived. These monstrosities were no relief, no freedom. The beastly thing seemed to have a mind of its own! Then the windows began to cave in, dripping with salt. “No, no, no, no…” She whimpered. She tried moving the lever, but this only made the car jerk and fit. Panicked, she rammed her foot to the pedal. The automobile screamed as if she’d cursed it and spun out of her control. Constance shifted, ready to drift out like it was no matter of all, but no, her solid form was now her prison. The automobile crashed onto the docks. Wood shattered everywhere in its wake. Finally, it came to a stop, and Morgan Beck, the last of the Bachmans, was right behind her. Constance picked her way out of the debris and stumbled into the car’s path, her body clenched and unyielding. Let her do her worst, cruel coward that she was. To ruin even one of her ill-gotten treasures was worth the trouble this had cost.

As Morgan hung out the window of the car, Nell reached for her own door handle— ready to launch herself into whatever showdown it was that Constance was hoping to have here. What she was going to do she wasn’t all that sure yet. But Nell had to do something. If she didn’t, who knew if there would be another Maxine sooner rather than later? But as her hand reached for the plastic of the handle, she heard a click of the locks, and in a single second the witch found herself momentarily trapped in the car by some no good ghost mischief. If only it had stayed mischievous rather than lethal. Before Nell could so much as search for the unlocking mechanism, a weightlessness overtook her. She was...flying? No, the entire car was flying. Straight over the side of the dock as Constance wielded her power once more, sending the borrowed vehicle right into the hungry fingers of the waiting waves of the ocean. Morgan was gone from the window before Nell could make sense of what was happening, probably thrown adrift by the sheer force of the launch. And then...an icy coldness as water began to pour in through the open window, the car sinking steadily below the surface of the water while Nell remained trapped inside. She jerked uselessly at the handle as more saltwater began to fill the cab of the car, it not taking long to rise to her knees. It seemed whatever Constance had used to keep the doors shut wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Constance, don’t.

The voice wasn’t in Constance’s ears, but it shook through her strange body as she tried to stop the car. Locking it was no matter to her, but the rest, becoming an immovable object to its unstoppable force. If she were her full self, it would already be in the air. If she were herself, she could have gotten hands around Morgan and snapped her to pieces. She could have thrown her across the room, smashed her up and down and gathered the dust of her bones for--

Constance, don’t.

It was the girl’s voice. Blanche Harlow. And in remembering her warning, Constance stepped back from her rage. But the car was already trembling in her grip. There was someone besides Morgan inside. Another girl, as frightened as the school children had been, maybe more. She could see Constance. She knew exactly what was happening to her, and perhaps even why. Constance let go, it was too much, all of this was too much, she didn’t want to be cruel to innocents, but she couldn’t let Morgan cower behind her friends all the time either! Constance’s self-control was like that of a child and the car didn’t come gently down to rest. It soared into the water and crashed through its depth, hard enough to disrupt the waves. Constance watched it sink, helpless to move, to think. “Help!” She screamed at last. “Someone help! There was a crash, did you see a crash? The automobile just-- there’s more than one person inside there! Help!” She sprinted up the docks, arms waving like mad. “Help me, please!”

Even Morgan’s zombie nerves felt her body hit the water. She plummeted downwards, muscles burning as she wriggled to slow herself down. The ocean was veiled in salt and murk before her eyes, but she could just make out the outline of the subaru in the distance. She opened her mouth once to call, only realizing how stupid that was when water rushed into her mouth. Fuck. She had to get to her. She was not losing another person to this spoiled brat of a witch. I’m coming, Nell. I’ll make this right.

As the water got higher, and only the murky depths of the ocean could be seen out her driver’s side window, Nell screwed her eyes shut for a long moment— trying to assess, to find her way out. She hadn’t come all this fucking way to die via being tossed into the ocean by a god damned ghost. The sound of rushing water, and the coldness of it rising to chest height was enough to push Nell into action, and in a quick moment she’d drawn one of her hidden daggers, slamming the butt of it against a backseat window. It did what it was meant to, shattering the glass and allowing more water to fill the car. The witch couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, but somewhere along the way she’d gotten it into her brain that letting the car fill with water would make it easier to open the door and make her escape. A quick spell made easy work of the locks, and the whole handle flew off of the side of the door as the dire need of the situation had given her a little too much juice when it came to casting. Whatever. It would work. She’d been submerged enough to float towards the roof of the car at this point, and now all there was left to do was wait. Wait for the car to finish filling. Wait for the perfect moment to take her last breath and make a break for it. Finally, the moment came— and she took a shuddering and deep last breath of precious air as the car became entirely filled.

Nell fumbled it. Half of her final breath became water where there should have been air, and suddenly a reflexive cough was wracking her. In all of two seconds...her air was spent, and she hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. It didn’t matter. That was what she told herself. It didn’t matter because dying wasn’t an option. Kicking open the door, it felt like time moved in slow motion as she finally came out from the car. She raised her eyes towards the light filtering above her to find that the sun seemed impossibly far away. Shit. Shit shit shit. Had she really sunk that far so quickly? Should she have tried her chances with getting out of the car earlier? It didn’t matter now. Swimming had never been a problem for her, but the surface seemed impossibly far. Nevertheless, she kicked her legs, making a desperate attempt to live. It wasn’t long before her lungs were screaming for air, begging her to take that breath of seawater that would begin the sealing of her fate and death. Just a little closer. Just a little more. But the little more wasn’t enough. It felt like every gallon of the ocean was pressing on Nell— her eyes, her ears, any crevasse it could manage to find. Dizziness began to take its hold, and Nell vaguely wondered how it was even possible to be dizzy underwater, the inane thought crossing her mind as spots began to appear in her vision. She wasn’t going to drown. She refused to drown. Barely aware of it, sheer will seemed to propel and jet her higher, and whether it was her legs or her magic, she wasn’t able to say.

Morgan was no expert swimmer, but she had determination and stamina on her side. She tore through the water, muscles aching. The pull of the ocean was not her friend this time. It weighed down her arms, making her slower. Salt and floating debris flung into her eyes. Morgan continued to swim. She could see her now, a limp ragdoll figure in the blue.

No. Not today. Not one more fucking person is dying because of Constance.

Morgan grabbed her around the waist and propelled them to the surface.

“There they are!”

“Look!”

“Someone toss ‘em a rope!”

“Grab on, honey! Don’t let go!”

Morgan’s eyes were blurry with seawater, but she made out the shadow of a life preserver flying towards her. Morgan dragged her and Nell towards it, trying not to focus on how much distance there was between them and the shore, the ruin of her Subaru, the weight of Nell’s motionless body in her arms. “We--” she called, her throat choked with salt. “We need-- CPR! She--” Morgan gagged on more seawater. Nothing was moving fast enough. Not her legs, not the human chain forming on the docks, not the clouds gathering over the blinding sun. Morgan kicked in the water to help move them along, but it felt like she was still being pulled down, squeezed until she broke and gave up.

When they reached the surface, Morgan remembered to give a few dramatic coughs and wheezes while a woman she recognized from Amity Row felt for Nell’s pulse. “How did you… did you see? What happened?” Morgan asked.

The crowd looked uneasily at each other. “Just the end,” one of them admitted. “Wouldn’t have seen it at all except for that weird little girl.”

They began to describe her in bits and pieces, red hair, funny dress, maybe a cosplayer, but Morgan had already heard too much. She didn’t care what Constance had or hadn’t done for them, what kind of crowd she wanted to draw for her latest maneuver. If she was still gawking by the time Morgan was through here, she’d take her new solid body and pound it into dough. “Out of my way!” She snapped. “She just needs CPR! Fuck, it’s not rocket science!” She started pumping on Nell’s chest, blocking out the rest of the world. She’d taken this training enough times to remember; she could get this right. “Come on, Nell…” She whispered. “I can’t let her get you too. Come on…” She breathed into her mouth. “We’ve got this, Nell. We got this… we got this…”

[notquitejiraiya]

Chess [30] - {ShikaTema AU}

It’s been a while. Exams are vile and get in the way, but I’m back now!!

I hope you enjoy :)

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER THIRTY

“You okay, Temari?”

She turned to her brother sharply and nodded. The road seemed to be going on forever, and after sitting in the passenger seat of the van for nearly four hours Temari was ready to jump out. She was grateful that, after talking some things through with Baki, Kankuro was perkier and humming along to the radio as he drove, but that didn’t ease her anxiousness to get home. Every sign she saw counted down the distance, but it never seemed to move fast enough for her racing mind.

The useless phone in her pocket seemed to jab at her with every fidgety movement she made. It hurt how much she longed to hear it ring and that weary voice breathe life into the device once more after over two days, and she kept getting lost in her visions of such impossibilities. 

“Sorry,” said Kankuro, a subtle crack in his voice. “I know how much you hate visiting Mum.”

Temari shrugged. “It’s not that I hate it, the place just holds too much hate for me, and that’s not your fault—it’s his,” she sighed, letting her eyes flicker down to her restless fingertips. “And, besides, it’s nice visiting Baki.”

“His advice is always good.”

“It is.”

The radio lingered in the background, and a familiar song suddenly started spilling from the speakers. Temari bit down on her lip as she recognised it as one which had been playing in Shikamaru’s car on Saturday, and felt her heart leap a little as the man’s voice sounded. Kankuro leaned over to adjust the channel, disgruntled, but she smacked his hand away to turn it up. “Why are you so miserable all of a sudden?” Temari crossed her arms as a chill crept in through the air vents. “Are you still het up about Suki?”

“I just don’t know why I flip out like I do with girls,” he mumbled, his eyes flicking toward her cautiously, “and I don’t need you to analyse me to tell me it’s about Mum being gone, but—”

“It’s fine.” She smiled and elbowed him gently. “You only had me to help you understand women growing up, and I’m not sure most women are like me.”

Kankuro let out a faint chuckle. “Well, Gaara turned out fine with that.”

“Gaara’s never been cheated on—it’s completely different.”

“I don’t want to sound like a wimp, Temari, but it’s every single time,” he grumbled. “Do I treat girls badly? Am I that much like Dad?”

“You’re nothing like Dad, Kankuro.”

He laughed in a somewhat maniacal fashion, and Temari didn’t like it. “But I am. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, well I can be a bitch, can’t I?” She waiting for a calmer expression to settle on her brothers face. “Look, we can drive back and forth to Suna to visit Mum’s grave or talk to Baki, but you’re the one who’s got to put their foot down and say you’re not going to take it anymore.” Temari let out a chuckle. “And I can pick apart all the differences between you and Dad psychologically to make you feel better all you want, but the fact still remains that Dad did love Mum. He might even have loved us.”

“I don’t care if he did or didn’t love us, Tem. I just want to stop scaring people off.”

There was something so pitiful in his voice—a sadness Temari hadn’t heard in many years. She had to admit this had become routine with him and women, and the only one who hadn’t been turned off by Kankuro’s intense attempts at romance had become the source of much laughter for the other siblings. The way Temari saw it, other than crazy poem lady, women saw Kankuro as shallow and so most treated him that way in return. It was cruel, but she could understand their reasoning, and when they didn’t follow that path for whatever reason, she’d watch her brother fumble about with clichés to a point where Temari could barely listen to the poor wretch.

Right now, watching his glazed eyes stare ahead at the highway, she wished a slap on the back could solve everything for her. It was more than just a little frustrating of him to sit there, clearly fishing for relationship advice, after all he’d said to her the last few weeks. But, just as always, Temari found it difficult not to voice her opinion.

If he wants help, she thought, I’m not sugar coating it.

Temari threw her head back onto the chair with a sigh. “Well, for starters, stop trying to be extravagant. Not everyone likes that.”

“Do you?”

“Nope, I despise it.”

“But what about that bloke who wrote you a song?”

“Why do you think I dumped him, Kankuro?”

He smiled, properly this time, and Temari felt something settle in her chest. “I can’t speak for all women, but I just like knowing someone will back me up if I need them to.”

“Well, I can do that.”

Temari screwed her nose up. “Maybe, but you don’t listen. Listening is the important bit.”

Although he didn’t seem to understand her, her brother nodded along. “I’ll always back you up, Temari, you can count on me. If our roles were reversed and you’d been cheated on I would’ve punched someone by now—I’m surprised you didn’t.”

She tried not to ball her fists, each word he said growing less meaningful. “Thankfully I have some level of self control.”

“And you’re too smart to find yourself in my shoes,” he chuckled. “Or at least you used to be.”

Her head turned slowly. “Meaning?”

Kankuro said nothing, simply snorted and shrugged without even glancing her way, and she didn’t need more than a second to understand what he meant.

“So it’s like that, is it?” she spat. “Go on, then: explain it to me.”

“What?” He sounded defensive, and it riled her up beyond belief. As if he had the right to act dumbfounded. “Explain what?”

“You know what, moron: Shikamaru,” she growled. Her stomach twisted into knots as the radio continued to play that song, almost as if it was rooting for her. “What exactly is your problem with him?”

“I don’t have—”

“Don’t lie to me. Spit it out.”

Kankuro “Tem, you know…he’s y—”

“Don’t give me the ‘he’s your patient’ bullshit.” She imitated him with her go-to mimic of sassy quote marks and narrow eyes. Temari thought he might’ve laughed if not for the menacing stare that accompanied it. “He isn’t, and he won’t ever be again.”

“You worked, Tem. You can’t let that go to waste.”

“Now you sound like Dad. Is that really what you want?”

Her brother shot her a maddened glance as he pulled off the highway, and she could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Immediately she knew she’d struck a nerve, but after all the harsh words he’d dealt her on the topic in the past, Temari found it near on impossible to feel sorry for the man. She wanted to—she really did—and she knew the connotations of what she had said, but since that chess board had been shelved two weeks ago logic felt almost meaningless.

Temari found herself driven more by emotion every day thanks to Shikamaru’s obscure place in her life; he slotted in perfectly to this puzzle she’d build for herself without even meaning to, and while that scared her to death it also filled her with this sense of self she’d never quite felt before. These past few weeks, as mind-bendingly frustrating as they had been at times, cemented the fact she was allowed to be angry just as much as Kankuro was. More than that she was allowed to feel happy, however that feeling came about, just as Shikamaru was. 

Proudly, Temari looked back at the road and crossed her arms tight across her chest. “I thought as much,” she gloated to herself quietly as she twisted the volume knob of the radio up slightly, but Kankuro’s arm snapped out, instantly turning it right down.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you, okay?” he said, desperate annoyance lingering on his tongue. “I don’t want anyone to hurt my sister while I can help it.”

“Your sister can think for herself, and fend for herself.” Temari shook her head, staring out the window. “It’s honestly offensive how incapable you think I am, Kankuro. Do you realise that?”

“I know you can fend for yourself, but you aren’t—”

“I am capable of doing all the things I need to be able to do without your help,” she snarled. “I didn’t have to come with you. I could’ve let you go alone, or even have taken a leaf out of your book and forbid you to go where you wanted.”

“You couldn’t do that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

They pulled up to a traffic light and the pair jolted from the aggressive breaking.

Temari’s head turned, the tip of her nose twitching. “That’s the difference between us, Kankuro,” she said bluntly. “I care about you, and that’s why I let you make mistakes and learn from them. I can’t count the number of times I could’ve thrown out your girlfriend because I thought she’d hurt you, and she did. Being loving—caring for each other—it isn’t about control!”

Kankuro slouched, checking his mirrors. “You don’t have to tell me that—I’m not Dad!”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me!”

He moved off with a start and turned the radio up sharply. Suddenly Phil Collins voice didn’t feel empowering, it ground against her brain until all she heard was static. There wasn’t even an ounce of her that felt bad anymore, she was sick of being treated like a child by such an immature moron, but she couldn’t help noticing that raising her voice of the radio was just angering her more than it was changing his mind.

Kankuro wasn’t going to listen more just because she shouted, he’d just shout back—childhood screaming matches had taught her enough about such things. She had to try a different approach if she wanted to get out of this car with her vocal chords still in tact.

“Look,” she sighed, anger still apparent in her new, somewhat softer tone, “I get that you want me to be safe, but—”

“And not get fired.” Kankuro didn’t move his eyes, just grumbled.

“But this, all of this, just isn’t fair, Kankuro.” She spun in her seat, facing him. “Can you really not see that I won’t get sacked? That it’s just some stupid excuse you’ve zoned in on?”

He huffed despairingly, finally turning off the radio entirely. “But you worked, Tem,” he said, “Too hard—to just throw everything out over the first lost puppy you fancy.”

Her cheeks grew hot. “Lost puppy—can you even hear yourself, you absolute twat!” Who was she kidding? That softness in her voice hadn’t been built to last.

“You’ve got inside his head, you know you have—you always do!” Kankuro scoffed. “This is what always happens with you and guys. You get in their heads, whether you mean to or not.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before,” she spat. “Why is it suddenly a problem now?”

“Because you’re letting him in your head, Tem. You’re practically wearing a kick me sign constantly.”

“Why does everything have to be an argument with you?”

“With you, you mean.”

“Oh, you’re proper mature, aren’t you, Kankuro?”

“If you keep leading him on, Tem, he will end up hurting you.”

Temari almost tore off her seat belt and threw herself out onto the pavement. Her mind was racing so much faster than her body could move, and by the time he’d shaken his head she was one wrong word away from punching him square in the face. She’d tried being calm, however weak an attempt it was, and she’d tried to understand his stupid reasoning. Temari wasn’t sure what more she was supposed to do. There was no way she could feasibly sit here and take in another lie from him without hitting him. She knew she had to  ignore him in order to go in for the kill, and she needed to do so calmly.

Slowly but surely, Temari adjusted her position in the seat and took a deep, calming breath. She could see his eyes change beside her as a wave of terror overtook him; this was what she always did when she was past the point of no return. “Kankuro,” she tried slowly, “for one minute can you just stop spouting mindless drivel and shut up? You don’t know him—and what you do know of him is frankly harmless.” Temari balled her fists, ready for the next wave of excuses, and hid them underneath her thighs as though to restrain herself. “Besides, even if he, or anybody else, fucked with me and hurt me, I’m perfectly capable of punching them myself, thank you very much.”

Kankuro bit down on his lip. A distressed expression was quickly weaving its way between the angry lines around his eyes. “Tem—”

“No. Don’t ‘Tem’ me. You don’t have to do this—any of this. It’s not some brotherly requirement. Gaara doesn’t do it—he never would.”

“Temari, listen—”

“No, you listen to me for once, alright? You just fucking listen!” When turned to her, he seemed surprised to see she was holding back tears. It wasn’t something he was used to seeing, but she couldn’t quite comprehend how he thought she wouldn’t be upset by his words. Her snapping, breaking the facade of being collected, was impossible to stop, and as embarrassed as she now was by the wetness around her eyes she refused to wipe it away. “More than that, I don’t want you to do this,” she added, her voice cracking slightly. “I want you to let me live my life and you just live your own.”

He was perturbed now, no doubt, but it just wasn’t enough. She could see it, and she was ready to interrupt the moment he opened his mouth. “But he’s—”

“He’s what?”

“Damaged…”

Temari threw her weight back in the chair and laughed. “Oh, fuck you…”

“What?” Kankuro shifted awkwardly in his seat. He was clearly afraid of her now, and she didn’t care. She just kept on laughing, the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Damaged?” She shook her head in amazement at his sheer idiocy. “Take a second to remember that Gaara is also ‘damaged’ as you like to say,” she snarled. "Does that mean the guy he went out with on Saturday should run? Run away from our little, damaged brother before it’s too late to turn back?”

Something was changing in his eyes as he smashed down the indicator, turning left and zooming past the pub. Thank god they were almost home—she couldn’t wait to escape this stupid van and ignore the bastard for another week.

“Of course not,” he said calmly.

Victory was in sight.

“Exactly,” Temari agreed. “So why is it any different for Shikamaru? Why is he not allowed to find love?”

She saw his ears perk up and his eyes flash to look at her. Shit.

“Love?”

Temari had to admit it: the tone was convincing enough that she’d even pondered the word herself for a moment too long. She gulped, rolling her eyes, and decided he didn’t deserve an answer.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was feeble, almost shaky. It took Temari right back to her childhood, and she vividly remembered the moments after he’d spilled apple juice all over her GameBoy. Her blood started to boil at the memory, but she forced her attention back to the present with great effort to see Kankuro chewing nervously on his lip. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It’s not my job to control your life.”

“No,” she repeated. “It isn’t.”

“I’m sorry for pissing you off, and for yelling at you.”

There was a beat as he pulled to the side of the road, smiling at her hopefully until she wiped her eyes and forced one in return. 

“Well, I’m not sorry for yelling at you at all,” she sighed as the van ground to a halt. “Your whole argument is built on hypocrisy and…bullshit.”

Kankuro reached over, avoiding her eyes, and gave her hand a quick squeeze as he hopped out of the car. Once the frustration settled slightly and her shoulders softened, Temari followed suit with a smile that felt a lot more real. Even if it was impossible to tell how much, she had achieved something from this.

“So, explain,” her brother started, mimicking the bitter tone which she had begun the fiasco, “what exactly is so good about this boyfriend of yours?”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

He started laughing as he hauled their bags out the back of the van. “Oh, honestly—the nerve you’ve got.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I just mean, after ten solid minutes or more of yelling I’d almost rather he was, you know? It’d be worth the bullshit.”

Temari felt herself blush as she pushed the van doors shut. “So, you don’t mind if I see him again?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I really fucking mind.”

“Kankuro…” Her low voice came as a warning, but she wasn’t sure she had the patience to go through it all again.

He shrugged. “Just hate the idea of someone shagging my sister. It’s gross.”

Temari, holding back a smirk she was desperate not to show, whacked him in the knees with her holdall and laughed as he wobbled. “You’re gross, but I guess I get that.”

“You know you can’t make me like him?”

She nodded and backed away towards the front door. “I know, and I don’t need you to,” she smiled. “But I do need you to stop being a nutcase about him.”

“Nutcase?”

“No more creepy texts to Gaara, and no more confronting him at work.”

Kankuro held back a laugh, pursing his lips. She didn’t like that look. It was playful, yes, but he looked like a child ready to jump on the sandcastle she’d just spent hours perfecting—not that such a memory still angered her to this day or anything.

“Say you won’t do it, Kankuro.”

“Fine,” he laughed, throwing a set keys for her to catch. “I won’t do it.”

“You swear?”

There was a tut and a telling eye roll before he nodded. “I promise.”

~~~

Torso wrapped tightly in a towel, Temari hurried back into her bedroom still high on the steam of the bathroom. The feeling of warm water on her skin had felt impossibly good after hours sat stiffly in the van; her body felt wonderfully relaxed. Her mind, however, was still racing.

Her eyes darted to the screen of her charging phone as it lit up. Unable to wait she threw her damp hair up and pulled the first jumper she reached over her head. As it settled on her shoulders she noticed the faintest hint of Shikamaru’s minty shampoo and a warm feeling started to grow in her abdomen, but she didn’t let it slow her down for more than a second. Temari hopped over to her desk, half dressed and took the phone in her hand. Fifty-percent charged—that was enough for now.

She tore the cable from it and fell back onto her bed, tapping in four digits to unlock the world she’d longed for these last few days.

4 missed calls

2 voicemails

It felt like Christmas all over again when she read the name.

Temari had never clicked on something so fast. She pressed the phone against her ear, grinning proudly.  

“Tem, um, hi…”

A shiver flew down her spine.

Shikamaru cleared his throat quickly. “I’m, um, just checking in ‘cause you said you’d call and, well, um…you haven’t.” She heard a heavy sigh. “I, um, I just wanted to say sorry I didn’t stick around when your brother turned up. I hope whatever happened isn’t that much of a disaster that you won’t call.” The cough sounded again, and she realised that his voice was almost a whisper. Not just that, he sounded impossibly sad—nervous with all of his stutters and mumbles. Whenever she had come face to face with this man’s sadness before, it had been laced with the same deadpan tone he held ninety-percent of the time he spoke. “Please,” he mumbled, his monotone voice clearly worried. “Call me.”

She tore the phone from her ear and immediately tapped the second message, bracing her chest to hear the same pitiful voice echoing down the line. But it didn’t come. 

“Right, hello,” said a voice so confidently bright she almost didn’t recognise it. “He won’t admit to it but he really misses you—he refuses to talk about you when I ask. Right now he’s out smoking but the idiot’s left his phone in here as if I’m not going to ring you, and he knows I know his password is password—and so do you now, shit.”

There was a spritely laugh and a sweet snort. It was Choji, no doubt about it.

“I hear that you’re busy and can’t reach him, but if there’s some chance you get this, please call him.”

Something Temari could only pin as sickening worry shot through her.

“He’s fine,” he added, “don’t worry or anything when you hear this.”

Too late, she wished she could say, already trying to steady herself.

“But just give him a shout, yeah? He won’t admit it, but it’s pretty much all he wants.” There was a soft chuckle and what sounded like non-committal shouting in the background. She chuckled. Choji had been rumbled. “Okay, cheers—see you soon, Ma—bye! Look, Shikamaru, mine died and I had to ring Ma about dinner and—”

The line went dead and Temari found herself giggling. She was glad to have had her life touched by such kind people. Shikamaru stole the limelight, but knowing one of those people was Choji—one of the nicest men she’d had the pleasure of meeting—made her excited at the thought of meeting the rest of his circle.

Temari blinked harshly and shook her head and almost started laughing at herself. He hadn’t even introduced her to his other friend—to Ino—and there was still some nagging part in her brain wondering why. Sudden and unwarranted waves of jealousy still plagued her now and again. After all, what if Kankuro was right? What if there was something there—some unspoken history he’d never admit to?

“Oh, get over yourself, girl,” she told herself sharply. “When is Kankuro ever right?”

Grumbling, she let her eyes drift back down to her phone and scrolled through the messages that had been sent. Most of them read the same, a simple ‘hi’ and nothing more, but the very last two changed. Temari bit down on her lip to stop herself grinning like an idiot as her frustrations subsided, replaced only with excitement.

(13:18) Shikamaru: Hi. Gaara told me where you are, so ignore all my pointless messages.

(13:32) Shikamaru: It’s weird not hearing your voice. Let me know when you’re home safe, yeah? x

Never in her life had Temari been happier to see the letter ‘x’.

—> I’m home x

She dropped the phone on her bed beside her and reached for a pair of leggings. They were barely over her thighs by the time her phone buzzed, and her head shot around.

(22:46) Shikamaru: Good x

Unable to contain her excitement, Temari’s thumb was already hovering over the call button at the top of the screen when it buzzed a second time. 

(22:46) Shikamaru: I’m outside x

She retracted her thumb, checked her doorway was empty of siblings, and quickly tapped out a response as she sprinted downstairs to look out of the front window. She could see the shadow of a ponytail as he stepped into the spotlight of a streetlamp, and watched him point up to her front door.

—> You can’t come in x

(22:47) Shikamaru: Kankuro’s in then x

—>I spoke to him and he might not deck you anymore but dont wanna push it x

The little laugh she watched him let out was beautiful. Temari didn’t realise how much she’d missed the little shudder of his shoulders until it was right before her, and she couldn’t hold herself back from pressing call on her phone. The moment the phone hit her ear he had answered and she bit down on her bottom lip, stopping herself from pressing herself against the window as if that would somehow close the distance between them.

It felt pathetic, but Temari didn’t care.

She smirked at the clearing of his throat, aware he couldn’t see her. “Have you been following me?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “You’re such a pain to keep track of, though, you know that?”

“Well, you found me.”

Shikamaru shook his head. “Bad luck on my part,” he sneered. “I saw the van go past while I was having a ciggie outside the pub. Choji probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve abandoned him for you yet.”

Temari snorted and immediately blushed, grateful for the distance between them as he chuckled to himself. “Ah, so the man has drink in him?”

“Oh, yeah—I’m all orange-juiced up,” he nodded.

“Did Choji give you an extra straw yet?”

“Of course he didn’t.”

She laughed, pressing her fingertips against the windowpane. “I missed you,” she whispered gently down the line, half expecting to see him outwardly cringe, but instead she saw him simply take a puff of cigarette. It was almost disappointing. 

“I’m sure you did,” he tutted, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Temari let herself sit on her windowsill and leaned against the window as she’d longed to do from the moment she saw him, opening the window a crack. The night wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been before she left for her godfather’s, and there was a subtle warmth drifting through the February air. She heard the echo as he cleared his throat bounced around the terraced houses as well as down the phone line, and didn’t bother holding back her grin. She really had missed him. But she couldn’t say that again. It would be weird. Yes, by now they were good friends—it was fine for friends to miss each other, but it wasn’t fine for her to still be thinking back to last week and the way he’d stormed into her office. The way he’d grabbed her waist and kissed her—kissed every part of her—wasn’t an acceptable train of thought to have every time she saw caught sight of him.

“So,” she started, desperate to derail the ideas racing in her mind, “have you met Chojuro yet?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied sharply.

Temari nodded. “He’s good. He’ll help you.”

“So I hear.” It was clear to see him stiffen up at the thought of it. Shikamaru began kicking the leaves at his feet, his shoulders hunched that slightest bit more than before. Temari couldn’t help wondering if he felt what she did; that this was the end somehow. “I won’t mention you.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him with a giggle, hoping a happy tone of voice might loosen those burdened shoulder. If only she could sprint down right now and hug him until she felt that stiffness fade away. “But if you do, call me something else don’t I don’t lose my job, okay?”

Shikamaru shrugged and dropped his cigarette, squishing it. “Fine. I’ll call you Tara.”

“Don’t like it.”

“Tori then.”

“Worse.”

“Tori it is.”

The moment she’d said it, Temari regretted it. It wasn’t even far enough from her name for a man like Chojuro not to pick up on what lay behind it, but she suspected that this was nothing more than a wind up. Shikamaru wasn’t stupid—she new it for a fact, as much as she questioned it in every day moments. If driving her mad and irritating her in jest was going to put a spring in his step, as it seemed to do, she wasn’t ever going to let him stop. Now the shit-eating grin across his lips was so clear it stood out in the darkness, and Temari couldn’t help the smug feeling that swarmed her.

She’d done that, put that smile on his face, and nothing had ever felt quite like this. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d even been this proud when she’d received her degree. Why was she so pleased with herself for making a man smile that she couldn’t keep her own excitement at bay? Watching those perfectly broad shoulders jitter with another chuckle, Temari made the executive decision to ask Gaara once she went up to bed.

Look at you, Temari, she cursed, a therapist having to ask her little brother what her feelings mean…

She looked up at the stars above them, shining brighter than they had even back in her hometown last night, and her heart swelled as she heard Shikamaru’s laugh bounce around the houses once again. “What?” she asked. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny,” he told her, “I’m just happy.”

It was nearly impossible not to jump out the window and run to him.

A small smile spread across her lips. She’d repeated to everyone that he wasn’t her patient anymore for what felt like forever, and she’d known from the start that the most difficult person to convince of that would be herself. But, as she watched him raise a new cigarette to his lips, Temari instantly noticed the change in her approach to him, and she realised it wasn’t difficult at all.

Since she had met Shikamaru, Temari had been determined to fix him—that is what her job had been, after all, and he had asked her to do it. But now all she needed was to see that smile. She didn’t care who put it there, or uncrossed all the wires that might’ve been jumbled in his mind. As of now, that wasn’t her responsibility, even if she wanted it to be. Her responsibility was to be a friend for him to fall back on when he needed her; to be someone to rely on for encouragement, or a laugh when things seemed dark again. She was never going to stop wanting him to be better, or stop wanting to rid him of the troubles he carried in his mind, but Temari realised now that it had never really been her job to do that.

Shikamaru had entered her office that day for one reason, and she knew she had failed to provide him with what he really needed from the start. It was clear to Temari now that whether she succeeded or failed in the past really mattered—she wasn’t the person who was supposed to do this. He had stepped into that office and in doing so he had gained a friend; that’s all she needed to be for him now.

Maybe, one day, he would want more from her than just a helping hand. With all her might she longed to care for him in a way that wasn’t ruled by science and logic. She wanted to hear about the intricacies of his feelings and take them in, hold him if he cried just so he knew someone was there; no words or analysis required or wanted. There was something perfect to her about comfort without reason or explanation, just because she could and because she wanted to.

But what Temari wanted, in reality, faded into nothing with perspective. All she could think of that mattered in this very moment was him, right there, staring up at with a smile.

“I should get back to Choji.”

The warm feeling that had spread through her chest was momentarily accompanied by a jab in the gut. This was it. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “Okay, then.”

Every hitch in her breath said it clearly wasn’t, and even Shikamaru wasn’t far enough away to ignore the sudden change in her posture. “I can stay on the phone if you want,” he offered.

“I’m a big girl I don’t need you to do that,” she scoffed, stubborn as ever. As if she’d ever admit she did, in fact, want to hear him talk longer—forever in fact. She knew the change was coming, she wanted it, but that didn’t mean she was reader for him to leave tonight.

“But you missed me.” He started walking away backwards, only a few steps, but he seemed a world away. “Wouldn’t want to deny you more of my voice?”

“Well, the voice I can live without.”

There was a pause and an awkward cough from his end of the phone.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Shikamaru.”

I definitely did.

“Temari, your mind is filthy.”

She blushed, a devilishness creeping to the forefront of her mind. “I’m not the one who likes it when they’re—”

“No!” he spat over her. Shikamaru stopped dead, pointing back at her accusatively.  “Not while I’m walking down the street. Let me keep my dignity, woman.”

Temari was sure that she’d get noise complaints come the morning from the laughter that flew out the window into the open air. He sent the same, cackling laugh right back, and that same overwhelming feeling of pride crept over her. It almost broke her when they finally fell silent and he raised his hand to say goodbye, slow and solemn.

He didn’t want to leave either, and he was barely even hiding it, but he began stepping back anyway. As much as it felt terrible, Temari knew she had to let him disappear around the corner. It hadn’t felt real that he’d be moving on until his departure right now. It was finally sinking in that, when she’d see him next, she’d have no reason for her to consider him her responsibility; he’d be another patient come tomorrow morning, and this part of their lives had ended. Temari had no idea what would follow, and she could only hope things fell into place as they did when her eyes fluttered shut at night, but for now she needed to let go of the first patient she had made smile and watch him grow into the man she knew he could be, the man she wanted.

Temari gulped, suddenly realising exactly what that feeling in her chest was.

“Night,” said Shikamaru, cutting through the silence with the cleanest and most careful voice.

“Goodnight. I’ll call you,” she mumbled, waving meekly in return. “Really this time, no bullshit.”

She couldn’t see his smile anymore when he grew silent, but she prayed it was there.

“Temari?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you so much.”

Temari bit down on her lip as unwanted tears formed in her waterline. “I know, flower boy,” she sighed. “I know.”

[shadowsof-thenight]

When she leasts expects it - 4

Summary: When Rebecca’s relationship comes to an abrupt and painful end, she finds herself without a home. With her brother currently stationed in Iraq, she turns to the one person she knew she can always depend on—Steve Rogers.

Warnings: Perhaps a tinsy bit of angst, but overall fluff! Steve bringing his A-game.

Ship: Steve Rogers x OFC—Rebecca Barnes

Words: 3781

A/n: This was written for Star’s Follower Celebration. The prompt was a roommate AU. And like the previous chapters it was beta-ed by the wonderful @gnomewithalaptop​

Series Masterlist

Chapter four

Steve whistled along to the song on the radio as he drove off-base. The day had been long—the new cadets weren’t where they were supposed to be in their training—but there was still a sense of calm that had evaded him for a long time. It had been one of the reasons to find a place in town, the extra commute a small price to pay to lose the feeling of constant vigilance. He hadn’t been able to turn his brain off with his cadets so close by; it always felt like he was still on the job. Still, he knew there was more to it. Rebecca had so much to do with his continuous good mood. She was vibrant, filled with passion for any and all things life—and it rubbed off on him. Not that he wasn’t content, but it was easy to become stuck in a rut. Rebecca had this light inside of her that made everything seem brighter, more beautiful. It was something he had admired in childhood, and he loved it even more now.

Her happiness had them dancing through the room on their nights in, and it took her to clubs on the weekends. She had gone dancing every weekend these past six weeks, and Steve had been happy to go along, if only to watch her shine. Whether she was goofing off or losing herself to the beat, there was a radiant smile on her face that he cherished.

His stares in her direction hadn’t gone unnoticed, and a few weeks ago, Sam had finally commented on it. He too got dragged along to the clubs, though he seemed less out of place than Steve felt. Sam loved to dance, was good at it too. And much like Steve, he also enjoyed the act of watching the women dance. Of course, as a good boyfriend would, his eyes were solely fixed on Natasha. At least, that’s what Steve thought, but Sam was more observant that he had given the man credit for. All Sam had asked was if there was something brewing between Steve and Rebecca—innocent enough, though Steve thought there was more to it. Steve had denied the claim, all while blushing violently, which couldn’t be hidden by the dimmed lighting—nothing could have hidden it. Sam had barked out a laugh, informing Steve that he was a terrible liar, though that had been the end of the conversation. That was, until they had been on their way home again. Steve had been driving, Sam next to him and Natasha and Rebecca in the back.

With the four of them so tired, Sam had taken it upon himself to keep the conversation going, prompting subjects that were too close for comfort to Steve. Love at first sight versus it blooming from friendship, and the way close proximity could change relationships. Natasha had been happy to join her boyfriend in torturing Steve, telling them that she had loved getting to know Sam when they were dating, but that there was something to be said about friends becoming lovers and the foundation on which that relationship would be built. At the time, Steve had wished he could have jumped from the car, but Rebecca had seemed oblivious to their true intentions.

Steve shook the memories from his mind as best he could and hoped that the tinge of red that had risen on his cheeks by just thinking of their teasing would disappear soon.

Steve felt more tired now, his jumbled thoughts and feelings draining him easily, and hoped that Rebecca would join him for a night in. Since it was his turn to get dinner, he exited the highway and drove towards the mall. As soon as he parked, he called Rebecca to discuss his plans. She answered before the second ring.

“Hello?” Her tone was absentminded and he knew she had not checked caller-id before picking up. He imagined she had probably been lost in a book and he smiled. He loved it when she got like that, especially when she wanted to passionately discuss the book afterwards.

“Hey, Bec. I was thinking of takeout and a movie—are you in?” He asked, and he could hear her moving around before she answered him.

“Sounds good,” she finally answered and he waited a few moments to say anything else, knowing full well that she would tell him her preferences in a second. “How about Chinese?” She said finally.

“Perfect. I’ll be home soon,” Steve replied and hung up the phone, a smile still playing on his lips.

As he walked through the mall, towards her favourite restaurant and hoped that choosing it would aid in returning the favour that she had bestowed on him. It had not evaded his attention that she had been cooking some of his favourite meals lately. Unfortunately he wasn’t quite as good a cook as she was, so getting her favourite takeout seemed like the next best thing. Soon after, Steve walked back in the direction of his car with two bags filled with enough food to feed a small family. He was ready to put the work week behind him and kick off his shoes. However, before he made it to the exit, his eye fell upon a little flower shop, and he allowed himself one small detour; with a beautiful bouquet in hand and a spring in his step, he finally left the mall behind and drove the short distance home.

He kicked his shoes off by the door and made his way into the living room to deposit the food on the table, while keeping the flowers hidden behind his back. Rebecca smiled brightly as she walked out of the kitchen with plates and cutlery in her hands.

“Smells so good!” She sniffed the bags as she put the plates down.

She turned around and found Steve regarding her with a broad smile. Raising an eyebrow in question, she stared back at him. He removed the flowers from behind his back and stuck his arms out to her.

“Pretty flowers for a beautiful lady.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“You spoil me.” Rebecca blushed as she smelled them, her heart skipping a beat when she realised he went out of his way to get them for her. She smiled warmly, before walking into the kitchen to search for a vase. Steve followed her.

“You deserve it.” He shrugged and she scoffed at his words, confusing him.

“After last weekend, you deserve to be treated far more than me,” she chuckled, and he could not help but laugh along. Still, he placed a gentle hand on her back and rubbed softly, trying to tell her that he hadn’t minded the events one bit.

Rebecca blushed as she remembered her antics. She had gone for a girls’ night out—she and Natasha had been joined by some friends from Uni, prompting a mini reunion. The night had ended with Steve getting a drunken call well past his bedtime. Apparently none of them had anticipated the amount of alcohol that had flowed, and instead of calling a cab, Uber or Lyft, Rebecca had rung him. Sober, she would have never risked waking him up, but Drunk Rebecca had not cared. She had happily giggled as she pleaded with him to come get them. Steve had only been too happy to do it, which was why he had waved away her apologies the following morning. After driving the other women home, he had made sure that Rebecca would find her bed, going as far as placing a bucket next to it, just in case. Thankfully for both of them, alcohol rarely had that effect on her. It would have caused even more embarrassment for her.

Of course, there was one moment which neither of them dared to speak about. Rebecca wished the ground would swallow her whole, just thinking of it. She didn’t need to hear his take on the subject to intensify the shame.

In her drunken state, she had abandoned all pretence and tried to seduce him. For whatever reason, she had thought herself sexy, tripping over her own feet. Walking her fingers up his chest, she had complimented his shape—she had even used a husky tone in her words. Though perhaps the most humiliating had been his kind smile as he tucked her in, after evading her kisses. Instead he had kissed her forehead as he so often seemed to do and walked out of her room.

In her reminiscing, she missed the blush that covered Steve’s features as he remembered the effect she’d had on him. As soon as her fingers had begun caressing his chest, all the air had been sucked out of him. And when her hands found his neck, to pull him closer and whisper sweet nothings to him, leaving only a hair's width between their lips, it had taken all he had to pull back. He had been sure she didn’t mean it and as much as he would have loved to kiss her, he would never take advantage of her. That had been the moment where Steve realised just how hard it was to have her so close, even though he would still hate to see her go. Even with Bucky coming home, he couldn’t think of it—he wished she would never leave.

***

Later that evening, when the movie they had decided to watch ended, Steve stood to get them both another refill, while Rebecca flipped through the channels. She wasn’t ready to go to sleep, though it seemed too late to start another movie.

“Want more popcorn?” Steve called from the kitchen.

She smiled as she glanced over her shoulder to see him already grabbing another bag. He did that a lot—asking if she wanted something when in reality he did. Only with food though, the unhealthy variety mostly. As if he needed an excuse to eat it. Not that she minded—she’d rather add another work-out to her week than skip the salty snack that was now popping in the microwave.

“Not that you needed an answer, but I’d love more,” she chuckled and turned back to the TV.

Onscreen, a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy ended and gave way to commercials. She barely acknowledged them as she opened the tv-guide to see what was on. Her attention was brought back, however, when they announced the revival of her favourite musical, and she quickly closed the guide. Steve came back with their glasses and watched her shift in her seat, getting giddy. He couldn’t help but smile, when he had seen the commercial last week, he had instantly thought of her.

“Ohhh, I love this one!” She mused, still staring at the screen. She knew that going would interfere with her plan of saving money, which severely dampened her enthusiasm, but a girl could dream.

Still, she reminded herself that the day of her brother’s return was coming close and she would need to vacate his room soon. After the hard work he had done, the least she could do was give him his own bed. Besides, how much longer would Steve let her interfere in his life, his routine?

“I know,” Steve said softly, walking back to retrieve the popcorn from the kitchen.

When he sat back down, Rebecca had changed the channel–opting for a comedy to end their night. Steve watched her smile fade slightly and knew what he had to do for it to return. With a smile he reached into the drawer underneath the TV, before sitting next to her. He handed her a white envelope with a cautious smile, while she stared back in confusion.

“What’s this?” She wondered, eying the envelope suspiciously and Steve chuckled.

“A present,” he said.

“What for?” She asked.

“I just wanted to surprise you.” He shrugged.

“But—“

“Just open it, Bec!” Steve interrupted her. He liked giving her things, even if she didn’t understand why she would deserve them.

With a sigh and a small smile playing on her lips, she surrendered and took the envelope from him. Carefully, she opened it and took out the contents. Quietly, she stared at her hands, speechless and confused. In her hands lay two first-class tickets for the musical she had just commented on, the one she wished she could go to. A big part of her wanted to jump for joy, scream and thank him, but another quieter part of her wanted to ask why—why would he spend so much money on her? He had been doing too much for her already. Rebecca didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but she also didn’t want to ask too much of him either.

“You got me tickets?” She questioned lamely, still unsure how to feel about it.

“I saw the announcement last week and just wanted to surprise you,” he explained, wondering if he had pushed it too far. Would she see through him now? Find out what he felt for her? Would she leave? Though he did not have to wonder for too long, as she finally jumped up from her seat and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she mumbled, kissing his cheek once more before pulling back with a bright smile on her face. “When are we going?” She asked as she looked back at the tickets, scanning them for a date.

****

The play was amazing—just like she’d hoped it would be. The actors had been at the top of their game, and the soundtrack sounded even better in person. Opening the door of the apartment, Steve then stepped aside to let Rebecca enter first. She smiled up at him, still beaming from the night’s events as she walked past him and quickly removed her heels. A sigh of relief pushed past her lips as she stepped onto the cool floor. Steve chuckled as he followed her in and helped her out of her jacket. His fingers grazed her bare arms and she shivered, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of his nails. Quickly she moved away from him, needing distance. The night had been perfect, much like a real date and she needed to remind herself that he was her best friend–not her boyfriend.

“I’m putting on pj’s, nightcap after?” She suggested and Steve nodded in agreement before bending to untie his shoes.

He watched her skip to her room and a bright smile pulled at his lips, an effect she continuously appeared to have on him. She had gotten under his skin, and he was wary to think of what would happen once she left. Earlier that week, she had been apartment hunting, though none had felt right to her—he knew she would find something soon enough. Bucky would also come home in a short while, and he would want his room back. Not that he would turn his sister out—Bucky would rather take the couch—but Steve knew Rebecca would have none of that.

Rebecca sighed happily as she stood in front of the mirror to take her makeup off. The smile on her lips did not waver, even as she scolded herself for reading too much into the night. But it really had been perfect. An early dinner filled with laughter and good conversation that never waned. A show that had been everything she had hoped it would be, and a drink in the bar afterwards where she had been forced to stand close in the crowded room. Steve had been the perfect date. A date so secret that he hadn’t even known about it, but it was such a nice fantasy. She’d thoroughly enjoyed it.

By the time she moved into the living room, Steve had also changed his clothes and she smiled as he dropped down on the couch, while she moved towards the kitchen.

“What do you want?” She asked and opened the fridge to stare blankly into the chilled space, uncertain of what she wanted herself.

“There is a bottle of red in the cabinet to your right,” Steve offered and she smiled. She did like the idea of wine. Closing the fridge again, she instead moved around to grab glasses and the bottle, before moving towards the couch, sitting next to him. She was probably a little too close, but she justified it as she poured the wine—she’d scoot over after handing him the glass. And she did, a little. Rebecca knew that it was important to keep some decorum, not wanting to alert him to her feelings. He was her friend and she did not want to make it awkward for them. And awkward it would be if—when—he refused her advances. So some distance was better.  

Two glasses later, Rebecca was far less worried about the distance. Her sides hurt from laughing, and she had to lean on him to keep from falling over, while tears slipped from her eyes. She couldn’t think of any man that had even made her laugh quite so much, or quite so loud. Rebecca felt a little drowsy as she finished the wine in her glass and decided that this would be a good time to go to bed. Straightening up again, she glanced at Steve, to find his ears tinged with red. He must have been feeling the alcohol as well, she figured. He caught her eye and smiled, which she returned as she stared into his baby blues just a little longer. Perhaps too long, but she couldn’t look away. Gratitude was overwhelming her, and she tried to think of a way to let him know. She needed to thank him for tonight and these past few months. To give herself a moment to think, she stretched and got up from the couch.

Rebecca informed him that she was going to bed, before bending down and placing her hand on his cheek. She smiled and gently kissed his other cheek. Her lips ended up on the corner of his mouth and though it shocked her, she still lingered longer than she normally would have. Then she stood back up, uncertain of her actions and with a blush creeping down her face and neck, she turned to move around the couch and out of the living room.

“What was that for?” Steve asked before she got very far and he got up from the couch too, following her. Her kiss had shaken him, weakening his resolve to be her friend and it took all his will power not to pull her into his arms.

“A thank you,” she said, her voice a little shaky as she turned back to him.

“For tonight? You don’t ha—”

“For everything you’ve done for me these past few months.” She was quick to interrupt, hoping he would see her shaking hands as an after effect of the wine, or perhaps lack of sleep. If he knew how he made her feel—she turned around again and took a few more steps towards the door; it was within reach now and she was almost out of this situation of her own making.

“I’d do anything for you,” Steve said softly, feeling brave, and he reached forward to take her hand in his—effectively thwarting her escape.

He was warm to the touch, gentle and his skin upon hers was enough to send a bolt of lightning through her body. Did he not understand? She needed distance, to save herself from future embarrassment. She was by no means drunk, but she feared that she would tell him how she felt if he pressed the subject. The perfect evening was a far more pressing motivator than the alcohol could ever be. When he did not release her hand, she turned to face him and glanced down at their hands. A sigh escaped her lips; she knew he’d do anything for her. He always treated her like a princess. Better than anyone ever had, but she wanted more. She wanted all of him, desperately.  

“Me too,” she whispered, her thumb softly stroking the back of his hand.

Steve stared at her, her whispered words confusing him. The way she had spoken had sparked a fuse inside of him, and he allowed himself to believe she would mean it the same way he had. He had meant far more than words could ever express, and he really did want her to feel the same. He wished that the sparks he had felt throughout the night were not only in his head. The fear of losing her if he was wrong was strong enough to stall him for a moment, but the urge to take a chance was stronger still. Perhaps fuelled by the wine in his system, he finally made a decision, and with one big stride he closed the distance between them.

She gasped, shocked, though she made no effort to step back. Instead, Rebecca placed her free hand on his chest and stared up into his eyes. His gaze was intense, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Then his eyes glanced down at her lips, before returning to her dilated irises. The world seemingly stood still as they stared on, the moment stretching a little longer as they both warred with the doubts in their minds. Then, Steve moved—bending his head down he pressed his lips upon hers, gently. It was a soft kiss, short and hesitant, but Rebecca could feel it all the way to her toes. It was electric and he pulled back way too soon, she thought.

His cheeks were now as red as hers must have been and Rebecca smiled at the sight. He smiled back and she moved her hand off his chest to his neck, pulling him back to her and giving him a much more heated kiss. Steve pulled her impossibly close, his arms tight around her waist, as he tried to show the depth of his feelings in the kiss. And when her fingers moved along the hem of his shirt, touching the small bit of skin they uncovered, he poured even more into it. His hands moved to her ass, while hers roamed his broad back and he grabbed her firmly—pushing her into him. She moaned and he thought he’d lose it. Lowering his hands to her thighs, he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their kisses never wavering—and he moved through the door, down the hall and towards his bedroom.

***

Tag: @patzammit​

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 5

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Swearing, Angst

Words: 3,235

The week hadn't been kinder than most. Arthur's mother continued to badger him into mailing letters to Thomas Wayne, which he always did, though it was starting to frustrate him. He’d gotten notice the fee for heating the apartment was going up due to record oil prices. And he'd been fired.

It was a harsh coincidence that his biggest failure had been at the place he loved to perform the best. He'd been singing "If You're Happy and You Know It" with the children at the hospital, moving along to the upbeat music. They were having fun; even the staff had been smiling. It had been one of those rare times that he'd felt good. But he'd lost himself in the dance, as he tended to do, and made a mistake.

He'd taken to carrying the .38 regularly for protection. Feeling less vulnerable was nice for a change. And Randall had been right: no one had known he had a gun.

The pistol had sat safely tucked in his waistband. But Arthur spun a little too eagerly, stomped his foot a little too hard. The pistol had fallen through his pant leg and onto the floor.

His head had whipped around at the sound of metal hitting the linoleum. Faking a cry, he’d lunged towards the weapon, giving it a slight kick. Maybe if he retrieved it foolishly, the nurses would think it was part of his act. He had grabbed it and shoved it in the lab coat he wore over his Carnival costume of a yellow vest and patched brown pants. Nervous giggles escaped him as he put a finger over his mouth, gently shushing the children. Thank god he hadn't had a laugh attack.

Now he sat on the subway, large prop-bag by his side, still in make-up and costume. He hadn't even removed his wig. The train car was quiet, with only a woman reading a book and a middle-aged lady nearby. Staring into nothing, he remembered his conversation with Hoyt.

Someone from the hospital had called before he'd gotten to a pay phone. The despair he'd experienced when begging for his job still sat heavy in his chest. Hoyt had called him a liar. Arthur had lied. Hoyt hadn't believed Arthur before when he'd said he'd been jumped - why would he believe he was carrying the gun for self-defense?

And Randall... Randall had told Hoyt that Arthur had tried to buy the gun off him. It became clear to Arthur, then, that the gift, the kind gesture that had meant so much, had been the trick he'd originally suspected. He'd been an idiot to take the weapon. He hadn't even wanted it. He wasn't sure what hurt more: losing his job or being the fall guy.

It didn't matter, anyway. He shouldn't have brought that gun to the children's hospital. He was such a screw-up. It was difficult, how hard it was for him to make the right decisions sometimes. How could he be so good at taking care of his mother and so terrible at caring for himself? All he could do at the moment was sit and contemplate what went down.

The train came to a stop and three men in business attire walked in. Their volume and obnoxiousness made it clear they were drunk. A woman ran in after them and headed to the back left corner. She dropped onto the seat and took a folder out of her canvas bag. After a few seconds of watching her, Arthur realized it was Y/N. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. She had headphones on; he wondered what she was listening to. He wanted to go to her, but the men were in the way.

The shorter of the three men sat, eating fries out of the greasy paper bag he held. The other two friends continued to stand and talk.

"I'm telling you. She wanted my number. We should have just stayed." the man without a suit jacket said.

The taller man scoffed. "You're dreaming, man. She wasn't interested - at all."

"Did you see how close we were dancing?" the first man replied as the train began to move. "She was in love!" He started shimmying, badly, as he hung onto the pole grip

Arthur watched them closely, admiring their confidence. Maybe some of it would rub off on him.

The sitting guy held the paper bag out to the woman with the book. "Hey, do you want some fries?" When she didn't respond, he wiggled it at her. "Hello? I'm talking to you. Hey."

The woman looked up, answering politely. "No, thank you."

Confusion came across Arthur's face. Wasn't offering a woman a bite to eat a normal thing to do? He'd offered Y/N his favorite donut and she'd responded well. Maybe the woman wasn't hungry.

The dancing man sat next to the fry guy. "Don't ignore him, " he intoned, gesturing to his friend. "He's being nice to you."

French fries landed in the woman's hair as the men started throwing them at her. It was then Arthur understood the men's offerings were not kindly meant. They were like what Randall had done to him - selfish and ugly.

The woman looked to Arthur, obviously wanting him to intervene. He found he couldn't do more than look at her in sympathy. Even as he did that, he felt like a coward. Part of him wanted to speak up, but he was filled with unease. As his discomfort grew, he felt his body tense up, his throat begin to tickle. He shook his head lightly, turning away. Not now. 

Not now, please...

Loud, throaty laughter burst out of him. He felt the eyes of everyone stare at him. Wincing, he covered his mouth in desperation. He took a deep breath and lowered his hand, seeming to get his fit under control. But then his body betrayed him again, and more involuntary gales escaped.

The woman with the book got up and left the train car. Arthur didn't dare to give Y/N more than a glance. She was watching him and the men, taking her headphones off.

"Hey, asshole. What's so fucking funny?" he heard the tall guy yell at him.

Arthur's guffaws came even louder through his fingers. He lowered his hand to his stomach, willing his diaphragm to calm itself. He waved in their direction, trying to dismiss his outburst.

The men moved towards him. The tall one was singing, swinging from strap to strap as he got closer. Arthur could only choke out, "Please. Stop."

He felt his eyes tear up as they passed over Y/N, then down to the floor. He curled away as his laughter continued. The two times they'd met, he'd been able to hide himself from her. Now she was going to see him as the weak freak he was. She'd hate him. He'd lose her kindness. The same way he lost everything.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He hadn't spoken up out of fear of unwanted attention, and now his condition was making him a show. The gun in his waistband felt heavy against his abdomen. He felt like turning it on himself.

The feeling of warmth against his arm caused him to still. He screwed his eyes shut against the blows he knew were incoming.

"Come with me to the next car." Y/N's voice surprised him.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to face her, but, out of the corner of his eye, he could see she was standing between himself and the men. He wondered if it was all a dream. But it couldn't be. His affliction never struck him in those. No. This was real. And Y/N was tugging at his sleeve.

Still bent with laughter, he stood and grabbed his bag. He walked in front of her. The door to the next car seemed so distant.

"Hey," he heard the tall man yell. "What are you, lady, a clownfucker?"

Anger bloomed in Arthur’s chest. She was being insulted because of him. Shouldn't he be rescuing her? That's how it went in every film he'd seen. He stopped, starting to spin, wanting to go back and cold cock the guy. Before he could, though, Y/N gently pushed him forward. Reaching the door, he opened it, then passed through the second door and entered the next car.

It was empty, thankfully. And the men hadn't cared enough to follow them. He dropped his bag to the floor. Various items spilled out of it when it tipped over. Slumping down on a nearby seat, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. A confusing mix of consolation and shame coursed through him. "I'm-" he coughed, laughter finally subsiding. "I'm sorry."

She was standing some distance away, further than she had the other times they'd met. That wasn't lost on him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I - I have a condition." Fishing around in his inner vest pocket, he retrieved a laminated card that explained his laughter and held it out to her. He didn't know how he kept his hand from shaking. She'd know the truth now. Frustrated and sweating under his wig, he ripped it off and reached to shove it in his bag.

Y/N was suddenly crouched in front of him. "Arthur?"

Stilling, it dawned on him that she hadn't recognized him in costume. He'd given himself away. "Yes," he said, defeated. He lifted his gaze to her.

She was looking at him so...affectionately. There was empathy there, a little sadness. But a gentle smile was on her lips. He wished he could be sure of what it meant. She handed his card back to him, then started to pick up the props that had fallen out of his bag.

Relief she hadn't run away, and was seemingly glad to be around him, settled in his body. It was foreign. He watched her pick up the magic wand that had rolled a couple feet away. When she handed it to him, Arthur felt the urge to pull her into his arms. He settled for squatting next to her to help her pick up instead.

"You must have had a show tonight," she said. "How'd it go?"

That snapped him back to reality. He snorted humorlessly, shaking his head. "It went great."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"It was at the children's hospital." He shut his eyes, remembering giving back the lab coat and his Dr. Arthur name tag. Anxiety crept back into his body. "It was nice." Slowly, he stood and brought his hand to the side of his face, fingertips smudging his make-up. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this. I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore."

There was an awkward silence before Y/N chuckled. His eyes narrowed. Was she laughing at him? "Because you're dressed as a clown? Don't be ridiculous." The train slowed and she straightened, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "This is my stop. Come on."

He picked up his bag and followed her to the doors, standing beside her. Once the train stopped, he followed her onto the platform. His steps slowed, doubt refusing to leave his head. "No." His earnestness felt disgraceful. "Because of my condition."

Y/N stopped and looked at him. "Arthur, it's fine." She continued along, then. "Let's go up. It smells like piss down here."

He blinked as she hurried up the nearby stairs and turned to wait for him at the top. Her silhouette against the background of streetlights and steam loaned him the strength to get his legs working. His pace quickened, a grin daring to spread across his face at the prospect of walking with her again.

When he caught up with her, he touched his ribs, sore from his earlier laughter. "If you didn't know who I was, why did you help me?"

She started going down the sidewalk at a slow but steady pace. "You were in trouble."

Guilt assuaged him at the slight disappointment he felt. He'd wanted to believe she'd helped him because he was Arthur, not because he was some defenseless stranger on the subway. Straining, he fought that negative thought back. He didn't want to taint whatever they had with that. He should be glad she seemed to be a good person; he'd try to be.

Her continued answer warmed him, though. "I wouldn't have told anyone else this was my stop. Or invited them along." She flashed him a grin. "Know how I recognized you?"

A painted eyebrow lifted. "How?" he asked

"Your nice hair." She chuckled. "That's actually how I referred to you before I knew your name. 'Good hair, Tan jacket.'"

He made a face, looking away from her. Was she flirting with him or trying to cheer him up? Maybe she had a thing for weirdos. He'd happily be that weirdo. His hands raked through his unruly curls, trying to come up with a good reply. "Glad I took the wig off."

"Me, too," she said.

Arthur's head was spinning. He'd had a great gig, lost his job, been rescued by Y/N. What a fucking day. He reached up and squeezed his left shoulder. Yes, he was still here. She was still next to him. A breath he hadn't known he was holding escaped him.

At the next corner, Y/N stopped. "This is my street." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "I don't want to be pushy. You're a grown man. But are you gonna be all right on the way home? I mean, I could call a cab. It's a long walk, you don't have a coat, I-"

"I'll be fine," he said, gently but firmly. "Don’t worry about me."

Smiling wryly, she pointed at his prop-bag. "You could always take out anyone who bothered you with that." She rummaged around in her purse and held out a piece of paper to him. "Here. Just...call me tomorrow? The earlier the better. And let me know you made it." She continued as he took the it, his fingers brushing against hers. "It'll make me feel better."

He studied the business card intensely before putting it in his vest pocket. "Okay. Thank you. I- I don't know what to say."

She shrugged. "Just say you're alive. That won't be too hard, right?" She nudged him with her elbow.

That wasn't what he had meant, but her smile was infectious, and for once he didn't mind being misunderstood. "Yeah."

Y/N started off down the street, walking backwards. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Get home safe."

Arthur nodded and watched her turn to head the other way, standing there until she was out of sight. He patted his vest pocket and started to run home, in a hurry to get her card in a safe place.

~~~~~

Despite his firing, Arthur had had a busy morning. He'd dropped off the rent check, confirmed his upcoming appointment with the Department of Health, and gone to HaHa's to pack up his locker.

That last one had stung, but was surprisingly less stressful than he'd assumed it would be. He'd been able to avoid Hoyt, which was a rare stroke of luck. Arthur hadn't been sure if he would burst into tears, laugh, and beg for his job back, or punch him in the throat. His former co-workers either greeted or ignored him, as usual. There hadn't been many questions. When the Chippendale behind him joked about Arthur killing himself, he knew they were glad to be rid of him. Gary had shown sympathy, though, and it hadn't been fake like Randall's.

Arthur was fairly proud of how he'd revealed the pistol belonged to Randall. Then "punched out" by knocking the clock off the wall. Then ruined the sign telling everyone to smile. Sometimes pettiness was the only fuel to get through the day.

Now at home, Arthur was turning the business card Y/N had given him over and over in his hand. His knee bounced as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, smoking, running his thumb over the embossed name on the card-stock. It seemed like an easy thing, picking up the phone and calling a woman. When he daydreamed about it, it was. And he longed to. But, despite Y/N's demand that he call her, he hadn't worked up the nerve to do it.

Walking with her after the train had felt...normal, like what he wished for himself, when so few other aspects of his life did. Her smile, her friendliness - they hadn't disappeared despite his laughter or the taunting he'd been on the receiving end of. None of it had seemed to bother her. And she'd returned his card. They were usually discarded by those he gave them to. She'd looked into his eyes as she'd handed it back. His chest ached at the memory.

She was the kindest woman he'd met, the only one who hadn't talked to him because it was her job, but because she saw him. And here he was, letting his insecurities fritter away his chance to talk to her again.

It was already early afternoon. He muttered to himself and rubbed at his forehead. "'Hi, Y/N.' 'Hi, is Y/N there?' 'This is Arthur. Is Y/N available?'" He swallowed hard. Should he ask her out? He couldn't afford much, but he had a few dollars in his wallet. The thought of being in her presence again made his stomach flip.

Before his doubts could claw him back down, he pushed himself off the counter, picked up the receiver, and jabbed her office number into the phone. He puffed on his cigarette, willing himself not to hang up as it rang on the other end.

"Shaw & Associates. How can I help you?"

The calmness in his words concealed the force he put into being able to speak. "Is this Y/N?"

"Arthur!" The smile in her voice reached through the line and grabbed him. "I'm glad to hear from you." Her tone softened. "When I didn't hear from you this morning, I was afraid I'd have to hunt you down."

He braced himself on the wall next to the phone, relief washing over him. This time, he was fairly certain she was flirting. A unfamiliar thrill went through him, thinking of how to flirt back. "Maybe you're talking with a ghost?" he attempted. Y/N snorted lightly. He closed his eyes, pushing the next words out. "I want to repay you for last night and was wondering -"

"You don't owe me anything," she interrupted.

"- if you like pie?" he continued without stopping.

There were a few seconds of silence before her answer. "I love pie."

He smiled widely. "Okay. I have an appointment in your area tomorrow. In your office area. It's at three."

Her response came quicker than he expected. "Meet me outside my building at one? The address is on the card."

He nodded to himself. "Yeah. Okay. That sounds good."

Y/N's gentle reply caused him to blush as he savored the sound of her voice. "I'm looking forward to it. See you then."

The receiver stayed in his hand until it began bleating at him. He slowly put it back in its cradle. Laughter started, genuine laughter, as he took a long drag off his cigarette.

What the hell was he going to wear?

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​@clowndaddyfleck​ @stephieraptorr

[satsuki2406]

Dear Aomi Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"I've seen you in a dream before, you are the warm and bright presence that embraced me on Cape Kamui a long time ago on a June afternoon."

Shinohara (Y/N) is a normal girl who had everything she could ask for, a loving family, a beautiful home, friends, and a fluffy cat. For a long time, she gave her life and happiness for granted, never imagining that she'll face one of the worst and crueler facades of society so closely, destroying what once was a happy, harmonious and normal family. One day, in hopes to recover what they lost, the Shinohara family took one of the more difficult decisions of their lives; leave behind their home back in Hokkaido and travel hundreds of miles south until Musutafu, the place that could grant them a solution and help close the yet fresh wound and scare away the ghosts of the past. Hardheaded, passionate, and ambitious (Y/N) is forced to confront the incarnated face of the superhuman society that she hated the most; Bakugou Katsuki.

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, My poor attempt of humor, Strong language (Courtesy of Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers, LONG ass chapter.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: School is a Great Place to Make Enemies

Chapter 2: My Stupid Classmate, the Angry Dandelion

3-In Conclusion, This Day Was...

The light night air caressed (Y/N)’s face and swayed her hair as she calmly strolled on the street. The ride from the konbini was short, after a couple of minutes, (Y/N) reached her home’s front gate. She pushed the creaky short gate pushing her bike along her with the shopping bags and closed it behind her. She put the bike on its little corner next to the driveway and locked it. She took the two shopping bags, along with her bag and walked to the front door. Before (Y/N) could even align the key with the keyhole, the door was harshly swung open revealing a much preoccupied and almost hyperventilating woman, (E/C) eyes met an equal pair of concerned (E/C) ones.

“Oh, (Y/N)! you’re finally home!” Immediately (Y/N) was engulfed in the hugest mama bear hug imaginable. Her mother, Akari consumed by aggravation and worry squeezed the lights out of her ‘little baby’ alleviated to have her between her arms, safe and sound.

“Mom...! I can’t- I can’t breathe…!” (Y/N) choked out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby! You know how I get when I’m worried, and excited, and when I see a good deal at the supermarket but enough of me! Tell me, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Lovingly, Akari cupped (Y/N) soft cheeks and proceeded to quickly exanimate her closer, looking for any scratch or cut. “Your temperature is normal, does any part of your body hurt?”

“Well, other than my legs, my butt, and the growing migraine I’ve been feeling since I left the konbini, I’m awesome, thank you.”

“I knew it! I knew that something was wrong! You must have been trapped in that horrible incident in the commercial district! What if the migraine is because you hit your head and will develop some brain damage if we don’t treat you immediately or your legs are injured?! What if they have to amputate them!? Should I call 911?! Or take you myself to the hospital?! No! We have no time to lose! Quick! Get in the car! I’ll go and get the keys and my purse-I have to call your dad!! Oh but he’s way too far right now! What if!-”

“Alright Mom! enough!” (Y/N) snapped. “Look at me, now, inhale and exhale, sloooowly, take your time and calm down. Once you are relaxed, I’ll explain myself, so stop jumping to conclusions please. Look at me in the eyes-that’s right, deep breaths, deep breaths…” You said softly while you also breathed deeply to show your mom how she had to do it while she dramatically imitated you, putting a hand over her chest to help herself.

“Al-Alright, I-I’m feeling better now”

“Perfect, so the reason I’m late is, indeed related to the villain attack, BUT! No how you are thinking! You know that in the center of the city there’s a bikeway, right?”

“Y-Yes I do”

“So, you also must remember that the Commercial District is part of that same bikeway’s route, right?”

“I-I recall so, yes”

“Perfect! Now that we have that important but kinda trivial piece of information clear, I’ll proceed to tell you what happened. Sooo… During my way back I decided to ‘take my time’ and you know, explore the city. But, but, but! When I was about to go back home, I heard a really big explosion coming from there, there was a lot of smoke as well. Right there I ran into an elderly lady and her daughter and they explain me the situation, they also advise me to get home as soon as I could. But the fastest and safest route home with the bike implies going right into the crime scene which was a super no-no, so I saw myself forced to take the long route around the Dagobah Park, a.k.a the city’s biggest illegal trash dump all the way down the coast line which took me around an hour which is also the reason my legs and butt hurt, oh! And also, the stop on the konbini that ended in an unfortunate incident related with a defective Ramune bottle and a rabid macaque-”

“W-Wait a minute! R-Rabid macaque?!” Your mother exclaimed panicked.

“That’s irrelevant right now mother, my point is I’m ok, and I’m not feeling like getting into the ER right now, also I have perishable products in this bags that need refrigeration and I reek like death and destruction, so can we enter to the house pretty please?”

“O-Oh, right, that was a bit confusing but I think I got it.”

“Great! By the way I bought the missing ingredients to make dinner.”

“Fantas!- Oh no! I was so preoccupied about you that I forgot to make dinner! I haven’t even made rice! Why don’t you take a bath while I put up something together to eat? You can also tell me about your first day of school over dinner!”

“Ok!”

 🐈🛀💢

Contently, (Y/N) hopped up the stairs and made a beeline to her bedroom. Although she has only been living in there for 2 weeks and a half, she found herself loving the place, the new house in general was really homey and cozy, it was roomy and stylish, somewhat similar to the house she lived before with her family back in Sapporo. One detail that she found extremely beautiful was that this new house possessed an ample number of skylights, in almost every room of the house, including hers, it gave her an amazing view of the sky while she was lying on her bed during night, or the rain clipping and clapping over the crystal. The house also possessed a pretty old and pretty picturesque cherry blossom tree in the backyard that had gifted them that very same spring with lots of delicate pink petals that she usually saw dancing in the wind.

But her room was something special. (Y/N) was not sure if it was the way the light illuminated it, or the color the room was painted at that moment but it was something similar like love at first sight. Since that very first moment she and her parents visited the place along with the realtor that winter day last year, she knew that this would be her special corner.

Moving itself is a long and tedious process, but in their case the distance made it trickier. Musutafu and Sapporo were 880 miles away from each other, which mean they had to go there by plane, otherwise, (Y/N) would’ve to be stuck in her parents’ car for over 18 hours.

The moving truck was sent in advance so their stuff would be there the day they arrived. The flight only took 1 hour and 35 minutes, it was really short but once (Y/N) got out of the plane it was like she entered into another dimension. Musutafu was way bigger than Sapporo, also busier and hectic, there were more heroes around the city which made sense because of its size, the crime rate must be higher here as well.

After all the unpacking and mess that moving in implied, the Shinohara family was successfully settled down, it felt like it was so long ago. Time really flies by when you are occupied, huh?

(Y/N) closed her room after she entered, going directly to her bed, plopping herself in the fluffy comforter. Suddenly with the corner of her eye she caught a sudden movement next to her, focusing more she recognized a familiar ball of white fluff that napped away comfortably over the mound of pillows and cushions situated on the upper part of the bed.

“Mashumaro!~”

“Mrrrow~”

Mashumaro, a 5-year-old white British Shorthair, stretched deliciously and stud up from his pillowy paradise to receive one of his (several) daily coddle sessions. (Y/N) opened her arms to the affectionate feline, enveloping him in a warming hug.

“Oh Mashu! You can’t imagine the day I had! Everything could have gone perfectly fine if it wasn’t for that stupid angry blowfish! And when I thought I got rid of him for the day, he ‘blessed’ me showing up in the konbini! That idiot! How dare he to live nearby!? I hope he doesn’t live close at all, see his ugly puckered face at school every day is bad enough! I’m utterly exhausted, and this was just the first day.”

“Mrrrow”

“Yes! Can you imagine?! How the rest of the year would be?!”

“Mrrrow”

“I know, I know, thankfully this is the last year of middle school, after next spring, boom! No more Bakushit!”

“Mrrrow”

“Oh Mashu! ~ You are the only one who understands me, thank you for listen to me, I feel better now~”

“Mrrrow...?”

“Talking about feel better, I have a date with that ofuro at the end of the corridor, so if you excuse me…”

In a fluid move (Y/N) wiggled out of her bed, leaving her furry companion to keep enjoying his catnap and get the most comfortable pjs she could find in her wardrobe. With the selected garments in her bed, she left her room and headed to the bathroom. Once inside the wet room, she proceeded to fill the tub, setting the water temperature to her liking. Meanwhile, (Y/N) slipped off her uniform and folded it aside into the hamper to wash later. Once ready, she stepped under the shower and turned on the head, soaking herself completely in the relaxing liquid. (Y/N) eagerly washed away all the stress and sweat that formed during this crazy day.

‘I wonder if Midoriya made it home safely’ (Y/N) absentmindedly took her shampoo bottle and squeezed some of its contents over her hand and applied it over her head.

She hummed blissfully while her fingers massaged her scalp. The bipping of the controlling pad interrupted her relaxation moment to inform her that the tub was filled and ready. She rinsed her hair and body drenched in shampoo and body wash foam and applied her conditioner to the final touch. Once she was ready, she turned off the shower head and wrapped her wet hair in a towel, she tested the water with her toe, which she approved with a soft sigh and submerged completely and hummed contently.

“Ahhh~ This is life!” (Y/N) closed her eyes and let herself being wrapped in relaxation and tranquility.

‘I’ll ask Midoriya tomorrow how it went, I hope he didn’t have to go near the villain attack. For what they say it was a big deal, I hope the hostage is ok’

(Y/N) came to a halt with the soft knock on the door. “(Y/N) sweetie, dinner will be ready in 10 minutes, don’t take too long so you can eat it while it still hot.”

“Ok mom! I will, thanks!”

‘I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow! I wonder if I can change classes or something, but that means Midoriya would be left alone at the mercy of that brute again.’

‘Alone…’

“No! Midoriya has had to deal with this by his own, if I can do something about it, I will”

‘He deserves to feel that someone appreciates him, supports him and believes in him, just like anybody else’

(Y/N) stud up from the tub and covered herself with a towel and exited the bathroom. Once in her room, she closed the door and sited on her bed to check her phone.

“Oh, I got a message…”

From: Haru ✨

 3:42 pm

Hey gurl! How was everything? 😁 Sorry I didn’t text you during lunch, I forgot my phone in the classroom, 😓 silly me I guess, 😅 like always, haha! 🤣🤣 Anyway! Tell me! How are schools down there? Did you meet some cute guys?~ 👀🤩 I’ll call you tonight!~ 😘💋

“What do you mean ‘how are schools down there’ you moron, like in the rest of Japan.” You snickered.

To: Haru ✨

6:41pm

It is complicated to tell how my day was, ‘incredible’ maybe? 🙄 Just to give you a preview it got me so tired that I want to sleep for the next 25 years and this was just the first day. 😫😫 Anyway, I’ll go get dinner, call you later. 

(Y/N) dried her body, put on the clothes she chose and went down stairs were she saw her mom setting the table filling it with several steaming yummy looking plates and bowls.

“Wow! this looks really good!~”

“I’m glad you think so, come on, sit now before it gets cold”

“Ok!~”

There on the table laid a full arrange of delicious comfort food; hearty veggie miso soup, grilled salmon, green salad and potato salad, pickled veggies and last but certainly not least katsu white curry, one of (Y/N) favorites.

“Its been a long time since we ate white curry!”

“And don’t forget the cheese stuffed tonkatsu~”

“Yay! ~”

“Itadakimasu!”

(Y/N) took a spoonful of rice and curry and hummed happily at the savory and spicy flavors dancing in her tongue, the golden-brown tonkatsu was crispy and juicy, crowned by the gooey cheese on the inside.

‘Mom’s food is the best~’

“By the way, your father called when you were in the shower, he said he’ll be back in Musutafu on Thursday afternoon”

“Really?! That’s awesome!”

“Things went way smoothly than he thought, we will bring the remaining suitcases we left, the ones with summer clothes”

“Oh, those will come handier here since is warmer”

“You are right, now tell me how was your first day of school? Did you make some new friends?”

(Y/N) almost chocked on her soup as all her misadventures of the day came to her mind at the same time, trying to think about a good response she cleared her throat and compose a bit.

“Mmm, I’m not actually sure if I can call him a friend but there was this really timid guy in my class-”

“Oh! A boy?! Good thing your father is not here otherwise he would be seething, and crying at the same time because his baby is growing up so fast!” Your mom said with an amused expression on her face at the mental image of your father in such state, the tips of her fingers were covering her lips in a vain attempt to conceal her giggles.

“M-Mom! I-It’s no like that! A-And I just met him today! Good God! Don’t go saying things like that so blatantly!” (Y/N) said suddenly rising from her seat, her face completely aflame with shame for her mother’s words.

“Oh honey, I’m kidding! No need to get so riled up!”

“Hmp!” (Y/N) grunted with puff up checks and an expression that more than angry, looked cute. And of course, her mom made sure to emphasize it.

“That face makes me want to squish it to death just like when you were still my little cutie baby boo! ~”

“M-Mom! Stop it!!!”

“Haha! Honey calm down! Don’t take it too seriously!”

“Hmm…”

 📱📱📱

“Woah, woah, woah! So, you are telling me that this guy actually called you a bitch and threaten you and another classmate in front of the whole class and the teacher didn’t do or say anything?! No even detention or something?!” (Y/N) best friend, Haruka exclaimed as she suddenly paused applying her moisturizing cream, a part of her ‘night beauty routine’.

“You got it, I guess that he’s scared of him, everyone actually, so he must be used get away with everything and you know that people usually looks away when a quirkless person is discriminated, like it wasn’t serious or it was something to laugh about.”

“Yeah crude but true, unfortunately that’s not new, the ‘bully with a decent quirk’ kind of story is really common, but to that extent? Is kind of terrifying. You also said he wanted to be a hero? What the heck?! I’ll definitely will not support a hero like that! If you actually could be able to call him a ‘hero’ after all, I hope that U.A reject him on the spot! A meanie who bullies my bestie does not deserve such title!”

“I’m pretty sure that the U.A staff would have your concerns into consideration”

“I’m serious (Y/N)!”

“Me too”

You were now laying lazily in the comforting warmness of your bed. As you promised you called Haruka after dinner, filling her into all the details of your crazy first day, and a certain insufferable spiky blond.

“How about you? How was everything there?”

“Cold as hell! It started snowing when I was walking back home. You know, typical Hokkaido.”

“You know that the hell is hot, rig-?”

“Don’t smartmouth me bitch, you get my point.”

“Yeah, yeah, today the weather was really nice here, is getting warmer everyday and the sakura are on full bloom. I think is the first time I haven’t freeze to death on my first day of school. It was a nice experience for a change.”

“Oh, I’ll wish to be there! I can’t believe we are in firkin’ April but it feels like January!”

“Like you said, Typical Hokkaido. Hey Haru, my eyelids are closing; I’ll go to sleep now ok? I’ll message you tomorrow and please for God’s sake don’t leave your phone in the classroom, you moron.

“Ok! Ok Mom! Geez! Suzue told me there was this new hottie in class 3-C and I had to check if he was Jefree Star Approved!”

“Doesn’t Jefree Star review make-?? Oh! Shut up and go to sleep!”

After hanging up to a pouty Haruka, (Y/N) put her phone to charge and submerged herself under the softness of her comforter, turning off the bedside lamp she sighed prying to whatever God out there listening that tomorrow could be a better day.

“Just a good day, that’s all I’m asking for…”

With little flashbacks of all those days spent with Haruka and all her friends, her family, her old home, of Hokkaido.

 Embraced in sweet memories, she was lulled to sleep.

Raise your hand if your mom also freaks out about everything ✋

*Mashumaro: Marshmallow in Japanese ヾ(•ω•`)o