#that like i for real fully spent three maybe four days only in bed unable to feel anything

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

how to cry for help without crying for help

[4stars-uswnt]

My Rock [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Could you maybe write one where R is dating christen. R is always finding pretty rocks on the sidewalk and stuff and giving them to christen. The team always teases her but one day during a match the reader “finds” a rock and proposes to Christen in front of the sidelines?

A/N: this request was so freaking cute. i absolutely loved it!

“Chris!” You chase after your girlfriend, holding a small rock you’d found on the sidewalk. “Look at this one! It reminds me of your eyes.” Beaming, you hand the speckled green rock over to your girlfriend.

“Thanks, babe.” Christen giggles, kissing your cheek.

“(Y/N), that’s like the fifth one you’ve found that ‘looks like Christen’s eyes’ and we’re not even halfway back to the hotel.” Tobin jokes.

“You should see her whenever she’s in Utah. It takes us forever to get places because (Y/N) always finds cool rocks everywhere.” Kelley quips, smirking at your blushing cheeks.

“How many rocks has (Y/N) given you, Chris?” Alex teases, as you hide your face in the crook of your girlfriend’s neck.

“I dunno. I honestly lost track after like a hundred or so.” Christen chuckles at your embarrassment.

“I can’t help it. I find a pretty rock, and I give it to a pretty lady.” You confess. “Plus, they’re good little pieces of our relationship and a reminder for Chris that I’m always with her even when I’m not.”

Your teammates internally soften at that, not fully understanding your obsession with collecting rocks until now.

“So, do you actually keep all the rocks?” Megan asks your girlfriend, genuinely curious.

Christen nods. “A lot of them are used as decoration around our apartment, some of them I take with me when I travel, and the rest are just in a box under my bed.”

You can’t help but swoon, hearing that your girlfriend has kept every single rock you’d given her. You had seen the special ones that Christen had put in your bedroom or in the kitchen, but you hadn’t known she’d still had all of them.

—————

The next day, after practice, the USWNT piled onto the bus. After a couple of minutes, there was still no sign of a single midfielder.

“Where the heck is (Y/N/N)? I’m trying to get some food!” Sonnett yells from the back of the bus.

“Press! Where’s your girlfriend?” Kelley pops up from her seat. Before Christen could answer, you stumble up the steps.

“Sorry! I got a little caught up.” You squeak, both of your hands full of stones. Hurrying into your seat, you spill the rocks onto your lap, wanting to show your girlfriend what you’d found for her.

“Got enough rocks there, (Y/N/N)?” Ash calls out.

“Seriously, dude, what’s the occasion?” Tobin laughs.

You roll your eyes, ignoring your teammates teasing, as you explain to the brunette forward why you chose each one. Throughout the ride back to the hotel, the team pokes fun at you, before Christen waves them off, verbally hushing the bus.

“This one reminded me of Morena and Khaleesi. This one looks like that tree we saw on our hike last month. Oh! And this one is one of my favorites: it’s the same color as your mom’s eyes. And this one is just pretty…” You trailed off, practically shaking with excitement.

Christen beamed, her eyes twinkling. She always loved it when you gave her a new rock, especially when you had a story or explanation for them.

—————

Later that night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice a couple of the rocks and pebbles you’d given Christen on the dresser.

“Babe?”

Christen walks out of the bathroom, still drying her hair. “Yeah?”

“You said earlier that you travel with some of the rocks that I’ve given you. Can I ask which ones?” You gesture over to the dresser.

“Sure.” She softly smiles, bringing them over to the bed. “Whenever I travel for national team camps or for away games, I always bring these five with me: the one from our first date, this one from our first kiss, when we first said ‘I love you,’ and the ones from our first and second anniversary.”

You give her a watery smile, your heart swelling full of love for the woman in front of you.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, as you pull into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too.” Christen smiles, kissing your nose. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go to sleep.” She snuggles closer to your side and pulls the blankets over the two of you, as you drift into a deep sleep.

—————

That weekend, the team was preparing for their CONCACAF Olympic Qualifying final match against Canada on Sunday. Everyone was feeling pretty good about it, seeing as you’d been playing incredibly, easily defeating your opponents. You, yourself, felt confident about your game throughout this tournament, scoring three goals and getting five assists in only four games. Despite the high spirits, the team was still focused and serious, as they made their way into the locker room, considering it was a game versus Canada, their international rival.

“Here you go.” You tap Christen’s shoulder, holding out a small round pebble you’d found outside the stadium.

“What’s this one for?” Your girlfriend smiles, turning to face you.

“Good luck. Not that you’ll need it” You peck her lips, giving her a wink before heading to your locker.

“Thanks, babe.” She calls after you, chuckling under her breath. As she puts your little gift away in her bag, Christen can hear Kelley teasing you.

“Hey! Where’s my good luck rock?”

“Score a couple goals and then maybe you’ll get one.” You taunt the defender, as you make your way out into the tunnel, Kelly chasing after you.

—————

As the ref blows the halftime whistle, you quickly grab something from your bag, before going to meet your girlfriend at the sideline.

“Hey!” You grab Christen’s attention, stopping her from heading back to the locker room.

“What?” She gives you a puzzled look. By now, the rest of the team also stopped to watch what you had up your sleeve.

Bending down onto one knee, you look up at the love of your life. “I found you another rock.” With that, you pull out a black box from your pocket, opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

Christen gasps, bringing her hands to cover her mouth, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

“Christen Annemarie Press,” You start. “The past two years that we’ve spent together have been an absolute gift. You constantly amaze and inspire me with your beauty and your soul. You have been my best friend through the good and the bad, and I can honestly say you’ve made me a better person.”

You pause to take a deep breath, taking Christen’s left hand in yours.

“Thank you for loving me for who I am, and thank you for believing in me when no one else would. You truly have been my rock.” At that, you hear a few chuckles coming from your teammates and Christen herself. “You have shown me how to love with passion, purity, and unconditional acceptance. I know that forever is nowhere near enough time to spend loving you, but I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. So, Chris, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Of course!” Christen bursts, unable to contain her happiness, tears streaming down her face. Grinning, you stand up to pull your fiancée into a searing kiss, slipping the ring onto her finger.

Pulling apart, you rest your foreheads against each other. “I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You kiss her again.

Your intimate moment is soon interrupted by your teammates, who’ve now gathered around you, smushing you two into a huge group hug. After many congratulations, screams, and hugs, Vlatko signals that you do in fact have to head back to the locker room for the halftime talk. The team bounces down the tunnel, excitement from the proposal radiating off of everyone.

You and Christen trail behind the team, hoping to bask in your new engagement. Bringing your intertwined hands up to your lips, you place a kiss to the back of her hand.

“You’re amazing. I can’t wait to call you my wife.” Christen gushes.

“I can’t wait either. I love you so much.” You kiss her cheek, as the two of you enter the locker room. “But let’s go kick Canada’s ass.” You smirk, as you sit at your locker. Your fiancée huffs out a laugh, going to her own seat across the room from you.

Before heading back out onto the field, Christen puts her ring away, adding her new favorite rock to the collection she’d gathered over the years of your relationship with many more to come in the future.

—————

Liked by tobinheath, ashlynharris24, and 251,914 others

christenpress: She keeps me grounded. She keeps me going. She’s my rock. Now and forever.

tagged: yourusername

- - - - -

uswnt: Congratulations, Christen and (Y/N)! What a nice halftime surprise.

kelleyohara: The best rock she’s given you

yourusername: You’re my favorite person in the entire world.

mrapinoe: Love the two of you

ashlynharris24: Time to celebrate! 🥳

alikrieger: Can’t wait to see what the future holds

tobinheath: ❤️

cdunn19: Yes girl!

glennondoyle: I am so excited for the two of you. Hope to see you both soon so we can celebrate! 

↳abbywambach: Congratulations!!

—————

Liked by alexmorgan13, allie_long_, and 985,463 others

yourusername: A real gem 💎

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

uswnt: She truly is.

christenpress: I love you ❤️

alexmorgan13: It’s about time! Congrats! 🎉

kelleyohara: Still waiting on my rock…

↳allie_long_: Same. I want a rock like Christen’s

malpugh: Aw, pretty Chris

lindseyhoran10: How are you already getting married?

emilysonnett: She’s a diamond in the rough ;)

julieertz: Congratulations! Can’t wait to celebrate more

[beaureart]

15 Minutes (What If I Told You)

ANGST WITH AN UNHAPPY ENDING. DO NOT READ FOR A GOOD TIME. This is a supercorp oneshot I wrote after I hear the title song. Very Angsty, you are warned. Trigger Warning : Angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Obiviously. This is pre-apocalypse.

11:27,

Monday, July 13th

Lena's Loft,

National City.

It was very unnoticeable at first. Solar flares from a nearby galaxy far enough that they didn't think much of it. A few explosions a couple galaxies down hardly warranted the DEO's involvement. Besides, Earth had different things to worry about. The Team had different things to worry about. Probably. Lena wouldn't know anymore, would she? After the Fortress, she had taken extra precautions to block every single one of them out of her life. She didn't need anyone. She just needed to save the world.

And to be honest? Lena was ashamed it took her that long to figure it out. It wasn't like her. The  Prodigy of her generation. The CEO of one of the biggest Tech Corporations in America. The sister of Earth's most infamous criminal mastermind.

If she had just gotten out of bed, checked any of her projects, called her secretary back. But she was too numb, too empty. Lying in bed, unable to move or think. Wishing to die. She couldn't even muster up the energy to lift a hand, it was just... pathetic.

After a week, Jess had had enough. It took Sam flying over from Metropolis to even get Lena out of bed. Sam had no idea about Kara, of course. But it didn't take long for her to march over to Alex's apartment and threaten her friend until the truth spilled. Lena had never seen that furious. Over Lena, of all people.

She didn't deserve Sam.

***

Sam had been pestering her all week. Bringing over food and staying with her every night. Lena felt like an asshole, taking up so much of her time. That was the main reason she returned to L-Corp after a week That was when she found out about the satellite malfunctions. Some radioactive signature was messing with their signals. That was fine, this was a problem Lena could fix, right? Easy.

Wrong. Turns out the signature was something her systems could recognize. Kryptonite. A giant chunky piece of Kryptonite and debris about the size of a small moon. A Krypto-Comet that was hurtling at half the speed of light from deep space, directly towards Earth.

Mondays, right?

Of course, she contacted the DEO immediately. They were horrified. For a Secret Government Agency handling the extraterrestrial, they had some shockingly bad tech. She wasn't really surprised.  Also, they might have been slightly distracted with Leviathan. Lena had spent the next three days cooped up in a lab with Brainiac 5 desperately trying to come up with a way to deflect it or destroy it, or anything really. Usually, an Anti-Kryptonite suit and Supergirl would have taken care of the problem real quick, but considering the size of the comet and the excessive amount of Kryptonite on it, it just wouldn't be possible. There was no time to call for back-up from Argo City either, with the satellites malfunctioning.

The last five days were utter chaos. Naturally, the news hit the public hard. It was pandemonium, but how could you keep a goddamn meteorite impact from them? The skies were already turning purple.

Lena however, was still in her lab. Over the course of three days, a complete whirlwind of people checked in and out of her lab. People she had never met before. People she had never even heard of. Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow. A scientist named Raymond Palmer with some very interesting ideas on molecular structure and shrinkage. Felicity Smoak. Alex pulled her aside during lunch to explain about the Multiverse.

What. Even. What.

Okay.

It felt like her brain was exploding, but she was their best chance of saving the planet. She had to pull it together. She can't show any weakness.

Alex called for another excruciating meeting the second day.

"Attention! I have some news." Alex exhaled slowly. "Sara?"

"I'm sorry guys, but it's bad. We were unable to prevent this event from not occurring. It happens rarely, but this can't be prevented by modifying the timeline. It's inevitable. We have to find other ways."

"What if we move your population to our Earth?" Harry? Larry? The guy in red spandex asked.

"More than half out Earth's population have doppelgangers in yours. It will mess with the balance of your universe. We can't move them. How about finding an empty universe?"

"Kara is out looking for one, but every Earth we found was either ruined or full. That's too long a shot, I don't think we'll find one in time."

"Well, theoretically-" Brainy hesitated - "My ancestors had a way of...dealing with planets that disagreed with them. They would shrink them down and have them as trophies."

"We can't shrink the planet, the gravitation of the solar system would collapse and we would fall into the sun." Lena muttered distractedly, fiddling with her pen.

"Let's not do that. Any luck contacting Superman?"

"Radio silence. The radiation is messing with communications."

"We could push it through a wormhole, or a portal, but-"

"The comet will be here before we could begin to build it. What if we transport our people to a different planet?"

"Seven billion people on a different planet without nearly enough food and water?"

"Or maybe into a space station?"

"We have four days. To transport seven billion people. And essential items."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work either."

"Okay, let's keep at it guys." Alex clapped her hands together. "There IS a way, we just don't know it yet."

***

Yeah, there was no other way. The days went by in a whirl. They came up with theory after theory, but it was too late. Their world was going to end. Nothing can stop it.

During the last day, Alex ordered every non-Earth-38 person off the universe. And even though there was some resistance, everyone sombrely agreed it was the best move.

A surprising lot of friendships were made that week. World-ending threats tend to do that, apparently. Lena personally never wanted to experience Nia and Zari Tarazi try to cook a pizza together ever again. They almost blasted the dough halfway across the DEO building and into the miniature Nuclear Reactor.

Lena would never, not in a million years, ever admit it; but she wanted what they had.

She couldn't fathom that comfort, that mutual understanding of trust that Nia shared with Zari. How did they build it? How could they rely on it, when they had been strangers only a week ago? How could you share your secrets, yourself, with someone who could potentially turn against you, someone who could be lying through their teeth like Eve was, someone who might hate you just because of a name that you can't change?

Not that anything could be done now. It was too late.

They were gathered at the DEO training facility off-city to say their final goodbyes, except Lena was at L-Corp. It took her a while to accept it, but this time it was real. There was no hail mary, no high stake final masterplan left in her. She was going to die, along with her planet.

So it was the perfect time to break out her finest bottle of scotch.

The L-Corp building was deadly silent. Any other day, Lena would have enjoyed it. The building was almost never fully empty, with the security team and the journalists and the interns who never sleep. Today it put her on edge.

Because she did this. Lena caused all this, it was Lena's fault. She was the reason-

'Alex.'

The tiny blue screen lit up on her desk, ringing insistently. The tech mogul was almost relieved that something interrupted.

The silence. Interrupted the silence.

Lena brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Lena!? Where the hell are you?" For a second, Lena relished the panic in Alex's voice. Of course, it probably was over the world ending, but she wanted to pretend that it was over Lena. That Alex actually cared about her.

"What do need me to do, Director Danvers?" Her voice was meant to be posh and clipped as always, but it came out slightly more drunk than she wanted it to.

"Wha-Nothing! I just couldn't find you anywhere so I thought I'd check up on you." Aww, Alex. You don't need to pretend, everything is gonna go to shit anyway.

"Is Sam still there?"

"Uh- Yes. Yeah, she's here. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Nooo." Lena considered it. "No, definitely not."

"Lena, are you drunk?"

Lena exhaled loudly. "Why did you call me, Director?"

"Because the universe is ending!" Lena cringed away from the phone. That was too loud for her sleep-deprived brain.

"I don't see your point." She huffed back.

"Goddammit. Look, Kara and I will keep looking for a solution, you don't need to worry, okay? You know she never gives up. Nia and the others-"

"Please just stop." Lena begged.

"I-Stop?" Lena could picture Alex's face. She hated that she did.

"I don't care! About anything, anymore. Just leave me alone. Goodbye, Alex."Sorry I pulled so much shit.

Lena switched it off and chucked it across the room, onto her couch. It bounced over the cushions and fell over.

She was alone, now.

"Hope?"

"Greetings, miss Luthor. What can I do for you today?" Hope was always here. Lena's only constant companion through everything. Even if it did wear the face of her traitor friend.

"You understand that this will be the last day?"

"Yes, miss Luthor-"

"Lena. Call me Lena."

The robot cocked its head to the side. Why did Lena program it so life-like?

"Lena. Would you like for me to call anyone else?"

"No, thank you. How long is it now?"

"Seventeen minutes and three seconds."

Lena cradled her head. It felt like her brain was swimming in the alcohol. At least she won't have to feel this tomorrow.

"Execute terminal orders and shut down, please."

"Executed. Goodbye, Miss Luthor."

The hologram blinked off. Lena swirled the last of the scotch in her glass. It didn't taste nearly as good as she hoped. She set it down in distaste.

God, this was all her doing, wasn't it?

If only Lex could see her now, pushing everyone away, alone and lonely on top of the empire that was built by her psychopathic family. Everything he said that day was true.

And it was all Lena's fault. Because she chose to trust Kara. She chose her new family. She wanted that. She craved that. Even when she knew she could never have it. She's always craved that. This wonderful 'family' she could love with all her heart. They would have been her people, they would love her no matter her last name. They would support her through hell and back. She fucking fantasized about how they would be there for her every birthday, about how she would shower them with love and affection, about game nights and road trips. She didn't give a shit about romantic, platonic, she just wanted someone to be there at the airport when she comes back from month-long expeditions through Europe.

It all seems so naive now. She was still here, on top of an empty building, because of her choices. Because of her stupid, stubborn pride. She must have chosen this, right? This is what she wanted. To be alone. Sixteen minutes from the world ending. She had chosen to be alone, bitter, angry at herself for doing what she had done.

Fuck, no.

But it was too late. Too late to accept her family, too late to enjoy them. Too late to save the world. Too late to apologize.

Too-fucking-late.

Fuuuuuuck, she messed up. What she wouldn't give to go back in time, find her younger self and...eughh. Berate her? Explain? Mug her? Lena had no idea.

This scotch tastes like shit.

Why is time so slow?

Tick.

Tock.

Her life is shit. She would like a refund.

Tick.

The alcohol is really getting to her brain, cause she found that funny.

Toc-

The entire floor rattled when the door flies open behind her. *

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Oh hey, Sam. You did come.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She crossed her arms, raising one brow at her CFO.

"Lena, no." Sam stomped over and wretched the glass away from Lena.

"Goddammit, leave me alone, Sam!" Why I am so shitty all the time Sam?

"No." She repeated firmly.

"What?"

"No. I should have done this a long time ago when I first got back here. I'm not leaving you alone, I'm not letting you drink yourself to death. I'm not let you wallow in your misery when the world is fucking ending and you still stubbornly refuse to put down your pride. I'm not leaving!"

She walked over to Lena's hidden break room and poured the scotch down the sink.

"But I-"

"No. Listen, you dumbass. You've been through some horrible, messed-up shit. Your brother almost destroyed the world multiple times. Your mother was a narcissistic fucking psychopath. I cannot even begin to understand how you feel most of the time. Having every move scrutinized by the world, feeling like you can't trust anyone."

"I trust you."

Sam paused. "I-What?"

"I trust you, Sam. You may be the only person who I can be myself around right now. And-And I know that isn't fair to you, me having constant breakdowns. I keep you from your life and Ruby and I hate it-"

"Lena!" Sam takes her hand. "You can always tell me about it. Everything. And I won't lie, helping you through your trauma isn't easy, especially since you refuse to meet a therapist. But that doesn't mean you can keep everything to yourself. It means that your pain, it matters to me. It is a piece of you that you have shared with me, and it isn't going to fucking evaporate the second I know about it. You matter. Your trauma matters. To me, and to everyone at the DEO. I want to help you." She inhaled deeply.

"And I can't promise that everything is going to be fine, I don't even know if we'll exist an hour from now, but I can tell you this. You don't deserve all this pain. That doesn't mean you don't have it. You are not responsible for what your family did, and you are not responsible for your mother's death. You don't deserve to die alone and at odds with everyone you love."

"Sam, but I-"

"And I'm sorry, I know Kara and the others messed up. But they love you. They are your family now. And I can't watch you punish yourself over this. Lena, it's time to let go."

Tears lined Lena's eyes. "I can't do it, Sam!"

"You can."

"I can't! I trusted Kara with everything. I shared every piece of me with her. Love and family were supposed to cure me! I made myself completely powerless, I was vulnerable, and she threw it back at my face. I cannot make that mistake again!"

"It's not fucking magic, Lena! Love isn't a cure-all. It doesn't mean everything bad that ever happened disappears! It only means that you aren't alone in your fight. Family and friendship, it  takes work! You have to see them, and they have to see you. And Kara and the others, they love you!"

"If they fucking love me so much, why do they keep hurting me? Why am I the only one who gets lied to?!"

"It not that fucking simple! Everyone there has their own stuff. We're fucking terrified all the time. And now everything we ever feared is happening, and we can't even fucking be together!"

"What, now you're on their side?!" Lena heard the words spill out her head as messily as she felt, drenched in bitterness and insecurity. "Should've known that you would turn on me too."

Regret fills her immediately, but Lena drops Sam's hand like a searing pan.

Fuck.

"How can you think that?" Sam's voice was quiet now. Her eyes, Lena realized, were also filled with tears.

This is it. This is the moment I chase away the last person who's ever cared for me. One last screw over that will be wiped after the comet hits. One more mistake in my endless list.

Sam raised her arms. Lena reflexively leaned back, her heart hammering against her chest. Shit. She knew how this goes. She's seen enough fights between Lillian and Lionel end. She could hear the resonating crack from almost two decades ago. Lionel might have loved Lena, but he wasn't all that kind to Lillian.

You deserve this. You failed. You failed to protect yourself,  failed to protect the universe. You are never going to be enough. You failed both your families, you failed yourself.

Warmth burst around her. Sam wrapped her arms around Lena.

What in the world... why was Sam hugging her?

Shit, this feels nice.

"Sam?"

"There are no sides, Lena. That's the whole point. You are a part of this family, and we will fight like hell to keep it that way." Sam stroked her hair. "We aren't perfect, we are flawed, we hurt each other. But we aren't alone. We love fiercely, and we have each other's back. We take care of our own. And you are one of us. We love you. We are here if you accept us."

Lena sniffled against Sam's shirt. A fierce rush of gratitude rushed through her. Sam has always been her rock, her constant for almost six years now. She's had her back so many times. Her best friend.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam." Lena sobbed. "Shit, it's too late. I can't fix everything. I messed up. I messed the whole thing up-"

"Hey. There's still time." Sam drew back and swiped at her eyes. "You can still call Alex. We have... seven minutes left."

Lena nodded, biting her lip.

"Thank you, Sam."

She shakily dialed her phone.

"Alex?"

***

"Hi! Aunt Lena!" A little bundle of joy crawled into Lena's lap and gave her a hug.

Ruby.  She always meant a lot to Lena. Maybe because Lena never really had an aunt while she grew up. Maybe because her hugs were made of pure love; because Ruby is the most wonderful little human Lena ever met. Maybe because there was no tension, no tears involved. Ruby felt like hugging Lena, so she did.

It was the first time Lena cracked a smile in over a year.

"Hello, little monkey. Did you eavesdrop our whole fight?" She mussed her hair.

"Hey! I'm fourteen now. Not so little anymore." She carefully flattened her hair down. "And I know what swear words are, Auntie."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes!" She huffed. "Mom said she's making Mac and Cheese. She said your fridge was full of atrocious rabbit fodder and she hid about seventy percent of your kale." Ruby's voice dropped low and she whispered conspiratorially. "It's behind the eggs, don't tell her said that. Not that we'd be needing it anymore." She glanced sadly at the red skies.

"Are you okay, little monkey?"

"Aunt Lena, is there really no way to destroy the comet?" Ruby asked her.

Lena's heart broke. At that moment, she would've given anything to be back in her lab three weeks ago when they first found the comet. To have found a way out of this catastrophe.

She smiled sadly at Ruby. "I'm sorry, monkey. There's nothing we can do."

How do you tell a child that you failed her, that the entire world was gonna burn? That they were all going to die?

"It's okay, Aunt Lena. I love you." She kissed Lena on the cheek.

The elevator bell dinged and Lena could hear the doors open with a hiss. Her's mouth got just a little dry.

"I'm going to go help mom with the cheese. You should talk to them."

"Wait, Ruby-" she was gone. Great.

Lena exhaled shakily and got to her feet.

Here goes. Oh god. Why did I do this? This is a bad idea, shit. Shit, shit, shit. They still hate me why did I call them, they- Alex.

It was Alex. Suddenly, it wasn't the monsters that she was facing. It was Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy. Her family.

Alex stumbled forward first. "Lena, I-" She interrupted herself by crashing into Lena-"I'm so fucking sorry. I should've told you when the whole thing with Reign happened, but then Kara told me that she had to work things out between you and Supergirl, and then I lost my memories for a while-" Lena realized with a jerk that Alex was sobbing against her shoulder.

"-I feel like such an awful friend." Alex's voice cracked.

"Ale-Alex! Hey, it's okay." And for the first time, Lena really meant it. "I'm sorry too. I just felt-"

"Betrayed. I know. I'm sorry." She repeated, stepping away from Lena. She gave Lena a small smile. Smaller, but much like the one she gave Lena the first time they met in Kara's apartment. Tired, but it gives off so much warmth that Lena could feel it. It reminded Lena of all the times they spent together. All the days when they made small explosions in her lab and teamed up for game night.  When Alex took her to self-defense classes and showed her fancy tricks with her guns. She was Lena's best friend. She is.

"Brainy, Nia." God, it felt good to- Lena couldn't even describe it. She missed this. Her friendship with Brainy was one of the few things she treasured most in the world. He was the only one who could ever match her intellect, her best lab partner. Her friend. And to the lonely twelve-year-old genius from the Luthor family, that was everything. And Nia was one of the bravest people Lena knew, unafraid to be herself and face the world. Fighting every day for the greater good. And she was more than that, she was the one who taught Lena that she didn't have to hide who she was. Lena will be a Luthor her entire life. She just had to embrace it. Or as Nia had framed, quite eloquently; 'own it.'

Kelly, and her crazy therapy skills. Lena regretted not spending more time with her. She was such a wonderful person. Kelly was the silent rock of their group, Lena could see that now. She was always there and she knew exactly what to say. In Lena's eyes, she was magical. So determined in supporting her friends through everything. The sweetest, most bad-ass person out of them all.

Shit, Lena was crying now.

"No more little boxes, Lena." Brainy whispered in her ear, and she giggled. Even Lena was surprised by that.

He was right. No more boxes. She has three minutes left to live and she wasn't going to crush herself with the weight of her stupid boxes.

There was still one more person-

"Kara. I'm sorry Lena, she- couldn't make it." Alex squeezed her shoulder. "Barry's Earth- they don't have a Kara. She can live there and not disintegrate. I told her to go with him. I'm sorry, Lena."

Lena's lungs filled with lead.

"Yes, of course." Lena's voice sounded far away even to herself. "She deserves to live there, in peace. I'm sorry, excuse me."

Something akin to panic swelled over her. Anxiety? Sorrow? Feelings were not Lena's strong suit. Panic attacks, unfortunately, she's already dealt with. She backed away from the room, almost knocking Sam over in the process. "Uh- Bathroom."

The door slammed behind her, and Lena splashed her face with cold water.

She would never get to apologize, she would never even get to see Kara again. Her best friend. Her soulmate. And now, she would die without Kara knowing- knowing that-

Because Lena only ever hated herself. She could never,ever hate Kara.

She curled into a ball on the floor, trying to physically hold herself together so she didn't fall apart. She couldn't fall apart, not right now. Her heart was racing and her breathing was short and distressed.

"Lena? Open the door." Alex's voice, carried in through the door.

"I-I'll be right out!" Even Lena knew they won't buy it. She could hear her voice crack with emotion.

"Lena? You don't have to go through this alone, I just told you that." Her voice was soft, and Lena chose to listen.

"I know it's hard. I know you miss her, and I can't imagine what it must feel after everything that happened between you and Kara. It was difficult for me too. I'm leaving her alone, just like everyone else in her life. I'm leaving her and her world is ending again, and we can't do anything about it. I hate it. I broke my promise. She doesn't deserve this pain, and you don't either."

The door creaked open. Suddenly it was Alex surprised by the hug.

"Alex, I'm so sorry."

"Lena." Alex wrapped her arms around the small brunette. "Trust me, she knows. She knows that you love her."

Lena sniffed and pulled back.

"That's just it, Alex." Lena's voice grew softer. "She doesn't know that I'm in love with her."

"You're in love with me?" A small, hopeful voice echoed from the back of the room.

The blonde superhero stepped forward with the sunny smile Lena loved. "Sorry I'm late but, I bought emergency Potstickers." She waved a bag at the rest of them.

"Kara-" The word was out of her mouth before she realized it, but then it was Lena in Kara's arms and nothing else mattered. She buried her head in the Kryptonian's shoulders.

"Hey." Kara tucked a strand of hair behind Lena's mismatched eyes, and Lena fucking melted.  "You know, I've been doing some research." Her voice was low and breathy.

"Oh yeah?" Lena's eyes shined as bright as the red skies outside. Kara thought she could see the whole galaxy in her them.

"I think I finally know what Quantum Entanglement means." She rested her forehead against Lena's and smiled softly.

Lena's heart was racing. She reached up and caught Kara's lips in hers.

"I love you too, Lena."

***

"System error. Terminal order simulation failed."

Lena gasped and fell to her knees.

"Redirect operations to internal systems." She gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Just a few more, a few more minutes. Please. I need to hold her. I need to be held by her.

"Simulation failed."

"No! No, no, no. Please. Try again." Lena fumbled with her screen.

"Simulation failed."

"TRY AGAIN, GODDAMMIT." Lena cried, her voice full of raw emotion.

"Simulation failed. Shutting down. Thirty seconds left in final countdown."

"NO! I SAID FUCKING TRY AGAIN!"

"Twenty-five seconds."

The air was getting hotter. She could already see the streaks of green and red raining down from above outside Kara's window.

"Nooo." She sobbed. "Please, I need to see them. I need to hold her. Please." She crumpled on the floor, holding Kara's green hoodie in her hand. The last piece of her Lena had. The worst part is, Kara wasn't dead. Just lost forever, to Lena.

"Ten seconds."

"Please."

"Five seconds."

"I don't want to be alone." She whispered.

.

.

.

Here's my twitter, go yell at me. https://twitter.com/Keroessa24

[andydona-chan]

Realization

Ok, so this one has been sitting in my documents for some time because I didn’t know how to continue it... Until I re-read it and noticed I really don’t have to, you all know the endgame of this fanfics, and maybe I can get a better idea of how to make a second part with your precious feedback, cause I really need it, so from the old documents but for a lovely ship, I present this:

Read it at AO3

*****

Sherlock sat in silence on the bed at the hotel he was currently staying at, with the explosion at Baker Street he was virtually homeless at the moment, and honestly he was tired and he needed to sleep after what they had been through that day. However he couldn’t, or more likely, he wouldn’t. Sherlock just knew that the nightmares would make it impossible for him to rest, not only that, his ever working mind will still be running thoughts in his head, processing every detail and making conclusions about what had happened at Sherrinford.

He smiled sadly just remembering how John had offered his house, told him he could stay until Baker Street was restored, but he had instead told him that Mrs. Hudson needed it more than him, that she would be more grateful and she would be also willing to help him with Rosie while they worked on rebuilding his flat.

Mycroft had also offered his house, a really surprising gesture, and though Sherlock would have no trouble staying at his brother’s house, with all the space and rooms, he felt that he didn’t belong there; and as much as he wanted to just sit here trying to not think, it was also something he couldn’t leave for later

He needed to think about a lot of things, many of them concerning his sister and the things she had put him through that day without worrying that his brother would listen or record it. Good lord, he didn’t want him to worry anymore! So he had declined, warning his brother that if their parents were to know that they were both staying at the same house, they wouldn’t waste time waiting for an invitation and soon they’ll find themselves in a very awkward and difficult family reunion at his house.

Mycroft wasn’t ready yet to tell them what had happened to Eurus, and neither Sherlock; and though it was a matter of time that they started asking questions about the explosion at 221B, at least that way they could buy time until things had settled down into a more normal state, if they ever went back to normal

So, he took off his shoes, his coat and jacket and unbuttoned his t-shirt, climbing onto the bed and sitting in a lotus position with his head against the headboard Sherlock closed his eyes putting his hands together in front of him as he always did and entered his mind palace, this time not looking for information, but to sort the day’s events.

He recalled the day Moriarty’s video had paralyzed the entire city, his face in every screen saying ‘Did you miss me?’ By then he had already know that he wasn’t behind the event at all. In fact if he were to look at it properly, his mind had given him a lot of clues in that self-induced hallucination of the Victorian era. Even with his ghost present, Moriarty hadn’t been the real master mind behind it; it had been a woman, all along. And just as Eurus had proved, it had been for context, emotional context; something, he suspected, he could only provide given his tendency of sentimental attachment. Not that he thought it was wrong anymore, he had already started to see the benefits of it.

With an ever present sadness he remembered Mary, her case hadn’t even been connected to what had happened at all, her past had just caught up to her and that was it. However, to think that John had encountered Eurus at that time and had actually established communication with her was worrisome, because that meant Eurus had been free and watching them for too long. Time she had used to gather information, time he had lost glued to his phone and not paying enough attention to his best friend to notice what he was doing.

Then Mary had died and he had felt that loss more than he was willing to admit. And in between that he had also missed a lot of things, that part of himself that was grieving had pulled him into the numbing pleasures of the drugs, when he knew fully well that he could have faked it. He only had to convince John, and his best friend could be trusted to see but not to observe.

Oh, how sentiment could blind your mind! He had to admit that Mycroft had some points, caring too much was a disadvantage, but only because your mind focus on the thing you most care about than on the whole scene, and he had to remember that for his job he needed to look at everything, details were important, background was important. He had been seeing everything so blurred since John had shouted at him while still holding Mary’s dead body that night, it was like walking with a fishbowl full of water on his head.

He mentally slapped himself, a flash image of Molly doing so passing through his memory; he should have kept his mind clear. Sherlock sighed, opening his eyes to the darkened room; he was now slumped over the mattress, when had that happened? Maybe he was more tired than he had initially thought.

He adjusted himself until he was lying on his back, and once again reviewed his memories. He had to admit that his sister was so clever it was almost scary, almost. She had managed to come to his flat and pretend to be someone else, they had spent a whole night together, just walking and talking, some of the things they had talked about he couldn’t even remember, he had showed her so much about himself that it wasn’t a surprise that she had managed to trick him into her trap.

He had practically given away all his weaknesses without even noticing. Although he had to admit she had a lot to do with his lack of confidence when trying to make friends, or the way he treated them, and maybe, just maybe, if things had happened in a different way he could have treated people in a really different way. Women were usually more sentimental, more emotional, and Eurus had wanted to understand that, he was the most emotional of the three, and it was probably out of her female nature that his sister had tried to get his attention, to learn about it.

It wasn’t the best way, but then again the Holmes siblings mind worked like no other, especially hers. Eurus had asked him to choose someone to kill a man, and to be quite honest he had trouble choosing one. Mycroft wasn’t really one to do things himself, he always had done things through other people, still Sherlock had wanted to believe that he could do that to help him, he was wrong; but John, he could count on him, he had meant it when he had assured to Mycroft that John was family, although the last thing he wanted was to put another weight on his shoulders right now, even with what they had been through, and what he had learned thanks to him.

Talking about knowing what was good and what was wrong, it had also been a task when they had to choose a guilty man out of three brothers, their sense of justice was very similar, but the experiment had been clear for him then. Eurus had tested their reactions - especially his reactions to their reactions - to different emotions; in that first room they had to make a sacrifice and for that they had to show specific emotions fear, trust, courage and empathy. Taking from that, the second room had been about justice, their moral, resistance; intelligence and anger were tested there. In the third room…

Sherlock found himself unable to start with the things that had happened in that room, suddenly he had to sit up, his breathing was fast and he felt anger boiling in him, he was trembling.

With a jump he stood up and started pacing, trying to calm down, there had been something about that one test that he still couldn’t get over.

‘Damn it, Holmes, you are flesh and blood. You have feelings. You have ... you must have ... impulses.’

“Shut up!” he said out loud, as if to silence the voice inside his head. It was true that he had been in frequent communication with The Woman, what had happened between them had been interesting, but not lasting. There had been of course many emotions mixed up there that had actually thrown him out of his way, but it wasn’t something that currently affected him, and in his mind it was obvious that John would refer to her since she was the only one he had seen who had been able to pull his emotions - impulses - almost to the surface, however she wasn’t the only one, there was someone else, a woman who had always been able to see through him, to really see him.

Molly Hooper…

‘She’s out there...  she likes you, and she’s alive. And do you have the faintest idea how lucky you are?’

But she had come near to not being alive… or so Eurus had wanted him to believe. Sherlock sighed loudly again while passing his hands through his hair, there were bruises on the skin of his hands, a reminder of what that experience had make him do, his hands had hurt afterwards, but he hadn’t had time to check, and he had hoped there wouldn’t be any evidence of it, but they were very visible by now. His own words as he deduced who the coffin in that room was for resonated in his head.

“Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I’d say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman.”

“Not a child?”

“A child’s coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although still best available in that bracket.”

Of course it would be a cheap coffin, Molly would never buy something bigger or better, they had discussed it over on the phone one night, it had been silly actually, he was bored and wanted to know what her thoughts on that matter were, or what her choice would be given the case.

“A lonely night on Google” Not lonely if he considered who had actually talked to him about the subject, who else would he choose to talk about something like that?

“This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice. Acquainted with the process of death but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin…” Plain white but shiny, it’s feminine and delicate; something that a woman with simplicity on her mind would choose for herself if it was the last thing she would lie on.

“...Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone.”

Once again John’s voice broke into the scene reminding him of just how much an important matter this was. “Trust me, Sherlock: it’s gone before you know it. Before you know it.”

Letting his arms fall to his sides Sherlock had to admit defeat, he dropped himself heavily over the bed; his sister had really hit the nail on the head. ‘I don’t want it to end. Not like this’ the words appeared in his mind like they had done the night he had met Eurus, and just like then he erased them from the air in front of him, another sting of pain reminded him that John had gone through that reality. Molly Hooper meant a lot to him, so much more than anyone could really tell. She had helped him countless times, not only with experiments and autopsies, she had helped him fake his death, he had trusted her with his life, it was a secret, but it had been important at the time, she had done it, and she hadn’t asked anything in return.

He knew that she liked him, it was unmistakable, her body language, the invitations to go out for coffee, her smile… An image of her dressed up in a black dress a few Christmas ago made his stomach contract. He did not deserve her, how had she been able to forgive him after what he did that day, after what he had did more than once? It was something different that he had not really understood in the moment, his need to apologize and the guilt he had felt for making her feel that way, but she had left that behind and stayed firmly in her position as his friend, because whenever he went back to her she would be waiting for him

‘What do you need?’

Sherlock had noticed her attempts to move over him, to make a life, only to fail miserably, more than once because something he had said. He remembered Tom, that man she had gone with to John’s weeding, he had been her fiancé, someone she could’ve relied on, someone who could have make her happy, but she had called it off… Why? He wasn’t quite sure.

But he had made sure to show that he was grateful for the help she had lend him, she was an intelligent woman and her work with him had made things easier more times than he could remember. After Mary’s death Sherlock had needed to talk to someone, at first just to know how John was doing, and Molly had visited Baker Street with Rosie many times, sometimes to leave her with Mrs. Hudson, others to have some tea.

It was a few days after Mary’s video had arrived that he had talked to her about his plan, he had told her everything, and he had said that it was necessary to be real for John to pay attention. That day she had accepted, reluctantly, to help him, she had agreed to take and ambulance and the equipment to test him two weeks later, she had also promised that she would be very angry at him that day, she already was… He felt confusion at hearing it, why would she act that way right now? The plan still had some weeks to fully develop.

She worried too much it would seem, because she was lonely, and she was distant from her own family. It was clear now, she only had them, and of course she will worry about him, he was the man she loved! At that point he was the one putting his life in danger, he was the one dying! This time it wasn’t fake, she could keep that he was alive as a secret, but she couldn’t duel with a real death, (a fact he had known the day Mycroft had sent him to that 4 minute mission and why he had completely avoided telling her about) not another one so soon, and especially not after Mary…

Again Sherlock had to run his hands over his hair, this time his fingers pulling a little bit at it, he needed to react, the tiredness was pulling at him, he could feel his eyes dropping with sleep, but it wasn’t the time yet, so he needed to feel something real, pain would do for now. It occurred to him then that maybe Molly had been already really stressed about what was going on around her, with this family of hers that she didn’t know how to approach properly, she had been busy with Rosie, worried about John and working hard every day, and he had made her think about the state she was going to find him after his plan was complete, something she had also done professionally on a moving vehicle. Wow, that woman was so strong!

He had been at the hospital for at least two weeks before going back to Baker Street, and there she was again, still angry, busy and worried, but still there. She had been there through some episodes of withdrawal, his bad humor and his anxiety. And what had he given her in return? Nothing. It was suddenly obvious that a single ‘thank you’ and a kiss on the cheek were not enough anymore, not for someone who had done so much for him.

Suddenly it was clear why it was inconceivable that Molly Hooper would think that on the day of her death he would put her in that tiny cheap coffin! When Eurus plan had been revealed in that room he had known that this would hurt Molly, however in the midst of her life being in danger he thought it was best to have her heart broken than not beating at all.

It had been a surprise for him when she had asked him to say the words first, something unexpected given the circumstances. She had asked him to say it like he meant it. At first his mind had gone blank; he had to make sure he had heard her right, and then ask himself what he could do to make it sound like the truth, a part of him told him to just do it, she was in danger, if she wanted to hear him, he would say it, it was easy, or so he had thought when he asked her to do just that, but how? The answer hadn’t been difficult to find, really. They were friends that much was clear to him, and he truly loved his friends. The real shock came when he really thought about their kind of friendship, a flash of all the things they had shared through the years, the things she had done for him, the moments and experiences, the laughs and the discoveries made, the way it felt so natural to have a long a really entertained conversation with her, it wasn’t the kind of friendship he had with John, Wiggins or even with Irene, he had realized it then, because just as she had said it, it was true, he really did felt love for her, no need to fake it.

‘Also, your loss would break my heart…’

Something really out of character of Mycroft the moment he had said it, but very on point in this case, losing Molly Hooper would break him. Not only his life would be emptier, his job would lack something she could only provide, she would not only miss her silly jokes and colorful jumpers, her sharp mind and her dexterity at her job, his heart ached at the sole idea. Trust him to feel lonely if he didn’t have Molly Hooper in his life, because for some time now John had had a life apart from him, with Mary and now only with Rosie, and thought Mrs. Hudson was good company sometimes Sherlock found himself feeling lonely. In a way he was like Molly, unmarried, practical about death and alone, he rolled his eyes, they had so much in common.

That’s how he knew, because moments after the call had been disconnected and he had been unable to talk to her a bit more, he had actually pictured it. He saw it when taking the lid of the coffin, her name written in the plaque just above the very same words that she most wanted to hear from him, he placed it over the wooden box that would hold the body of this great woman…

He saw her, her deathly pale face, still so beautiful, her eyes, those warm brown eyes, closed forever to the world she had found fascinating, her lips, now lacking color and the smile he had always loved, her small delicate hands yet skillful in her profession, and strong when he had needed her help, his heart beating painfully for her while she laid there, now unable to know what he was feeling for her, the words carved on a plaque that she would never read, he could picture a single tear dripping down her cheek as the light closed over her - a tear fallen from his own eyes…

No. She deserved flowers, a nice chapel, a place full of people that loved her, a long and fulfilling life to be remembered for, a long speech about her a nice, big and comfortable looking coffin lined with silk and a big plaque with the words ‘She was loved infinitely, by family and friends, she was the one that mattered the most at the end’; and he would be standing beside her, probably sad, but happy to have been part of her life. No! And he had lost it then, his patience, his poker face, his self-control, all lost because he couldn’t let that happen, he would not burry Molly Hooper in that cheap bloody coffin! He will not lose her!

He was angry at Eurus for making him do that, now that he had already understood how much it affected him, hurting the people he loved; hurting John Watson had been awful, and knowing that he could have done more for Mary had hurt him too. It wasn’t fair that he had been manipulated to hurt the one person in this world - out of his own family - that loved him unconditionally and deserved so much more from him, because she thought he was better than that!

‘She taught me to be the man she already thought I was. Get yourself a piece of that.’

All those words, all those emotions, all the things in life she did not have, and all just because she loved him… He had never wanted to be the one to stop all those things for her; he would’ve liked for her to move on and have her life, and be loved and be happy! And what have he done? He had insulted her appearance more than once; he had told her of off her choices, he had actually suggested she stopped dating at all…

When had he fallen in love with her? Because his jealousy had no other justification, maybe he had told himself that he needed her, but what for? Just because that way she would have more free time, what was that about? Wasn’t she entitled to have her own time and entertainment? She had the right to have friends and spend time with them and have fun and met someone and have a real family. Why then, was he so stubborn about her? He supposed unconsciously he had always known, but it was easier to think it was for his benefit, that it was also fun for her and that she was spending time with him, her friend.

But she knew him more than anyone, even more than John himself! She had saved his life, had helped him and proved to be more reliable than anyone, she had helped him solve countless cases, and they had joked and laughed and talked about more things that he could remember. She had always been there, was it really so hard for him to be there for her? She wasn’t asking for much, apparently, his heart already belonged to her.

He knew what he was coming back to, after that, Molly was going to be angry and sad, and probably won’t be happy to work with him as she always did. But that would be because she thought he was pretending, faking it for a case as he had done with the drugs, or with Janine… How could he convince her? Sending her a message? No, it was easier to discard or delete without even reading it. What about a phone call? She was probably not going to answer or would block his number.

The problem now was that he had broken the trust between them more than once; she had no reason to believe him, not after how abruptly that last call had ended. His mind brought the picture of Eurus face at that moment, he had to admit that she seemed almost as shocked as John and Mycroft had been.

“All those complicated little emotions. I lost count.”

For a moment he wondered himself how many emotions had been showed during that phone call: confusion, fear, trust, desperation, pain, realization, courage, surprise, truth, anger, love…

He wondered how much John and Mycroft’s opinion of him had changed, it would be really difficult to look at them next time Molly or his feelings were part of the conversation, it was something else to expect in the coming days. But they didn’t matter right now, he needed to talk to her, explain things, and put an end to the endless feeling that something was missing, he needed to feel complete again. He huffed in sarcastic annoyance, it was a curious feeling, because she hadn’t gone anywhere, but that last conversation had cut the connection between them and he could barely tolerate it, he had to do something about it.

Working quickly to not waste any more time Sherlock put on his shoes, grabbed his coat and exited the room, maybe this wasn’t the best idea at the moment, it was really early in the morning and he hadn’t sleep one bit, but that had never really stopped him before…

 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I really don’t remember if I have already posted this, but since I couldn’t find it here I guess I didn’t... It’s only been checked for grammar with Word, so please forgive any mistakes, I really hope you enjoy it

[anika-ann]

Homecoming (S.R)

Type: One-shot (long drabble?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 1680

Summary: There is no feeling like this; coming home and having this waiting for you...what else could a girl want?

Prompt: coming home to an eager puppy

Warnings: practically zero plot, maybe some bitching about work and then just fluff and more fluff

A/N: For softbiker’s 25 Things Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate in such a positive challenge! May your blog grow and gain more kind followers in the future :))

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You whimpered, muttering profanities as you finally reached the top of the stairs, dropping the suitcase on the floor with a thud, grateful that the wheels would be of use at last. You had climbed three floors up with that thing, because the elevator was out of service; because that was just your luck.

Your feet were aching just like your calves from wearing nothing but high heels for almost two days straight, your Converse doing nothing for you now as it was too late to make up for the time spent in the pumps. The conference few towns over was almost nice, but too luxurious as always; your boss had claim to need you there (he didn’t) and had required you to look presentable and a head taller than him just so rich people could admire his choice of assistant (they didn’t care and those who did made you nauseous).

You really needed to change jobs once an opportunity would rise, before you lost your sanity and missed out on too many things in your life.

You sighed and dragged your feet towards your apartment, a brief smile flashing on your lips as you passed 3A, the home of your acquaintance/friend Clint. A muffled bark greeted you from behind the closed door and you hummed a sleepy “Hi, Lucky” in that direction before continuing your path.

You were worn to a bone; your body felt like made of lead, sticky after travelling, your hair was probably a mess and your breathing was heavy after the almost-midnight workout consisting of walking the stairs while lifting weights.

Yet, contentment slowly lifted your spirits as you reached your door and slid the key to the lock. Furious scratching of nails and quick rhythmic tapping on a bamboo flooring welcomed you along with an enthusiastic bark and you were done for, the widest smile spreading on your lips when you were reminded just what was waiting for you in your home.

You barely managed to open the door for a slit when a pair of paws – one tawny and one white, pushed through, raking with vigour to get to you. You chuckled as you carefully opened some more and slid in, your leg already being bounced on, barks echoing through the apartment as your 10-month-old furball couldn’t but express his excitement.

“Shh, shh-“ you whispered, though the giant grin stayed on your face as you manoeuvred your suitcase into the hall and closed the door and finally, finally crouched to give your favourite boy the greeting he deserved.

The moment you got your hands on him, your heart sang, fluttering in your chest. He was such a sweet baby and not for the first time, you wondered how his previous owners could give him up.

It probably had something to do with the fact that they wanted a damn guard dog – straight away, no less – and didn’t appreciate the love the puppy, a tawny-coloured Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, had been showering them with.

They had called him Fury, for God’s sake. Who does that? He was the cutest thing you had ever seen, a puppy so full of energy and affection that you had been helpless against his charm, falling in love instantly, secretly renaming him despite not changing a thing in his papers. No Fury. Furball. Your adorable loveable ball of fur, tawny, but with a line of white fur on his head and a patch on his chest and looking like he had lost a tiny white sock from his left back and right front leg.  

“Hi, sweety, hi!” you cooed at him, giggling as he climbed up, stretching his neck so he could lick your face, nearly chasing tears into your eyes. God, this. This made the two godawful days worth it.

Your fingers ran through the fur, scratching and stroking his back, behind his ears and it was a testimony of how much he needed to show you he loved you that rather than rolling on his back to earn himself some belly rubs, he kept licking at your face, his tail swinging wildly.

“What a good boy you are!” you continued in low voice, marvelling at how obedient he was, truly tuning down the barking and welcoming you in other ways instead. “What a sweet greeting you’re giving your momma!”

“Well, we did miss you a lot,” a male voice, raspy from sleep, explained, causing your smile to widen enough to nearly tear your mouth, familiar warmth spreading in your ribcage.

“We?” you echoed, your head snapping up to the figure leaning onto the wall, your breath catching in your throat.

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping an excited beat.

There he was, a real-life Adonis, blond, broad-shouldered and tall, with face carved by the Gods himself. And he had apparently taken a nap on your couch while dog-sitting your buddy, because he had his left cheek red and a bit wrinkled – and still, you felt ashamed as he looked like the most beautiful human being in the stark contrast to your pathetic messy self.

It all had been Clint’s fault, really. First, your neighbour – a half-retired Avenger! – had had you fall in love with his dog Lucky, encouraging you to get a pup on your own. While it could be difficult to arrange everything with your job that occasionally required short travels, he had said, there were always people to dog-sit. You were sold and brought a new four-legged friend home two days later.

Except Clint had forgotten to mention that he was off the table as a potential help, because Lucky was a special snowflake – adorable and loveable one, yes, but incredibly selfish, unable to stand another dog in his territory.

And then the goofball of a man assured that it was still not a problem, because he happened to have a friend who would be delighted to help with your Furball and even would be ecstatic to wear him out by running in the park; all of that, for free, maybe for a bit of food, because he couldn’t quite get a dog of his own. You, the dumbass you were, accepted Clint’s offer, because it sounded amazing.

Once again, he failed to mention an important detail. His dog-sitting volunteer was Captain America himself. You had nearly fainted when he had rung your bell at 6 am in the morning, claiming that Clint had suggested a test run (quite literally).

And yet somehow… somehow it still worked out. Furball loved Steve in an instant – because you obviously weren’t the only one ready to fall to this god-like golden-haired and golden-hearted man’s feet – and Steve Rogers became your regular dog-sitter.

Now, he was standing in the tiny hall in your apartment, smiling tiredly at the reunion of two desperate co-dependents, probably aware just how ready you were to faint again as he had claimed that both of them had missed you.

He didn’t even have the decency to be bashful about it, the charming bastard he was.

He bounced off of the wall, slowly walking to you, extending a hand to help you up. You patted Furball’s head once more and accepted, letting Steve to pull you to your feet and wrap his arm around your waist, his gaze roaming over you lovingly despite your dishevelled state.

“Well, we missed you a lot,” he had said that one time about four months ago, shocking you into silence as you had simply stared at him, watching the blush creep up his neck and face at your soundless “We?” as he realized what had slipped past his lips.

He had been a lot more bashful then, stumbling over his words, frantically trying to explain— and ending up asking you (and Furball, obviously) out anyway.

Four months later, here you were, midnight approaching as Steve greeted you home, a kiss to your hair before ducking his head to kiss your lips.

“Yeah,” he whispered to your mouth, his nose tenderly bumping yours, half-lidded eyes and goofy smiles. His lips caught yours again, only then breathing out the magical word. “We.”

It became a ritual of yours, that little exchange. A brief heartfelt tribute to the moment of your relationship taking an unexpected turn.

Soft ‘hi’s were whispered, few more pecks alternating with ardent kisses lasting long enough to steal your breath, your already tired feet feeling like made of jello, your brain turned into mush with each stroke of Steve’s fingers in your hair.

A whine and impatient pats on your calf signalled that your furry friend was losing patience and demanding some of the attention too. Both you and Steve chuckled to the kiss, parting and he bent lower, giving your good boy a calming scratch behind his ears, while trying to maintain eye-contact with you.

“You could have called, I’d help with the suitcase. The elevator-”

“Yeah, I noticed. Didn’t want to wake you…”

Steve shook his head tenderly, touched and mentally rolling his eyes at the same time. Sometimes you treated him as if he was not a supersoldier… but you both knew he in fact enjoyed it on occasion, simply because while he loved pampering you, he appreciated to be just Steve around you.

“How was the conference, honey? How was the journey?

You huffed in annoyance, not keen on tainting the wholesome reunion with grumbling about your unappealing job.

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Now I just want a shower and some snuggles if that’s okay,” you mumbled, your energy once again leaving your body at the memory of your draining weekend.

Steve’s brows furrowed in concern, but when you attempted a lame smile, he returned it fully and planted another kiss on your forehead, caressing your arm.

“Yeah. I think we can do that,” he assured you with a light squeeze to your bicep, turning to your companion as he patted his thigh and gestured for the puppy to follow. “Come on, Furball. Let’s leave your momma to clean up and warm the bed for her in the meantime. Then we can give her all the snuggles she wants.”

Steve glanced at you over his shoulder once more, a twinkle in his soft blue-green eyes and you felt your heart grew in size.

It felt good to be home. And coming home to a puppy and a man who could as well be a golden retriever in a human form? There was simply no other feeling like it.

You couldn’t wait to snuggle them both.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading! I’m pretty sure that’s the shortest fic I’ve ever written, so I hoped you enjoyed the change ;)

[robbleraptor]

Man Crave Part 3

What are you doing? You’re engaged. Stop fucking up your life. Just go and forget about this.

Robert’s thoughts were blaring as walked towards the room, 202, he double checked the message. Last thing he needed was to knock on the wrong door. Or maybe that’s exactly what he needed. A real stranger to open the door, to send him away, to keep him from making such a huge mistake. 

He’s walking past room 200 when his phone begins to ring. He loses his breath for a moment and notices it’s only Lawrence, surely ready to ring him out about the day’s seminar. Like a fucking quiz. As if Robert didn’t know what he was doing, as if Robert hadn’t been responsible for the company nearly doubling profits in the past year, none of that mattered as far as Lawrence was concerned. Robert was nothing to him. And fuck so f it didn’t grate him. He was sick of it. Like a monkey always dancing for him. Just like Jack.

He couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach as his father popped into his head. He wasn’t going to control him, his life, not anymore. He was done pretending. His thumb swiped across the screen to reject the call and he quickly turned his phone off. He really was done. He was sick of living a lie., Sick of trying to be who his father wanted him to be. Whatever happened tonight, it was the start of something new. 

“202,” he read the number out loud as he turned to face the door. Was he really going to go through with this, did he have the guts to follow through? It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to walk away from it all. This life he was living, yeah he had the materials, the money, the gorgeous fiance, but he wasn’t happy, not really. It was all a lie.

Do it! Just do it, you coward!

He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and raised his hand to knock, only he couldn’t, it nearly did, at least twice, but he kept pulling himself back. The sound of the door opening nearly made him jump, as if the lad had been waiting.

There he stood. He was beautiful. Piercing blue eyes, a beard he would kill for, and a presence about him. He seemed sure of himself. Five years younger than him, and the lad looked like he knew exactly who he was.

He stared for a moment and unable to hold back any longer he lunged forward. Took the lad by the back of his neck, swirled him around, and slammed him against the wall. Their lips came crashing into each other’s. Like a cyclone tearing things apart, the sound around the room, slamming against walls, bumping into furniture, knocking lamps onto the ground. It was furious. It was fire.

“You wanna come in?” The lad asked, pulling him from his thoughts, his imagination.

Robert licked his lips and quietly nodded. The lad stepped away from the door making room for Robert to enter, and he walked through. He looked around the room, not sure why, it’s not what he was there for.

“Nice room you got here.” Small talk, fuck how he hated small talk. But nerves were getting the better of him. He couldn’t help it. It’s those blue eyes. There’s something about them, it feels as if they can see right through him…not not through him per say, but maybe right through his facade.

The lad smiled, chuckled, and it reached his eyes. There was something so beautiful about it. The way his smile reached his eyes, it made something flutter within himself. Made him want to make him laugh again.

“What’s so funny?” Robert asked.

“Mate, you do realize that all the rooms look the same, right?” The lad chuckled. And there was the flutter again.

Robert couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It made him feel bolder, more in control, more like his real self. Without hesitating, he crossed the room and took the lad by his shirt. His fists bunching into the fabric, the soft feel of it, making him hum as his lips collided with the lad’s. Seconds was all it took for them to hit the bed, hands everywhere, touching, feeling, clawing at clothes. Fuck, he wanted this, needed it.

“So, you want that drink?” The lad asked, knocking him out of his stupor, an innocent look on his face as he waved his head back towards a six pack he had ready for them.

Robert gulped hard, his mouth felt dry, and his licked his lips. This feeling. Whatever it was, was different. Maybe it’s the rush, his head telling him to do it, maybe his heart, to end the charade, to leave everything behind, and move forward. Maybe it was just the pull he felt to the lad. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. Maybe it was a combination of both. The thought of a future being who he really is, not who his father wanted him to be.

Either way, it started here. It started with this lad. It’s starting with a bolt of lightning, is what it is.

“Yeah…that sounds good.” Robert nodded lightly as he swayed in place unbeknownst to himself. His hands dug deep into his pockets, and he kept his eyes locked into the lad dressed in all black. A tight black T-shirt that showed all the right curves and muscles. Perfectly fitted black skinny jeans that showed off his arse, an arse he kept his eyes trained on.

“Aaron by the way.” The lad said.

“I’m sorry?” Robert replied.

“My name…it’s Aaron.” He said as he turned, handing Robert a beer

“Rob…” He cut himself off, unsure if spilling his first name was smart, not when he had so much to hide, so much to lose. Then again. It no longer mattered. He had resolved himself to leaving that life behind. He was done with it. “Robert.”

“Cheers.” Aaron said and held out a beer for him.

“Cheers.” Robert reciprocated as he took it.

One beer led to two, two led to three, three to four, to five, to six, to countless giggles. There was something about Aaron, something so ready going, so freeing. He’d only just met him yet, it felt like they’d known each other for years. It made Robert feel at ease, made him feel as if he’d never been in hiding. Even as polar opposites as they were, there was an undeniable pull. He felt it, and by the look on Aaron’s face, he felt it as well.

Robert had come to know just what a grumpy son of a bitch Aaron was, and he liked that about him. He was tired of being a people pleaser. Maybe Aaron’s kind of disposition is something that would work well for him. He laughed to himself as he thought about it, all the while Aaron told him.about his work as a mechanic. Something they definitely had in common. Not that Robert was currently one, but he’d spent years working as one in what felt like a lifetime ago. It was in the way Aaron spoke about customers that he got a glimpse into his personality. He stared and listened. Couldn’t do anything else. 

The way Aaron’s lips moved, perfectly framed by his gorgeous stubble, it made Robert want to kiss him. He had been too entranced to even notice that Aaron had caught on, didn’t even noticed when Aaron moved in smashing their lips together.

In a panic, Robert pulled back, quickly shooting off the sofa he sat on, and felt himself clamming up. Maybe this was a mistake. He thought to himself.

“Did…did I do something wrong?” Aaron looked up at him with a strange look, a mix of concern and disappointment.

“No…no.” Robert was quick to calm himself. Those eyes. They helped.

He took a deep breath and tried to collect himself, tried to think of what to do, what to say. 

“Is it because of that?” Aaron nodded his head towards Robert’s hand.

It was then that it hit him. “Shit.” Robert hissed beneath his breath. His engagement ring. “Look…I’m sorry…I should have been up front…”

“It’s okay.” Aaron interrupted him. “I saw it when you first came in. I know what I’m doing.”

“Fuck.” Robert let out a deep breath. “It’s complicated.” Complicated was definitely the word. He was supposed to be an engaged straight man on the road to marrying the woman of his dreams, or at least the woman that could make all his dreams come true. Only, his dreams had become so unimportant to him recently. The dreams he had had. They weren’t really his. The dreams belonged to a man who was living to impress his father, a man who was dying for his father’s love, his acknowledgement. And fuck if he wasn’t tired of pretending to be that man.

“How complicated can it be if you’re meeting strange blokes for sex?”

The way he said it, so blunt, with a look of excitement in his eyes. 

Robert couldn’t help it, he rushed back down, pushing himself against Aaron. Their lips crashed into a bruising kiss. It was like pure electricity. A lightning strike that brought fire with it. Aaron’s mouth was pliable, melted to Robert’s will, opened fully for him, accepted his tongue like he craved it.

As they kissed, their hands worked in unison, loosening belts, pulling shirts of, ripping every bit of clothing off they could. Like flames they moved so fluidly together, Aaron’s body melting into Robert’s touch, Robert pulling Aaron closer onto him as if their bodies were a compliment to the other.

Aaron moaned into his mouth, his hands firmly squeezing into Robert’s arse, making him moan into Aaron’s as if it had been invited to be returned. Robert couldn’t hold back anymore, he wanted to have all of Aaron. Every bit of him.

He wrapped his arms around Aaron’s waist, pulled him close, and lifted him into the air, making Aaron wrap his legs around his waist.

Within steps Robert was dropping Aaron onto the bed, looking down at him, savoring the sight before him. Beautiful had been the word. His eyes took in every dip, curve, muscle, and even the hair. The small trail of hair from his navel to his cock. He licked his lips, unable to control himself.

This was it. There was no turning back for Robert. Not now. He’d tasted the ultimate fruit, and he wanted more.

~~~~~~

Fuck ME. Aaron thought to himself as he lay there, half on the bed, half off, taking it all in. Robert stood between his legs, staring down at him, eyeing him like Lion would at it’s prey. The look in his eyes only was making him hard, let alone the rest of Robert. Like a fucking God he stood there. Chiseled in the most perfect of ways, chiseled enough, yet not overly chiseled. His chest alone made Aaron lick his lips. The fair skin, the freckles, everything was so much better in person than the picture. The picture, fuck the fact that it did him no justice.

His eyes trailed down Robert’s lean torso, taking in every line, dip, and muscle, all the way down to his cock. Fuck was he hung. Fuck ME.

Time felt as if it had frozen, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. The only thing that mattered was the gaze between them, the gaze that made Aaron’s feel like it was on fire. This, this was what he imagined being struck by lightning must feel like.

Fuck the consequences. Fuck right or wrong. He no longer cared if the blond god before him was engaged, or even worse, married. No, he stopped caring the moment their lips crashed together. He’d felt it almost instantly, the rush, the heat, the electricity. 

He no longer cared if he was an accomplice to wrecking a home. Not when the reason stood before him completely nude. He could feel guilty for it later, another time, any other time but now. The only thing worth worrying about now was getting a piece of the blond, of Robert.

“You gonna just look?” He teased with the most wicked of grins as he winks.

Without hesitation, Robert leans down and hooks his arms under Aaron’s legs and shoves him further into the bed, making him groan, growl really. This is what he wanted. He throws his head back, sharply releasing a gasp as he feels Robert’s mouth on him, enveloping him whole. “Fuck.” He groans, his hands bunching into duvet, he swears he sees stars. 

He could spend all night like this, eyes closed, feeling like his body will turn to jelly, but he doesn’t want to. He wants more. He wants to see. He opens his eyes and watches as Robert’s head moves up and down, one hand gently twisting up and down along with his mouth. This, this is the best part he’s always loved about being gay. No one can suck a dick quite like a bloke who has one themselves. The filthiest of sounds escapes his mouth and he threads his fingers through Roberts hair, pulls him down further and further. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He moans when he feels himself hit the back of Robert’s throat, and has to stop himself before he gets too close. “Slow down.”

He can’t help his heart skipping a beat when Robert looks up, a loud pop hits the air as his cock leaves his mouth, with the most amazing lips he’d ever seen. Bright, pink, almost as if swollen from what they had just been doing.

“You taste amazing.” The words are soft, velvety smooth, as they leave Robert’s mouth, shortly before licking his lips. 

Erotic wouldn’t even cover this. Whatever this spark is, it’s sending sensations throughout Aaron’s body he wasn’t even aware he could feel. Who is this stranger?

“I bet you taste even better.” He’s barely able to get out, feels like the lump in his throat is impossible to swallow down. His heart feels like it’s going to jump through his chest, and his skin feels like it’s been electrified. He knows he needs to be careful, or this ride won’t last much longer. “Come'ere.” He nods his head back with a smirk on his face, and watches as Robert stands to his full height, then lean down, and climb over him. He feels it. The pressure around him, the mattress sinking in, part of him feels like it’s his own self sinking, weightless, and then a bruising kiss makes him feel grounded again. He hums into it, savors it, a taste unlike any he’s had before. “God…if…you…don’t…don’t…fuck…me…now…” He breathes out between kisses, too selfish to stop them to speak the words properly.

Without any warning, he gasps as Robert’s strong hands grab him by the waist before flipping him onto his stomach. On instinct, he grins, this is it, this is what he wanted. The blond Adonis manhandling him. His skin vibrates as Robert’s fingers run along his skin, his back, and a chill spreads goosebumps across when he feels his hot breath along his ear.

“Do you have protection with you?” Robert’s voice is soft, yet feels like fire running down his neck.

“Bedside table.” Aaron points, hungrily waiting, the anticipation killing him. He wants to whimper as he feels the pressure of Robert’s body on top of his leave him, yet he knows what’s coming, and his body aches for it.

“On your knees.” He hears the soft voice behind him command, and obeys. Looking over his shoulder, he slowly raises himself on all fours, arches his back as an invitation. His body aches for it, for the blond, the sight of him sliding the condom on makes him feel weak in the knees, and for a second he wonders if he can even take him. He continues to watch, his own erection aching as the blond pours lube into his hand, then slowly lathers it on to his cock. His eyes locked straight into Aaron’s.

“Don’t make me beg for it, mate.” The corner of Aaron’s lips curl up. As much as he hates himself for it, he’s not above doing so, not with this bloke. That cock is worth it.

It’s clear that the blond likes his desperation. Robert smiles and climbs onto the bed, slowly slithers his way behind him, and leans forward. The heat between them makes him want to melt. “I wanna fuck you so bad.” He whispers into Aaron’s ear.

That voice. This bloke. It didn’t matter that he was engaged married. There was just something about him. There was something between them. A spark, a flame, a raging inferno, something he just couldn’t deny. He knew this was wrong, messed up in more ways than one, but his body didn’t care. His body, his head, everything within him told him it felt great, amazing, right.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” He moaned, biting down into his lower lip as he felt the pressure, the intrusion, Robert entering him. A sharp sting as the tender skin of his hole was stretched. His fists bunched into the duvet, his eyes rolled into his head, and a sharp gasp escaped his mouth as he gave into the exquisite pain. It hurt so fucking good.

“I’m not hurting you am I?” Robert whispered into his ear.

“No. God no.” Aaron said between breathes, deep breaths, as he relaxed. Within moments, he had adjusted to Robert’s girth, and pushed back into him. “You feel amazing.”

“God, you do too…so tight.”

~~~~~~

Part of him was terrified as shit. This was all new to him. He’d never thought he’d get this far, not with another bloke, but everything about it felt so right. Fuck everything before this, it had all been a lie. This was his truth. This was the start of a new life. He took a deep breath as he felt the pressure around his cock, he could swear the lad was purposely tightening around him, it was clear the lad was just as desperate for this as he was, and fuck if he didn’t want to give him the pleasure. His hands took hold of the brunette by his hips and he forcefully pushed into him.

“Oh fuck.” Aaron gasped. “Fuck me.” He whimpered.

He didn’t need anymore telling, Robert did as the lad begged. He pulled back and slammed back into him, the loud sound of skin slapping together filling the air, Robert pressed his chest into Aaron’s back, and began to thrust his hips. Like thunder and gravel, their moans filled the air, only getting louder as Robert’s thrusts became harder.

“Fuuuuck.” Aaron moaned, trying to keep a hold into the duvet, as every thrust pushed him further forward. 

Robert could see Aaron struggling to keep himself up, his arms slowly turning to jelly as he held up both their weights along with the force of every this. He slowed his movements and slithered his arms around Aaron’s, slowly pulling them up and placing them against the headboard.

Sexy wasn’t anything new to him, not by a longshot, he’d had plenty of experience since his teenage years, but he’d never experienced something like this. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. With Aaron holding on to the headboard, he began kissing up and down his neck, taking soft bites, and wrapped an arm around his wait taking hold of his hard cock.

“Fuck yeah.” Aaron groaned as Robert began to stroke him. “I’m not gonna last much longer." 

"Come for me.” Robert ordered, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

“Fuck me.” Aaron grunted. “Harder. Harder. Harder. Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna….Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” His last word dragged.

The sound of it, that last word dragged out with such ferocity, was enough to send Robert into his own climax. Like seeing stars all the while feeling the warms of Aaron’s load spilling over his fist as he jerked him off.

A wave of euphoria took him over as they both collapsed, a mess of tangled limbs, heaving chests, and stars in their eyes, as they gasped for air.

This was really something new. Something different. Something better. Something real.

A deep part of himself hated what he had done, not because he regretted it, but because it meant he had to break someone’s heart. He knew his life had been a lie, this experience solidified it. Tomorrow brought a new day, tomorrow brought him fully accepting the truth. His engagement had always been a lie, it was over.

As he lay there, his chest heaving, still trying to catch its breath, with the weight of Aaron on it, he couldn’t help but think that this had been the best mistake he’d ever made.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 59

Warnings: Profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

A hot shower and a three hour nap -aided by a mixture of antidepressants, anxiety meds, and pain killers washed down by three shots of tequila- has done Tyler a world of good.  Waking up feeling energized; still riding the high of the morning’s adrenaline rush and relatively pain free. Nothing more than a dull throb in the deepest part of the shoulder; some discomfort and audible cracking and popping when he stretches and manipulates it. But it’s bearable, unlike the agony that’s been a near constant fixture in his life for the past couple of years. While the initial replacement surgery and rehab had both been complete successes, a full recovery had eluded him. It had been his own fault, of course; the surgeon’s orders  had been to alter his lifestyle and to avoid the very ‘activity’ that had caused so much damage in the first place. That ‘advice’ had lasted all of four months, until Nik had called, desperately needing his help and he’d been unable to resist both the lure of the game and the promise of damn good money.

He’d attempted to walk away several times in as many years, fully intending to commit himself to being a family man with his own little side business. Content with the motions of being the one to stay home with the kids while his wife either went back to school or found a new career she’d be happy with. But sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out. Not long after an early term miscarriage when the twins were two and a half, she’d  gotten pregnant with Declan DESPITE being on birth control and coming to a mutual decision to wait until both Millie and the twins were in school full time before once again trying to add to their family. It had been completely unexpected, and off of their previous plans regarding their home life quickly went by the wayside. The job was easy money; he was confident in his skills and his abilities and Nik had promised to offer only the easiest of gigs.

That changed quickly. What should have been an ‘in and out’ assassination of a key political figure in El Salvador turning  into a four day shit show that had him falling into dangerous enemy territory and almost needing to be extracted himself. After that, he’d said ‘fuck it’ and began taking whatever Nik brought to the table. And his physical health began to pay the price.

He orders a meal from room service and cracks open the bottle of whisky in the mini bar. He’s stuck to his word; staying sober while actually ON the job and not ever indulging during his downtime. Unlike the old days, he’s able to both pace himself AND stop after just a couple. A far cry from the guy who’d polish off an entire bottle and would be either too hung over to get up with his kids in the morning, or already passed out in the early evening; missing school events and extra curricular activities that he’d promised he’d attend. He refuses to be that guy again; the one who’d almost single handedly ruined his marriage because he put the bottle and the pain meds at the top of his priority list; allowing his addictions to take precedence over his family. The one who’d rightfully had his ass kicked out and then spent the next six months in a drunken stupor.

Never again. Never again will he be ‘that guy’. The absolute failure as a husband and a father. He can control it now; no longer needing to silence the inner demons or lessen the emotional suffering by getting. The want not nearly as powerful. Before it had been a way of life; no day complete without at least the smallest buzz. Now it’s a matter of convenience. Even enjoyment. A feeling of satisfaction and relief when the whisky finally hits the tongue and he experiences the initial burn in the back of his throat. After that, one drink doesn’t make him crave more. Instead satisfying his palate with bottle water and Gatorade and terrible coffee made in the hotel provided maker.

He’s lounging in the middle of the bed in a pair of boxer briefs when Koen finally returns. Back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out; laptop resting on his thighs and a plate of food in his hands. And he only gives a brief glance towards the door when Koen stomps in and allows it to slam shut behind him.  Offering no greeting, calmly and casually eating from the enormous serving of goat curry and naan bread,  eyes never leaving the video playing on the computer; his three oldest on the plane, reading HIM a story and every so often having mispronounced words gently and lovingly corrected by their mother. And the grin that plays on his lips is double fold; pride and love for those beautiful and intelligent little human beings he’d had a hand in creating, and amusement at Koen’s mutters and complaints and strings of profanity.

“Look at you,” his friend grumbles. “All fucking relaxed and shit. Cocky, shit eating  grin on your face.”

Tyler’s attention  never leaves  the laptop. A different video this time; Addie giving a real, genuine smile when she has her chin tickled. That one brings the prick of tears to his eyes. She’s still so tiny and so fragile, but she is...in fact...growing up.

“Why do you swear all the time?” He finally asks. “Makes you sound stupid. Find another fucking adjective.”

Koen smirks. “Well aren’t you just the clever one. Leave it to your brain damaged ass to remember THAT.”

“It’s my short term memory that’s fucked. Although I do remember threatening to throw your ass off the balcony. Keep calling me stupid or brain damaged, and it’ll happen.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sensitive. What’cha watching?”

“Just some videos Esme sent me. Of the kids. I’ve got two five year olds and a six year old that can read better than I can. How’d the fuck that ever happen?”

“Well their momma’s pretty damn smart. Maybe just be thankful their brains at least took after her.”

Tyler frowns, then flips Koen the middle finger.  “I meant that they’re practically babies still and they can read like they’re a lot older. They’re so smart. So fucking smart.”

“Definitely gonna be trouble makers when they’re older. Imagine them as teenagers? Especially Millie? With that mouth of hers?”

“That mouth of hers is going to keep trouble AWAY from her. She says what she wants; fuck anyone’s feelings. Someone gets mouthy with her when she’s older, she’ll put them in their place. And if her own mouth doesn’t do it, her right hook will. She's a savage that kid.”

“Best of both mom and dad if you ask me. And look at you just kicking back. Acting like  you didn’t just butcher two people this morning.”

Tyler shrugs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?”

“Just thought maybe you’d be a little more...I don’t know...grumpy.”

“Why would I? They got what was coming to them. And they deserved a lot worse. You think that was brutal? Wait until I have more time and more space.”

“You’re starting to scare me a bit, mate. You’re enjoying this a little too much, I reckon.”

“Well if it was  your family being threatened, you’d enjoy it too. You know what kind of things they would have done to my wife and kids? What I did is tame compared to what they had planned. I’ve heard the threats; you haven’t. It’s nightmare inducing shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

“That why you been freaking out in your sleep? Waking up barely able to breathe and shit? Scared the crap out of me the first couple of times.”

“It’s fucking with my head a bit,”  Tyler admits. “Kind of hard not to let it mess with you. Trust me when I say that what I read? What was said about Esme? About the kids? I don’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.”   It makes bile rise in his throat just thinking about it and he places the laptop on the bed and reaches for the bottle of Gatorade sitting on the nightstand. Downing half in order to rid himself of the bitterness and the burn.   “Heard you guys had a bit of trouble.”

Koen scowls, pausing in the middle of taking off his gear. “Don’t get all cocky again, young man.”

“Not getting cocky. Just repeating what I heard. Didn’t you guys leave the same time I did?”

“Your point?”

“No point.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Just making an observation. I mean, I was alone and had to take out two people. By myself. Took me twenty minutes. And that includes me getting there AND back. You know all the shit I’ve done since then?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re gonna tell me, aren’t ya.”

“Took a shower, ate, slept for three hours. Now I’m eating again. And you’re getting back. Just now. It’s almost six. In the evening.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy. You jerk off sometime in there too?”

“Twice, actually.”

“Your lazy ass could have handled some more work. Instead you’ve been here slacking.”

“I’d done my bit for the day. Next time be faster.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koen scoffs. “Mister ‘I have all the experience’.  You now, we could have used your help out there.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you repeat it?”

“Don’t be a little prick."

“I swear you just said that you could have used MY help. I swear you just said that.”

“You’re asking for an ass kicking, you know that?”

“Funny how you wanted my help when this morning you were acting I like I didn’t know what the fuck In was doing. It’s almost like...I don’t know...like you’re actually admitting you were wrong.”

“I ain’t admitting shit. Just saying we could have used your help.”

“Why? Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I am five seconds away from punching you in the face,” Koen growls. “And your wife won’t be too happy if I mess that face up. So…”

“Just swallow your pride and admit you’re wrong, mate. That you shouldn’t have underestimated me. Get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Make you feel better, you mean. I’d rather stroke your cock than your ego.”

“Well you’re definitely never getting anywhere near my cock so it’s my ego or nothing.”

“Fine,” Koen sighs heavily. “I underestimated you. I will never again second guess your skills or your abilities. But I still think you’re a brain damaged fuck.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says, then sits the now empty plate and Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “How did it go in the end?” he asks, groaning and grimacing as he stands. Forty starting to feel like it’s closer to death, never mind middle age.

“They’re dead. So it ended on a good note. Put up a hell of a fight. Rata took an elbow to the face and went crazy. Beat the guy to death. You would have been impressed. I think he’s a natural.”

“And you?”

“I prefer the simple things in life. Pull a trigger and it’s done. I’ll leave the more hands on, gruesome shit for you two. Gotta date or something?”

“Going to the airport.” He slips into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. “Going to see my wife and kids.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Don’t fucking start this shit again.”

“Just if anyone is following you and you lead them right to your family…”

“Anil gave me the okay. Said he’s got tons of guys keeping their eyes on things. Yaz is sending a couple of people with me. So fuck off with this overprotective bullshit.”

“Now you know how your wife feels.”

“I have a reason to worry about her. A LOT of reasons. Damn good ones too. If you’re going to ride my ass so hard, at least pull my fucking hair.”

Koen smirks. “You’re into that kinda shit, aren’t ya. I knew it. Always knew you were a freak.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and discuss my sex life with you, I’ve got better things to do.”  He attaches his holster to his right hip, gathers up his wallet and hotel key card and both phones.

“You better not come back here with that ‘’just got fucked’ grin on your face,” Koen warns. “Because I will beat your ass.”

“You’ll be too busy beating something else.” Tyler retorts, right hand mimicking jerking off. Chuckling when Koen throws a shoe at him when he steps out the door.

****

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the airport and he already knows everything there is to know about the young tech that Yaz has recruited to ‘escort’ him. It’s annoying enough not to be able to something as simple as driving, but to have to stuck with someone that is overly chatty and friendly is nothing short of torture.  He’s never been a social creature; unlike his wife who makes friends easily and never shies away from making conversation with just about anyone, including strangers in the grocery store or out on the street. She’d been the first...and only...chatty person that hasn’t gotten on his nerves.

Her name is Riya and she’s twenty one; last of eight kids, her mother and father both extremely successful and wealthy business people in Dubai. The so-called ‘black sheep’ of the family; all but disowned when she’d decided to attend an American university  -Georgetown- and  make her home there. Even if he HAD have been talker, he wouldn’t have had the chance to offer up much commentary; her mouth running a mile a minute as she nervously and awkwardly spills even the smallest details of her life.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop her. The old Tyler...the one that existed only six short years ago...would have already snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. But who he is now...the man he is...is different in so many ways. Far more patient. Considerate. Empathetic, even. And the father of a little girl that is the very definition of a chatterbox. Who’s bright eyed and bubbly and talkative from the time she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them at night. And he wouldn’t want some asshole speaking to his own daughter like that, so why would he?

“How long HAVE you been married for?” Riya asks, and he can hear Esme’s voice in his head; reminding him that not everyone is out to get him. That their curiosity is often just that. They’re genuinely interested in him and want to be his friend.

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it doesn’t feel nearly that long. Other times, considering all of the bad shit they’ve been through and the time they didn’t think they’d make it. It seems a hell of a lot longer.

“And five kids, right? In only six and a half years?”

“We’ve really been together for seven. Well, almost seven. But yeah. Five kids.”

“They must be really close together.”

“First three are. My daughter is six, the boys are five.”

“Twins? Identical or…?”

“Fraternal. Millie...my daughter...was only two months when we found out they were on their way. They were kind of a surprise, needless to say. We have another boy after them; he’ll be two in a few months. And we have a baby girl. Almost eight weeks.”

“Just a little one.”

Tyler nods. “Very little. Very tiny. My wife is, too, Small. But feisty as hell. And tough. Toughest and strongest person I know.”

“Yaz said you met on the job.”

“Yeah, we got sent out on the same gig, To Bangladesh. Actually had to pretend we were married.”

Riya laughs. “Really?”

“First time I ever got mixed up in something like THAT. It’s a long story, but in the end, my fake wife ended up becoming my real wife.”  He doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps between beginning and end; Dhaka and what happened there has never been kept off the radar. Word travels fast in the dame, and every single details has been made available; everything from Mahajan fucking him over to Gaspar’s betrayal to  his near death experience.

“Probably the best ending to a job you’ve ever had,” Riya comments.

“Took me nearly dying and her sticking her fingers in my neck to keep me alive, but yeah, in the end things turned out pretty damn good. What about you? You got a family? Other than the ones that don’t speak to you?”

“Nope. It’s just me. It’s hard finding someone that understands this kind of life. Who won’t judge you for it. And the people you meet through this life aren’t exactly the settling down types. As much as I want to believe I’ll meet someone, I probably should just prepare myself to be alone for the long haul.”

“There’s gotta be someone out there. Either in the game or someone who won’t be bothered by it.”

Fuck. He’s starting to sound like his wife. Years spent listening to her reason with her little sister over the phone that there has to be a guy -or girl- out there that would be into her; a full time student with five cats and a host of mental health issues and an extremely toxic family. Or hearing her talk Ovi through his personal issues; always chasing the wrong girl and left brokenhearted in the end. Normally he just stays out if; offering shrugs of the shoulders or a simple nod or a head shake when Esme attempts to get him involved.

“Maybe there is,” Riya sighs. “Do you have any single friends?”

“My single friends are single for a reason. And I’m a lot older than you and they would be too. So…”

“What about Ovi? He’s your friend. He’s young. Is he single?”

“He’s actually more my son than my friend”

“Son?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “How…?”

“Another long story. We ended up taking in him, giving him a proper home, a family. But yeah. He’s single.”

“Do you think  maybe you could…?”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah...no.  Just no. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but I don’t get involved with this kind of thing. That, and I’ve got some pretty serious shit I’m dealing with and it’s definitely NOT the time even if  I WAS  the kind that would help. I mean, my wife likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. You could always ask her to talk to him or whatever. I’m not who you want. Trust me.”

“Do you think she would? Put in a good word for me?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Look, I’m not the sociable type. So I don’t mean to come across as an asshole, but…”

“You’re honest,” she says. “I heard that about you. That you don’t say much, but you mean what you say and don’t pull any punches.”

“I can be a little harsh,” Tyler admits. “So I’ve been told, anyway.  I’ve bet you heard a lot of things about me.”

She nods.

“Probably not a lot of good things.”

“More good than bad. But the bad is pretty...well...bad.  I don’t know; you don’t seem that awful to me. I mean, how awful can someone be when they have a wife and five kids? No woman would stick around long enough to have one kid, never mind that many.”

“Never thought of it that way. I’m not an easy person to live with. I’ve put her through a lot. But maybe I’m not as terrible as I think I am.”

“I don’t think she’d still be around if you were. If she’s as tough and strong as you say she is, she would have hauled ass a long time ago.”

****

He’s still thinking of those words when they arrive at the airport; pulling right onto the tarmac behind the smaller hangar he’d flowed into only two days before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. Since he’s stood in front of his home, kissing and hugging his wife and kids goodbye and wondering if he’d ever see them again. With how successful the morning had been, he wants to be more confident in regards to the eventual outcome. But he knows how things work; each kill will get harder and messier and more complicated. Mahajan will clue into his involvement and up the stakes even more. One good day doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Not in the slightest.

Riya waits in the car, but both drivers and passengers of the three vehicles that had followed them climb out. Staggering themselves along the tarmac, eyes surveying the surroundings; bullet proof vests under their clothing, weapons at the ready.  The jet’s already arrived and the stairs being placed in front of the open door when he crosses the distances between it and the car; less than ten feet away when the first little body appears. Millie with her ever present messy hair and those Spiderman sandals; an Incredible Hulk t-shirt paired with a frilly -and glittery- pink and purple tutu over a pair of camo leggings.  Her head down at first and a slight frown on her face; shrugging a unicorn and sloth themed backpack onto her shoulders and one foot tentatively checking the strength and support of the stairs in front of her. And when she finally does glance up, the look is one of shock at first.  Her brow furrowed and those huge blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Then quickly widening and sparkling when realization sets in; a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and immediately forgets about her discomfort on the stairs, rushing down them and leaping from the second last one; not even stumbling or missing a single stride. “Daddy!”

Tyler catches her as she throws herself at him, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Feeling those little arms immediately circle his neck, squeezing as tight as they can and how soft her cheeks and her forehead are against his lips and how impossibly light she seems.

“You said we wouldn’t see you  for a few days!” Her tone has a slight scolding quality to it.

“I thought I’d surprise you guys. I got things finished nice and early so I could come and say hi. I missed you,” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her temple and then her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. This is the best surprise EVER.”

“Even better than getting Saju as a late birthday gift?”

"I love Saju, but I love you more. You’re my daddy. And I was worried about you. About the bad guys getting a hold of you.”

“The bad guys don’t stand against me. You know that.”

“Daddy!” TJ hollers, and soon both he and his brother -and two dogs- are racing towards him. And with Millie still on his hip, he drops down to one knee, laughing when the force of those of those small bodies - and all of the power and excitement and love inside of them- knock him off balance and he finds himself on his ass on the damp, cold tarmac. Gathering all three kids into his arms and pulling them tightly into him.

“I knew you could do it,” Tanner’s face is buried in the side of his neck, tears hot against his skin. “I knew you could beat up the bad guys and still come and see us! I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I’ve only been gone two days, mate.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s only two hours. I still missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed ALL of you.”  

He presses his lips to each forehead, returns each tight, fierce hug. Still sitting on the ground as he listens to all three speak at once’ excited tales about what they’d done on the plane and the movies they’d watched and the naps they’d taken and the food they’d eaten, Millie showing off her matching bracelet.  And she moves out of the way when Delcan arrives; a beaming smile on his face and a ‘miss daddy’ in his tiny voice before throwing his arms around Tyler’s neck. And he runs his fingers through his son’s silky red hair and showers his cheeks with kisses and holds him as tight as Declan will let him. And even now he’s not sure he deserves all of this. The adoration and the unconditional love and their blind faith and trust in him.

“Good to see ya,” Kyle says in greeting, placing Addie -in her car seat carrier- on the ground beside him, then offering a hand to help Tyler to his feet and giving him a one armed hug. “Especially in one piece. Heard today was the day. Must have went okay. You’re standing here.”

“Went better than I thought it would. I’ll take a good start over a bad one any day.”   He drops to a knee once more, smiling at his baby girl as he unfastens the straps of the carrier.  “Hey sweet pea...hey little peanut…” he scoops that tiny body into his arms, settling her against his chest; a forearm under her bum, hand on the back of her head. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here?” Esme inquires as she joins them, a playful scolding tone to her voice and a look of pure relief on her face.

He grins down at her. “I guess crossing your fingers worked.”

“I guess it did,” she says, and he’s able to keep Addie pressed securely against him with one arm as he wraps the other around his wife; pulling her tightly into him, lips meeting her temple. “I know it’s only been two days,” her voice is muffled against his chest, both arms around his waist. “But I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. It’s felt longer than two days.”

She nods, pulling away slightly to look up at him, tears sparking in her eyes. “I was so worried about you. Everything went okay?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Fill you in on all the gory details.”

“Yes, because I just love your stories of mutilation and homicide. You’re okay?” Her hands rub at his sides. “You look okay.”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

“Guess you haven’t lost your touch after all. And to think you were worried about that.”  Her face turns serious, the amount of tears in her eyes increasing. “I was so fucking worried about you, Tyler.”

“I know you were.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m just relieved. That I didn’t just have to take your for it and I got to see it...you...with my own eyes. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Did you get the videos? Did you watch them?”

“I did. And I’m slightly concerned that my six year and five year olds are already smarter than I am.”

“I don’t think they’re anywhere near being that smart yet, but they are crazy intelligent. Almost scary HOW intelligent. We are going to have our work cut out for us, I think. Having three brainiacs in the house?”

“Four if you count their mom. Where do you think they get it from? My looks, your brain. We’ve been through this.”

“Is that some sneaky, backhanded way of calling me ugly?” she teases.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that. And I love you,” he places a soft kiss to her lips. “So much.”

“I love you too. And did you see Addie? Her smile? Her REAL smile? She smiles exactly like you.  Her eyes crinkle and everything. So there. She DID get something from you, after all. Are you okay?” She reaches up and lays a hand on the side of her face, running her thumb over his lips. “With what happened? You’re alright?”

“I’m okay. I just missed you guys. It’s been harder than I thought it would.”

“It’s been six months. You had a whole different life for half a year. I’d be worried if going back to this WASN’T hard.”

“It’s not just that. It’s...I don’t know….” Tyler shrugs. “I can’t talk about it right now. Not with the kids around.”

“Is it about what you did?”

He nods. “About what I did. How I felt about it. How I DIDN’T feel. We’ll talk later. I can’t stay long; just in case someone is keeping an eye on me. You guys will be safer at the house than you will be standing out here talking to me.”

“Thank you. For making the effort to get here.  The kids needed that; to see you. I needed that. I really needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I needed to see you, too. I was worried I’d never get the chance again. And I wish I could stay longer. Or go to the house with you guys. I’d give anything to be able to do that. Anything.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “I know you would.”

“I gotta go.” He holds Addie out in front of him, kissing her forehead. “I love you, little peanut. Stop growing up so fast. You might be the last one.”

“We’ll talk about that later too,” Esme says, and he leans down to press a kiss to her temple before placing Addie in her arms. “I love you. We’ll see you in a few days, right?”

“Yep.” He attempts a reassuring smile, then kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I love you. Call me when the kids are asleep. We’ll talk about stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in her chest once more when he gives her one last hug. Holding onto him longer and tighter than before.  Unable to control the tears that trickle down her face.

****

“You should see this place,” Esme says four hours later, after all the kids have finally settled in their rooms  and have managed to fall asleep. “Remember when we stayed at Mahajan’s? What that place was like? Well this Mahajan’s on steroids. I am serious. Ten bedrooms. TEN! And eleven bathrooms! Who cleans all those bathrooms? We have three and we can’t keep up half the time. And the master ensuite is bigger than our entire bedroom. And our room at home is what I consider huge.”

He can’t hold but smile at the youthful exuberance in her voice. He knows she’s exhausted; physically and emotionally. Not just from a twelve hour flight with five kids, but with everything that’s gone down within the past month and a half.  But he can hear the difference; being in Mumbai and closer to him has lifted some of the stress and worry, replacing it with relief and at least some peace of mind.

“And you should the shit this guy has,” she continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. An underground garage full of insanely expensive exotic cars. A home theatre, indoor and outdoor pools and jacuzzis, his own tennis and basketball courts. Who needs all this stuff? I thought we had a lot of stuff. This? This is our stuff times a thousand.”

“We have a lot of stuff...normal stuff...because we have five kids. He has a lot of stuff because he doesn't have anyone or anything else to spend his money on.”

“”I mean, we have money too. We’re not exactly poor. Not anymore, anyway.”

“We don’t have  his kind of money, babe. What we have in the bank is like a month’s salary to him.”

“We also don’t buy stuff just to buy and have stuff. This is just insane to me. And the animals. It’s not one or two, Tyler. It’s its own goddamn zoo. He’s got tigers and monkeys and peacocks and a sloth. And snakes. So many snakes. Don’t even get me started in the snakes. All I have to say is thank god they’re far enough away from the house and securely contained. Because you know my fear of snakes.”

“I don’t know where this fear comes from. We’ve only had one snake in the house so far”

“In  my shoe!” She reminds him. “Which I tried to stick my foot into, thank you very much.”

“What was one of the first things I told you when we first moved back to Australia? Especially where we moved TO. Check your shoes before you put them on. If you listened to me more often…”

“What if it bit me?”

“You would have lived because it wasn’t poisonous. And it was a baby. The way you fucking screamed, you would have though it was an anaconda trying to eat one or two of the kids.”

“I don’t like snakes. I told this when we first lived there. That I’m scared of them but I loved you enough to live somewhere where there’s tons of them. And you promised you’d be the one to handle them.  And the spiders.”

“Which I have. And the dingoes. Have I let a dingo get you?”

“You’re probably waiting for the opportunity to feed me to one.”

“Baby, if I wanted to get rid of you, there’s about a hundred different ways I could do it. And feeding you to a dingo is NOT one of them. And I don’t want to get rid of you, so…”  He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his bare feet on the top railing of the balcony. “...you’re safe.”

“What I don’t understand is our children’s fascination and love of snakes and spiders. If you didn’t encourage them to pick the damn things up and let them crawl all over them…”

“They’re not dangerous. They can’t hurt the kids. Let’s not raise pussies, okay? They have to learn about stuff, yeah? Let them learn. As long as they’re not in danger, what’s the worst that could happen? What are they going to do? Want a Huntsman as a pet?”

“I will refuse to step foot in the house again,” she declares. “I will move out. I will live with Ovi in the guest house. If you EVER let the kids do anything like that, I swear…”

“I’d miss you too much. I know what lines I can’t cross.”

“Speaking of lines you shouldn’t cross. Who’s the girl you were with tonight?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t notice you left with her?”

Tyler grins. “Esme, are you jealous?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

“I kind of like this. You getting all jealous. You getting all worked up. It’s kinda hot, actually. And no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous. She’s young enough to be my kid.”

“Maybe she likes older men.”

“Good for her. But I like you, so…”

“So who is she?”

“Riya. She works for Nik. She’s from Dubai. Apparently her folks are loaded and basically disowned her for going to school in the States and picking the job she did. Sound familiar?”

“That DOES seem a little too close to home for my liking.”

“She actually wants to talk to you.”

“Oh how cute,” Esme scoffs. “She wants my permission before she bangs my husband. Well at least this is asking before she tries.”

“Only person I want to bang is you. And she wants to talk to you about Ovi.”

“Ovi? What about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, right? You like meddling in relationships.”

“Pardon me? It’s advising. Not meddling. Advising.”

“She wants you to hook her up.”

“With Ovi?”

“Are you following along at all or have I been talking to myself?”

“I mean, it’s Ovi. He’s like my kid. No. Scratch that. He IS my kid. I can’t set him up./”

“Why not?”

“Do you want me setting Millie up? Or TJ? Or Tanner?”

“First off, Millie is six. The boys are five. It’s not the same thing. Just do it. Put in a good word for her.”

“So now you’re encouraging me to meddle? That’s a first for you.”

“I’m encouraging you to help a poor, desperate girl out. And Ovi too. He’s been acting like a little bitch since Chloe took off and I can’t can’t take much more. So do me a solid and save what’s left of my sanity and help Ovi get laid.”

“Okay, wow. THAT’S a little disturbing. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? Anything sex related? You’re a guy. You find him a piece of ass. Call one of your hoes from your old  little black book.”

“Actually, I didn’t have anyone in India,” Tyler admits.

“You poor baby,” she scoffs. “My heart bleeds for you. And find. I will put in a good word for this girl. But if you want him to get laid, you figure out how to make it happen. And don’t sample the goods, either.”

“Only goods I want to sample are yours. So why don’t you come over here and let me.”

“You’re hurting, aren’t you,” Esme laughs.

“A little. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days, Tyler.”

“Feels like it’s been forever. What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to have phone sex?”

“You can’t come here and I can’t go there, so…”

“I’m wearing a lovely combination of premenstrual syndrome, baby puke, and dog hair.”

“Now THAT’S sexy. PMS, huh? So things are going back to normal that way.”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Esme sighs. “After the next one, they can take everything out. I’m done. I won’t need any of it  anymore. They can have it. If I never have a period again, that’s fine by me, I’d say it’s good for you too because you won’t have to put up with my extreme bitchiness once a month, but you have two daughter who will go through this one day.”

He frowns “Can Addie at least get to her first birthday before we talk about this shit?”

“It’s going to happen, Tyler. I mean it could happen to Millie in a few years. I was ten.”

“Esme, for fuck sakes. I don’t…”

“Sorry, honey. I hate to break your heart like this. But one day it’s going to happen. And one day she’s even going to want to have sex and need to go on birth control and…”

“Do you want a divorce? Because bringing this shit up is how you get a divorce.”

“I love you,  Tyler James. You’re my favorite human And I love how you can impale someone with a garden rake but you can’t handle the thought of your daughter maturing. You’re so fucking cute. You’re so cute, I’d have phone sex with you right now if my cramps weren’t so bad. I am telling you, after the next one? My body is done. That’s it. Take it all out. It’s not needed anymore.”

“Next one? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until I got home.”

“I made the decision. Without you.”

He smirks. “Oh, so you mean like you usually do about everything.”

“Pretty much. If you really want another one…”

“You gotta want it too. Not just me. I don’t want you doing it just because I want it.”

“I do want to. One more. An even number.  And if something happens like it did with the one that should have been between the twins and Declan…”

Tyler sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We stop if something goes wrong. Because once was bad enough. Well twice, if I count the one with Mark.  I can’t keep having my heart broken like that. And if we can’t successfully carry another one, we just stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “And it wasn’t fun for me, either. Going through that. It was my baby too.”

“I know. But you were amazing and so good with me and it made me love you even more. I’m worried about you, Tyler. There was something in your eyes tonight. When you talked about what you did today. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know what I saw and that I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t old Tyler OR new Tyler. I don’t know who it was.”

“Before I tell you what’s going on, I need to tell you what  I did. And I know you hate hearing the gory details. But I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” There’s a slight rustle of the phone as she shifts positions in bed. “...I’m not going to sleep for a couple days after this, am I.” While she accepts and supports what he does, she draws the line at hearing the details. She’d seen enough in Dhaka, and once that was over, so was her desire to ever see -or think about- another drop of blood again. “Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot them. I was more...hands on.”

“Like your bare hands, or…?”

“Sort of. I kinda slit a guy’s throat and gutted another one. Literally.”

“Okay…”

“And I liked it. I liked doing it. And I’ve never liked doing it before. I killed because I had to. Because I had to keep myself alive. Now I’m doing it because I WANT to. Because I enjoy it. That’s fucked, yeah? Tell me that’s fucked. That I’M fucked.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fucked. And I definitely won’t say you’re fucked. And I can’t say I’m totally shocked. Or shocked at all, to be honest.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked,” he says. “And not in the good, fun way either.”

“Well before you question our levels of depravity and insanity, let’s look at this for what it is. This isn’t a normal job. This isn’t what you’re used to. You’re used to not having any emotional ties to what you do. You go in, you do what you have to do, you get out. That’s it. You don’t know these people, you don’t know the people they’re hurting, none of that. You’re not connected to any of them, right?”

“Right.”

“Well this time you DO have a connection. A very personal one. These people threatened your family. And I don’t know exactly what the threats are, but they must be pretty bad if you won’t tell me.  I mean, people are saying horrible, twisted things about people you love. About me and your kids. It doesn’t get more fucked up than that; threatening children. Addie’s one of them and she’s just a baby. What kind of fucked person says shit like that about a baby?”

“Evil people,” Tyler concludes. “Really fucking evil.”

“And you’re pissed. To your very core. I see if in your eyes, Tyler. I hear it in your voice. How angry you actually are. How disgusted you are. And you have every right to feel those things. This is as personal as it gets. And you wonder why you enjoyed it? I’d enjoy it too if someone threatened you and I got to kill them. I’d enjoy every fucking second.”

“It just makes me feel like such a dick,” he admits. “Like I’m a horrible fucking person. I made the one guy look at me. Made him watch me while I slit his throat. And he recognized me. He knew who I was. And I liked that he did. That my face was the last thing he saw.”

“And that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Esme says. “A bad person wouldn’t  be worried that it makes him a bad person. You’re a good person, Tyler. I know you struggle to see that. But I see it. And I know it. I know who you are away from all of this. I know how loving you are. How gentle you are. What you did today...what you felt or didn’t feel...that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’re like away from all of this.”

He blinks back tears “This is fucked. This all so fucked.”

“You’re doing what you have to do. You’re stopping them before they can do the same thing to us. Or worse.”

“Definitely worse. Much, much worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what the threats were or…”

“No. You don’t need to hear that. You don’t need that shit in your head. It’s bad enough it’s in mine. That it’s  probably never going to leave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Esme promises. “Your brain. When we get home. We’ll work on it TOGETHER. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tyler. So much. And I wish I could be right there with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. That you’re struggling with so many things. But I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in this throat and using a forearm to wipe the tears from his face. “I love you. And this sucks. Being away from you. You’re so close but it’s like you’re so fucking far.”

“If you need me there, I can find a way. And I will. You know me. I’m pretty sneaky and tenacious on a good day.”

He gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, you are.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you need me there….”

“I’m okay. For now anyway. Stay with the kids. They need you.”

“So do you. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“I do. Need you. But they need you more.”

“Promise me you’ll call if it gets worse. If you change your mind. Because I’ll figure it out. How to get to you and stay with you. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. Call  me in the morning. Just so I know how you’re doing.”

“I will.”

“And thank you. For showing up tonight. Seeing you did a world of good for the kids. Especially Tanner. He’s finally smiling again. And he has such a beautiful smile. YOUR smile. And it did me a world of good too. To see you. I miss you, And your arms. It was really nice to be in those arms again,”

“It felt good to have you in them. Hopefully in a few days…”

“It’ll happen. I know it will. You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you have to do. That’s it. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Get some sleep,” she gently orders, and then disconnects the call.

[moonstruckholland]

Study Buddy (p.p)

Word Count: 1,341

Warnings: Tiny bit of sadness, hardcore fluff

A/N: I failed my children's literature test a couple of weeks ago and I basically wrote this to make myself feel better 😭 I hope y'all like it and if you want to read more of my writing or would like to be tagged in any future fics, my masterlist and taglist are in my bio 💕

"Pete, I failed this test," you whined, pushing your face into the pillow so Peter wouldn't have to see the shameful look on your face.

"Babe, I'm sure you didn't fail."

You picked your head up, turning to look at your phone, Peter's cute face filling the screen. "I didn't answer like four of the questions, and on top of that I know there were at least two I got wrong. That's six questions out of twenty wrong."

"Didn't you study last night?"

"I did! I studied The Secret Garden and Tom Sawyer, I didn't think he was going to ask what Mark Twain's real name is," you pouted as you recalled the questions again. "I have another test tomorrow I need to study for, but I feel hopeless."

Peter frowned wishing he wasn't over 800 miles away, so he could wrap his arms around you and comfort you. As if you could hear his thoughts you said, "I miss you and I really wish you were here."

He sighed, his eyes starting to water a bit, "I miss you too."

He could see you blinking back tears, making his stomach clench. He absolutely hated seeing you upset. "Hey, why don’t we watch your favorite youtube videos?”

“You want to watch Shane Dawson?”

“I meant those cool videos of that spider guy, ya know the one you like so much? But I guess Shane Dawson would be good too,” Peter joked, hoping it would cheer you up a bit.

You laughed softly, giving him one of your heart-stopping smiles, “You’re such a dork, Peter Parker.”

"You still love me though, right?"

"You're an actual dummy if you think I'd have you any other way."

"I love you too."

"And by the way, I love that spider guy," You winked and blew him a kiss before going to find a video you hadn't already watched a million times together.

The two of you spent the next couple of hours watching videos while on facetime, eventually moving on to Skype when both of your phones overheated and died multiple. When you seemed to be feeling a bit better, Peter reluctantly left, telling you he had some last minute homework to do.

He hated lying to you, but as he picked up his phone to call to make a call, he knew it would be worth it.

The phone barely rang twice before the call was answered, "Hey, Mr. Stark! Do you think I could ask for a favor?"

A couple of hours later, you were laying in bed, surrounded by notes yet again. It was barely 5 o'clock and you just wanted to give up, your head hurt so bad. You wished for Peter again and thought about texting him, but you didn't want to bother him while he was doing homework.

You gather your notes together with a groan, deciding to take a food break instead. "Maybe some ramen will motivate me," you mumbled to yourself, "I could use all the moti-"

You paused as you heard a tap on your window. Confusion and fear flooded your senses. How in the world could anyone tap on your window? You were on the fourth floor and there wasn't anything for there to stand on.

You were reminded of the late nights in high school when Peter would tap on your window, surprising you when you needed him the most. A small part of you hoped it would be him as you walked to check outside your window.

'Stop being dumb, Peter's in Massachusetts.'

Just as the thought popped into your head, you saw the familiar mask of your favorite superhero, your favorite person.

You'd never opened the window quicker, happiness taking over as Peter crawled into your room.

His feet barely touched the ground before you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Baby! What? You're here?"

He pulled off his mask with one hand, putting his other on your waist, "I'm here, darling."

"How? You didn't do anything dumb did you?"

"Just made a call to Mr. Stark."

"Have I ever told you I'm glad you're an avenger?" You sighed contently, nothing beat the feeling of being close like this with Peter.

"Only when you got to meet Bucky," you could almost hear him rolling his eyes as he finished his sentence, both of you thinking back to the day you met the attractive supersoldier. "But let's not get off track, I'm here for a reason."

You pulled away with a pout, "So you didn't come all the way over here just to see me?"

He laughed, kissing your cheek, "I'm sorry, babe, but I'm actually here to help you study." He gestured to the bookbag you hadn't noticed was on his back.

"Wow, Peter," you literally swooned, "You're my knight in shining spandex."

He bowed dramatically, "I'm at your service, my princess." He nodded towards your bed, "Let's get to studying."

"Can we get snackies first?"

"There's no need, I already brought them."

Your eyes widened at his words, "No you didn't."

"Did you really think I came all the way from MIT and didn't bring you any snackies? What kind of a boyfriend do you think I am?"

You honestly didn't think you could love him more than right at this moment, "A perfect one."

His heart melted at your expression, your tone, so full of affection he could cry. He missed you more than he could comprehend. Being here with you, even if it was only for a short time, meant the world to him.

He leaned forward, unable to resist himself, and kissed you for the first time in months. You put your arms back around his neck, pulling him close, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours, one of the best feelings in the world.

He pulled away first, leaning his forehead against yours and you caught your breath, "C'mon, sweetheart, we have work to do."

You nodded, wordlessly bringing Peter to your bed, still a little woozy from your kiss.

From there you studied with your amazing boyfriend for hours. You made flashcards, kahoots, stuffed your faces with candy and chips, and went over your notes a million times. You had so much content stuffed into your head, you were surprised you could even remember your own name.

"Okay, last question, baby," Peter said softly, "Name 3 works by Edgar Allen Poe."

You sighed, he saved the easiest for last, "The Raven, The Cask of Amontillado, and The Fall of the House of Usher."

"Yes! Good job!" He gave you a high five, "I think you're fully prepared for this test tomorrow."

You laid down on your bed, relieved and exhausted, "Thank goodness."

Peter laid beside you, lacing his fingers through yours, soothingly rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. "You're going to do so well, princess."

You adjusted yourself, turning to face him, "It's all thanks to you, Pete."

"Nah, you already knew all the information, I was just here to be a pretty face."

You gently nudged him, "You're never just a pretty face, though you do have the prettiest face I've ever seen."

He looked away, his cheeks a bright red as he softly mumbled "shut up" under his breath.

"How long until you have to leave?"

"I planned on staying till Sunday night, unless you want me to go."

You squealed, "Don't you dare! There's no way I'm going to pass up on three days with you."

You talked for a bit, planning some things for the weekend before going to bed from the total exhaustion brought on by studying. You went to bed more content than you had in a while, though who could blame you? Peter's head was on your chest, your hands intertwined and all you could think was even if you failed your test miserably tomorrow, it was worth this time you got to spend with the boy you were in love with.

Spoiler alert: you passed your test with flying colors.

Tagging: (feel free to send an ask or fill out the form in my bio if you'd like to be added to my taglist!)

@fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @rachramblesstuff @ravenclawmarvel @fairytaleparker @spidey-waffles11 @petersmparker @parkerpuffwrites @devildisguiseasangel @parkeroffline @lovinnholland @nedthegay @tomhollandsumbrella @80sthottie @styles-balor4eva @officiallyunofficialperson @babebenhardy @antoouu @its-the-unknownspidey @petersstarcadet @thollandx @kxrtwxgner @xxxxdelenaxxxx @smexylemony @sleepybesson @awkwardfangirl2014

[greatpretending]

I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up

Word Count: 5063

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, cheesy fluff, discussion of sex/a little steamy stuff but nothing actually NSFW

Summary: The sequel to Catch Me If I Fall. Thank you to everyone for all of the support for that fic. I’m sorry it took me so long to get a sequel up, but the inspiration has to be there, you know? Huge thanks to @peterbparkerr for encouraging me and for proofreading it for me as well. Also @steelfeather for proofreading it and screaming in my text messages.

.

.

Your eyes were stinging. You blinked, hard, for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to get them to focus. You were sitting on your too-small couch in your too-small living room in your too-small apartment. Your legs were over Peter’s lap, and you were desperately trying to ignore the sounds of him tinkering with one of his webshooters while you read.

Five pages left.

You were so close. So close to the end of this book. So close to the end of your assignment. Of your class. Of your year. Of college.

Four pages left.

Peter’s tinkering continued. It was the first time in two weeks you’d spent any longer than 20 minutes in the same room together- sleeping not included.

Three pages left.

Between exams, final assignments, your thesis paper, and your job, you were living more off Starbucks and bagels than balanced meals. Not to mention Peter had all of that plus his Spider-duties, so your relationship had become little more than a quick kiss goodbye in the mornings and your hand reaching out to touch his shoulder when he finally crawled into bed late at night.

Two pages left.

In fact, the only reason you were together right now was that Peter had needed to put off going out for the night to fix his webshooter. You knew as soon as it was fixed, he’d be swinging out the window. Selfishly, you hoped it took a while.

One page left.

As soon as you had your degrees, you’d be moving back to New York with Peter, where you already had a job lined up - thanks, Pepper Potts - and maybe, just maybe, things would be a little less crazy. 

“Fucking finally!” you shouted, throwing your book onto the floor and startling Peter a little. “I never want to read a book about women that was written by a man again.”

“And you never have to,” Peter said, rubbing your leg soothingly. He slid his webshooter onto his wrist, poked it a few more times, then used it to snag your book off the ground, setting it on the coffee table. He then patted your legs to get you to lift them off of him. “Alright, I gotta go.”

Instead of letting him up, you sat up and knelt over his lap, knees on either side of his hips and arms around his shoulders.

“Or,” you suggested, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “You could stay in tonight.”

Peter hooked his hands under your legs and stood up, making you squeal in surprise as he carried you to your bedroom.

Peter laid you sideways on the bed, crawling over you and pressing quick kisses from your collarbone up your neck. You were just reaching down to pull his shirt off when he reached your ear.

“I can’t,” he whispered, then he pressed a kiss to your forehead and hopped off the bed.

“That was mean!” you complained, sitting up and watching him pull his suit out of your cramped closet. 

“Sorry,” he said, pulling his clothes off and suit on. Mask in hand, he walked back over to the bed where you were still pouting at him. “You know I can’t take a night off right now. Not with all those muggings going on in Charlestown. Plus,” he continued, tapping you on the nose with a finger, “you have a thesis to work on.”

“Uuuughh,” you groaned, throwing yourself back onto the bed. “I would so much rather have sex with you.”

“I know,” Peter laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you back up. “Three more weeks. Then we’re done and we can have all the sex you want.”

“All the sex I want?” you asked. Peter shook his head.

“I’m still not going to take you to the top of Trump Tower to defile it.”

“Fiiiiine.” You tugged on Peter’s hands to get him to lean down and kiss you again. After the soft peck, Peter held onto your hands, kneeling down in front of you and looking into your eyes.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, already catching onto Peter’s latest bullshit. 

Lately, Peter had taken to getting onto one knee to ask you the dumbest things. Will you grab milk on your way home? Will you please order him a caramel macchiato with six shots of espresso and an extra pump of vanilla? Would you grab lunch with him between classes?

“Will you promise me you won’t wait up for me?” Peter asked, with all the sincerity of a real proposal. You rolled your eyes and continued to laugh.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, shoving on his shoulders playfully. “Go save some spiders.”

Peter pulled his mask on and headed to the window. 

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“Only if you come home safe.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

By 1 AM, you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, and decided to call it a night. By 2 AM, Peter was sliding into bed next to you. You reached out your hand and put it on his shoulder like you always did, but this time you didn’t notice the blood seeping into the sheets.

.

.

At 5 AM, your alarm went off, blaring loudly until you managed to dig your phone out from the sheets and shut it off. Wanting to cry more and more with every passing moment that you were awake, you sat up and stretched. You scratched your leg, which was weirdly itchy, and felt something… flake off.

In a lot of confusion and a little panic, you flicked the lamp on your nightstand on and pulled the covers back, finding dried blood on your thigh. You pulled the covers back more and found that your sheets were soaked dark with blood, coming from somewhere underneath Peter.

Panic setting in fully now, you grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

“Peter, wake up!” You all but yelled at him, voice shaking. “Peter!”

“H- What-” Peter grabbed your hand and startled awake, eyes flicking around the room before settling on yours. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re bleeding!”

You were already crying. Between the exhaustion and the terror, it wasn’t a surprise that you’d become such a mess so fast.

Peter sat up quickly and looked down at his leg, running his hands along it and trying to see every spot he could. With your brain in the state that it was, you couldn’t make yourself do anything more than sit there and stare at him with your hands covering your mouth.

After a few moments of Peter checking himself over, his shoulders relaxed and he turned to you, taking your blood-stained hands in his and pulling them away from your mouth.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, squeezing your fingers. “Whatever it was, it’s all healed up now.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, sniffling.

“Positive.”

You let out a sigh of bone-weary relief, leaning into his shoulder and feeling his arms go around you.

“That scared the shit out of me,” you mumbled into his skin.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You took a deep breath and sat up again, resting a hand on his face and kissing him slowly.

“Go get in the shower,” you said. “I’ll take care of the sheets. And get us coffee.”

Peter kissed your cheek and stood up. You did your best to ignore his slight limp as he walked into the bathroom. With another sigh, you stood up and began pulling the sheets off the bed. You took them straight to the trash can, knowing that no amount of bleach could save them from that much blood.

As you were pouring two cups of coffee, you felt Peter come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. You leaned back into him as he placed soft kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“I’ll buy more sheets on my way home from class, okay?” he said, hugging you a little tighter.

“Mmkay,” you said, reaching up and carding your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a little while, just trying to enjoy whatever short time you got to spend with each other lately.

“I also have good news,” Peter said when you finally leaned away from him, unable to resist the aroma of the coffee any longer.

“What’s that?” you asked, handing him his mug and leaning back into the counter. Caffeine didn’t really do anything for Peter, but routine and familiarity did, so he shared morning coffee with you anyway.

“Tony wants to throw us a graduation party,” Peter told you.

“I love when Tony wants to pay for things,” you replied, sipping your coffee.

“It’ll be a black-tie event,” Peter continued, and your heart sank a little.

“I don’t own anything black-tie,” you said, and Peter grinned.

“I know,” he said, grabbing his wallet off of the counter and pulling out a heavy, black card. “That’s why I have his credit card.”

“I love when Tony wants to pay for things,” you said again.

You set your coffee onto the counter and went over to the couch, pulling your planner out of your bag and flipping to the current month.

“The only day that neither of us have class and I don’t work is… next Sunday,” you grimaced. “And my thesis is due at eight in the morning on Monday.”

“We can make that work,” Peter said, and you nodded, already penciling it in. 

“Where do you even buy black-tie attire in Boston, anyway?” you wondered aloud.

“Uh… Tony said he wanted to set us up with personal shoppers at Barneys.”

“There’s a Barneys in Boston?”

“Uhm, maybe,” Peter said, seeming hesitant. “But Tony wants us to go to New York and get the full experience. Whatever that means.”

“New York?” you asked, incredulous and a little panicked again. “Peter, that’s a three and a half hour drive!”

“I know, I know, hear me out,” Peter said. “I’ll pick you up from work Saturday night and we’ll head straight there. We’ll spend the night with May, go shopping Sunday morning, and then you’ll have plenty of time to go over your thesis before Monday morning. Then you can sleep in, and we’ll come back that afternoon before your four-thirty class.”

You stared at your planner, already filled with pencil marks and notes. You couldn’t believe you had to block out forty hours for a shopping trip.

“Also Tony said he’d pay for gas.”

“He should fly us down in his dumb private jet,” you grumbled, filling in your calendar.

“I could probably arrange that,” Peter said, and you waved your hand.

“Between getting through security and finding a cab in the city it’ll take the same amount of time if we just drive.”

“That’s true.”

“Okay, I need more coffee and I need to go,” you said. “I need to be in my seat taking a test in…. 49 minutes, fuck.”

.

.

The week went by in a blur, just like the last few had been. By Saturday night you were almost grateful to be going to the city. At least May would cook for you and you would get to have something for dinner that wasn’t a microwave burrito.

Peter pulled up in your Mustang just as you were locking up, and you hopped in the passenger seat, immediately reaching into the backseat for your overnight bag.

As Peter began driving, you pulled out some pajama pants and a t-shirt, tugging off your work uniform as quickly as possible. You fucking hated khakis.

“Is it sad that this is the most naked I’ve seen you in almost a month?” Peter asked, glancing over at you in just your underwear as you struggled to get your pants on.

“Whose fault is that?” you replied. “I told you, any time you want, we can go up to Trump-”

“Okay!” Peter interrupted, turning up the music as you laughed.

You spent most of the drive working on homework, but as you got closer to the city and Peter began growing tired, you put it away. For the last hour you and Peter talked more than you had in several weeks, laughing and singing along to music and telling bad jokes back and forth. Even though you’d technically seen him every day, you realized that you had missed him. You’d missed just being with him. No homework, no Spider-duties. Just laughing.

And even though you had so much left to do, you had this moment to yourselves. For just a moment you felt your stress melt away and be replaced with pure, unadulterated joy. When Peter smiled at you and took your hand, you knew he felt the same way.

It was just nearing 2 AM when you pulled up to May’s apartment, and you and Peter let yourselves in quietly, heading straight to bed. You snuggled into him, feeling closer than you had in a while, and for the first time in weeks, drifted off to sleep with a smile.

The next morning you woke up to the smell of pancakes. Peter had gotten up before you for once, so you were sad to find the sheets empty.

You weren’t sad for long though, as Peter soon creaked the door open poking his head in.

“You up?” he asked softly.

“Hhhngdbjuh.” you replied, affirmative.

“May has breakfast ready.”

“Hmmmmminute.”

By the time you stumbled your way into the bathroom and back out, there was a plate of quiche and pancakes at the table for you, set next to a cup of coffee. You gave an awkward hug to May’s shoulders as you made your way to your seat, immediately reaching for you coffee.

“Thank you for breakfast, May,” you said, digging into the melt-in-your-mouth quiche. It was incredible, just like everything else that came out of May’s kitchen.

“Peter flipped the pancakes,” May said.

“And they didn’t end up on the other side of the kitchen? I’m so proud of you, babe.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re such a bitch before your coffee,” Peter joked, and you laughed as May kicked his shin under the table.

When you were dressed and ready to leave for Barney’s, Peter grabbed his wallet and your hand, kneeling down and smiling up at you.

“Would you do me the honor of going shopping with me?” He asked as you laughed and tugged your hand away.

“Yes, now knock it off!” You said through your laughter. “What if May had seen you, you would have given her a heart attack!”

Peter just shrugged and led you out the door.

On your way to the store, you let yourself revel in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of New York City. Even the crammed subway felt calming and familiar as you stood with one hand on the railing and the other in Peter’s.

Walking up Madison Avenue, you felt a strange combination of nerves and excitement. You kind of loved the idea of spending someone else’s money on extravagant things, but you also felt a little guilty about spending all that money on extravagant things. You tried to push it out of your head - this was a gift from Tony, and he could choose to spend his money however he wished.

Peter held the door open for you as you entered Barney’s and you were immediately greeted by two very stylish employees. They swept you away to their “consultation rooms”  and began asking questions about what you thought you might like to wear. You and Peter had talked about it a little on the way there. He was going to get a classic black tux, and you were leaning toward a red dress. Black and red were MIT’s colors, after all.

You tried on a few different dresses that your shopper pulled for you, not really loving any of them. Eventually (long after Peter had picked out a tux) you found one you felt really good in. It felt stylish and classy and a little sexy, and you hoped Peter liked it as much as you did.

He must have, because when you stepped out of the room to show him, he looked you up and down and said “Yup, you’re getting that one. I have to go try on shoes.” And walked away.

When you went back into the changing room, your shopper said “I know a great pair of Louboutins that we have that would look amazing with this dress, let me go grab them.”

“Okay,” you said, swallowing. You had a general idea of what the average pair of Louboutins cost.

She wasn’t wrong, though. The shoes were amazing. She also helped you pick out a nice pair of earrings and a clutch. You never saw a price tag or a receipt. Everything was “added to Mr. Stark’s account” and would be delivered to May’s apartment that afternoon.

“Why did you get all weird and walk away when I showed you that dress?” You asked Peter on the way home.

“Because if I looked at you in it any longer I was going to pop a boner,” Peter shrugged, and you laughed so hard you cried a little.

You spent the rest of your day on May’s couch, headphones on, laptop open, notes spread around you, and coffee nearby as you perfected your thesis paper. You didn’t move except for bathroom breaks and fifteen minutes to eat dinner. Peter, the ever-patient and wonderful boyfriend that he was, kept your mug full and periodically reminded you to drink some water as well.

You didn’t pay attention to anything else for almost sixteen hours. You couldn’t. Every word in every sentence in every paragraph had to be perfect. Every statement had to be fact-checked and cross-referenced. You couldn’t stop until the minute you turned it in.

When you finally crawled into bed, just as the sun was beginning to rise, you felt both anxiety and relief. You were asleep before you were able to pull the covers up.

At some point you were vaguely aware of Peter kissing your forehead and telling you he was making a Starbucks run, but you fell so deeply back into your sleep that you never realized it took him nearly an hour and a half to get back.

.

.

Your last week of college was a whirlwind of turning in projects, working, taking exams, and packing up your apartment. You’d never been so truly, deeply exhausted in your life. You knew you’d lost a little weight simply from not having the time to eat. 

As you exited the building after your last exam, the sun was shining and your wonderful, wonderful boyfriend was waiting for you at the bottom of the steps. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and he shouted “You did it!” as you ran into his arms. He lifted you into the air and spun you around in a circle.

“I did it!” you repeated when he set you down, handing you the flowers. You took them and rolled your eyes as he got down on one knee, putting both hands over his heart.

“Would you make me the luckiest man on the planet and let me take you out to dinner?” he asked.

“Stop it!” you laughed. “Someone’s going to think you’re actually proposing!”

Peter pouted dramatically and stood up. “Is that a no?”

“Oh my god, I’ll go to dinner with you, stop being… the way you are.”

“Got it, I’ll be a total and complete asshole for the rest of my life.”

“So what are you going to change, the- hey! Don’t tickle me!”

You went to your favorite diner and had your first full meal since you’d gotten back from May’s. When you were stuffed and just picking at the remainder of your fries, you felt the exhaustion start to kick in again.

“Hey, babe?” you asked, feeling your brain start to lose focus.

“Yeah?” 

“Can we go home and take a nap?”

“Yes, please.”

And so you did just that, flopping together onto your mattress and relaxing. You both slept through the night and into the next morning, despite your plans to pack and Peter’s plan to do Spidey things. Clearly you both needed the sleep though, because neither of you woke up until after 9 AM.

When you finally peeled your eyes open and found your phone, you groaned at the clock. Technically, you hadn’t missed anything that needed to be done, but you still felt like you’d wasted a lot of time.

You reached over and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Peter. Babe. Peter. Peter.”

“Huwassat?”

“It’s like… morning.”

And thus started another week of trying to keep your shit together. You finished up your last few days at your job while Peter finished his last class. You packed up your apartment. You finally had sex for the first time in five weeks.

Your commencement ceremony came and went in a blur of speeches, sweating in your gown, hugging your classmates, thanking your professors, hugging your family, and feeling all eyes on your group as you left with Tony Stark.

“They ask me to speak every year,” he explained when he arrived unexpectedly. “This is the only time I’ve ever wanted to come.”

Peter was very touched by that.

Tony took Peter, May, you, and your family out to dinner, and then it was back to the apartment to finish packing and cleaning. You moved back to New York in the morning.

.

.

Of course, the day after you moved was the party.

After getting everything down to New York, you brought everything inside and started unpacking as quickly as you could. Thank god Peter had super-strength, or you didn’t know how you would’ve gotten some of those boxes inside.

You had your shared playlist playing from your speaker on the windowsill as you sorted through box after box. It was a little annoying that unpacking was way faster than packing had been.

Now I’ve….had the time of my life….

“Oh, baby, we have to dance!”

You smiled. Peter only ever called you ‘baby’ when this song was playing, or right after you’d caught Dirty Dancing playing on TV.

“We don’t have time,” you argued, though you did let him spin you once.

“We have all the time in the world!” Peter retorted, grabbing your hips and trying to get you to sway with him. You smiled again and pecked him on the lips.

“We really don’t,” you said. And you weren’t lying. Tomorrow night was your super-fancy graduation party and then you started your new job on Monday.

You didn’t have time to dance, but as the song went on, you decided you at least had time for a jump.

“I love you,” Peter said, smiling as he set you down.

“I love you more.”

The next morning you met up with May at a nearby salon and got your hair done, then you grabbed a light lunch and went to the nail salon. You felt like you were going to high school prom all over again.

You went back to your apartment and steamed your dress, ridding it of any wrinkle it had acquired during the move. A few minutes before a car was supposed to arrive to pick you up, you stepped into it carefully, having Peter help you zip it up.

His eyes trailed up and down your body as you stepped back.

“I really, really just want to take that dress right back off you,” he said. You smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you grabbed his chin and kissed him. You loved how wanted he made you feel.

“You look pretty good yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you close to his body, kissing you deeply. He kissed you until your back was against the wall and his knee was between yours.

Eventually Peter broke the kiss, breathing a little heavily and leaning his forehead against yours.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said.

“No, we don’t,” you agreed. Peter pecked your nose.

“Fix your lipstick.”

When the car came and Peter held the door for you as you slid in. With every mile you drove you became more nervous. This was the biggest you-centered event you had ever had. Tony said there were around two hundred people on the guest list. And that was after he had trimmed it down. You didn’t even know two hundred people.

Peter held your hand during the drive and every step into the venue. You could tell he was nervous, too. Tony wasn’t there when you got there - he was never on time to his own parties, let alone early - but Happy and May were. Employees of the venue were finishing last minute set-up.

“There’s a fucking ice sculpture,” you whispered, staring at the giant beaver that you assumed was supposed to represent MIT’s mascot. 

It wasn’t long until guests started to filter in, heading to the bar to grab a drink for cocktail hour before dinner. You mingled as best you could, introducing yourself to people you’d never heard of and embracing your family and friends. You lost Peter for a little bit, and you tried to smile and nod your way through conversations with several talented, successful, beautiful people. You probably explained your major to seventy-five different strangers. 

Finally, dinner was served and you found your boyfriend again.

“Ellen Degeneres is at our freaking graduation party,” you whispered to him as you sat down.

“I know.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know.”

Throughout dinner there were a few toasts made in your honor. Tony made a lovely speech about Peter beginning his internship with Stark Industries at just 14 years old, and how in the time since he’s become nothing less than family to Tony. By the end of it, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

When all six courses of your meal were through, you were really starting to feel overwhelmed by the event. There were so many people, and you weren’t even allowed to get drunk to cope with that. Well, you probably could get drunk, but you weren’t going to risk embarrassing yourself in front of all these people you could potentially work for in the future. Or who could work for you. Or Ellen Degeneres.

So you tapped twice on Peter’s wrist (his cue to follow you in a few minutes) and stepped into the hall where the bathrooms were. When Peter met you out there he took your hand in his.

“There’s a playground across the street,” Peter said. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”

You nodded and Peter led you out a side door so you wouldn’t be caught ditching your own party, if only for a few minutes. You hurried across the road and wandered into the playground, empty at such a late hour.

There was a tall tower structure right in the middle that you really, really wanted to climb.

“I’m having a really hard time not climbing that tower,” Peter said, making you smile.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“So lets do it!”

Peter started up the ladder without hesitation, but you knew there was no way you’d be able to make it up there without losing a shoe, so you carefully stepped out of them and then followed him up.

“Oh good,” Peter said when you reached the top. “You’re not an extra three inches taller anymore.”

“I like those shoes,” you pouted.

“And I like when I don’t have to give you a foot rub at night because you gave yourself cramps and blisters.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

You leaned against the railing of the tower, looking out across the street at your party that was still in full-swing. You knew you’d have to go back before things started to die down so you could say goodbye to your guests, but you figured you had a couple minutes to yourselves.

Peter stood behind you, arms around your waist and head on your shoulder. The silence was comfortable and calming, broken only by the occasional passing car. You leaned into Peter’s embrace, enjoying the quiet after weeks of chaos. Life would never move slow when you lived in New York City and had a superhero for a boyfriend, so you had to learn to appreciate these small moments.

“Are you ready to go back?” Peter asked after a handful of minutes had passed. .

“Yeah, I suppose so,” you replied, gathering your skirt to turn around.

“Okay,” Peter said, and you watched as he began a now familiar motion.

“Peter, don’t mess up your tux- yes, I’ll go back to the party with you, you don’t have to-”

Peter grabbed your hand, and when you looked down into his eyes, something was different. There wasn’t playful laughter there, but serious sincerity. Your mouth went dry.

“The last two and a half years with you have been better than I ever could have imagined,” Peter said. Your heart was thundering in your ears. “Doing what I do, I never expected to meet someone who was willing to- to put up with that. To support me. You have been the best support I could have asked for. No one makes me laugh harder. No one is more patient with me. No one makes me feel more loved.”

You squeezed Peter’s hand with your shaking one.

“If you’ll let me,” Peter continued, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel just as happy, supported, and loved.” 

Peter fumbled into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a box, laughing at himself a little as he struggled to flip it open with his thumb. You weren’t laughing.

“Will you-”

“Yes.”

Peter smiled brightly. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“Sorry. I’m the worst. Go ahead.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

Peter stood up and wrapped his arms around you kissing you and brushing the tear off your cheek. He pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto your finger. Then you grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him again. You felt like your heart was about to explode out of your body. 

“I love you,” Peter said against your lips. 

“I love you more.”

[mitchmarnier]

the real world

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] word count: 3,256 chapter count: 1 of ? summary: after a sudden and unexplained disappearance, richie tozier returns to derry with a secret that no one person could ever hope to hold onto

read on ao3.

moodboard by the lovely @reddieclownclub​. | a big old team effort beta by @reddieclownclub​ @kasbprak​ and @appojoos​

a lil work in progress playlist

the real world taglist: @reddieclownclub, @willelbyers, @proton-disaster-blaster,  @summerxle, @richietoaster, @beautifullillis, @ichigokazuki, @protectthebyers, @lifesucksheres20bucks, @are-you-reddie-for-it, @reddiegaspbrak, @princesass-theresa, @appojoos, @cheekaspbrak, @roobarrtrashmouth, @reddiesmagic, @moonlighttozier,  @flamingcheetoess, @are-you-reddie-cos-im-not, @reddie-wise​ (let me know if you want added!)

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @sunmocha, @kasbprak, @reddieclownclub, @appojoos, @wonderfuleds, @aizeninlefox​, @chaotickaspbrak​, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @purplepoisonedgem​, @edstozler, @emgays, @anellope, @thorn-harvester-ven​, @wheezyeds (also let me know if you want added!)

The lights in the Tozier house were on.

Nearly four months ago, Eddie’s best friend, Richie Tozier, had seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth. He’d stopped coming to school, wouldn’t answer texts, and stopped posting on all social media. The home phone would ring and ring until the caller hung up. The driveway had been empty. The grass on the front lawn had overgrown and wilted. The house never went up for sale but for four long months, it was as though the Tozier family had simply disappeared.

Until now, with Went’s car sat in the driveway and the living room lights all flicked on. Eddie could see movement through the windows. It was as though the world had picked back up from where it had stopped, without a hint of change.

Eddie Kaspbrak skidded to a stop on the skateboard he kept hidden deep underneath his bed. It had been a birthday gift from Bill Denbrough nearly three years earlier, that Eddie could only use in secret. At night, when he was sure that his mother was asleep and at no risk of waking until morning, Eddie would pull out his skateboard and ride through the dark streets of Derry. In the last few months, Eddie’s nightly rides had always taken him down Holly Street right past the Tozier house.

Though Eddie didn’t know it yet, there had certainly been a lot of changes inside. Maybe he could sense it, because four months ago he would have run up those stairs faster than a train of thought could run through his mind, but now he hesitated. He stepped onto his skateboard and rode back down the street, unable to shake the deep sense of unease in his gut.

“You’re sure you saw them?” Beverly Marsh asked Eddie in an accusing voice. “Because I had already accepted that the Toziers had been abducted by aliens, and was deep in my mourning period. Don’t give me false hope.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “If you’re asking me if I personally saw their faces, no. I didn't go inside or peep in the windows, but it was definitely Mr Tozier's car and all the lights were on. Somebody was home.”

“And what makes you so sure that Richie is going to show up here?” Beverly continued to challenge him. “He didn't even finish the last school year and he probably isn't enrolled in any classes. Even if he’s back in Derry, it doesn’t mean he’s coming back to Derry High.”

As he listened to her, Eddie had to admit to himself that Bev had a more than reasonable point. Richie had vanished one day in the middle of May and had been gone all summer. Eddie supposed he had been the only one holding his breath that Richie would be back when senior year had started, but September had come and gone with no word from him. The Losers really had no reason to believe that Richie would be coming back, but Eddie didn’t want to think anything else could be possible.

“Even if Richie didn’t finish the school year here, it doesn’t mean he didn’t finish.” Stan said, without looking up from his history textbook. “He can take his classes and exams online. We know the school offers that and we don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been doing.”

“Yeah.” Bill Denbrough said sharply, arms crossed over his chest. “B-B-Because he nuh-never told uh-us.”

Stan glanced at Bill over the cover of his book, raising one brow. “All I’m saying is we shouldn't condemn Richie before we give him a chance to explain.. He’s probably been through a lot, and people don’t often drop their lives and take off unless something big was going on.”

Bill deflated slightly, nodding at Stan and giving him a small smile. Stan smiled back while Beverly glared between them. “Well, I’m not convinced!” She said, pursing her lips. “I mean, what did we ever do to make Richie think he couldn’t tell us what’s going on with him? Personally, I’m offended.”

“Who said it was something to do with him?” Eddie asked quietly. “His parents and sister were gone too. It could have been some sort of family emergency so why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” Beverly cried, eyes going wide as her mouth dropped down into a sad frown. “I love Richie, maybe more than anybody in this world-”

“Wow.” Ben said under his breath.

“Oh-Okay.” Bill stammered.

“- But our group has always been about trust and how close we are!” Beverly carried on. “I’m not okay with Richie turning his back on that and running away without even trying to talk to us. I don’t know how any of you guys can be.”

Eddie looked down at his feet, swallowing down nothing. He understood where Beverly was coming from, he’d felt it, too. Once the original confusion and concern had worn down, Eddie had spent most of the last summer pissed off. He had been ready to rip Richie apart the second he saw him again, if he saw him again. Now though, Eddie had felt only relief at the thought that Richie was home. Safe. He didn’t care about the secrets or the running. He just cared about seeing his best friend again. The simple thought of it had been making his stomach dance with butterflies.

“I agree with Stan,” Mike said, unsurprisingly. “We shouldn’t make any decisions about Richie until we actually talk to him. You know, benefit of the doubt. He’s never been anything less than unwaveringly loyal before now so he deserves a chance.“

Bill and Ben both nodded slowly while Beverly let out a harsh huff of breath, but remained silent. Eddie hiked his backpack up higher over his shoulders. “Well.” Eddie said with a sigh. “If he doesn’t show up today, then I’m going over there after school. He might deserve a chance, but we deserve answers.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary, Eddie.” Mike said as he looked at something over his shoulder.

Eddie spun around, breath caught in his throat as Richie Tozier walked towards him, looking different but somehow exactly the same. He dragged his feet as he walked, wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a grey sweater and hair was piled up on top of his head in a messy bun. When he lifted his gaze from the ground, his expression was blank and tired. Eddie was able to see the bags under his eyes even from three feet away.

Richie’s eyes seemed to focus then, as a soft smile spread over his face. “Eds...”

Eddie broke into a smile—teary eyed and breath caught in his throat—tripping over his own feet as he moved to rush at Richie. He collided with Richie’s chest hard, as warm as ever and maybe a little thinner. He no longer smelled like that disgusting body spray he’d started wearing at the beginning of high school, but like soap and Richie. A comforting smell that Eddie hadn’t even realized he missed.

“You owe us a really good explanation,” Eddie mumbled against Richie’s shoulder, pressing his face there roughly.

Richie’s arms were a vice grip around him, as he said, “I know. I know...”

“Hey.“ Stan’s voice broke through their little hug circle. “Eddie. Share the Richie.” 

Eddie’s breath caught roughly deep in his chest and for a moment, he thought he might truly have an asthma attack. Richie’s arms squeezed him fiercley before rubbing at his back softly. Eddie pulled at him, clenching his jaw to keep his bottom lip from trembling. 

Richie walked sheepishly over to Stan, who reached out and cupped the side of Richie’s head. He seemed to be taking in all the little things that Eddie had noticed from far away. “I’m okay.” Richie practically whispered. “I’m okay, Stanley.”

Stan looked about as convinced as Eddie felt, but he dropped his hand away from Richie. Richie gave a quick greeting hug to Ben and Mike before his gaze dropped to Bill and Bev, who were both looking at him with looks that bordered on disappointment. Anger bubbled up inside of Eddie at this, but he fought back the urge to say something.

Richie smiled at them both sheepishly.  “Hey...”

“Don’t you hey me, Richard Tozier.” Beverly said, poking him angrily in the chest. “You’ve got some serious explaining to do. Where have you been? You think you can just take off for months without a single word? You’re so irresponsible it’s almost insane!”

The weird, blank expression that Richie had been wearing when he’d walked up to them returned in the blink of an eye. He shrugged one shoulder and turned away from her, saying nothing. Eddie noticed how Beverly and Ben exchanged a glance, and he had to look away.

By the time Eddie had turned back, Richie had begun to quickly back up towards the school. “I have to go into the office before I can go to class, double check that everything is in order.”

“Oookay...” Eddie said slowly as he fiddled with the belt around his waist. When Eddie had made the decision to stop wearing his fanny packs from childhood, he’d quickly realized that he felt awkward and never had anything to do with his hands and he’d started wearing belts after that. “See you at lunch then.”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Richie said as he looked quickly between Eddie and the school, fully distracted. “I’m going to have to spend my lunch break catching up. I’ll probably have to spend the next lot of lunches in the study room getting my shit together.” 

“C-c-come over after school,” Bill suggested, arms still crossed over his chest. “W-w-we can help you get ca-caught up faster. It’s Fruh-Friday, we can just all sluh-sleepover.”

A look of pained panicked came over Richie’s face and he shook his head quickly. “I can’t do sleepovers for a while, Big Bill. Sorry, man. Thank you though.”

“Are you grounded?” Ben asked, shooting Richie a look of concern.

Richie pursed his lips as he looked around the group, bouncing slightly on the spot. “Something like that.” He replied, eyes trained on the sky.

“Okay, Richie, what the hell?” Beverly snapped, throwing her hands into the air. “First, you completely disappeared without warning. Then, you don’t text us for months. Now you just come back, acting all weird and won’t tell us anything? What’s your fucking problem?”

Richie opened his mouth, then closed it. Eddie watched his jaw clench and debate travel over his face. “I have to go to the office.”

Then he left.

“Richie is officially cancelled.” Beverly said as she tossed her tray down on the lunch table. The Losers Club had been taking the same circular lunch table by the garbage cans since freshman year and not once had anybody tried to fight them on it or sit with them. Being a Loser had a few perks, but Eddie was still desperately waiting for six to turn back into seven. If the angry look on Beverly’s face was anything to go by, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

“Why, what happened?” Mike asked, crinkling up his nose at the slop of cafeteria spaghetti on Beverly’s tray. Every day, Beverly would get the hot lunch and everyday, Mike would express his disgust for it.

“So, he made a big deal about how he couldn’t come to lunch because he was going to have to do so much catching up on school work,” Beverly ranted, stabbing at the poor excuse for a noodle as though it would go onto her plastic fork that way. “But I just saw him grabbing his stuff from his locker and leaving the school. Which is not the study room.”

“Oh, really, Bev?” Stan deadpanned. “I thought they moved it out there.”

oeverly grabbed a fake meatball off her tray and lobbed it at him. It missed, smacking Bill on the cheek. Anger flashed across Bill’s face and Eddie threw his arm out in front of him. “Cease fire!”

Beverly stuffed an overly large fork full of spaghetti into her mouth. Eddie looked down at the tray and suddenly felt he missed Richie a little bit more. “I don’t know what’s going on with Richie. Nobody does. So just-”

“Don’t tell me to give him another chance.” Beverly interrupted as she pointed her stained fork at Eddie’s face. “He made it clear this morning that he wasn’t interested in telling us what happened.”

“Well, you kind of attacked him.” Eddie snapped back.

“I did not fucking attack him!” Beverly cried. “I just asked him what we were all thinking! We deserve answers, you know we do!”

Eddie gave a long sigh and closed his eyes. “Yeah. We do, okay? But this is Richie. He’s not just going to lay it out all on the table for us. He just got back, maybe we could give him more than five minutes to tell us what happened.”

“We nuh-nuh-know you luh-like him, Eddie. That you wuh-want to see the buh-best in him.” Bill said quietly. It had been an innocent comment, meant exactly how it was said, but Eddie’s skin crawled at the implication all the same. “But he’s been a shuh-shuh-shit-shitty friend.”

Stan stood up, pushing his chicken sandwich away. He frowned at the table and shook his head. “None of you know what happened. The only shitty friends I see here are you guys.”

“Maybe that’s because Richie isn’t here.” Ben said.

Stan shook his head as he turned and walked away. Mike looked apologetically around the table before standing himself and chasing after Stan. Eddie stared stubbornly at his lap.

“Look.” Beverly said softly. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, but I just think Richie is making his feelings very clear. He doesn’t see us a people he can trust and I’m not going to go out of my way to chase him around to get him to tell me anything. If he doesn’t want to tell me—if he doesn’t trust me after everything we’ve all been through—then he’s not really our friend, is he?”

Bill and Ben both nodded their heads in agreement, and Eddie felt his stomach tense up tightly. He tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe he’ll show up at least for a bit tonight.” Eddie tried to suggest. “He said he couldn’t sleep over, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t come. Maybe he’ll tell us then. He probably just didn’t want to get into it right before his first day back.”

Ben smiled at him, a sad smile with sharp eyes that seemed to be looking deep into Eddie’s. “You’re probably right, Eddie.”

“Well, if he d-d-doesn’t show up,” Bill said, drinking deeply from a carton of chocolate milk. “Then he can fuh-fuh-find nuh-new friends.”

Eddie felt his stomach sink down to his feet.

Richie wasn’t coming, that much was clear. Eddie was the only person holding out hope after Richie hadn’t met them after school, but as the sun started to go down and Eddie kept remembering what Richie had said about sleepovers, he’d been forced to admit it.

Eddie turned away from the living room window, trying to hide how upset he truly was. He knew it hadn't worked when Mike pressed a hand between Eddie’s shoulders, patting him. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I know you wanted him to come.”

Eddie didn’t like that implication at all. That maybe he was the only one who wanted Richie to show up, that nobody else believed in Richie Tozier like he did. He tried for a moment to bring himself back into the conversation going on around him, but found he couldn’t get a grasp on what was going on.

“Hey, guys, I think I’m actually going to head out.” Eddie said meekly as he reached for his belongings and stepped over Ben on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to leave.” Beverly said as she stood and hovered near Eddie, not touching but looked as if she was thinking about it.

“Yeah.” Eddie said, voice coming out a little sharper than planned. “Yeah, I do.” Eddie turned on his heel and took off out of the Denbroughs’ house, not caring whether he had all his belongings or not.

He had only gotten part way down the street before acknowledging to himself how little he actually wanted to go home, and how he’d screwed himself. The last place he wanted to be was in his house, and he couldn’t turn around and go back to Bill’s with his tail between his legs and an apology he didn’t have on his lips.

The sun fell completely while Eddie wandered the streets, no idea where he was walking until he was there. It was a still a little jarring to see the lights on.

Eddie nearly ran up the path and the porch steps, but hesitated at the front of the door, bringing his fist half up to knock. He bit his lip as his nails dug into the palm of his hand. He felt as if an actual bolt of fear struck through him, and Eddie had to catch his breath. He mentally reprimanded himself, that there was nothing in there to be afraid of.

Eddie knocked.

It took so long for somebody to answer that Eddie was about to give up and turn around when the door finally opened. Maggie Tozier stood on the other side, looking tired but smiling quickly at the sight of him. “Oh, Eddie! It’s so good to see you sweetie!” Maggie hugged him quickly, and Eddie barely had the chance to enjoy her sugary, sweet cookie-like smell before she was pulling back. “I suppose you’re here to see our newest little house guest.”

“What?” Eddie asked, wrinkling his nose.

Maggie nodded into the house, sweeping Eddie inside. Eddie walked in slowly, noting how almost nothing had changed at all. His pair of black converse were still sitting on the door mat, forgotten there from the last time he’d been over at the Toziers’ back in May. “Richie is up in his room. Try to keep quiet.”

“Uh... sure.” Eddie said as he moved up the stairs softly along the familiar path to Richie’s bedroom. He was almost creeped out with how quiet it was, this probably being the first time Eddie had walked down this hall without hearing some sort of blaring music or even just shouting coming from Richie’s room.

He hesitated again in front of Richie’s room, then physically shook himself free of the fear as he let himself in like he always would. He moved a little slower than he normally would have, a twinge of anxiety still deep rooted inside him. The sight in front of him made him stop and freeze in the doorway. Richie was sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding what appeared to be a large swaddle of yellow blankets. Richie was smiling softly down at the blankets, and when he looked up at the sound of Eddie entering, it was slowly, as though it was physically hard for him to tear his eyes away from them.

When he noticed it was not his parents, but Eddie who stood gaping at him in the doorway, his eyes blew wide. His mouth dropped open as he glanced down at the bundle in his arms and back up at Eddie before chuckling nervously.

“Guess I’m busted, huh?”

[saysomethingspiderman]

Something Wonderful (PT. 2)

Synopsis: During your time as a professional photographer, you had come across incredibly good looking men, but there was just something about Tom that stood out. Who would have thought shooting the self-titled “walking meme” would change your life forever?

Chapter word count: 2k

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight

Was there a word for feeling so far out of your comfort zone that you’d rather jump into a lake with bricks attached to your ankles? Irrational? Maybe. Dramatic? Most definitely. It was just drinks, nothing to fret over.

Ever since you left Tom at the house after the photoshoot, he’d been all you thought about. There had been no mention of Tom when you’d arrived back home to London the following night, only telling your flatmate Olivia you had a date with someone you’d met at work. You weren’t entirely sure why you kept it a secret. Perhaps because you knew Olivia would make a huge fuss or maybe because you didn’t want to get your hopes up that things would go far enough to reach a second night out. Yet in spite of trying to convince yourself it was just a casual thing, you still spent most of Saturday afternoon going back and forth between near enough every outfit in your wardrobe.

“Do you think I should just call and suggest we go somewhere else?” you asked and tossed a pair of heeled boots into the ‘no’ pile at the end of your bed. You glanced up at Olivia, who stood leaning against the doorframe. “All these outfits make me look even more like a hobbit than usual.” After fastening the buckle around your ankles, you stood and walked over to the mirror, testing your balance in a pair of incredibly high heels.

“You said he’s not that tall anyway, so I’m sure he won’t care,” Olivia shrugged and folded her arms. “I’ll tell you you look hot if you tell me his name.”

You shot her a look in the mirror. “I’ll tell you it another day, I don’t want you stalking him on Instagram or something.” You turned around a little and tugged the black dress down to stop it riding up your bum, then gave a little nod. “I think this is the one… I guess a little black dress can never go wrong.”

“Where are you going anyway?” asked Olivia as she moved further into the room to look through your handbags.

“Uh, Monkey House up in Mayfair. I’m meeting him there.”

“Very fancy,” she smirked and handed you a sparkling silver clutch that matched your heels.

You scrunched your curled hair to mess up it a little and double checked your red lipstick hadn’t transferred onto your teeth, then gave a small nod before grabbing your phone to order an Uber.

“Don’t wait up!” you grinned a few minutes later as you left the flat, allowing yourself to get excited. After getting comfortable in the car, you took your phone from your bag to let Tom know you were on your way.

[Y/N] 8:42pm     Just left now. Should be there in about ten minutes.

Tom 8:44pm     I’m running late, won’t keep you too long!

[Y/N] 8:44pm     You better hurry, I might wander off and find another bloke to buy me a drink...

Tom 8:45pm     You wouldn’t.

[Y/N] 8:45pm     Can’t promise anything ;)

Even though you arrived later than you thought you would, you still stood outside the bar next to the queue of people waiting to go inside. You looked around expectantly, trying to catch any sign of Tom. Just as the awkwardness of standing alone outside a bar began to creep up on you, you felt a gentle hand on your arm.

“Shit, didn’t mean to scare you,” Tom laughed, having both felt and seen you jump out of your skin. His eyes quickly scanned your frame and he gave a boyish grin. “You look lovely, [Y/N].”

“I can definitely say the same about you,” you replied and didn’t even try to hide the fact you were checking him out. His black shirt stretched across his shoulders, showing off his muscles, and his black-and-white trousers made his legs look good. “And I suppose that’ll excuse your lateness.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his thick hair. “I’ll try to be on time next time.”

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” you asked with a raised brow and grinned at the eyeroll he gave you in response.

You followed him into the bar, walking straight past the queue. There were a few mentions of Tom’s name you heard in the distance from people waiting in line, but you made a point to ignore them. It was to be expected that Tom would gain at least a little bit of attention, you just hadn’t expected it on your night together. The second you stepped into the lounge, the music blared into your ears and it was as though your heart began pumping extra hard to stay in time with the beat. It wasn’t overly crowded, but it was definitely busy and you kept close to Tom as you shuffled over to the bar. You ordered a martini and Tom got himself a beer.

“Happy birthday,” he smiled, raising his bottle to tap against your glass. “Now let’s get fucking hammered!”

The two of you talked and laughed and joked for hours, only realising you hadn’t moved from the bar after your fifth drink. Tom spotted an empty couch towards the back and you got comfortable on the plush cushions, unable to keep the smile off your face as you continued chatting. He told you all about his parents and three brothers, and it was so incredibly clear how much love he had for them. Then his dog Tessa came up. The way he spoke about her was like he was speaking about an actual baby. Gosh, how could someone be so adorable?

“She’s such a good dog,” Tom sighed heavily, unable to focus on you properly from the amount he’d had to drink. He leaned back against the cushions and held his hand over his heart. “I just love her so much, you know? She’s the sweetest.”

You giggled almost uncontrollably at the look on his face. “Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Friends?” he repeated, eyebrows raised dramatically. “She’s family!” He pulled his phone from his pocket and, after the few attempts it took to type in his password, opened his photos to show off Tessa. His face softened and his eyes glowed with adoration. God, he was drunk. He shifted on the couch to get closer and held his phone out as he flicked through the photos, though lifted the screen nearer to his face to squint at most of them, clearly unable to see properly.

“I almost feel like I should leave you two alone,” you laughed and when he hiccupped in response, you got up and headed to the bar, returning with a tray full of shots. Tom’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the amount you’d brought back.

“Do you want me to die?” he asked, shouting a little over the music.

“It’s my birthday!”

“And me dying is a part of that?”

You winked and slid four glasses his way, then sat down with your own collection. After the count of three, you downed each shot of vodka as fast as you could, spilling some down your chin in an attempt to finish first. The burning in the back of your throat caused you to cringe in pain and you shook your head as though it would help, but you realised instantly that that was a huge mistake. The room spun. Your stomach churned. You held it back. There was no way you were throwing up. You weren’t that weak.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Tom groaned, leaning back fully against the cushions with his hands over his face. He took some deep breaths and peaked through his fingers, shaking his head at your smirk. “You’ve killed me. You’ve literally killed me.”

“What was that?” you asked, cupping your ear as your leaned into him, body pressing against his. The heat radiated from his skin, almost burning yours. “Did you just say you’re having a great night and there’s no one else you’d rather spend your Saturday night with?”

He laughed and swiftly moved his arms so he could tickle your sides and pulled you closer. The stench of alcohol on his breath made you dizzy, but you knew yours was just as bad. “Let’s go outside, I think I need some air,” he slurred and slowly pushed himself up. He stopped for a moment, swaying on the spot, then helped you up from the couch as though you were the one unable to stand still. You were bad, but not in as bad a state that Tom was. You kept hold of each other, giggling quietly, and you found your way out to the front where all the smokers stood huddled together.

“I wish I wasn’t going away tomorrow,” Tom said, leaning back against the brick wall for support in case his legs gave way.

You looked up at him with a deep frown and squinted a little, trying to focus on his blurry form. “On holiday?”

“I wish!” he laughed and hiccuped. “Work stuff. Films can’t promote themselves as my… Someone would say…” He gave a groan and ran a hand over his slightly sweaty face. “I don’t feel so good, [Y/n]...”

You grinned at the taller man and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady since the wall wasn’t doing much to help. “How about we get you home? I’ll order an Ub-”

“No, I don’t want to go home.” The pout he gave was reminiscent of a child and it was truly charming. “This place doesn’t close until four… We’ve got all night! Let’s paint the town red!”

“I know you’re a movie star, Thomas, but you don’t need to bring those cheesy scripts into real life,” you smirked and reached up to pat his cheek lightly.

A grin lit up his face and he grabbed your hand to pull you that little bit closer. Your heart sped up and you could hear it pumping loudly in your ears as you gazed up at him. His eyes were beautiful. You swallowed nervously when you noticed him leaning in, the bitter smell of alcohol and his woody cologne hitting you hard. You couldn’t get enough of it. You knew it wasn’t right and you shouldn’t be doing this in the states you were in, but that logical voice in your head had disappeared way earlier in the night. It was long gone.

His breath tickled your lips and goosebumps ran all the way up your arms and legs. You leaned into him, all the voices in the background fading until they were muffled and unable to interrupt you in your little bubble. Tom paused when you nudged your noses against each other. In a swift movement, he turned and threw up on the pavement, splashing sick all over your toes.

“I really don’t feel well...” He hunched over and wiped his mouth, face scrunched up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” you murmured, trying your best to avoid looking down at your feet. The sight of sick splattered on your skin would surely make you gag. You shook your head and kept an arm tightly around him while you ordered an Uber.

Tom’s head rested against your shoulder as he snored quietly the whole ride back to your flat. Of course, you had no idea what his address was and it would’ve probably taken a lifetime to get that information out of him, so the easiest option was for him to crash at your place. He mumbled to himself and giggled into your hair when you helped him out of the car and assisted him up the multiple flights of stairs.

“Okay, next time you’re drinking lemonade all night,” you told him sternly, though ended up laughing loudly as the two of you stumbled up the last few steps. After a number of tries, you managed to unlock the door and guided Tom into the living room towards the couch.

“Are you taking advantage of me and my vulera-vulnerb… drunkenness?” Tom licked his lips teasingly and fell down onto the couch, pulling you with him, but you chuckled and shook your head.

“Not tonight.” You gave him a wink and pushed yourself back up shakily, wobbling on the spot. “Now sleep. Don’t make too much noise or I’ll kill you.” You ruffled his hair gently on your way out, almost certain he’d already fallen asleep. The night definitely hadn’t been boring, that was for sure.

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[hearts-hunger]

I’m Happy at Home || part six

Look on my masterlist for parts 1-5!

Part summary: You and John reminisce on the early days of your friendship with the boys. When Freddie and Brian come home, you know you wouldn’t trade your little family for the world.

Pairings: John Deacon x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff (oh boy it’s real fluffy)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: light smut, smoking

A/N: My loves! Part 6 is finally here! Thank you so much for your patience and your encouragement as I was going through some really tough writer’s block, it’s meant more to me than you’ll know. I really hope this chapter makes up for the delay, and I hope part 7 won’t be too long in coming!

You stayed in bed together for a little while, talking and making each other laugh and enjoying the simple luxury of cuddling each other. When you started to get chilly and become more aware of the bit of a mess you both were, John suggested a shower. Though you’d fully intended to shower to get clean, you found you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give your husband a proper thank you for how well he’d loved you that night; you ended up on your knees with his fingers tangled in your hair, pride and pleasure and sheer adoration filling you as you listened to his moans and lavish praise.

He was a little wobbly afterwards; to steady and soothe him, you had him lean against the shower wall as you took your time washing his hair and lathering his beautiful body until he was clean and warm and sleepy. You made quick work of your own soaping-up, a blush accompanying your smile as he watched you with an impossibly gentle and affectionate gaze.

Once out of the shower, you dressed in whatever you grabbed out of your suitcases, layers of sweaters and pajama pants. John wore his soft yellow Disneyland sweater that always made him look very cuddly. You stopped to check in on Teddy as you went out to the kitchen, brushing his curls back from his face and kissing his cheek.

You hopped up on the island as John set about making tea at the stove across from you, the sounds of his rummaging about the kitchen giving a homey comfort to the large, dark house. 

“Quiet without the boys,” John said, setting the kettle to boil. 

You hummed in agreement. You and John had spent most of your adult life bumping shoulders in tiny flats, rooming with Freddie, Brian, and Roger. When you met you’d been living with Brian, and it wasn’t two weeks after John’s first audition before Freddie insisted John come room with him and Roger in their flat. You’d always seen that as a testament to how easily all the boys had become brothers; within a month they went from strangers to bandmates to roommates to best friends.

Though it had been a necessity in the early days, when Queen was booking just enough pub gigs to split the rent between them, all five of you had pushed off moving into separate, bigger houses even when you had the money. It took you and John getting married and getting a small flat of your own to prompt the boys into taking an interest in real estate; even then, you were all living in such close quarters on tour that it still felt like you were college roommates. You all had a deep fondness for those days, when you were broke and eating whatever could be found in the cupboards as you crashed at one of the flats to watch Marx Brothers movies. 

“I’m glad we’re all here,” you said.

He smiled. “Kinda like the good old days, huh?”

You reached for his hand and he obliged you, letting you tug him closer to you. He rested his free hand on your thigh, running his thumb over the plaid of your pajama pants.

“Is it terrible that I miss that?” you asked, your voice soft. “I mean, I love Teddy more than anything in the whole world, and I love being married to you and having our own house and everything...”

“But?” he prompted gently.

You shrugged. “But, you know, I loved living like that. Even though we had a lot more to worry about, like rent and essays and you guys booking enough gigs. I loved that we were all basically living all together.” You smiled. “Maybe we should get a big flat and live together for real.”

He laughed. “And have Roger keep us up all hours with his shagging? No, thank you.”

“God, that was pretty awful,” you said with a laugh, remembering the numerous times you and John had relocated to your flat because Roger was being obscenely loud with his latest fling. Not only was it unmistakable in John’s room, with the shared wall between his and Roger’s room, but you couldn’t even escape it in the living room. Freddie would always be over at yours and Brian’s flat soon after, going on about thin walls while the long-suffering Brian listened kindly and made tea.

“To be fair, though, we probably did our fair share of knocking the headboard against that shared wall,” John said with a cheeky smile.

You grinned and kissed him. “Probably,” you agreed.

He looked up at you with a gentle gaze when your broke apart. “I don’t think it’s terrible that you miss that,” he said. “I miss it too. I mean, we’re so happy now, but we were also happy then. A different kind of happy. And I don’t think it’s ungrateful to miss a different kind of happy.”

You traced your fingers over the collar of his t-shirt. “A different kind of happy,” you mused. Like nearly everything John said, it made sense and helped you to see you weren’t alone in your feelings. “Thank you.”

He gave you a bemused smile. “What for?”

You shrugged. “Knowing me. Loving me well.” You smiled. “Indulging my sentimentality.”

He chuckled as he tucked a curl behind your ear. “You’re welcome.”

“We should have just had a big flat back then,” you said, still a bit fond of the idea.

He smiled. “With how often you and Bri were at our place, it would have made more sense.”

“You three had the tv!” you protested. “How else was I supposed to watch Upstairs, Downstairs?”

“Did I ever tell you I don’t really like Upstairs, Downstairs?”

Your eyes widened. “What? That’s not true. You love it!”

He laughed. “I really don’t. Soap operas have never been my thing.”

“But you watched it with me every week!” you insisted.

He gave you a lovely smile. “I wanted to be with you.”

You felt a little dismayed to know you’d put him through countless episodes of a show he didn’t even like, but you were also endeared and amused that he’d put up with it for you.

 “Well damn, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” you said with a sympathetic laugh. “I just assumed since you always cleared your schedule to watch it with me that you liked it. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, a smile playing across his features. “You liked it, and we could have been watching a blank tv screen for all I cared. We had our first kiss watching Upstairs, if you recall, and from then on I decided that I’d watch any tv show in the world to be able to kiss you again.”

You didn’t think you’d ever forget that night. Since Freddie was the only one out of you who didn’t have exams to study for, he’d herded all of you and your textbooks into the kitchen so he could mother the four of you. With Brian unable to take on the responsible, mother-hen role thanks to his studying, Freddie easily and actually quite adeptly stepped in. He’d ordered takeout, making sure everyone got their favorite, and spent the evening making strong tea and checking in with each of you. You and John had taken a break to watch Upstairs, and when you’d laughed at something one of the maids said, John had been so taken with you that he leaned in and kissed you.

“Still the best kiss you’ve ever given me,” you said fondly.

He looked playfully aghast. “You mean to tell me that after ten years, I haven’t managed to top that?”

“Nope, sorry,” you teased. “Twenty-year-old Deaky will always have a leg up on you.”

“Damn him to hell,” John said, looking up at you like you hung the moon. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep kissing you until I figure it out.”

You grinned. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”

He took your chin in hand and drew you down to kiss him, trying out every trick in the book to make it quite possibly the headiest kiss he’d ever given you. You couldn’t help a smile even as his tongue explored your mouth; you could get used to this determination to one-up a kiss that really hadn’t been technically wonderful, but was still your favorite because of how shy and lovely it had been. 

“How was that?” he asked a little breathlessly when you came up for air. You knew you were blushing, and his smile was cheeky.

“I know, I know,” he said affectionately. “Not nearly as nice as the first kiss of a pretty boy absolutely smitten with you.”

You gently touched your fingers to his soft lips. “What’s your favorite kiss?”

“All of them,” he said, without hesitation. He smiled when he saw you roll your eyes. “It’s true! Every single kiss is my favorite.”

“That’s not how favorites work,” you said, amused.

“Well, it is with me. Besides, how could I pick a favorite? Which one would I choose?” He punctuated his questions with soft kisses on your cheek, your nose, your forehead. “Our first kiss as man and wife? The kiss you gave me when you told me you were pregnant? The kiss I gave you the first time I made you cum? There’s too many to choose from. Even the ones not nearly as memorable are still wonderful.”

You felt yourself lean close to him as he pulled back to look at you, something in you pulled inevitably towards the sincerity of his words and the gentleness of his touch.

“This one - ” he said, kissing you tenderly. “This one is my favorite too. Now, doesn’t that sound like a little less of a cop out?”

You hummed in agreement, a little dazed to say anything of consequence.

He smiled. “I have that effect on a lot of women.”

You grinned. “You’re teasing, but it’s true.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Lucky for me, I’m the only one who gets to take you home at the end of the night.”

He kissed you again, and you had the feeling that you would never tire of kissing him and giving him new favorites as long as you lived. You broke apart when the kettle started to whistle, John reluctantly turning from you to set about making tea.

“Good lord, it’s freezing.”

Both you and John looked to the front door to see Freddie and Brian come in, their hair and the shoulders of their jackets dusted with a fine layer of snow. Freddie impatiently scrubbed a hand through his short curls as he and Brian made their way inside and closed the door behind them.

“Don’t wake up my kid,” you warned, your voice just loud enough to carry from the kitchen into the living room. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Freddie said, taking his voice to a stage whisper, which was only marginally better. “Forgot about Teddy. He’s asleep?”

“It’s nearly three in the morning, Freddie,” Brian said as he hung up his own coat and the one Freddie had discarded over the back of the couch. “What five-year-old wouldn’t be asleep?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Freddie said, waving him off. “I don’t have any Mercury babies running around, I wouldn’t know.”

Brian laughed as he followed Freddie into the kitchen, pulling on his sweater with the rainbow guitar stitched over the chest. “But Freddie, that’s just common sense. You don’t need to have children to know that.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I am a little drunk,” Freddie said smartly, opening the fridge. “Speaking of which, where’s the beer?”

“Top shelf,” John supplied. “Though I’ve made tea if you want that instead.”

“I’ll have some, thank you,” Brian said. He kissed your cheek. “Hi, love.”

You smiled. “Hi, Brimi. How was the party?”

“Entertaining,” he said, amused. He took the cup of tea John handed him. “Though Freddie and I decided to take our leave when the party moved outside.”

“These Canadians are built for weather like this,” Freddie said. “But I’m rather more delicate, you know. No use dancing with all those burly Mounties if I can’t feel my feet.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said melodramatically, leaning back across the island countertop towards him. “Come here.”

Freddie grabbed a beer and closed the fridge, putting his free hand in yours and letting himself be led over to stand by you. 

“You’re the only one with any sympathy around here, darling,” he said. “The only one who really loves me.”

“I know,” you agreed, taking the beer from him and setting it on the counter. “Which is why I’m making you stand here with me while John makes you tea to warm you up.”

He sighed and leaned against the counter with his back to you, letting you drape your arms over his shoulders and kiss his cheek.

“Did you have fun with the Mounties before you were freezing to death?” you asked.

“Oh, loads,” he said. He reached up to lightly pat your cheek. “Though it’s lovely to be home. You and Deaky had a rip-roaring time here, I hope?”

“Not really,” you teased, blushing a little when John winked at you. “It was purely business.”

Freddie gave a theatrical gasp. “Business, you say? Oh, I haven't done a call-girl roleplay in ages. Was it very nice?”

Brian laughed. “I'm not sure that's exactly what they meant.”

“No?” Freddie asked, giving John a pout. He made his way over to John and leaned his head on his shoulder. “That's too bad. I could have made much better use of your time, Deaky, honestly.”

“Don't I know it, loverboy,” John said dramatically, throwing Freddie his best and most exaggerated smoulder. 

Freddie laughed. “Oh, stop it. You're making me blush.”

John's expression was warm with affection as he grinned at his best friend. “You're a mess, Fred, you know that?”

“Yes, darling, but I’m your mess,” Freddie said cooly, taking the mug of tea John offered.

John cradled his own mug in his hands. “What she means by business is that we're trying for a baby.”

Freddie nearly choked on his tea. “A baby?”

You smiled. “Not our best idea?”

“No, no, I think it's wonderful,” he said quickly. His smile was genuine and elated when he met your eyes. “You did so well with your first one, darling, I think another one would be absolutely smashing.”

“I'm glad you think so,” you said sincerely. You couldn't say that the boys’ reaction hadn’t been a worry to you before you’d even broached the topic with John; you were a family, and you wanted them to be excited about it too. You could tell now, though, that your worries had been silly: both Freddie and Brian looked pleased a punch at the idea, and John was practically beaming with pride.

“It's really lovely, you guys,” Brian said to you and John. His smile turned a bit cheeky. “Would it be forward of me to wish you happy baby-making?”

“Not any more forward than Freddie seducing my husband into kinky sex,” you said dryly.

Freddie raised a brow. “Jealous, are we?”

You giggled and were rewarded with three lovely smiles from three of the men you loved most in the world. You wished that Roger was here, but you were sure he was having fun with his date; besides, there'd be no shortage of smiles from the blonde when he came home tomorrow with another notch on his bedpost.

“You should look at your horoscope to see when you're most likely to get pregnant, darling,” Freddie said.

You laughed. You and Freddie loved reading your horoscopes, and even though John, Roger, and Brian teased you relentlessly about it, they still listened with polite intent when you insisted on reading theirs to them. You and Freddie most appreciated Brian's indulgence when it came to detailing what the month held for Cancers; to the almost-doctor of the stars, the very idea of astrology was an amusing hobby at best and an affront to astronomical study at worst. That he listened patiently and didn't immediately dismiss everything you said about his life in the upcoming weeks was a testament to his love for both of you.

“Speaking of which,” Freddie said, “Brian was telling me about some phenomenon or other happening tonight with the stars, weren't you, love?”

Brian chuckled. “Well, it doesn't have anything to do with star signs, I'm afraid.”

“Not to worry,” Freddie said. “Your star things are always much better. What was it again? Some German word, I think?”

“Gegenschein,” Brian agreed. "It's a reflection of sunlight in interplanetary dust. You can see it much clearer when you’re as far away from the city as we are.”

“Is it tonight?” Freddie asked, making you smile with his sincere interest in what Brian loved. He suddenly looked worried. “Oh, dear, did I make you miss it by dragging you to that party?”

Brian smiled. “No, you’re alright. It happens all the time, but light pollution makes it very hard to see.”

“But you can see it from here?” Freddie pressed.

“Yes, I saw it as we walked in. It’s quite lovely.”

“You didn’t show me?” Freddie asked.

Brian looked a little bemused. “Did you want to see it? I can show you now, if you like.”

Freddie smiled. “Yes, please do.” He and Brian made their way out towards the back porch, with Freddie calling for you to join them before listening to Brian’s more detailed explanation of what exactly they were going to see.

John extended a hand to you and helped you off the counter. “Shall we do a bit of stargazing, my love?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a quick kiss. “I’d love to.”

You and John held hands as you walked out to the back porch, you tucking your free hand snugly under his arm as the cold night air rushed in the open porch door.

“You want my sweatshirt?” John asked, looking down at you.

“No, I’m ok,” you said. “But thank you.”

He smiled. “Let me know if you want it.”

The view from the porch was lovely in the night, the lake stretched out in a still, dark reflection of the starry sky above. The woods that surrounded the lake were dusted heavily with snow, catching the faint light of the crescent moon; you could see your breath as it came in little clouds in front of you.

“It’s just there,” Brian was saying to Freddie, leaning over the porch railing to see out from under the roof, pointing out a spot in the night sky.

“The bright spot?” Freddie asked.

“Yes, well done,” Brian said with a smile. You felt yourself smile in response; you always found it endearing when Brian’s teacher side came out. 

“Will you show me?” you asked. You untucked yourself from John’s side, immediately missing his warmth, but you wanted to see the stars too. Brian stepped aside to make room for you at the railing, his fingers tracing a place in the stars to show you.

“You can see that it’s kind of like a band across the sky, just below Aries.”

You tried to make out the constellation, feeling a little guilty that you couldn't pick it out.

“I don’t remember what Aries looks like,” you admitted. “Sorry.”

He gave you a kind smile. “No, that’s quite alright,” he said. He looked back up at the sky. “Let’s see... You see that really bright star, just there?”

You nodded.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now, that’s Hamal, and she’s the brightest star in Aries. If you look just below Hamal, you can start to see a bright spot, kind of like it’s glowing.”

You followed his fingers and saw what he was indicating; you wondered how you hadn’t seen it before. It was a bright patch in the sky, kind of like a stripe across the inky blue.

“I see it!” you said excitedly. Brian’s smile was affectionate enough to warm you despite the cold.

You turned to John. “Come see, honey.”

Though you guessed he would have been content to stay closer to the warmth of the house, you also knew he would never deny you anything in his power to give; he came over to where you, Brian, and Freddie were standing and wrapped his arms around your waist. Huddled between the three of them, you were as warm as you had been inside.

“Where is this wonderful thing?” John asked, looking up in the direction you had been gazing.

Brian chuckled. “Y/N can show you, now that she’s seen it,” he said. Again, his educational nature was never quite absent; he was giving you a chance to teach so that you would remember it better.

“Do you know what Aries looks like?” you asked John.

“Yeah, I do,” he teased. “Some of us actually paid attention when Brian showed us constellations.”

You nudged him playfully. “Oh, well, if you’re so smart, are you sure you need me to show it to you?”

He gave a soft laugh and kissed your jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Show me.” He raised his hand. “Aries is right there, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And if you look right below it - ”

You drew his hand down just a little. “That’s the gegenschein right there.”

“Oh,” John said; you could tell from his tone that he was more impressed that he thought he’d be. He drew both of your hands down together, twining your fingers. “Yeah, I see it. It’s lovely.”

“Isn’t it?” Freddie agreed. “All of Brian’s star things are always quite lovely.”

Brian smiled. “My star things, hm? I’m honored.”

“Thank you for showing us,” Freddie said. “Does it every get a bit tedious, you know, being around a bunch of us who don’t know anything about space?”

“Oh, not at all,” Brian said sweetly. “I’m very happy to talk about the stars, and I’m always learning with you. I’m probably the tedious one, going on and on about these esoteric things.”

“It’s nice, actually,” John said. He smiled. “Makes me feel better about lecturing everyone on circuit boards.”

Brian chuckled. “Now, that’s something that’s actually useful. Speaking of, I was wondering if you’d take a look at Red Special before the show tomorrow.”

“Sure,” John said. “What’s going on with her?”

Brian shrugged. “She just sounded a little off towards the end of the show, and I’m worried it might be more than just a tuning fix.”

John gave your hand a quick squeeze before he released you from his bear hug, giving Brian his full attention as Brian described what he thought could be wrong with his guitar.

Freddie patted his pockets and came up empty. “Damn,” he said. “I think I left my cigarettes with that Mountie.” He looked over at John, who had taken a seat on the couch catty corner to the chair Brian was sitting in.

“Have you got any cigarettes, Deaky?” he asked.

John nodded towards the house. “In my jeans. They’re on the floor somewhere in the bedroom.”

“For shame, John,” Freddie said teasingly. “Making me root through your discarded clothes for a cigarette, honestly.”

“That’s not how you find all your other smokes?” John said cooly.

Freddie laughed. “Charming, dear, as always.” He went back inside; you stood by the porch railing and crossed your arms over your chest against the cold. You looked out over the lake and listened to Brian and John talking, their voices mixing in a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

“Sweetheart,” John said after a moment. You turned around.

“Hm?”

He gave you a sweet smile. “Are you cold, love?”

You blushed a little; you were cold, but you hadn’t meant to distract John from his conversation.

“A little,” you admitted.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?”

You shook your head. “I wanted to have a cigarette, and I don’t want to get it all smoky.”

You husband’s laugh was gentle and full of affection. “I don’t mind, lovely,” he said. He pulled it over his head and tossed it to you. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

You pulled his sweatshirt on, enjoying his warmth and comforting scent practically woven into the fabric. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Anytime, love.”

He went back to talking with Brian as Freddie came back out to the porch, wearing his favorite yellow sweatshirt with a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Lights held triumphantly aloft.

“Took a minute, what with all the unmentionables strewn about the room, but I found them.”

He leaned up against the railing next to you, offering you the carton. “Fancy a smoke, darling?”

“Why thank you,” you said, pulling a cig from the half-empty carton. Freddie took one and lit it, handing you the lighter so you could do the same.

“I really am excited about a new baby Deacon,” Freddie said.

You smiled and exhaled, smoke mixing with the clouds of your breath in the cold air. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “We’re excited too. I think it’s about time the world was blessed with another mini John Deacon, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Freddie said. “You can’t have enough of them, really.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Since Brian is Teddy’s favorite, I think you should have at least two more so Rog and I can have our very own.”

“In that case, maybe we should shoot for three so that John and I can have one for us, too.”

Freddie laughed. “Very clever of you, darling. Yes, I think that’s a lovely idea. You and Deaky should have one too.”

You leaned your head on Freddie’s shoulder, smiling to yourself. “I love you, Fred.”

His chuckle was a little surprised. “Any particular reason?”

“Nope,” you said. “Just love you.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Well, I just love you too.”

You straightened after a moment as you both finished off your cigarettes, putting them out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

“You two headed in?” Brian asked.

You shrugged. “Are you guys staying out here?”

Brian and John looked to each other.

“Yeah, I think so,” John said. “Right?”

“Well, you’ve just told me you had a new idea for the amp, so I’m not going anywhere until you tell me all about it,” Brian said.

You smiled. You knew better than anybody how the two of them could get when they got started on something they both found interesting, and you guessed they wouldn’t be heading to bed any time soon.

“You can go to bed if you want,” John told you. “You don’t have to wait up.”

You considered taking him up on his offer - your bed did sound awfully inviting - but you also didn’t want to miss just being out here with your best friends. It wasn’t too often these days that you all had a chance to just be together, talking and enjoying each other’s company without the pressures of recording or concerts or dealing with the record label.

“I want to stay,” you said.

“So do I,” Freddie said. “But I’ve got to get a blanket or something or I’ll turn into the Fantastic Frozen Freddie.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a popsicle brand.”

He smirked. “Care to take a lick?”

That brought a laugh from all of you, and it seemed to catch Brian’s funny bone in particular, his normally soft chuckle giving way to a hearty laugh.

“Oh, god, Fred,” Brian said eventually, catching his breath. “I’ve never known anyone quite like you, you old queen.”

“Nor shall you ever, I assure you,” Freddie said with a cheeky smile. “Come on then, help me get some blankets and bring out the tea.”

Brian rose and followed Freddie inside, leaving you and John out on the porch. You sat next to him on the couch and curled up close to him, sighing as you met his warmth.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go to bed?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I might fall asleep right here, though. You’re a really good pillow.”

He chuckled. “Only the best for you, Mrs. Deacon.”

Freddie and Brian came back out to the porch bearing blankets and mugs of tea, slightly cooled from earlier but still nice and warm against the cold of the night. Freddie put a blanket over you and John before taking the spot on the couch on your other side; Brian wrapped himself in a blanket in his chair, cradling his mug in both hands. Uncurling from John so you could sip at your tea, you leaned back against Freddie and propped your feet in John’s lap.

“Alright, Deaky, new ideas for your amp,” Freddie prompted. “Stun us.”

“I dunno if they’re all that stunning,” John said, amused and a little bashful. “But I was thinking of...”

You let your mind wander from their conversation, still listening to the comforting sound of their voices but giving in to the contented tiredness that eased over you. You felt the warm rumble of Freddie’s laugh and watched Brian’s hands as he gestured animatedly when he spoke. John absently traced patterns over your legs, his gentle touch alone enough for you to know that he was always aware of you and always loved you, even when he was preoccupied with something else. 

It was nearly perfect; if Roger had been there, it would have been heaven as you had always imagined it, the comfort of such a deep trust and love and affection between the five of you that you felt at home no matter where you were. Roger would be home in the morning, and then it would be perfect; for now, it was close enough, and you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

series taglist: @mirkwoodshewolf @caborhapch @in-theyearof39 @deaky-dandelion @simply-sams-things @jazzman-19 @ixchel-9275 @polarcrystall @scarlettequinn @itsakindofqueen

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @hazah @dashlilymark@punkgeekchic @harrisunn @stephydearestxo @luckytrashgooprebel @someone-get-a-medic @chlobo6

let me know if you’d like to be added to either!

[besidemethewholedamntime]

and i will always love you - chapter four

Fic Summary:

“He feels sorry for her. It’s hard not to. Except it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still the child of an eminent politician, using her wealth and status to arm herself in ways that others in her situation couldn’t. Fitz has protected all kinds of people who’ve done the same thing, and every last one has been a complete and utter wanker.”

When an accidental discovery causes nationwide outrage at Dr. Jemma Simmons, Protection Officer Leopold Fitz is the one called upon to be her bodyguard. It starts off as one thing and ends quite another. A bodyguard au.

Chapter Summary:

A long dark night that ends with a beautiful sunrise.

Fitz struggles with his ever-growing feelings, a little bit more of the past is revealed, and unplanned co-habitation goes a step further.

{Read Chapter 4 Here}

{Read from the beginning here}

or read ch 4 below!

With HQ satisfied that the immediate threat is gone now that Jemma’s moved into a hotel, a suggestion is made that Fitz should take his days off. A suggestion that comes in the form of narrowed eyes, angry eyebrows, and the introduction of Officer Davis.

With no choice otherwise, and secure in the knowledge that his superior wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Jemma while he wasn’t there, Fitz makes a feeble effort to go back to his life pre-Jemma Simmons. It includes waking up in the afternoon, having leftover pizza for breakfast and playing video games with Hunter until he either leaves for work or for Bobbi, and then Fitz goes back to sleep.

Or that’s the way it used to be, back when life was much simpler. Now there are all these things in his head, things that one might call feelings. Feelings that are most definitely about Jemma.

The war between his ever -growing feelings for Jemma and for the desire to protect her and do his job as well as he can rages in his already suffering head. It consumes him. He can’t sleep at night for thinking of all the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘maybes’. The days off aren’t enjoyable anymore, they’re just monotonous. There’s nothing to distract him. Even Hunter’s not here; he’s made up with Bobbi and they’ve been playing catch up for those two days they weren’t talking ever since.

It’s a shame, really, because his best-friend being so in love makes Fitz want that, too, except he only wants it with somebody he cannot have. Nobody else he’s ever met has ever made him feel this way before. And he enjoys the daydreams and follows them as far as he dares, but it’s such a hard crash-land back into the real world when it’s all over.

Just over three years ago Fitz was in a car accident. A terrible, terrible car accident that robbed oxygen from his brain which, in turn, robbed him of the ability to do a lot of things he used to be quite good at. For months he could only speak in fragments of sentences, couldn’t draw a straight line and barely left his flat. He lost his job, his self esteem and really the only person he would speak to was Hunter.

He used to be an engineer and he used to draw schematics on napkins and post-it notes going spare. Now he’s a protection officer, a job that he got and kept because of Hunter. He used to stay up until the wee hours in the morning designing by desk lamp light. Now he gets headaches so badly he sees stars.

The point is that it’s been a long time since he’s had something worth actually living his life for. Or someone. And Jemma Simmons seems like someone worth living for. The problem is that there’s nothing that can be done about it, because he’s her protection officer and because she’s also someone worth dying for.

This isn’t as elegant as they make it out to be in all the books and all the movies. Love isn’t fulfilling and sustaining and joyous. Love, it seems, just sucks.

-x-

His jumbled-up thoughts do not leave him, and his brain feels like scrambled egg when he’s eventually allowed back to work. Nothing seems to help him and the constant headache behind his eyes makes him snap at everyone he comes across. He even snaps at Jemma, and while she says nothing, her reproachful look makes him wade further into his deep pit of misery to wallow.

It only gets worse at the end of the day. They pack up their things in silence, only communicating with a nod when they’re ready to leave. He feels Jemma’s questioning gaze on him on the drive back to the hotel, the searing heat of it burning his face. He manages to resist any compulsion to talk, and by the time they’re settled in their room they’ve barely spoken ten words to each other all day.

The room has a single bed and a double, and Jemma perches on the end of the double, a concerned look on her face as she follows his admittedly erratic movements about the room.

“Fitz,” she sighs eventually. “What is wrong with you?”

He ignores her, unable to answer, unwilling to. “We’ve only got the one room tonight, right?”

“Yes. We had to give up the other room. The hotel is fully booked for a conference for the next few days. This is the last room available.” She gives him a weak smile. “Lucky us.”

The hotel is a cheap one that people pay for because they need someplace to sleep or somewhere to hide scientists that are receiving death threats. It wouldn’t be his first choice for anything really, but his first flat with Hunter was worse so he summons his inner twenty-year old and resists screwing up his face in distaste. If he’s feeling like this, he can’t imagine how Jemma must be feeling.

Then he realisation hits him that he’s now facing a problem that Davis most certainly didn’t. He and Jemma are sleeping in the same room, in beds so close that someone could reach out and touch the other if they so desired. The cosmos must be well and truly against him.

“What bed are you wanting?” He asks, before realising that there are toiletries on the bedside table and a pair of pyjamas folded neatly on the pillow of the double bed.

“Oh, well I’ve been sleeping in this one,” Jemma looks down to where she’s perched, “but we can switch if you like? I don’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He waves away her offer. “You’ve already been sleeping there; it would be a bit cruel of me to make you change.”

“Yes, how perfectly awful of you,” she tries, but it sounds forced and neither of them really have the energy to pretend otherwise.

She’s sitting at the edge of the bed and he’s standing by the window and they have not a thing to day to each other. It’s as if the past few days he’s been away has turned them into perfect strangers. Even when she detested his presence they still had more to talk about. Fitz knows it’s his fault, knows that he’s driving this wedge between them. He hates it, he honestly does, but maybe this is the way it must be.

“I’m going to go get us some dinner,” he announces, needing to be free of this room, even if it’s just walking downstairs. “Is there anything you really fancy?”

Jemma shakes her head. “You know what I like.”

He nods and turns around but it’s too late - he’s already caught sight of her face and the wounded confusion in her eyes.

-x-

The situation doesn’t improve after dinner and they spend the hours before bed sitting on their respective beds doing their respective thing with the crappy hotel TV playing a Channel 5 horror movie in the background. It’s remarkably similar to the first night Fitz spent at Jemma’s house, and the parallel does not escape him. Last time they were brought closer together, but he has a feeling that this night might drive them irrevocably apart.

It reaches the hour where it’s acceptable to sleep and Fitz, who has been waiting for the oblivion all day, snuggles deeply underneath the thin duvet and waits for the pull of his eyelids. He waits and waits but the oblivion never comes. His irregular breathing echoes loudly throughout the dark room and keeps him awake, or at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s probably more something to do with the confusion in his head, all of the questions that keep flying about, the inability to tame his mind and thoughts into something manageable.

He listens for Jemma’s breathing, hoping that the regular inhales and exhales will soothe his jumbled brain and lull him to sleep. It’s a few seconds until he realises that hers isn’t regular at all. It’s out of place, like his; quickening and then slowing in the dark. He frowns.

“Jemma?” He whispers, just in case he’s wrong. “Are you awake?”

There’s a few seconds where his only reply is breathing and he wonders if he got it wrong, until she whispers back, “Yes. I can’t sleep. Why are you still awake?”

It’s not as if he can give her the real reason and no longer whispering but in a hushed voice he says, “Yeah, I can’t sleep either.”

“You’ve not been right all day, Fitz,” she tells him, and he feels the guilt swallow him head to toe. When he says nothing she gently sighs. “I want you to know that you can talk to me, you know. I want to help you with whatever is bothering you if I can.”

Oh if only she knew… Fitz is glad the room is pitch black so that his rapidly reddening face isn’t visible to give him away.

“It’s just… it’s nothing important. Not really, anyway. I just need to sort it out myself.”

“Okay,” she sounds unsure but resigned to the fact that she won’t be getting the full answer from him tonight. “But if you ever need to talk, I am here.”

“I know,” he says, “and thanks.” It’s a funny thing but he really does know, and it feels like he could tell her more than he could tell anyone else. But he has to be careful. This dark room feels so safe, invincible. This moment they’re living in a microcosm, a taste of what it could be but can’t ever be. It will kill him, afterwards, and yet he doesn’t want it to pass.

“So,” she says lightly. He deliberately keeps his eyes on the ceiling and doesn’t look across to his left, but he imagines her eyes shining brightly. “Since we’re both awake, what should we do?”

“Pft, I don’t know. Lie awake and watch the sunrise?”

“I think that might be a while away yet.”

It’s so dark that he can’t see his own hand in front of his face. Not even a streetlight shines outside the window and he concedes that the sunrise is, probably, some time off.

It’s quiet after that, the only sound their synchronised breathing echoing throughout the room. Fitz is wide awake now, unable and almost unwilling to attempt sleeping. There’s an electricity in the air, like the way it is before a storm. Something is coming, he’s just not quite sure what it might be.

“I’m sorry you’re spending the night here with me,” Jemma says at last. “In a questionably clean bed in a questionable hotel. All this time you’re spending with me, I hate to think I’m keeping you from somebody more important.”

And it’s on the tip of his tongue to say there’s nobody more important than you but of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know where the desire came from. Instead he manages to stutter out, “No,” he says quietly, feeling surprisingly at ease with the question. “There’s nobody at home except Hunter, who likes to think of himself as more important than he is.”

“That’s exactly who I meant,” Jemma laughs. “Hunter must not be happy that I’m always stealing your time.”

Hunter has surprisingly warmed up about the idea of Jemma, especially since she stayed with them and he discovered Fitz’s feelings about her. He even has a badly handwritten ‘plan’ of how to make it work between them. Perhaps a bit misguided at times, but he’s the best friend that Fitz could ever have. He owes him a lot.

“He’s fine, trust me. He’s got Bobbi.”

“It sounds like a fascinating love story.”

Fitz scoffs even though he doesn’t mean to. “Fascinating is definitely the word for it. This job was how he met Bobbi.”

“Really?”

“Yup. He used to do this and she used to be Secret Service. They met, there was some kind of shotgun wedding, she came to live here, they got divorced, she went back to America, then she came back and they decided to try again. Hunter quit this job, Bobbi quit hers and this is the way it’s been for the past year and a bit.”

“Oh wow,” Jemma breathes. He thinks he can hear her smile. “Quite the story. Do you think they’ll last?”

“Yeah,” Fitz hears himself saying, even though he would always say he thought the opposite. “I think they will. At the end of the day, they’re never gonna love anybody else the way they love each other.”

“Aw, Fitz!” Jemma gushes, and he feels himself rolling his eyes. He might have known she would like their story. “How sweet of you. I wouldn’t have thought you capable.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans. “Hilarious.” Then, being brave: “What about you? Anybody important at home?”

“You probably already know the answer,” she says pointedly. “But no, there isn’t.”

The bravado hasn’t deserted him this time. “How come?”

She sighs wearily and he knows it’s not from the late hour. “I don’t know, really. I could blame it on work, but truly I think there’s just nobody I’ve ever clicked with.”

And he must be feeling supremely brave because he asks, “Nobody at all?”

“Well there was Milton, but he suffered from a brussel-sprout-shaped head and the inability to have a single original thought.”

Fitz has read all about Milton and had thought his head had resembled more of a cabbage but each to their own. He hadn’t seemed like someone Jemma would have dated anyway. A nice guy from all accounts, but dull. He has a job in insurance now. Fitz decides not to divulge this information.

“I love my job,” Jemma admits quietly, as though it’s something shameful. “And I’ve always had trouble making it my second priority. At the end of the day people always let you down but science never has.”

“And you still believe that?” He asks. “Even now?”

“Even now.” He imagines her chin sticking out obstinately. In all this time they still haven’t looked at each other. “It’s not the fault of science that people can’t see its potential. Science just is. Facts are facts. It’s the way people misinterpret them and misuse them that are causing this whole bloody mess.”

In this job he has learned that people are disappointingly just people. They aren’t good and they aren’t bad, they just are, and it can sometimes be too much to expect them to have a higher thought process. It’s frustrating to learn, and maddening to find out that there’s nothing that can be done about it.

“People just judge you,” she continues. “They just take one look at who you are and what you do and listen to absolutely nothing that comes out your mouth.”

He feels his cheeks begin to burn, for in the beginning he did exactly that. In this moment where they are both baring their souls it seems like the perfect opportunity to atone for it.

“I judged you,” he admits quietly. “And I’m sorry. I mean you don’t know that I did that, but I did and I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry about it.”

He awaits the harsh tone but it never comes. Instead he hears her smile, and with it imagines the sparkle in her eyes. “I kind of thought you might have, but it’s alright, Fitz. You had every right. My father did abuse his position to get you as my protection officer.”

“I’m sure he was just worried about you,” he offers. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing in his position for my kid.”

She laughs but it’s not the harsh laugh he was expecting. It sounds decidedly sad. “He’s embarrassed by me. My whole life he has warned us, the whole family, not to draw any attention to ourselves, to stay in the shadows, and now with the leak and the news I’ve just done exactly the opposite.”

“Jemma…” he breathes, unable to bear the sound of unshed tears in her voice. “Shadows aren’t meant for everybody. He must get that.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Fitz. He hates things like this. His name, our name, being dragged through the mud. He’s ashamed of me; he wants to hush this all up and make it go away.”

“This isn’t your fault,” he reiterates, needing her to know this, to understand. “You made a good discovery that wasn’t ready to be made public. The weight of that doesn’t fall on your shoulders.”

“It does,” she whispers, and he thinks that this part might not be for him.

It goes quiet again, and he wants to claw back that former closeness, that moment that’s just slipped away. Risking it all, he turns on his side to face her, only able to make out her silhouette in the dark.

“You deserve to be happy, Jemma, and this job isn’t the only thing that’s out there. Today it might be your whole life, but tomorrow is always coming and there’s always something else. Trust me,” he says sincerely, “I would know.”

He sees her turn to face him, feels her hand stretching across the chasm between the beds. His finds hers immediately.

“I feel bad that you’re always making me feel better about things. But thank you, Fitz. Truly.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, squeezing her hand once before letting go.

They still can’t sleep and pass the remaining hours talking about everything that they haven’t before. Fitz confessed about his own father: a man he often wished would just go away but when he eventually did there was a hole deep down that never really got filled. He tells her about moving to London for university, about how he felt so out of place in that big, boisterous city that made Glasgow feel cosy and also very far away.

“And- and I was in an accident… a car accident. It, um, it changed things.”

His tongue sticks as it always does when he talks about it, but he feels her listening, her expectant gaze on his face, and it becomes a little easier to do so. So he tells her everything. About the headaches and the tremors in his hand and the way it took away what he loved. He tells her how Hunter was there for him through all of it, got him this job as a protection officer only to leave himself six months later because he’d fallen madly in love with Bobbi.

Jemma, in return, tells him all about her own parents. How she’s been provided for all of her life but her father was barely home and her mother expects so much from her only child that it’s exhausting in all ways. She admits how lonely she was when she was younger; she has no siblings and all of the other children in her classes were older and intimidated by her brain. She tells him that what she wants the most is for this to be over, to be able to go back to her normal life before all of this change.

“But, even when this is all over, I’d still like it if we could be friends?”

And Fitz, completely leaping over the lines, agrees that he would like it, too.

They talk and talk until the sun comes up and Fitz doesn’t even realise he hasn’t slept. He feels more alive than ever.

[club40audio]

The Olde Towen Buffet

I will be posting, Chapter by chapter, my #Lovecraftian #CosmicHorror #Horror Novel “The Olde Towen Buffet” If you enjoy what you are reading, I encourage you to get ahead of the curve and buy the complete book for $5 (Kindle, $15 in print), or read it #Free on #KindleUnlimited. Also this novel is written, edited, and corrected by me alone, I would be grateful to you #GrammarNazis if you would point out my missteps, and how to correct them in the comments. So that I can improve the #Kindle book. Respectful Criticism, is welcome. I am interested to know your thoughts Chapter by Chapter! (I will not be correcting the bad "returns" and such that seem to be happening as I copy and paste. If this is a problem for you, again, please read the book off of the Kindle book, where these problems do not exist.:) )

Prologue: 

He stood there in the darkness. The sound of chanting voices filling the chamber. He could feel the power pulsing through him, the same power that held him in place and made him unable to move, like a painless, paralyzing, electricity. This was it. This was what he had longed for all his life. He wanted this.  When the time came he would do anything for it. The changes had already begun to take place in him, and oh how wonderful they were. There had been no resistance. When the work was begun in him he hardly knew anything was happening at all… But soon it had been undeniable. Now he stood in the darkness as the flames danced before him casting his shadow on the wall. From somewhere off to his left, he heard the distant wailing cries of the woman he had once thought of as his wife; the woman who he once thought the most important thing in his puny existence. But now he understood so much more. Now he was part of something bigger.  Something... cosmic. She was nothing. Her sobbing would soon be silenced and no longer of any account. She cried his name over and over; pleading with him to break free, to come away with her, but freedom was an illusion, and it meant nothing without power. And this was power.  Her face was beaten and bloody, and seeing that might have once elicited some emotion from him, but now he was beyond such things. Let it happen. Let it come now. No more waiting.  He wanted it to be over. He wanted it to begin. He wanted the power; the strength. All the might which had been conveyed upon him this night was but a taste of what was to come. When he had fully given himself over, when the darkness was embraced, then he would know this strength a thousand-fold. He would do anything, give anything; be anything that was required of him, so long as he could have this.  He had always thought that if somehow this boon was bestowed upon him, that his first goal would be vengeance. He had been sure that he would hunt down all those who had wounded him every day of his life; his father first and foremost of all.  He remembered the plans he had for the boss at the job he had so recently been fired from; Mr. Williams. The man for whom he had worked for nearly fifteen years and who now had ruined him. His life and career were over, not only at his law office, but for all legal work.  He thought of hunting down the girls who had rejected him in High School and even the bullies of the playground.  Yes!  How they would have all paid for what they had done. Anyone who had ever laughed at him, or made him feel small. He would grind their bones to meal. He remembered when he was a child how nearly every day, they had circled him chanting, “Stubby Stanley! Stubby Stanley!” and “Fatty fatty, two by four, can’t fit through the kitchen door.” and the perennial favorite, “U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no alibi!”How they had guffawed when he couldn’t reach the monkey bars from the highest of the supports, let alone hold himself up as he tried to make his way from one bar to the next. Every time he would flop down in the hard-packed dirt below like a sack of moldy potatoes. Then his memories swirled round to the girls who had rejected him because he was shorter than they, and the slow agony he would have extracted from them. Even now when he was becoming something beyond any of their understanding, their words echoed and raced through his mind, solidifying his choice: _“What girl wants a guy they have to get down on one knee to kiss? Tony, now there’s a real man! Six-foot, two and he might get even taller!” __“Maybe I’ll let you take me out when the school has a “Date a Hobbit Dance!” “Do I look like my name is Esmeralda?  ‘Cause I sure ain’t walking around on the arm of no Quasimodo!”  _“Hey, short stuff! Get that ball from off the wall rack!” The coach had shouted at him, knowing he would have to climb up the rack to reach the only ball that was left at the very top. And when the rack had tipped over, as he knew it would, smashing him to the floor bruising his ribs, the coach had called out as the other boys laughed, “If you can’t get hold of a ball when it's sitting on a rack, how do you ever expect to play on my team? Get off the field, and don’t come back Short Stuff!” Then there had been his father: _“Look at him Natalie, he’s sixteen and he barely comes up to my chest! He’ll never bee any good at sports! He’s too small and weak for football. He’s far too short for basketball and he’s got zero hand-eye coordination! My only son is a runt! He’s not even good at academics! And here you are, mollycoddling him! He’s never going to amount to anything!”_  All this and more swirled about in his head, but now he had no thought for revenge, it was all behind him. So small and petty. Now he had worlds to conquer, soon all would bow before the might that was flowing into him. He could feel it coiling through him like a plant; like a vine, it was wrapping around his limbs and sinking into them, imbuing them with a virility he had never known, never could have known, but for the events of this strange night.  The sound of chanting in the darkness had ceased. Had it only stopped now, or was it some time ago? Trapped in a delicious trance of power and haze of remembrance he couldn’t be sure. But now the shadows on the wall were changing, were different, undulating with a light far stranger than any fire could produce. He knew, at last, the time had come. He was about to gaze upon his new master for the first time. He would joyfully submit. He would accept any contract, make any deal. This was all he had ever wanted. He felt the restraining power lift from him, and he could move once again. He lifted his eyes to see a sight that might have driven others mad. But to him it was beautiful. It was this one who had made a new life possible, and from somewhere deep inside himself, he heard his master’s voice speak his name for the first time.

1  “Doggone it!” Ally cursed, straining, stretching as high as she could, “Who built this place! Andre the Giant?” “No, it just wasn’t built for Gnomes.” Said her husband, effortlessly reaching up and taking down the suitcase, he had placed on the rack the night before, the handle of which had just evaded his wife’s grasp.   He handed it over to her as she huffed a begrudging, “Thanks.” And then mumbled, _“For nothing.” _Under her breath. Mark laughed, “Hey don’t hold it against me, I didn’t write your genetic code.” He flopped on to the bed, making the suitcase wobble, as his wife was reloaded it with all of her do-dads and whatnots that seemed so necessary for the care of her appearance. The trip was only going to last a week, but she seemed to have brought enough clothes for three. Then there were  the two extra, small suitcases, full of nothing but beauty care. The total of 4 suitcases had taken up all the space that was leftover in the trunk of Marks Chevy Malibu, once the small toolbox, jack, and four-way lug wrench were pushed to the side. Mark had to put his one small suitcase in the back seat. Now, three days later, they were on their way back from California to Chicago. They had spent the night in Aurora, about 35 miles south of Boulder. They were now only 17 hours from home. It would have been 15 hours, but a major road construction project had begun just after they had passed through on Route 76, on the way to California.   Already at 9 am, traffic was backed up.  According to the Mapping app on their phones, going back that way would have added nearly five hours to their trip. Mark had asked his wife to remind him to take route 70, in the morning so they could avoid that nightmare.  It came to her mind as she fit her curling iron and hairdryer back into the already cramped suitcase. “I wish we didn’t have to go around the construction, I hate Kansas.” “What’s the matter with Kansas?” asked Mark, “I love all that farmland, especially this time of year, just before the harvest. All those fields of green. It's beautiful.” “It's boring. Flat straight and goes on for what feels like forever! Did you know there are more single-vehicle accidents in Kansas per-capita than any other state? People get hypnotized out there driving on the roads alone, and when the road turns, they don’t. They go flying off into a ditch somewhere, and drown in a creek bed.” “Where did you read that?” Mark asked laughing to himself. “Oh on the internet somewhere…. Which reminds me I better check my phone while we still have service, I just know we’re going to get out there and lose signal.” “Our service plan covers 95% of the landmass of the continental US, according to the commercials.” “Yeah, and we are going to be driving right through that remaining 5%.” She said snapping the clasps on the suitcase into place, “I guess that’s everything.” “Don’t forget your make-up kit, Shawty,” Mark said, affecting an accent. Ally looked up and groaned. There, on top of the rack was her black plastic make up kit, with all her various blushes and brushes. “I’m never going to reach that. Why did you put it up there?” “Why did you even unpack it?” Mark replied, not moving from the bed, “When we were in LA, that made sense, you were getting all gussied up for the dinner. That made sense.” He repeated. “But last night you were getting ready for bed, and you took it out of your suitcase.  There’s nobody here but me, and you know you shouldn't wear makeup to bed. And then, you didn’t even use it.” “I was setting it out for the morning, I was planning to put my face on before we left, but I couldn’t find it.  I figured it had gotten buried in the clothes and I didn’t want to dig it out.” Ally said, annoyed. “Put your face on? For what? The drive home? You and me and miles and miles of corn?” He got up off the bed and moved toward her. “Besides I think my wittle munchkin looks so much better without her make-up.” He said affecting a “baby-talk” voice. She punched him in the bicep, hard enough to sting but not to truly hurt. “Ouch!” he said, playing it up. “Stop picking on my height. You know I’m sensitive about it.” “But you are just so cude!” He said, still in baby-talk, wrapping her in his arms, which from fingertip to fingertip of the opposite hand, were exactly 5 feet, 11 inches, perfectly proportionate to his height, “I wuv my Widdle Baby Wifey!” He picked her up and spun her around. “Stop that!” She said half laughing, “Put me down!” she said, even though he already had. “I may be only 5 feet tall but I’ll kick your butt anyway.” He laughed and reached up for the make-up kit, handing it to her. “Here you go Smurfette.” She ignored the jibe and reopened her make up suitcase, “Why’d you put it up so high?” “Because you had it on the sink and I needed to shave.  I didn’t want to ruin anything, with drops of water flying everywhere…. And I did that so you’d need me to get it down for you later… I have to remind you how much you need me every once in a while… Just in case you get complacent, or think you can do better.” Ally laughed, snapping the suitcase closed again, “I know I can do better, I’ve just grown accustomed to you.” “You know, that’s right.” Mark said with a toothy grin.

[awreckfics]

Day 2

Characters: Eponine, Courfeyrac

Prompt: brazen (it’s not really in the story, because it decided to take an other direction but it’s somewhat included)

...

“Can I be the next? Can I?” Courfeyrac raised his hand so violently, he almost hit Bossuet in the face.

“Okay, sure, choose a number” Grantaire nodded, then proceeded to shuffle through his papers to get to the appropriate question. “Uh, this will potentially be very awkward” he remarked.

“Ah, yes, read the question!” Courfeyrac leaned forward excitedly.

“Okay, you asked for it” Grantaire shrugged. “When did Eponine become friends with Courfeyrac?”

“Oh, come on, this one is easy! When you first brought her along to hang out with us and I ordered her seventeen-years-old self some alcohol as any responsible adult friend would do.”

“Ponine?” Grantaire turned to the girl sitting with her back against Bahorel’s at the other end of the room.

“Well, no. Actually, I rather disliked you at first” she shrugged.

“What? Are you even my friend, woman?” Courfeyrac faked a dramatic gasp, but he couldn’t fully cover the fact that he was slightly hurt by the answer.

“I think the fact that you are still alive after calling me woman speaks for itself” Eponine rolled her eyes, but a fond smile was playing in the corner of her lips.

“Fair enough” Courfeyrac nodded in agreement. “But why didn’t you like me back then? I was so nice to you. I was trying to make you feel welcome with us.”

“You kind of had the opposite effect, though. I mean the first thing you did when we met was going all creepy saying how young I was and how you will help me out and buy me something” Eponine explained.

“But you drank it” Courfeyrac pouted.

“Well it was a free drink after all” Eponine shrugged.

“Did you at least like it?” Courfeyrac continued, not even trying to cover his hurt anymore.

“Oh, come on, Courf, you have to admit a guy pulling you around a bar by your elbow, saying things like good old Courfeyrac will help you out, kiddo is a bit creepy” Eponine tried but when her words made Courfeyrac only shrink in on himself more, she continued with a sigh. “Come on, Courf! It doesn’t even matter anymore. I like you now. We are friends” she ran a hand nervously through her hair as she saw that Courfeyrac was still visibly upset and Grantaire was about to apologize, because asking this question seemed like a really asshole move in hindsight, when Courfeyrac finally looked up from staring at his knees.

“When?” he asked Eponine on a small voice. “When did you start to consider me as a friend then?”

“In the year I got custody over Gavroche.”

~~~

May 2018

Eponine placed her head on the table in front of her, hoping that the cold bartop would ease some of its throbbing. The letters on her computer screen were turning into unreadable smudges if she looked at them for more than a second anyway. Well, that much was to be expected, since she was running on three hours of sleep after getting home at one from a waitressing gig on a random event Grantaire had found for her and getting up at four thirty to get to one of her day jobs in the city centre by six.

She only needed to concentrate for a few more minutes, then she could take a quick nap in one of the café’s armchairs until Gavroche got there from school and then they could finally go home and from then on she only had to stay awake for an hour until Azelma got home, then she could curl up in her bed and sleep for twelve hours if she was lucky and nothing else came up. That sounded like a dream.

But right now, she needed to finish reading through her emails, since the only reason she was in that loud café at the first place, was to get access to free internet. And because Grantaire was working there that afternoon and that meant a free coffee for Ep. Even if it didn’t wake her up at the slightest.

She was about to open her eyes again and get back to reading, when Grantaire’s friends started laughing again at something Grantaire had said over the counter and Eponine’s headache re-emerged in full force.

She loved Grantaire, she really did but sometimes she wished he could just stop making his idiotic friends laugh for one stupid second. Okay, that wasn’t fair of her. Not all of Grantaire’s friends were that bad. Joly and Bossuet were decent, she even liked Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly and Musichetta and she, Combeferre and Enjolras were politely ignoring each other, which was totally fine by her. The only person that really irritated her was Courfeyrac.

Because even when it was plain and simple that his world was so far removed from the one Eponine was living in that sometimes she felt like they weren’t even speaking the same language, he didn’t seem to accept the uncoverable gap between them. He even seemed to be under the impression that they were friends, which was about the most irritating situation Eponine could imagine.

The laughter finally died down again and she could concentrate on the email in front of her again. It was from Montparnasse, saying that she could pick up an extra shift at the tattoo salon, because Joana was traveling to Switzerland. Third fucking time this month. Anyway, who was she to complain, she needed the money. Gavroche’s school trip shook their monthly budget a bit. She had no idea before that school took up so much money.

Right as she was about to send Parnasse a respond, the door of the coffee shop burst open and Gavroche entered, bouncing happily on his feet, not bothered at all by his bag that must have weighted at least five kilos. Eponine smiled in spite of her headache. Sometimes all she needed was seeing her little brother happy to remind her that there was a reason she was working herself to the bone. Seeing that Gavroche wasn’t dreading to go to school so much he spent more days wandering the streets of Paris than actually making it to class anymore. That now that he was with Eponine, who let him participate in after school activities and actually gave him money to buy gifts for secret Santa, he had finally managed to make good friends, who made him excited for going to school. So much so, that he hadn’t missed a single school day since October.

“Hey, Ponine” he greeted her happily as he climbed up to the bar chair next to hers. “We are celebrating Fathers’ Day with the parents at the first Friday of June in school.”

“Cool” Eponine nodded, opening her next letter distractedly. “I’ll be there.”

“But you aren’t my dad” Gavroche remarked.

“Would you like me to tell your real dad to come?” she snapped back. still paying more attention to the emails than the little boy. She just wanted to get it over with.

“No, but I thought you could maybe, get a boyfriend or something.”

“Am I embarrassing to you?” Eponine felt herself getting more pissed by the moment. She sure as hell didn’t sleep enough for this.

“No, but I’ve already told everyone that my father would be there and…”

“I won’t get a boyfriend for this, Gav, I don’t have time for that right now” she gripped the edge of her chair with whitening fingers. She needed to keep her temper in check, she didn’t want to shout at Gavroche but the whole boyfriend topic was a bit of a touchy topic for her on a normal day.

“But please Ponine! It doesn’t have to be anyone new. You could just ask one of the guys that pick you up in the evenings someti…”

“That’s enough!” Eponine broke, unable to contain herself anymore. “What I do with my evenings is none of your business. I’ll go see your Fathers’s Day show and if you want someone else there, you can talk Zelma into coming.”

“But…”

“If you say one more word you can go and live with your father again” Eponine shut him off.

“Fine!” her brother shouted as he jumped off of the chair. “I’ll just live on the streets then, because I hate both of you anyway!” he shouted back red faced from the entrance of the café, before he shut the door behind himself with a loud bang and ran down the street.

Eponine’s anger left her as if it was never even there, instantly giving space to her worries instead. She quickly pushed her computer into her bag, sent a quick glance towards Grantaire, who pointed desperately at the clock on the wall behind him, and right, he still had two hours of his shift and he was in alone that day. Doesn’t matter, it wasn’t his fault she screwed up anyway.

Eponine was already at the door when someone grabbed her arm before she could exit. She turned around to find Courfeyrac looking down at her with a sympathetic expression.

“What?” Eponine asked as rudely as she could, because she needed to go after her brother, and she needed to go right then.

“It’s just that you seem exhausted lately” the boy continued, though he seemed a bit less sure of himself than a moment before. “If there’s anything I can help with.”

“I don’t need help” Eponine stated drily as she pulled her arm out of the boy’s grip and hurried down the street after her brother, desperately trying to forget Courfeyrac’s words, because he noticed – and if he noticed, everyone else had noticed as well – that she wasn’t enough. And if he offered his help that meant he knew the thing Eponine was desperately trying to push out of her brain ever since she got custody over her siblings, that she would never be enough.

June 2018

Eponine took a quick detour to the bathroom of Gavroche’s elementary school to put on another layer of corrector under her eyes and fix her dark lipstick before she went on finding her brother. She always put on heavier makeup when she went to Gavroche’s school. She wanted the other parents to take her seriously, which meant she needed to look older than her age. It didn’t take a lot of time anyway and made a world of a difference in how the moms in Gav’s class addressed her.

Thankfully, she discovered as she entered the gymnasium where the celebration was taking place a few minutes late, the play hadn’t started yet. She even spotted Gavroche standing at the side of the room, talking to his teacher, so she made her way over there to let the kid know she had arrived.

“Oh, Eponine, you’re here, that’s wonderful” Gav’s teacher hurried to her as soon as she saw her approaching, which was rather unusual. Eponine had known the woman to be rather cold actually. “Do you know when your father will be here?”

“My fa…” Eponine stared at the woman in shock, then Gavroche caught her eyes behind his teacher, looking repentantly at his feet and she remembered their conversation from a few weeks ago. “Oh, I’m sorry but Gavroche’s father won’t be here today.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“He was never planning on coming” Eponine answered drily, watching closely as her brother visibly paled after her words.

“He was never… You brazen little div” the woman turned violently towards Gavroche, towering over him. “You said you will have your father will be here.”

“You wouldn’t have let me play the main role otherwise” Gavroche answered on a small voice, which made Eponine’s stomach twist. She should have known it was important for Gavroche to have someone he could call his father in attendance beyond wanting a dad there.

“I’ll never give you a main role ever again, you’ve just made sure of that young man” the teacher shot back. Eponine twisted her hands into fists behind her back. She was about to open her mouth to say something that would have probably got her banned from the ten-meter radius of the school, because no one should talk to her little brother in that tone. But before she could say anything, someone slipped past him and stopped at Gavroche’s side to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m sorry I’m late, I was coming as fast as I could” Courfeyrac said. The words died at Eponine’s throat as she looked over at the boy, panting slightly from probabl running there, but looking perfectly formal in his light blue shirt and expensive pants.

“You came?” Gavroche asked excitedly and if Eponine didn’t know him so well, she would have easily fallen for him and though Courfeyrac was invited all along.

“And who are you again?” Gavroche’s teacher straightened to give Courfeyrac a distrustful look over.

“I’m Gavroche’s father, Oliver de Courfeyrac” he held out his hand politely. “Okay, biologically, I’m his cousin” he leaned slightly closer as if he was telling a secret to the woman. “But I’m kind of a father figure to him.”

“Eponine didn’t mention you were coming” the woman tried to resist the boy’s charm with one last desperate attempt.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m sorry, did I cause some kind of inconvenience? It didn’t intend to” Courfeyrac managed to look genuinely terrified by the concept, which made any mistrustful thoughts vanish from the teacher’s mind.

“Oh, no, not at all. We haven’t started the show anyway. Why don’t you two find a seat until I get the kids in order?”

“That would be lovely” Courfeyrac gave the woman one last charming smile before he pulled the shell shocked Eponine after him to two empty seats in the back.

“What are you doing here?” Eponine asked as the play started and she was finally able to get her thoughts in order.

“I was really sorry for stopping you the other day. I realized that my timing was entirely wrong, and I figured I should make up for it somehow” he admitted, looking sheepishly at his knees in front of him. “Also, I wanted Gavroche not to feel left out today. He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is” Eponine nodded, turning her gaze towards the stage where Gavroche entered, wearing a purple bucket on his head for some reason.

“You raise him well” Courfeyrac added next to her. “Do you know why he has a bucket on his head?” he asked the next moment, genuinely confused, totally ruining their sentimental moment and Eponine couldn’t fight her smile any longer.

~~~

“Oh my god, Eponine, can I hug you?” Courfeyrac asked as Eponine finished telling the story, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Okay, fine” she rolled her eyes, but it didn’t take a genius to see that she was extremely touched by the boy’s reaction.

“Aw, come here!” Courfeyrac was on his feet in an instant, stepping over the amis in his way to pull Eponine into a deep hug. “It was totally worth missing that European Law seminar for the Fathers’ day then” he whispered into the girl’s shoulder.

“What?” Eponine pulled away suddenly to look Courfeyrac in the eyes. “You missed a lesson for it?”

“He had to retake EU Law next semester, because that was his fourth missed class” Combeferre chimed in from his place on the floor before Courfeyrac could dodge the question.

“What? You idiot!” Eponine hit him on the head rather forcefully before pulling him back into the hug. “Thank you” she whispered. “I’m glad you forced your friendship on me.”

“Me too” Courfeyrac whispered back, pulling her even closer. “Also, ouch. That hurt” he added, which led to the whole room breaking into laughter again.

First chapter || previous chapter

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

Before and After

Steve’s world is all about after the serum was given and after he woke from his time in the ice.  What if he was forced to live the before, even just for awhile?

This is inspired by @whumpitywhumpwhump post about asthma and how terrifying it is so I decided to write this little thing.  Well, it was supposed to be little anyways.

When Steve woke his room was dark and he could only see darkness outside his window as well.  He blinked heavily a few times and ran a hand through his hair to try and wake up a little more.  He remembered vaguely that the team plus Bucky had gone out on a mission that afternoon.  Hydra had been causing problems and as usual they were the ones to interfere before it got out of control.  

His heart stuttered in his chest.

This time had been different.  They had been expecting them to show up and almost eager to see them.  The fighting had been difficult, even for him and his beyond normal capabilities.  One of them had gotten the upper hand on him and before he could throw the guy twenty feet away from him he had been injected with something.  He remembered the fear that had shot through him when he realized a needle had pierced his neck.  The memories it brought back had been unpleasant to say the least.  

He had actually cried a bit when Bucky had found him frozen in place.

Whatever he’d been injected with must have knocked him out for the rest of the day and they had left him to sleep it off.  Steve smiled at his knees when he heard dishes being washed in the kitchen and slowly the hum of TV filtered in.  Not everyone had left him of course.  Buck would never leave his side like that.  Hell, he would probably leave him to fend for himself despite the fact that now he could lift almost twice his body weight.  

He made a displeased sound when he swung his legs over the side of the bed and the room spun for a moment.  How did they find something strong enough to still affect him after so many hours?  Bruce couldn’t even give him anything to last more than four, despite trying for months now.   He brought a hand up to his head and closed his eyes to try and get the world to stay still long enough for him to figure out what was going on.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Bucky slowly eased the door open and his face lit up when he saw Steve awake.  “You’ve been out for about nine hours.  It’s nearly midnight.”  He wasn’t so casual when Steve made another sound of alarmed displeasure and dropped his head fully into his hands as he hunched over the side of the bed.  He felt sick to his stomach in such a foreign way that it was almost frightening.  Since that serum he hadn’t been ill and nothing had really affected him physically.  His body had been through beating after beating and he had never felt this awful.  “Steve?”

“I’m…” Steve wanted to tell him he was fine, but fear was clogging his throat.  This was so stupid.  There was nothing to be afraid of.  HIs stomach being upset was perfectly reasonable when he’d been given a heavy dose of some drug.  “What did they drug me with?”

“Bruce didn’t have any conclusive results to tell us.  He figured it was some kind of tranquilizer to get you out of the fight.” Bucky knelt in front of him and had both hands on his knees.  “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Steve admitted softly as he swallowed a few times.  “That must of been one hell of a tranquilizer then.”

“You feel dizzy,” Bucky’s hand came up to brush through his hair and over the hands already cradling his head.  

“Dizzy and have a headache,” Steve confirmed as he tried to shake off feeling so off.  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He made to stand and immediately was weak in the knees.  Bucky hurried to catch him before he hit the carpet and Steve felt the fear increase.  What the hell was going on?

“Take it easy Stevie,” Bucky’s voice leaked of concern as well and he tried not to let it alarm him further.  “Let’s stay in bed, okay?  You hungry or anything?  You haven’t eaten all day so I’m sure you’re starving.  Tony brought up some sandwiches around dinner for you to have.  Or I can make you whatever you want me to.”

“Just stay,” Steve said in a voice that could barely be heard.  He tugged Bucky close and felt his eyes drift closed again.  The other man quickly got the hint to climb in bed with him and cradle him close.  

“You just need some rest, Doll,” Bucky told him softly with a soft kiss to his head.  “Today was a rough fight.  Nobody came back from that without a few bruises.  They came after you the hardest.”

“I don’t get sick,” Steve said quietly and felt his eyes sting.  What the hell was going on?  “I mean, ever.  After eight hours I should be healed just fine.  It was just some drug.  They didn’t even really hit me.  I spent four days with Tony when he had the flu and I didn’t get so much as a sniffle.  I feel… I feel funny.”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed him gently with a hand tangled back in his hair.  “Tomorrow you’ll be fine, okay?  Get some more sleep and the morning will bring a better day.”

Steve was too exhausted to argue that point so he let himself fall asleep and pretend that nothing weird was going on.  

He woke before Bucky the next morning and was relieved when his symptoms did seem to be better.  He felt a bit sluggish, but other than that he was fine.  He got changed for his morning run and made some breakfast for himself.  He was full after only three eggs, which was unheard of, but maybe it was part of his recovery.  He quickly put on some shoes and went outside for his usual run.  Soon enough he was on the familiar streets of the city and everything was fine again.  His fear had been for nothing after all.  

He thought that for about twenty minutes before the fear came back ten times worse.

He felt his chest getting tight about ten minutes into his run, but he figured his lungs just had to wean off the last of that drug and pushed on.  He could run for at least a couple hours before his body showed any sign of weariness.  He had made it almost to his familiar streets of Brooklyn when he passed a construction site where work was actively happening for a change.  He waved to the guys, too out of breath for a real greeting.  He slowed to a jog but that wasn’t enough for his body to catch breath again.  He started to cough as the tightness grew like a rubber band had been wrapped around him.  

He knew this pain.  He had had it so many times growing up on these streets with construction and all kinds of stuff in the air.  He could hardly walk to school without using his inhaler once back in the day.  He leaned a hand on a brick wall next to him as he seemed to be unable to suck in air to his lungs.  He felt like he couldn’t breath and like the dust was choking him.  This didn’t happen to Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America.  This hadn’t happened since coming out of the ice.  

The pain grew and his breathing got worse, bringing him to his knees.  The fear crashed over him in a tsunami tide now as he fought to suck in air.  He fumbled for his phone in his pocket and dialed the person he called the most.  

“Did you seriously go running after the night you had?” Bucky offered instead of a greeting.  “Nobody is going to blame you for laying in bed one morning of your life.  Super soldier or not you are allowed rest and relaxation.  I had plans for-”

“Buck,” Steve got out as tears streamed down his face.  He didn’t care what he looked like right now when he could hardly suck any air in and he felt like he was suffocating.  “Bucky.”

“Steve?  Hon, what’s going on?” BUcky’s voice turned sharp and serious in an instant.  “Are you alright?”

“I can’t breathe,” Steve choked out as panic crept over him as he said it aloud.  “Asthma.”

“Asthma?” Bucky repeated, bewildered.  “What the fuck?  Steve you don’t have-”

“Bucky,” Steve sobbed his name again as he clutched his chest.  

“I’m on my way to you,” Bucky assured him and Steve could dimly hear doors slamming as he made good on his promise.  “Stark can track you or whatever.  Take a deep breath Steve.”

Steve tried to and it hurt like hell.  His chest was burning and he was getting dizzy from lack of proper oxygen.  “Can’t.  It h-hurts.”  

“I know it does,” Bucky said, sounding in nearly as much pain as he was in.  He heard Bucky saying something frantically to someone else.  “We are on our way, okay?  I’ll see you in just a few minutes.  It’s gonna be okay I promise.”

Steve let the phone go limp to the ground and tried to hold onto the thought of Bucky coming soon.  He could get him through this if it was asthma.  God knew he had more than enough practice.  The number of times he had forgotten his inhaler as a kid was staggering.  He really had had no self-preservation skills.  

Loud footsteps gave him seconds of warning before both Bucky and Tony were in front of him.  He was having a full blown panic attack by now and his head was throbbing in pain.  Bucky didn’t hesitate a moment before maneuvering behind him and tugging him close to his chest.  

“Okay, okay Stevie I’m right here.  We got this down to a science now, hm?  Follow my breathing, okay?” Bucky’s hands were rubbing his shoulders gently as his chest moved slowly and deliberately.  

“W-why is this happening?” Steve gasped out as he tried to follow instructions.  The alarm wouldn’t leave him since it had been so long and it should be impossible for this to be happening at all.  

“Steve, we’ve got you, alright?” Tony said steadily.  “I may not have asthma, but panic attacks are my specialty by now.  We’ll get you through this.”

“I brought this,” Bucky showed him an inhaler that Steve had no idea existed.  The plastic was pressed to his lips and Steve felt a smidge of relief as the medication miraculously hit his lungs.  He coughed a few more times and it seemed to take forever for air to reach his lungs properly.  

Steve curled against Bucky’s chest as the pain ebbed away to a bearable level, though the fear was still there.  Tony was holding his hand and looking concerned and kind.  It was a surreal experience and he hated being seen crying like this.  He felt like a kid all over again and it wasn’t the best feeling.  

“Feel any better?” Tony asked quietly after long minutes of the three of them sitting on the sidewalk.  Steve nodded and squeezed his hand tightly.  “I’m sure that was terrifying.  It’s been decades since you had to go through that, right?”

“What is going on?” Bucky asked quietly as he rubbed his back.  “Steve doesn’t have asthma.  He doesn’t have even a hint of it.  He was out of it last night after the drugs had been his system for over nine hours.  Something weird is going on.”

“It looks like something they gave him messed with the serum,” Tony speculated as he rocked back on his heels and stood.  “Let’s get him back the Tower and away from the construction.  It’s probably what set him off in the first place.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Bucky warned as Steve tried to stand up on his own.  “You just worry about getting air into those lungs.  You need to take it easy until we figure this out.”  

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized softly as Bucky scooped him up in his arms.  A kiss was pressed to his temple softly.

“Darling, you don’t need to apologize at all.  This isn’t your fault,” Bucky assured him quietly.  

“I should have taken it easy.  Should have known something was off,” Steve said hoarsely before breaking into a round of coughs.  

“Take another puff of your inhaler,” Bucky instructed and already the Tower was in view.  He really hadn’t gotten far when he had collapsed.  Steve fell quiet and let his head rest on Bucky’s shoulder as they quickly approached the Tower.  This whole thing made him feel oddly helpless.  He could remember in the days when Bucky was constantly with him in case he got in trouble with other boys, or his breathing, or anything else he could find.  He would have died at least five times over if Bucky had never been his friend.  He had truly forgotten how terrifying asthma attacks were until now.   He didn’t want to go back to those times now that he knew a world where breathing was done without thinking.  How could he be an Avenger with asthma?  Without the serum who was he in this new world?  He had had a hard enough time finding a place in it as a superhero.  What use would he be as just peaky Steve Rogers?

He was quiet as Bucky settled him in a bed and Tony went to see if Bruce was free to see him.  He felt small now and he wasn’t used to feeling that way.  He had become so used to being the guy that saved the day time and time again.  Of feeling useful and powerful for a change.  

“Steve,” Bucky said as he sat next to him on the bed.  The quiet rumble of his voice caused the tears to come back as Steve realized that his hero days could be over and he would go back to being nobody again.  It wouldn’t matter so much except all of his friends were on the team now.  He had nobody outside the Avengers.   A hand came up to cup his cheek as a thumb wiped away his tears.  “What’s the tears about, babydoll?”

“What if Captain America is over?” Steve asked in a quivering voice, staring at the white sheets.  “What if I’m not a hero anymore?”

“I’ll sleep a ton better,” Bucky muttered as a joke, but it fell flat when Steve didn’t so much as smile.  “So what if you aren’t a hero?”

“My whole life is here,” Steve said miserably.  “I don’t have a place out there.  If I have to leave I don’t have anything.  I don’t even know where I’d live or-”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted him and made their eyes meet.  “Nobody in this tower loves you because you can throw cars around, alright?  If whatever Hydra did to you really did take away your powers nothing will change with anyone here.  Your home is here, with me for good.  Okay?”

“Why would you ever question if you belong here?”  Tony cut in as he stepped in the room.  “Capsicle, you’re stuck with us no matter what goes on.  That much I can promise you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know that,” Steve muttered as he held Bucky close.  

“Let’s get some answers, yeah?” Bruce cut in as he shrugged on his coat and stepped into the room

It didn’t take long to conclude that Hydra had indeed tried to mess with his powers.  They were trying to take them out from the inside instead of fighting them.  Steve was their first target.  He wasn’t sure if he was horrified or honored by that.  Bruce, genius that he is, had a plan to get him back to full strength, but it seemed like he would have to lay low for a few weeks.  Steve already had a feeling the number of missions were about to increase dramatically in that time.  

But he would come back stronger than ever sooner than they’d think.