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hellodropbear · 3 months ago

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it's time. (II)

mapi leon x daughter

yay for part II! (part I here)

trust even i'm surprised that i finished this over the weekend (definitely should not have because I definitely have too much uni to be writing this)

hope you enjoy !!!!!!

~~~~~~

It was an unfamiliar sight, Mapi in the training kit. She frowned at herself in the mirror, still not entirely sure that this was the right decision. It felt unfamiliar too. The sleeves were tighter than she remembered and the shorts fell lower than they used to.

Even Isabel seemed to notice something was off with her mother, clinging to her all morning and providing her with more hugs and kisses than Mapi could have asked for.

"Go out?" The toddler was confused, clearly. It wasn't often that they left the house straight after breakfast time, but she knew they were leaving because she was dressed up in her special red and blue shirt and her Mami had brushed her curly hair back into a ponytail, clipping any stray hairs back with her favourite fluorescent clips.

"We are going to training today, Is. Mami is going to play with your Ale and Leila from yesterday!" She mustered on a smile as large as she possibly could, trying to hide her anxieties and fear from the child and instead busying herself with slipping on her socks and some baby adidas sneakers.

"Patri? Pina?" She frowned, wracking her brain for the other names. "Jenni?"

Mapi nodded. "Yes, with them too-"

"Ingrid!" Isabel beamed. "She pick me up!"

"Ingrid will be there, I'm sure."

The toddler laughed in delight, standing up from where she was sitting on the floor, her shoes and socks successfully on her feet. It was only when Mapi stood up too that she charged into her mother's legs, wrapping her arms around them in a big hug.

"Don't be sad, Mami!"

"I'm not sad, Is." She picked her up easily, grabbing both their bags for the morning and walking out of the apartment. "I'm excited!"

It wasn't a long drive to the training centre, maybe half an hour. Isabel was easily entertained in the back, her lion captivating her in ways Mapi didn't think she would ever be able to comprehend.

But the 30 minutes was over too quickly and before she knew it she was walking back through those doors and into the changing rooms. She was early on purpose, wanting to avoid all the attention on her as she walked in also and wanting to meet the babysitter that the club had found to watch her daughter as she trained.

"She's 14 months old, she is smart though. She can say around 30 words and has a really good memory. She can walk well, climb up stairs if she's given the chance so please don't leave her alone near any steps because she is more than likely to fall."

The young looking girl nodded, her eyes flicking to the list she was given.

"She eats at 12?"

"Usually. There is a lunch box in her backpack, just start with the stuff labeled 1 and 2, then keep feeding her until she refuses. Usually she'll eat all the food offered, but if she doesn't want it, don't force it. Don't let her sleep if she gets tired because she naps at around 2 which is when we'll get home and I don't want to mess up the schedule."

The blonde nodded as Mapi looked her up and down, clearly judging whether she was good enough to look after her precious child.

She hesitated.

"Have you ever been arrested?"

The girl, maybe 18 years old, looked at her in confusion.

"No?"

"Where you a high school bully? Homophobic? Racist? Anything?"

She shook her head.

"No, no. The club hired me, I have all my qualifications and plenty of experience. I had to go through two interviews for this. I'm from the preschool just up the road, we volunteered and then had to go through a long process to be hired by this club. I promise, I'm a good person."

Mapi nodded, still seemingly unconvinced.

"This baby is everything to me. Ok? If a single hair on her head is missing or harmed, I know where to come looking."

She held the baby tight, not wanting to let go and the girl's eyes widened, cracking her knuckles out of anxiety.

"Mapi!"

Both Mapi and the babysitter's heads whipped towards the door, Alexia striding in and standing beside her shorter friend.

"Leave her alone!" She shook her head, before looking towards the girl in front of her and sticking out her hand. "Alexia. What's your name?"

"Camila. Nice to meet you." She smiled uneasily, still hyperaware of Mapi's judgemental eye despite Alexia's sharp words and nudge in the side.

"Nice to meet you too, Camila." She turned back to Mapi. "It's time to say goodbye to the pequena and go over to training. Jonatan just asked if you were actually coming back today or if he misheard because you're late. Don't restart that trend of being late every day, please." Alexia's was balancing on a fine line between desperation and leadership, Mapi well aware that she was trying her best to not be completely overbearing and bossy.

Mapi rolled her eyes, taking one last glance at the increasingly more nervous babysitter in front of her before looking back down at the clueless baby in her arms. She planted soft kisses all over her head, trying to avoid the tears from springing to her eyes.

"Ok, my Is. Mami loves you so much and I'll see you so soon. Be good for Camila for me, yeah?"

The baby smiled excitedly, clapping her hands.

"Mami!"

She wrapped her arms around Mapi's neck, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek and patting it once she had moved away.

"I love you, Mami."

"I love you too, Is."

She blinked away the tears as she passed the small child over into the arms of the stranger, trying to ignore the look of confusion that crossed her daughter's face as she handed Camila the backpack.

"Mami? Where go?"

"I'll see you very soon, my love." She struggled to look at her daughter as she spoke, worried that she would burst into tears and prevent her mother from leaving.

The centre back kissed the crown of Isabel's head as the emotions washed over her, promising she would be back soon and that everything would be ok. Isabel seemed to understand well enough, looking up at Camila with curiosity, poking at her face with her chubby fingers.

"Everything will be ok, Mapi. I promise."

Mapi nodded at her babysitter, leaning into the comforting arm that Alexia had placed gently over her shoulder.

"Thank you, Camila." Alexia spoke for Mapi, sensing her friend's emotions. "We'll see you in a couple of hours."

It was only when they left the room that Mapi allowed a single tear to slip down her face, quickly brushing it away to try and hide that she had become so emotional.

"It is stupid." She shook her head, looking away from Alexia.

The midfielder was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide the best way to deal with this unfamiliar and uncomfortable situation.

"It is not stupid. She is your daughter, you are worried, this has never happened before. It is normal to feel this way."

Mapi shook her head, sighing softly.

"I have never had a babysitter for her before. You are the only person who has ever taken care of her without me there."

Her voice broke at the admission and she finally turned to make eye contact with Alexia.

"What if she hates it? What if she needs me and I'm not there for her?"

The midfielder didn't respond, almost certain that Mapi wasn't done talking; that these were rhetorical questions.

"What if it doesn't work out and she needs me for the rest of her life? What if I can never come back to football?"

Alexia sighed softly, Mapi's voice fading out a clear indicator that she was finished.

"Maria, you can't worry about things that haven't happened yet. You will figure everything out, I will help you." She lead the centre back towards a seat, subtly texting Jonatan that they'd be a few extra minutes late. "Isabel is a good girl. She will be good for Camila and she will be happy to see you in a couple of hours. And if not, we can figure something else out, we can find a new babysitter, we can think of something else."

The centre back used the heel of her hands to rub at her eyes aggressively, sighing and leaning into Alexia's embrace.

"I just worry that I'm not doing everything right for her. I want it all to be perfect because if Luis was here, her life would be more than perfect. He would have been such a good dad, and I can't even give her that."

The brunette observed Mapi carefully, using her thumb to gently wipe away the few lone tears that remained beneath her eyes. It was a topic that had come up often, Mapi's insecurities in comparison to her friend, but it was a topic that Alexia still struggled to talk her friend out of.

Because of course Mapi is a great mother, but Luis would have been a great father too. Mapi knows that more than anyone so Alexia can't just say that they will never know if it's true or not.

It would be an insult to Luis' memory.

"Just because you don't have that picture perfect family does not mean you are doing anything wrong, it doesn't mean you're a bad parent. Isabel is happy, she is smart and she loves you. It's all you need. And yes, Luis would have been a great father but there is a reason that he trusted you to have her. Biologically, Mapi, she is yours. Luis wouldn't have agreed to spending all that money if he thought you were a terrible person with bad morals, bad decision making and not a maternal bone in your body. You just have to believe he would have trusted you with her life. Everyone else does, it is just you that struggles to comprehend it."

Mapi was silent but Alexia hadn't expected a response. Maybe in a few days when she had time to think about the midfielder's words, which Alexia was sure she would; she always did. But they were so meaningful - her words, too meaningful to be able to come up with something to say right on the spot.

"Thank you, Alexia."

~~~~~~

Surprisingly, training went well. It took five minutes and a splash of water to the face for Mapi to face the team in the gym, but it took less than 10 minutes for her to forget about all her issues once she started training.

The gym work was stuff she had been doing for a year alone, but as soon as they headed outside and started playing, Mapi realised how much she had actually missed the sport. It was a part of her, she realised, and maybe she had been so down because she had been missing it for so long.

She was practically flying up and down the field, blocking shots, dominating rondos and shooting free kicks far out of the box.

It was like she was on a high, nothing would bring her down; nothing could slow her down.

And Mapi couldn't have been happier.

Alexia watched with pride as she slowly reverted back to the person she once was, boisterous, excited, happy. She was becoming the person that the midfielder had missed for almost a year and a half; the person she knew before her life was flipped upside down and shattered into a million pieces.

The person that Alexia had prayed every night to see again.

She hadn't lost any skill either, still the fierce defender who would put her body on the line if it meant preventing a goal and the entire team was shocked. Excited, maybe, to have one of their best players back after a slightly disappointing season. It definitely wasn't a secret that they had missed their key centre back.

Mapi was thrilled. Excited, over the moon. She couldn't believe how good just one session with the team made her feel, the complete antithesis of how she was feeling when she broke down to Alexia, in doubt of everything she had done over the past 14 months. It felt like the beginning of her life falling back into place and she almost drunk with happiness and pride as she sauntered back into the changing rooms.

She was the last one in, chatting away to one of the technical analysts about something entirely unrelated to football, so she was expecting a half empty changing room, most people heading out quickly or showering after the somewhat gruelling session.

What she didn't expect was for everyone to be standing and waiting for her, beginning to chant her name as she entered.

The tears that sprung to her eyes were happy this time, finally feeling like she was out of the long and dark tunnel, lost and confused with not a clue how she was going to get out.

But like most tunnels, the way out was right in front of her. So obvious but so frustratingly challenging to reach, such a long journey required to get there.

"Calma, calma!" She laughed as tears filled her eyes, a single pair of arms pulling her into a hug that was quickly joined by the rest of the team. "Vale. I love you all so much."

"Ah Maria gone soft!" Leila's teasing voice was easily distinguishable over the rest of the cheering and Mapi could only slap her lightly on the side as the hug dissipated. "I am joking, Mapi, of course I am."

Leila smiled too and it was then that Mapi noticed her glistening eyes, and when she looked around the room, she noticed the same thing in a lot of her long-term teammates.

"It is a family, Maria. Everyone is right there waiting for you to let them in."

"Everyone is there for you, Mapi. They love you."

"They were all so proud of you when they came yesterday, they can't wait for you to come back."

"They asked about you over the weekend, they want to know how you are doing."

"They want to meet Isabel, but they're worried that she's so small that they'll hurt her accidentally. They said they really wanted to visit you though, so long as I hold the baby."

Everything that Alexia had said to her about her teammates rushed through Mapi like a warm stream, emotions floating through the gushing water until Mapi was a crying mess in her cubby, completely aware of where the sudden emotion had come from.

Because the midfielder was right, they were a family and Mapi did have their support. Even though she asked them to stay away, even though she ignored them for months.

They were still there for her and the centre back knew that she would be there for any one of them if the roles were ever reversed.

Because they are a family and the love each other like sisters.

Alexia's arm was around her again, the familiarity a fire blanket on the emotions that were blazing through her.

"Are you ok, Mapi?" The midfielder knew the answer to her question before she even had to ask it, but blinked away her own tears as she watched her friend fall apart.

She wasn't used to an overload of emotions when it came to Mapi, usually just experiencing her naturally upbeat nature. She was never much of a crier, usually going numb immediately at any tragic or disappointing news, hiding her emotions to anyone around her and only breaking after she was sure she was completely alone.

She still was like that, but with Alexia it's different. Alexia is her best friend and has seen her through so many highs and lows of life that she is entirely familiar with Mapi's sporadic emotions.

Her tears in the locker room were not expected, but they did not come as a surprise to Alexia. Because the past months, full of challenges, of sadness and grief have lead up to this moment of pure and unbridled joy, something the midfielder had been desperate to witness for so, so long.

There are of course be hiccups, bumps in the road and dips on the rollercoaster still to come. It still would not be an easy road for the centre back.

But for now, she was on a high and that was all that mattered.

She had found herself again, out there on the field, right where she belongs.

"I am just so happy, Ale."

~~~~~~

"Isabel!" The small toddler's head whipped up to the door, spotting her godmother at the door, beaming as the midfielder strode towards her.

"Mi Ale!" She stood up from where she was sitting, waddling towards Alexia and wrapping her arms around her legs until the brunette reached down and picked her up, balancing her easily on her hip.

"How was she?" Alexia's attention was on Camila briefly, as the blonde stood up, a sheepish smile on her face at being caught doing role play with a toddler.

"Good!" The blonde nodded, only continuing at Alexia's silent request. "She was very well-behaved. We did some drawing, we played with toys, we played with blocks. She ate all the food she was offered and I think she is almost ready for a nap."

Alexia nodded, her attention back on Isabel.

"You had a good day, Is?"

She nodded giddily.

"Camila says I can come back again soon!"

"I'm sure you will." Alexia looked back up at the blonde who held out the small backpack. "Thank you, Camila. Mapi will be very grateful."

"It's no problem. She's an absolute pleasure."

Alexia smiled, telling the baby to wave goodbye and watching as she did so, before walking back out the door and towards the locker rooms.

"Where Mami?'

"We're going to see Mami now."

Isabel babbled away incoherently as they wandered through the facility until she spotted her mother in the locker room, excitedly poking at Alexia and gaining Mapi's attention.

"Mami! Mami!"

Mapi's head whipped up and her face dissolved into a smile, standing up and striding towards her daughter, easily plucking her from Alexia's arms.

"Hello my Is! I have missed you." She placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head as the child wrapped her arms around Mapi's neck.

"Mami!"

Mapi chuckled at her daughter's inability to say much else, instead just holding her close, grabbing her own bag and the small backpack from Alexia and heading out to her car, the midfielder close behind.

"So I assume you're coming back tomorrow?"

Mapi looked at her friend like she was stupid, a soft smirk on her face as she finished strapping Isabel into her seat.

"Of course I am. I'm back, Alexia. I think for good."

"I'm proud of you." She stood awkwardly, leaning on the side of the car, watching the blonde fuss over her daughter.

"I wouldn't be here without you." It was clear that Mapi was becoming emotional again and was trying desperately to not let herself fall apart again.

Alexia could see that, so she didn't do anything else or say anything else. Mapi was happy and that was all that mattered in that moment.

"Drive safe."

Mapi looked at her again, the same look of amusement at her friend's statement.

"I always do."

Alexia rolled her eyes, waving goodbye and walking over to her own car, her eyes still on Mapi as she got in. She was emotional herself after the training session, finally realising that her friend was slowly coming back to her.

It was after Mapi had driven away and Alexia was sure that she wouldn't be seen that she allowed the tears to fall freely.

It was relief, really. She was relieved that Mapi and Isabel really were going to be ok.

~~~~~~

Isabel was asleep in the back of the car by the time they arrived back home, and Mapi was able to carry her upstairs and into her cot without her stirring at all.

It was only after she had finished up with some household chores that the baby monitor went off, soft garbling coming from the nursery.

"Hello there Is!" She cooed at the groggy toddler, lifting her up out of the cot and rocking her gently.

She quickly ate the snacks she was offered, still sleepy when Mapi placed her into the stroller and headed outside and downstairs for their afternoon walk.

"Where do you want to go today, Is?"

The toddler looked up when she heard her name, shifting from her comfortable position, arms wrapped around her lion toy.

"Leon! Mi Leon." She held it up to Mapi and roared quietly, laughing at herself when Mapi smiled down to her.

"Your lion." The mother confirmed, leaving the lift and walking through the foyer of her apartment.

They were walking out when she heard someone calling her name, turning around quickly to see the pretty new signing, Ingrid Engen, walking towards her and leaving two large suitcases behind.

"Ingrid?"

"Do you live here?" The Norwegian was smiling as she spoke, although Mapi could hardly tell whether she was actually smiling or if her face was permanently set in the positive expression.

"Yeah. We live on the 6th floor." Mapi nodded, smiling but avoiding eye contact with the gorgeous brunette. "Do you?"

"I'm moving in today. 4th floor."

Mapi's heart had been steadily increasing ever since she heard her name, but at those words she thought it may stop right then.

"We're just heading out on a walk, if you wanted to come."

The Spaniard didn't know why she was asking, but the words just came out. She could feel her face flushing as she spoke but the Norwegian just made her feel so unbelievably nervous.

Ingrid looked down at her bags, then back up at Mapi. She blushed, smiling sheepishly.

"I would love to. I'll just run these upstairs if that's alright?"

Mapi nodded, moving towards the seating on the right to sit down and wait, her head in her hands as she went through all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

She didn't even know Ingrid, yet the midfielder made her feel a type of way that she hadn't felt in a very long time. She seemed so calm and so kind, someone that Mapi so desperately needed, yet refused to admit it.

Because she didn't have time to be a girlfriend. She was a mother first, then a footballer. Having a partner just wasn't an option, not when she was so busy with her current occupations, not when she already felt so guilty for handing her child off to a babysitter every time she needed to do her job.

She looked up at the sound of the elevator arriving, standing up when she saw Ingrid and pushing her pram over towards the door.

"So, congratulations, Mapi!" The Norwegian beamed and the Spaniard looked at her in confusion which prompted her to elaborate. "Today... you had your first session back since Isabel. That's what the others said, why they were all so excited."

"Oh. Yeah." Mapi grimaced. It wasn't something she was particularly happy about, considering she gave birth over 14 months ago and only just went back to team training. "I'm glad to be back, I definitely missed it."

"I can imagine." Ingrid smiled as they crossed the street, the setting sunlight catching her eyes and causing them to sparkle, something that didn't go unnoticed by the Spaniard. "It can't have been easy."

Not wanting to get into that now with someone she barely knew, Mapi changed the subject with ease.

"Where do you want to go? We usually just go down to the park and have a bit of a play there, but we can go somewhere better if you'd like?"

Ingrid shook her head.

"We can go to your park today and then somewhere else another day! I'm sure that your daughter wouldn't appreciate someone coming in and changing her routine." The Norwegian continued to smile, and Mapi became more and more sure that her face was always set in that grin.

She chuckled lightly at Ingrid's words, shaking her head.

"She wouldn't care in the slightest. As long as she has somewhere to run and play with her lion, she's happy."

"She's adorable."

Mapi knew. She knew she had a cute kid, one that people in the supermarkets would rush over to coo at. But her kid was so much more than that because she was smart and she was so loving. She had an excited personality and was full of so much joy that Mapi would wonder where it was all coming from.

She loved her child from the moment she was placed in her arms, but the excited and joyful person that Mapi was known as had been lost since her friends were killed in that car accident.

Isabel reminded Mapi so much of her old self, but she didn't know where it could have come from. The baby’s joy and excitement about the world was the complete antithesis of Mapi's overwhelming grief, fear and confusion.

And she knew that if it wasn't for the small baby that she loved more than anything else in this world, she probably wouldn't have made it through the death of Luis. Definitely not.

But Mapi didn't tell Ingrid all that, instead just nodding in silent agreement.

"She's a good girl. She's good for her Mami." The Spaniard looked down at the small toddler whose eyes were slowly drifting again. "She's always sleepy after her nap, then she'll be wide awake for a while at the park and usually will fall asleep on the way home. I'll wake her up when we get back, we'll eat dinner and then she likes to cuddle after dinner and that's when she'll fall asleep for the night and I put her down."

Ingrid laughed quietly.

"Very established routine?"

Mapi blushed furiously, smiling with a sheepish expression.

"The baby books all said routine was good. We fell into one and it's easy. She's easy. You know I took her to my paediatrician when she was 5 months old because she never cried?" Mapi laughed quietly. "I was so worried and searched up why and it was so scary that I took her."

Ingrid laughed alongside the Spaniard.

"What did your doctor say?"

"She said that Isabel's happy, that I'm doing a good job and that I should never use google to find out what's wrong with her." She scoffed. "That’s why I had to start reading things up in the baby books!"

Their laughter dissolved into easy conversation as Mapi lead them down the street, letting Ingrid do most of the talking, listening intently as she raved about her home, her family. She told Mapi that Norway was filled with countless fjords and mountains, lakes and rivers that gave the country soul, spirit and wonder. She said it was a hidden gem, the most beautiful thing in the world.

But Mapi disagreed, because how could anything be more beautiful than the girl that was stood beside her. Her eyes widened as the thought flashed through her mind, instantly averting eye contact and subtly shaking her head at herself.

She was like a 12 year old on her first date with their crush, and she cringed at the painful awkwardness that she made up in her head.

Ingrid listened as Mapi spoke about her home, back in Zaragoza where her parents and brother still lived, the Norwegian enthusiastic about visiting the Spanish city and immersing herself in the new culture.

Mapi listened as Ingrid complained about missing her cat and dog at home, and the Spaniard told her that she could meet Bagheera as a temporary substitute.

It was easy for both of them, despite the language differences. Light conversation fell lightly in English, google translate only proving useful a handful of times, though Mapi emphasised that Isabel could barely understand her first language, let alone English.

The sun was well and truly setting as they arrived at the park, Mapi laying out the rug and pulling her daughter from the pram right under one of the street lights that would prove useful in half an hour.

"Mami!" The girl squealed when her mother's face was finally in front of her, her eyes lighting up as she was placed on her feet, Mapi crossing her legs and sitting down beside her.

"Is, you remember Ingrid from yesterday?"

The baby nodded shyly, moving back towards her mothers arms, nudging her face into the crook of Mapi's neck.

"Don't be nervous, my lion cub! Remember, we are brave at heart."

"Lions, Mami." Slowly, her face peeked out from it's hiding spot, waving and smiling shyly at the Norwegian who waved back, a soft smile on her face.

She slowly moved towards Ingrid, holding out her lion toy and making a lion noise.

"She wants you to copy her." The Norwegian smiled at Mapi who had supplied the useful information, roaring softly at the small girl who giggled loudly and pulled the lion toy back into her arms.

"soy leon!" Ingrid couldn't understand Spanish, but somehow she knew what the toddler was implying, nodding happily as Isabel continued to babble in incoherent Spanish, entertaining herself by rushing between the two footballers who sat on opposite sides of the mat.

The distance became shorter and shorter, however, as the two footballers inched ever so slowly towards each other, their voices softening as the sky became darker and the space between them smaller.

The curly haired toddler fell exhaustedly into her mothers arms, dropping her lion beside her and cuddling up towards her mothers neck, successfully ending the ongoing conversation between the two adults.

"You are tired, mi amor?"

Instead of answering, she yawned loudly from her comfortable spot in Mapi's arms, Ingrid laughing softly at her tired face.

"I think it's time to head home for some dinner, if that's alright?" Mapi shifted nervously as she stood up, unsure if she should offer her hand to help Ingrid also.

Luckily for her and her decision making, the Norwegian stood up and picked up the blanket before Mapi had finished her internal debate.

"Of course!" Ingrid flushed crimson, her mind and body brought right back down to Earth, the floating feeling slowly evaporating as she folded up the blanket, an uncomfortable silence falling over the duo.

Mapi was right in her prediction that Isabel would fall asleep as they walked home, and Ingrid laughed as she noticed that the girl had passed out almost instantly when she was placed down in the pram, tucked into a blanket and hidden away from the rest of the world with a scarf that Mapi used as a makeshift curtain.

The walk home went quickly and the trio were back in the brightness of the apartment complex before they knew it.

"Thank you for taking me with you this evening." Ingrid smiled gratefully, pulling Mapi into a soft hug.

The Spaniard tried to stop herself from melting into those strong arms, but she was rendered speechless, her heart rate sky rocketing and her eyes closing.

She regained her vocal abilities once the hug broke, clearing her throat awkwardly and averting her eyes. Those green eyes were too much for the Spaniard, they made her palms sweaty and her heart beat too fast for her liking, so she resolved to just not look at them.

"It's no problem. Thank you for keeping me company. It was nice to talk to someone whose entire vocabulary isn't just limited to 'Mami' and 'lion'."

Ingrid laughed, and Mapi realised again that the sound of her laugh had the same effect on her as those sparkling eyes.

As they said goodnight and retreated to their own rooms, Mapi also realised she was well and truly fucked.

Because she couldn't date, there was no time.

But she had fallen for the Norwegian, hard and fast, and she didn't think there was much she could do about it.

"Your Mami is so silly, Isabel!"

~~~~~~

yay finished

I haven’t done much romantic writing so I’m worried that this will be painful for everyone to read (like it was for me) but let me know what you think!

if you have any requests please let me know, i will either add them in or write something about them at some other point (i have seen the ones that have been sent in and i will be writing them, just have to go through planning stages first)

i also was inspired from the olympics and have written a blurb of isabel as a teen competing in a sport (5 cents to anyone who can guess which sport) so please let me know if you'd be interested in reading it hahahah

and also let me know if you see any mistakes because i edited this all in one go and was too lazy to do a final read :)

(in summary, let me know)

have a nice day x

#mapi leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #woso imagine

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gemstone-roses · 1 year ago

Text

I've got you

Geralt x Reader

Summary: geralt comforts you in the middle of the night.

Warnings: general anxiety themes, anxiety attack, fear, bit of sad, crying. Fluff. Bit of Size kink if you squint (whoops) can't help myself can I.

Huge hurt/comfort vibes, I need it okay.

Note: I'm having a bad week okay,🫠 reblogs and comments much appreciated ❤️ reminder this blog is 18 plus and so are all my works, including the sfw ones.

Hope this helps someone if they need it 🖤

Flames dance in front of you. The heat from the fire the three of you had made at your camp that night had stopped feeling warm a while ago.

Jaskier slept soundly in his sleeping bag by a tree, the dense forest you found yourselves in provided more than enough safety for you to rest for the night.

And of course, geralt too.

He sits opposite you, legs spread wide, hands falling in-between them. He's keeping watch for any danger.

You wrap your arms around yourself. Habit, when you feel like this.

You'd felt it coming when you woke this morning. It starts in your throat, your chest.

Jaskier struggled to get on his horse this morning.

Usually you'd make a sarcastic comment at his expense, earning an eye roll from him and a small chuckle from geralt.

Today you stayed quiet. You knew irritation would lace your words without actually meaning it.

Leaves rustle beside you as the witcher moves from his spot and sits back down on the log you were sitting on.

Geralts thighs touched yours, he was so big it couldn't be helped.

The slight touch comforted you though.

"I can hear your heart racing over the noise of the fire"

Of course he could.

"oh, sorry?" You say softly.

You feel your chest tighten, you try to swallow but your mouth is dry.

Geralts brows furrow, he's heard your sharp intake of breath, your heart picking up.

"fuck" he whispers, getting up.

You startle slightly when you feel two hands on your thigh, geralt kneeling in front of you. His Amber eyes laced with concern for you.

"Y/n" he says gently, giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Look at me sweetheart" he continues. He gently grasps your chin and turns it towards him.

Tears pool in your eyes as his gaze feels like it's seeing right through you.

"You need to breathe, okay?breathe with me y/n" he reaches for your hand, places it on his chest.

Your hand trembles, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on him. One of his hands holding yours on his chest, the other is still holding your face.

"Keep looking at me, good, it's okay, that's it , your safe, ive got you". He soothes, caressing your cheek as he speaks.

The tears pooled in your eyes spill free

"Geralt" you choke out

"I know" he swipes your tears away, his calloused hands still gentle.

"Just keep breathing with me, hm?" He keeps stroking your face, until he feels your racing heart calm slightly.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. His touch not leaving you. Your still trembling slightly.

"Im s-

"Don't" he pushes up from the floor , wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to place a kiss to your head.

"Come" he says offering his hand

You take it, standing up

"Let me hold you tonight, hm?" He brings your hand up to his lips and places a feather light kiss to it.

You nod, and geralt wraps his huge arm around you as he guides you to his sleep bag.

"I've got you" he whispers, pulling you tighter into his embrace.

#geralt x reader #the witcher x reader #henry cavill x reader #geralt of river x reader #the witcher fandom #the witcher imagine #henry cavill imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #henry cavill fanfiction

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chachued · 10 months ago

Note

I wanted to request lando x fem reader if possible when he’s leaving for a while and they’re extra affectionate the night before with longer hugs and more reassurance, it could even get emotional??

Thank you in advance🥰

omg, yes. absolutely adorable!!! such a cute idea, this is.

━━ NEVER LEAVING | LANDO NORRIS ⁴

He never left without you, but you couldn’t come with him this time. It wasn’t easy, to say the least, but this night made it all the better.

↳ lando norris x fem!reader

W/C 0.5k

CONTENTS fluff — so much fluff, best bf lando, clingy reader, a bit of attachment issues, half proofread, short imagine

TOMORROW WAS THE DAY. Even though you begged for a day off—just to spend time with your boyfriend—today was too far busy, said your boss.

It was already late at night, so you expected Lando to be asleep already. He had to leave tomorrow morning, so you let bygones be bygones.

You didn’t know work would last so long, there’s barely enough time to be with him. And most of it will be used sleeping beside him. Everything consumed the energy that usually sparked inside you — The one that was excited to go home to him.

The key was deep inside your bag while you shuffled for it, prolonging the wait outside your door, which was insufferable. All you wanted to do was lay in bed—preferably with his arms around you.

The door handle clicked, and then it opened. “You’re home!”

“You’re still awake?” You were relieved, but rightfully worried because it is twelve in the morning.

His hand took yours, dragging you inside. “Of course, I am.”

“What’s that — And that smell?”

“Well, that is your favourite movie, with your favourite food, and your favourite snacks, actually.”

Wow. He really did it all for you.

There were candles that were already half-melted, probably the ones that were hiding in an obscure area. The line of expensive meals and cheap takeout showed a variety of food. It’s like he knew you hadn't eaten yet.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit your face, highlighting that pretty smile of yours—melting him from the inside. “There’s also a bunch of blankets to get you comfy. I’m sure you would’ve been tired when you got home.”

“I love you so much right now.”

“You didn’t love me before?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“I love you too.”

Anxiety piled up — That overwhelming feeling.

It finally hits you he’d be leaving tomorrow morning. All this effort and it didn’t even last long because, before you knew it, he’d be gone. It hurt, and you didn’t know why.

It wasn’t the fact that he was leaving. It’s because he motivated you throughout the day, promising kisses and goods—giving a reason to be excited about life. What could you do without him?

Lando was cuddled up next to you, lying on your chest, when he heard your sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m here,” he said, and in all honesty, it made the tears harder to hold in.

But you stayed strong.

“It’s just… You’re leaving, and all that. I don’t know, I feel a bit silly.”

He held you tighter, not planning to ever let you go. His eyes were heavy, but he’d stay up all night to be with you.

No amount of sleep can replace you, he thought.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” His hand slithered onto your cheek, wiping the loose tear. “I’m never ever leaving you.”

That was the promise he’d never dare to break.

It was insane. You felt insane. He was doing all this for you, and you felt like a burden. There was nothing you did to deserve this—

You felt his soft lips on yours—holding on for a second—and the warm embrace melted you in quick.

“Text me and I’ll fly back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright?”

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “Alright, yeah.”

This was home — Your home.

And it would never fall apart, not with him.

↳ bonus ; next morning ´ˎ˗

LOADING . . . ✎

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #fluff #mclaren #ln4 #ln4 x reader

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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year ago

Text

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

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sunflowersandsapphires · 3 months ago

Note

Can I get sunflower for Frank with "I know you're struggling right now, but we'll get through this together, okay?" and "If you want, we can just spend the whole day cuddling"? 💕

You were still blankly staring into the shadows bordering the space when Frank woke, wishing they’d consume you with each slow blink.

It was early. Too early for you to have been conscious for hours. Too early for you to be fighting back tears as Frank began to wind his muscular limbs around you. You remained silent as Frank planted kisses on your nape, clenching your jaw with such ferocity it was a miracle your teeth didn’t crack from the force.

“Mornin’, doll.” He rasped, his nose dragging along your exposed skin. The gentle touch made your hair stand on end, a scream building in your throat. You felt trapped, the air around you stale and hot. Frank’s breath roared in your ears, making you squeeze your eyes shut. “You been awake long?”

You hummed noncommittally, hoping Frank would misinterpret the shaky noise as a stifled yawn rather than a muffled cry–though it was probable he’d see right through your effort. Your observant boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand, confident that you were awake even though he had yet to see your face. Most days, that certainty was comforting. Today, you just felt cornered.

“Did ya sleep well?” Frank murmured, sliding an arm underneath your body to cradle you to his chest. Dread plummeted in your stomach, circling into a pit like water flowing down a tub drain. Before you could un-furrow your brow or mask the glassiness of your eyes, you were caught.

Frank’s soft smile slipped from his face, his expression pinching with concern as his gaze wandered over you. “Hey, hey, hey..what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Screwing your face up in a last ditch attempt to stop the inevitable tears from falling, you shook your head frantically. Trembling hands flew to cover your display as your lip quivered dramatically.

“Hey, don’ do that. Don’t hide from me, doll. Please,” Frank pleaded, rough fingers curling around your wrists, dwarfing them as he pried your grip open to reveal your face. “What happened, sweetheart?”

His soft voice was the last straw, shattering your composure. A sob rang through the room, your breath catching on itself as you lost control of your fragile psyche. “I-I’m sorry, Frank. S-sorry, sorry..” You choked out, collapsing against his sturdy chest as he tucked you flush against him.

“Why’re you sorry, babydoll? Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for.” Broad hands pawed at your hunched back, stroking up and down as he shushed you. “Nothin’ at all, sweet girl.”

You bawled harder, his sweet acceptance of your poor mood saturating you with guilt.

“Let it out, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Frank kissed your forehead, hands continuing their motions as he let you ride out the crying spell. Soon enough, your body-wracking sobs dwindled to hiccupping breaths.

“Attagirl. I know you’re strugglin’, but we’re gonna get through it together, sweetheart.” Frank promised, trailing tender kisses down the bridge of your nose. “‘M right here. Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“I thought I was better,” You spat out, your words garbled with lingering tears. “I had a good week. I should be better.”

Frank tutted quietly, interrupting your blatant self-hatred. “That ain’t how it works, doll.”

“That’s stupid.” You sniffled, burrowing into Frank’s shoulder as he snorted a laugh.

“You're tellin’ me.” He huffed sympathetically, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the responsibilities of the outside world with his massive body.

Sighing in aggravation, you chewed at your lip, your mind still racing with a list of all the tasks you needed to accomplish before Frank’s shift ended. The threat of failing to care for your shared home had woken you out of a restless sleep, the anxiety threatening to drag you into a spiral. As the pressure built in your skull, more thoughts popped up, reminding you of your rapidly approaching work shift in 24 hours, and the knowledge that Frank was comforting you again even though he surely was on a tight schedule.

“I’m sorry,” You grimaced, wriggling out of his arms and scrubbing at your face. “You need to get up for work–”

Before you could fully escape your partner’s hold, he tightened his grip, snatching the edge of the comforter with one hand and tugging it over the pair of you. “Nah, don’t even start with that. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But, you have work.” You frowned, tears once again slipping over your waterline.

Brushing the droplets with a thumb, Frank sent you a lopsided smile. “I got sick time.”

“Frank, you shouldn’t..you don’t have to–” You protested, voice faltering when he pressed your foreheads together.

“Never said I had to, dollface. I want to. Would much rather spend the day with my beautiful girl than be surrounded by a group of shitheads at a construction site.” Brushing your noses together, Frank cupped your jaw, gaze boring into you as he pulled back. “That ok with you?”

Nodding once, you dove back against his chest, exhaling with slight relief as the weight of being alone in your wallowing receded from the front of your mind. “Yes please.”

“Great. Now we’re both gonna catch some more shut eye because it is too damn early to do anything else.” He ordered, relaxing into his stack of pillows and lifting you on top of his frame. “And we’ll see how you feel after that, ok?”

“Ok.” You mumbled, fingers twisting around his shirt uneasily.

Massive hand splaying over yours, Frank traced swirling shapes over your clammy skin. “We don’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t wanna do, darlin’. If you wanna stay in bed all day, that’s fine with me.”

“You sure?” You asked timidly, drifting off to the soft rasp you received in return.

“Course I’m sure, dollface. Get some sleep.”

#frank castle #my writing #fc #the punisher #marvel #nmcu #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #saph's flower shop

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dandylovesturtles · 4 months ago

Text

Decided to write a quick little something for @whumperless-whump-event Day 4: chronic pain/"I'm used to it."

featuring, of course, Sidelined Leo!

like I said before, since it's disability pride month I'd like to do a few things for the Sidelined AU, so hopefully I will find time for more as the days go. For now, I hope you enjoy this!

-----

Leo can tell it's going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up.

The pain in his arms and legs has grown from it's constant dull thrum to a more present burn, and there's a pinch between his eyes that tells him a headache is on the way. Really, he's not surprised; the last few days have been really good. He even went out on a mission two days ago, and did a little skateboarding yesterday. It stands to reason that his body has crashed out on him.

Sometimes he feels angry and bitter about it. Today, he just feels a sort of resigned acceptance. And that means maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

He hits the button on the side of the bed so it bends him into a reclined position, then fumbles around on his side table until his hand lands on his pill organizer. He should probably text someone to bring him water, but it feels like a pain, so he dry swallows them one by one and just resolves not to mention doing that to Dad or Raph.

Then he finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around his room and... darn it, his chair isn't here. Where'd he even leave it...

His memory is a complete blank on that one, so he sighs and clears his throat.

"Hey, Shell-man?"

There's only a second of silence before Shelldon's voice echoes from who even knows where. Donnie rigged his new room with more electronics than Leo will ever know about.

"S'up bro?"

"You know where my chair is?" he asks, like Shelldon can't track it instantly.

"You left it in the arcade, dude," comes the answer. "Want me to wheel it over?"

Yeah, no way he's getting himself to the arcade today. "Sure, thanks, Shelly."

"No problem, dude!"

Leo lets his head flop back on his pillows while he wants for his chair to be delivered. He fumbles around for his phone this time and takes a look at his reminders.

6:00 PM: Concert with Mikester

"Crap," he mutters, closing his eyes. Right, that yokai hip-hop group Mikey wanted to go see. Leo had promised he'd go with him, but he doubts he'll be able to do it now.

It's not that big a deal. Raph or Donnie will probably go with him if Mikey makes big enough puppy eyes at them. It's just, Leo had been kinda excited about it, too...

The dark buzz that heralds his anxiety flares up, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. He doesn't want this day to turn terrible. He needs to relax and accept the things he can't change, like April always says. Even when it sucks.

There's a whir of electronics that signals the arrival of his chair. Leo waits until it parks itself next to his bed, then he swings his legs over the bed and stands up just long enough to sit down in the chair again. Even that leaves him feeling a little winded, but he doubts his arms could have handled the transfer so he doesn't bother trying.

He wheels around his room until he finds his big comfy unicorn hoodie, then drives out into the rest of the lair, making his way up the ramp to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and hear Raph's voice.

"Morning fam," he says as he comes in, trying to keep his voice upbeat even though he already feels tired.

"Morning Leo!" Mikey echoes, turning around with a whole plate of waffles. His smile falters a little when he sees the chair and the hoodie. "Oof. Flare up?"

"Yeah," he admits, steering his chair into the empty part of the kitchen table. Mikey sets the waffle plate down, and without having to be asked Raph starts fixing some for Leo, with blueberries on top.

It took work for them both to find the line between helping and babying, but they're better at this now. Leo doesn't mind Raph helping him out this way, especially because he'd rather not make a mess of the kitchen table.

"Mikey, can you grab my fat fork?"

"It has a name," says a tired voice behind him, and Leo smirks as Donnie comes around the side and makes for the coffee machine.

"I just used it. It's the fat fork."

"It's a GeniusBuilt Secure Grip Adjustable Fork-"

"I'm not saying all that."

Donnie huffs. Mikey snickers, swinging around him to deliver the fork with the thick grip to Leo. He has another set with a loop that can secure to his hand if he needs it, but this one is fine for now.

"Here!

"Thanks Angelo."

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Raph asks.

"Yes, Mom," says Leo, rolling his eyes as he cuts off a bite of waffle.

"Really? 'Cause Raph didn't hear you ask anyone to bring you water-"

"I had some leftover Gatorade in my room," Leo lies quickly.

"Uh-huh." Raph looks at him skeptically. "Leo, you know taking pills without water hurts your throat."

"Meh meh meh, you'll hurt your throat," Leo repeats in a mocking voice. Raph reaches over like he's going to cuff Leo on the head, then seems to rethink it and steals some of his blueberries instead. "Hey!"

"You are all so noisy already," comes Splinter's voice, and he finally comes into the room to join them, wearing the robe he slept in. He looks up at Leo in his chair. "Are you in pain, Blue?"

Leo hums an affirmative. "It's not that bad, though," he adds, because it's not. Comparatively.

Now it's his dad's turn to look skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Leo grimaces. "It's... a little worse than normal," he amends. "But I can handle it."

"Mmm..." Splinter walks off to get in his own seat. "Let us know if it gets worse."

"Yeah, yeah..."

The conversation moves on to other topics, up until Leo's wheelchair beeps at him. He groans, glancing down at the battery indicator, which is firmly in the red.

"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?" asks Donnie, looking amused.

"Shut up, I've been busy!" Leo snaps back.

"If you left it on the charger when you aren't using it then this wouldn't happen."

"Alright, anyone else have any criticisms for me today?" he says, except it comes out a shade too bitter and Donnie's grin falters.

Good job, Leon, way to be a dick. He winces, focusing again on his waffles. His arm is sore from the effort of eating and he wants to crawl back in bed and stay there, which is exactly the sort of attitude he's been trying to avoid.

"...I have the backup chair in the lab if you need it," says Donnie. A peace offering.

"Thanks," says Leo, returning it.

So after breakfast, Donnie helps him swap chairs. His main one is put on the charger and he wheels himself to the living room with the backup, then calls for Raph.

"Think you can help me get comfy, big guy?" he asks.

"Of course," says Raph with a grin. "What do you want?"

It's nice that he asks now, instead of assuming.

Leo directs him to help him onto the couch, then Raph gets him his fluffy blue blanket to cover him up. Even though he took his meds, he can feel the pain radiating at his hips and knees and he guesses he's going to need more later. He sets an alarm on his phone and settles in with a Jupiter Jim flick to fall asleep to.

He's not out yet when he hears the pad of feet, then feels the couch dip as Mikey sits next to him.

"Hey Leo," he says softly, and Leo gives a hum to let him know he's still awake. "You think... you're gonna feel up for the concert tonight?"

Oh right. Shoot. It had already slipped Leo's mind, and now he feels guilty all over again.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Mikey. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologize!" says Mikey quickly. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's fine," says Leo. "I'm used to it."

"I'm still sorry," says Mikey firmly. He gets up, then comes over so he can give Leo a very awkward couch hug. "I wish you didn't have to hurt," he says, sincerely.

Leo leans into the hug. Feels the dark buzz of anxiety ebb away.

"Hey, it's alright. All you guys make it easier."

Mikey beams at that, bouncing back up. "Hey, I know," he says. "I'll get Donnie to help me set up a sweet livestream so you can see the concert from right here!"

They don't have to go to all that trouble for him. But Leo looks up at his little brother's shining smile and can't say no.

"That'd be really cool," he says, and Mikey claps his hands.

"Yes! Okay, I'll go get Dee and we'll get on it!"

He races away. Leo chuckles, curling up under his blanket.

Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

#rottmnt #dandy fanfiction #sidelined au #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #rise donnie #whumperless whump event #day 4 #once again there is minimal proofreading on this one haha

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generalllimaginesss · 10 months ago

Text

author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).

Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!

Without further ado….

The Grudge

“Hello?”

The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.

Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.

He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.

“Luke? Everything ok?”

He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.

“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.

Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.

“Ok. Are you-”

“Are you alone?”

His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.

“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”

“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.

The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.

Something is wrong.

The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.

“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.

“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.

“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.

“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.

He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”

The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.

“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.

“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.

“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.

Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.

Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.

His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.

A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.

The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.

It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.

When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.

Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.

Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.

It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”

Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.

But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.

You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.

The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.

Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.

Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.

The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.

As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.

As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.

She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.

She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.

“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.

Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.

She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?

“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.

Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.

His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.

The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.

“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.

“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.

“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.

“He cheated…”

The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.

“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.

“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”

“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”

“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.

“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.

Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.

You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.

Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.

It needed to.

———

As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.

The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.

A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.

But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.

They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”

It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.

When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.

After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.

The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.

The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?

Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.

What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?

Too late now.

There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.

Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.

He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.

“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.

“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.

“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!” She gushed.

“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.

“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.

“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.

There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.

He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.

He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.

Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.

“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.

You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.

There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.

For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.

“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.

You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.

“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.

“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.

That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.

“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.

“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.

“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.

She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.

“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.

“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.

“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.

“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.

“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.

“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.

“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.

“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.

“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.

“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.

“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.

“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.

“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.

“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.

“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”

“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.

“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”

“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.

“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.

“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.

10…9….8…

“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”

7…6…5…

“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”

4…3…2…

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

1…

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.

Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.

It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.

His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.

One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.

The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.

“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.

“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.

Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”

“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.

“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.

Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.

Did you really fold that easily?

Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.

He could be your Luke once more.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #my brain is fried from writing this #but I couldn’t stop writing

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puckinghischier · 6 months ago

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Shadow Puppets

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader is terrified of storms, but Nico makes sure she never has to brave them alone

notes: hi!! long time no see! this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie. i started this last week when some pretty gnarly storms were coming through my town and i struggled finishing it because, surprise, i was scared 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

Storms have never been something that you enjoyed. You don’t understand the appeal of the angry rumbles and blinding flashes that litter the sky during a thunderstorm.

Ever since you were a little girl storms have been high on your fear list. Anytime you saw the purplish-gray of the sky, you were doing everything in your power to drown out the incoming storm.

Much like you were right now. You had just turned a movie on in the living room, volume high enough that you worried your upstairs neighbors could hear. Every curtain in the apartment was drawn closed, preventing you from seeing any flash of lightning that would dance across the dark sky.

Your last line of defense was usually white noise being played through a speaker on low volume to further try and drown out the rumbles that are starting to sound closer by the second. Well, it will be your last line of defense, if you could just find the wireless speaker.

It wasn’t in its normal spot in the kitchen junk drawer, nor was it in the bathroom. It wasn’t in your boyfriend’s practice bag, knowing he sometimes takes it to the rink with him when he hits the gym after a morning skate.

You had looked in both your bedroom and the spare room, the guest bathroom, the hallway closet, the various shelves around the living room, in-between the couch cushions, and you had even braved stepping out onto your small balcony to search for it before rushing back inside after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

It was nowhere to be found.

While you were on all fours on the floor trying to see if it had somehow rolled under the couch, you heard the familiar chime of your ringtone coming from the table behind you, startling you a bit.

Seeing your boyfriend’s name flash on the screen, you pick up the phone immediately, speaking a small hello into the device just as an especially loud crack of thunder rings out.

“Hey, Schatz. You okay? Just heard the storm outside, knew you were home alone and wanted to check on you during intermission. Got all of your safety nets in place?” Nico’s worried voice hurries out, slightly out of breath.

The Devils were hosting a charity scrimmage tonight, the proceeds going to a local youth hockey program. Nico had offered for you to come and watch, but you had been wanting to catch up on the reality shows he always complained about watching with you. When he left a few hours earlier, the sky was blue and there were no clouds to be seen.

You didn’t regret your decision until thirty minutes ago when your phone started blaring an alarm with a severe storm warning alert.

“Yeah, I’m okay for right now. Have a movie on and the curtains are closed. I can’t find the speaker, though. Do you remember where you last saw it?” you ask him, placing the phone on speaker so you can continue to search.

“Oh Schatz, I’m so sorry,” Nico starts, regret joining the worry in his tone. “I have the speaker with me. Put it in my game bag this morning. Went and got a few reps in the gym in before warm-ups today. I didn’t look at the forecast before I left, I didn’t know you’d need it.”

Your stomach drops at his confession, your anxiety spiking. You needed the speaker in order to fully drown out the thunder. It was something you and your mom had come up with when you were a kid to help you sleep if it was storming at night. You hadn’t tried to get through a storm without the technique since.

“It’s…it’s okay, Neeks. Really. I’ll be fine,” you start, trying to hide the anxious quiver of your voice. “It’s just a little-“ your sentence gets interrupted by a boom of thunder so loud you could feel the vibrations from the floor you were currently kneeled on.

Nico’s guilt only increases at the yelp you let out, his heart breaking further when he hears the whimper you tried to hide afterwards.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? I can try to see if Nicole can come over for a bit? Jesper said she stayed home, too. Or I can send someone to come get you and bring you here if you want?” he offers, hating the fact you’re in the apartment alone.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll probably be over by then, anyways, right?” you ask, needing the reassurance that it was only a short storm.

“Yeah, baby, I’m sure it’s almost over. Just turn the tv up and grab your weighted blanket. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out, another low rumble coming from the world outside.

“I love you, okay? I’ll call again to check on you next intermission. Be home before you know it, Schatz.”

“Love you too, Neeks. Play safe,” you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You take his advice and find the weighted blanket he bought you last year after a particularly nasty storm had come through when he was away on a roadie.

He read online that the pressure could help comfort people during anxiety inducing moments, so he had one delivered to your shared apartment the next day. You were extremely thankful for it, especially in moments like this, but nothing can replace having Nico here with you to comfort you during an especially rough storm.

You were trying really hard to focus on the movie, having raised the volume even more to supplement the loss of the noise from the speaker, but the noises from the storm outside only got louder and louder.

You could hear the wind whipping around the tall building you were in, adding a whole new layer to your current distress. Checking your phone constantly, you knew it was still only a severe storm, no further warnings had been issued, but you were starting to get worried the bad weather was here to stay.

Resorting to laying on the couch with eyes closed and hands over your ears to muffle the sounds, your fear had reached its peak. You felt embarrassed, wondering why you couldn’t just find comfort in the harsh weather like a normal person. Instead, you were laying on your couch in a fetal position with your hands covering your ears as a grown woman.

Another intense crack infiltrated your apartment, causing your shaking body to jump, eyes snapping open. Just as you were able to calm your racing heart, you were suddenly covered in darkness.

It felt like someone had just dumped ice water all over your body, every nerve alert with fear. You sat completely still, waiting for the warm lights to flicker back on.

The longer you sat waiting, the worse you felt.

There was no way you could survive this storm with no power. There was nothing to block out the wind and thunder. There was nothing to lessen the bright flashes of light through the curtains. You were so paralyzed by fear you couldn’t even make the short trek to the kitchen to grab a flashlight or light the various candles littered throughout the apartment.

While debating with yourself about if you were going to be brave enough to get up off the couch and walk through the dark apartment, you heard the lock on your front door unlock with a click.

Every movement in your body stopped, including the rise and fall of your chest. You held your breath and sat as still as you could, more petrified with fear than you had ever been before.

Who was coming into your apartment in the middle of a storm like this? The only other people with keys were Nico and your landlord. One of those people was in the middle of a hockey game twenty minutes away.

A new wave of fear washed over you. What if it was your landlord coming in because he had to evacuate the building? Was the storm that bad? It sounded that bad, but you were always a terrible judge at what classified a storm as bad.

Any storm was bad to you. The slightest rumble of thunder had you wanting to dive under the nearest table like a child.

The door creaked open, squeaky footsteps making their way into your apartment. You continued to lay there, unmoving.

“Schatz? You in here?” you heard a familiar accent call out, all tension in your body disappearing at the sound.

Your body springs up into a sitting position, turning your head to look behind the couch, the sight in front of you almost causing relieved tears to well in your eyes.

Nico stood by the closed door, hanging his dripping jacket on one of the many hooks on the wall in front of him. His soaking wet hair was adding to the puddle on the floor left by his jacket.

He was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and one of his Devils hoodies, the latter only slightly drier than the jacket he had just removed.

He shook out his hair, making you bite back a giggle at how he resembled a dog shaking out its fur, before looking up and seeing your alert eyes peeking over the couch at him.

“Oh, Schatz, are you okay?” he sighed as he made his way over to you.

His socks audibly squished as he rounded the end of the couch, coming to crouch before you.

He took your hands in his own, making you flinch at how cold they were.

Bringing his lips down to blow onto your intertwined hands, he mumbles out a “M’sorry, I wasn’t here, pretty girl.”

You meet his eyes through his wet eyelashes, admiring how pretty he looks right now, brain still catching up to the fact he’s here.

Staring at him while he warms his hands with your own, you remember that he was supposed to still be at the charity game right now, having only called you at the beginning of the first intermission not even thirty minutes ago.

As soon as you open your mouth to question him, you were reminded of the reason for your current state.

A blinding flash of light illuminates the dark apartment, thunder rumbling almost immediately after.

Slamming your eyes shut to try to block the sight, you try to move your hands to your ears once again, but they’re still clutched between both of Nico’s.

You feel the couch next to you sink underneath his body weight, his arms moving to come around your shoulders as he hugs your body into his.

His hand moves up and down your arm in a soothing motion, a small “shhh” coming out of his mouth as his lips rest against your temple.

“You’re safe, darling. You’re alright. I’m here,” he says softly on repeat, working you through the moment of panic.

You allow your body to sink into his, reveling in the comfort that his presence brings you.

“That’s it, just relax. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright?”

After several minutes of relishing Nico’s presence, you finally lean back and put a small amount of distance between the two of you.

He moves his hands to smooth down your hair and cup your face, tilting your head up so he can look into your eyes and make sure you’re okay.

As you give him a small smile, he leans forward and places a kiss first on the tip of your nose and then moves his lips up to rest on your forehead.

He pulls back, leaving your face trapped in-between his hands, speaking softly.

“Power went out, didn’t it, Schatz?”

You simply nodded, finding it hard to speak with your cheeks squished.

He starts rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your cheeks, “Scared you when it went out, huh? That why you look so startled when I came in?”

You nodded again, starting to feel a little silly with the chipmunk cheeks he’s caused you to have.

“Well, let’s go fix that, shall we?” Nico finally removes his hands from your face, standing up and reaching his hand out to help you stand from the couch.

He leads you into the kitchen, stopping at the drawer that holds a lighter and flashlights for occasions like this one. He grabs two flashlights out of the drawer, turning one on and handing it to you.

Taking his own flashlight, he turns it on and immediately places it directly under his chin, pulling a face in the shadow of the light coming from the plastic.

His actions cause you to giggle, rolling your eyes at how childish your big, ‘scary’ hockey player can be.

“There she is. Knew I could get that cute little laugh out of you,” he beams, proud of his success.

He grabs the lighter and takes your hand once again, leading you around to every candle you have placed around the apartment. You hold the flashlights as he lights each candle until every last one is lit and the apartment is bathed in golden light once again.

The two of you end up back on the couch sharing your weighted blanket as Nico becomes your buffer to the storm outside. You sit with your head resting against his chest for a little while before you remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be here right now.

You raise your head up and sit back, situating yourself so you’re halfway facing him while still being tucked into his side.

“You’re not supposed to be here right now.”

Nico moves his head back and looks at you like you’re crazy.

“What?” he says through a chuckle, amused at how random you words were.

“I mean, you’re supposed to be at the charity game right now. You called me during the first intermission, you should be playing in the third period by now,” you explain your outburst.

Nico laughs, shaking his head. “For a second I got worried you were about to kick me out, Schatz.”

“Nico, I’m being serious,” you roll your eyes. “Why did you leave the game early? Is everything okay at the rink? Did the storm damage something?”

Nico looks over at you, a fond smile on his face.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” is all he says in response, bringing a finger up to stroke from your temple down to your chin.

You move your head away from his hand and scoff, annoyed at his avoidance.

“Nico…” you warn.

He sighs, knowing you’re not going to be happy with his answer.

“I left early.”

“You…left early?” you parrot his words back to him, unimpressed.

“Yes, I left early. I told them there was an emergency here and I needed to get home to you, so I left,” he explains, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “It was just a charity game, anyways. We were playing against our own guys, not like it was anything they couldn’t do without me.”

You fully remove yourself from him and sit back on your heels. He frowns at the loss of contact as he readjusts himself to sit up straighter.

“Nico, you can’t just leave a game like that!” you scold him. “Think about how excited those kids were to see you play tonight. The fact that it was a charity game should have made it even more important.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him for how bad this could make him look.

“Y/N, you were here, alone, during a raging storm. When I called, I could feel how scared you were through the phone. I knew as soon as the lights flickered at the arena, I couldn’t leave you here by yourself,” he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You argued anyways.

“Nico, think about how bad this could make you look. ‘Devils captain leaves charity game early because his girlfriend is a scaredy-cat and can’t stay by herself during a silly little thunderstorm’” you put on your best sportscaster voice for the last sentence.

It was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head at your words.

“First of all, don’t count on a job with ESPN anytime soon,” you swat at his chest. “Second of all, I appreciate your concern about my image and my job, but I don’t care.”

“You should! You should care, Nico. You’re the captain. You need to care more than anyone else,” you cry out at him.

Nico grabs your hands in midair as you wave them around to emphasize your words.

“Schatz, I. Don’t. Care.” He pauses, trying to let the words sink in. “You know why I don’t care? Because you will always come first, do you hear me?”

Your mouth snaps shut, the intensity of the way he’s looking at you making you still.

“My job is just a game. It will always be just a game. A game that I’m thankful that I get to play every day, don’t get me wrong, but at the end of every day, it’s just a game.” He pauses again, making sure you understand him.

You don’t even flinch at the thunder that rings out around you, too caught up in the moment that’s happening between you and Nico right now.

“You, my pretty girl, are not a game. You’re the absolute best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me. You’re the biggest priority in my life, not hockey. I could quit hockey tomorrow and be just fine as long as I still have you to come home to every day. You’re the one thing I can’t lose. So yeah, I don’t care if I’m missing a scrimmage right now. They don’t need me. You did. So, here I am, exactly where I’m ‘supposed to be’” he mocks your earlier statement.

By the end of his speech you have tears in your eyes, not because of the storm this time.

You smile at him, an emotional tear slipping down your cheek, Nico’s hand reach out to wipe it away before you could wiggle one of your own from his hold.

“I love you, you know that?” you tell him, leaning your cheek into his open palm. “But you’re still stupid for leaving the game early,” you add at the end.

“Love you more, Schatz. Always.” He responds with a slight chuckle, ignoring the second part of what you said, bringing your face to his.

Your lips meet in a sweet, loving kiss. You rest your foreheads against one another before Nico pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.

“Now, I do believe we have some powerless entertainment to partake in,” he tells you, wiggling his eyebrows at your suggestively.

You lean in towards him once again, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh…Yeah” he leans back in, his hot breath fanning on your face with his words.

You catch his arm moving out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to remove your gaze from his face to find out what he was doing.

The staring contest the two of you had going on was starting to make you squirm when you hear a click ring out from in-between your bodies, light erupting through what little space is there.

You look down to see one of the flashlights from earlier in his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. Looking back up, you give him a confused look.

“It’s time for shadow puppets!” he excitedly bursts, moving the flashlight to shine on the wall, holding up his pointer and middle fingers to make a shadow bunny on the wall.

You burst out into belly laughs, body falling over his, head landing in his lap.

“C’mon, now, get up, its your turn,” he sits you up, handing you the flashlight.

As you look over at Nico, an expectant look on his face, you suddenly don’t care if it storms all night and the power never comes back on. As long as Nico’s with you, nothing could ruin the happiness running through your veins in this moment.

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redskull199987 · 1 year ago

Note

MIKE SCHMIDT!!?!?!?!

FNAF MOVIE ATE SO HARD okay but what about Mike Schmidt (aka Josh my childhood crush frfr) x eeader who was his childhood friend and despite her being obviously in love with him he never realized because of Geretts death his job problems and Abby so he always took everything for a "friendly gesture" (even though Abby told him multiple times and the overfriendliness duh) and one day after that one girl (the babysitter girl, something with M, forgot her name) didn't come he finally called her to babysit Abby which made her mad happy, and when she arrives before he leaves they maybe have a small romantic interaction which gets (sadly) interrupted by Abby by accident so he awkwardly leaves after that to work? This would be kind of a cliff hanger but I have this perfectly pictured in mind and I need someone to write this down, so please 🤞🏻 Thanks a lot, love you!!!

Waiting for Her

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.8k

Warnings:nothing basically, maybe a bit of anxiety on the readers side, but apart from that, it’s fluff, Movie spoilers obviously

Summary:You hadn’t seen your childhood friend Mike in years. And you certainly didn’t expect to see him anytime soon again. But what you didn’t plan on was him calling you to ask if you could babysit his little sister. And how could you say no to the man who was your first ever crush…

Masterlist

You didn’t plan on going out again today. Strictly speaking, you were actually about to go to sleep, since you had a long day at work and all you wanted to do was to fall into the comfort of your bed.

But right, as you entered your bedroom to get ready for the night, you heard your phone ringing from the hallway. Your brows furrowed in confusion, as you didn’t know who in the world would be calling at such ungodly hours.

You glanced at the clock on your wall once more, it was already 11pm, before you made your way towards your phone. Your suspicions only rose, as you didn’t recognize the number. But against all odds, you decided to answer.

“Hello?”, you asked gingerly, your voice slightly shaking.

Your Paranoia quickly dissolved into nothingness, as the Person on the other Side of the Line quickly answered:”Y/N? This is Mike, Mike Schmidt.”

“Mike?”, You wondered,”As much as I enjoy hearing from you again, why are you calling me in the middle of the Night?”

“If it were possible? My usual Babysitter didn’t show up and I can’t leave Abby alone.”, he tried to explain.

“Uh, this is kinda out of nowhere, but I was wondering if you could babysit my little sister?”, he asked, the slight Embarrassment in his voice painfully obvious.

To say that you were taken aback by his question would’ve been an understatement:”Like right now?”

Your mind was reassembling a hurricane for a minute, as your thoughts were racing towards every possible answer that You could give him. Were you tired and wanted to sleep? Of course, you were. But you also wanted to help out Mike, he was your childhood best friend after all. Even if you didn’t see each other in quite a while. After his little Brother died, he distanced himself from you more and more. You didn’t judge him, he was mourning after all, but you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart every time you thought back to him.

“So?”, Mike inquired after you didn’t answer,”Do you think it would be possible?”

You didn’t give yourself enough time to think it over once more. It seemed like you answered on autopilot:”Ehm, sure. Just tell me your address and I’ll come over.”

Mike quickly thanked you and gave you his address, you scribbled it down on a small Post-it-Note, before hanging up. You could only stare at your phone in silence. What the hell did you just agree on? Were you truly ready to see Mike again? What would he think if he saw you? Surely, you had changed quite a bit since you last saw him. And even more important, how did he look now? What was going on in his life?

Since you were to babysit his little Sister, you thought that he was probably taking care of her. Where were his Parents? Did they die? Was Mike really raising his little sister on his own? Or did he have someone? A Partner potentially?

Your eyes widened. What if he did have a Partner? Not that it was any of your business, but you didn’t forget how much of a Crush you had on him back then. But he was your best friend, so you didn’t say anything.

And then you grew apart.

You quickly shook your head, trying not to overthink it too much. You looked back at your phone and realized in horror, that You had been standing there in the Hallway for ten minutes, just staring to the ground.

“Oh Shit!”, You mumbled to yourself and quickly jogged back to your room to throw on a pair of Jeans and grab your jacket. With your keys in one hand and your Phone in the other, You made your way out of your Apartment and towards your car. You took one last deep breath in and looked back to your Home, before finally starting the car and driving to the Address, Mike had given you.

With your hands slightly shaking, You knocked on the Door of an inconspicuous Apartment. You could see Lights coming from the inside and a Car was parked in Front, so You knew someone was Home. You just hoped that it was the right address and that you didn’t accidentally scare some People by randomly knocking on their Door.

But as the Door swiftly opened, you presumed that your assumptions were unnecessary. In front of you, stood a tall young Man with curly Brown hair. He was wearing a Security west over his Hoodie, it even had a small Badge pinned to it. He may have looked different, but Eyes were the same. You were sure that you would recognize his Eyes in every other Universe. And it were exactly those eyes that were staring at you in disbelief right now.

“Mike?”, You finally said, a smile now lacing your lips. All Anxiety aside, you were just happy to see him again. The Boy you had seen everyday when You were a kid had now grown into a man. And a pretty handsome one on top of that.

“Y-Yeah, it’s me.”, Mike mumbled, running a hand through his hair,”You…You look really pretty.”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks and you quickly looked to the ground, the smile on your face only growing bigger.

“I missed you.”, You finally said,”Mind if I ask for a Hug?”

Mike only shook his head, already stepping closer to you, slinging his arms around your waist. As his warmth engulfed you, you realized once more how much you had missed him, so You made sure to give him an extra-large squeeze before the two of you parted.

Mike only looked at you, with what you thought was adoration, in his eyes, before he asked you inside.

“So, what have you been up to?, You asked, as you carefully glanced around his apartment. It wasn’t particularly big, but it looked cozy. You spotted a TV in front of a Sofa in the living room and directly following it was the small kitchen with a round table in the middle. You presumed that the hallway led to the bathroom and Abby’s and Mike’s Bedrooms.

“Oh you know, this and that. Mainly looking after my sister.”, Mike finally answered your question, as he grabbed his car keys from the living room and came back to you,”What about you?”

“Nothing too interesting.”, You smiled politely,”I work in a boring office and live in a boring Apartment and go to the same boring Mall now and then.”

“No Partner or something like that?”, Mike asked with furrowed Brows and you saw the regret on his face, as he realized that his question may have been a bit too straight forward.

But You only chuckled, trying to lighten the Mood:”No, I don’t have a Partner. Why?”

“Oh you k-know..”, he mumbled, looking to the Ground,”I thought, someone as pretty as you would have a Partner.”

You were quite sure that you must have looked dumbfounded as hell, but neither Mike nor you got any chance to say anything, as you saw a small Girl running down the Hallway, towards the two of You.

“Mike! I wanna come with You”, She quietly whined and grabbed his arm. Mike only gave you an apologetic look, before leaning down to her height:”Abby, we talked about this. You know, it’s too dangerous for you to come.”

Abby only pouted in response and now, her gaze finally fell onto you. Her big brown eyes inspected you from top to bottom:”Is that the Girl you always talk about?”

Now it was Mike’s turn to blush, as he swiftly rose to his feet again:”This is Y/N. She will look after you tonight. We were friends when we were about your age.”

“Oh, I feel honored.”, You chuckled,”Tell me, what do you wanna do tonight?”

You gave the small girl a warm smile, before also leaning down to her height, just as Mike had done it mere seconds ago.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Abby”, You said and held your hand out for her to take it. She looked at it for a second, before gently grabbing and shaking it:”I like you.”

“Mike only lets me stay up until 12”, Abby pouted and glared at her older Brother.

You looked back and forth between them for a second. She really was a lot like her brother, you noted.

“I tell you something, come here.”, You motioned for her to step closer and as she did, You mumbled something into her ear, so that Mike couldn't hear it,”I’ll let you stay up as long as you like and I won’t tell Mike. It’ll be our little secret, okay?”

The Girl practically beamed at you and nodded eagerly, before taking off towards her room again. With a chuckle, you got back to your feet to accompany Mike to the door.

“Thanks again.”, Mike mumbled, opening the Door,”I’ll pay you as soon as I get my salary, I promise.”

“There’s no need for that, Mike”, You chuckled patting his shoulder. The Boy looked at You like You were his Lord and Saviour:”How can I repay you?”

“See you tomorrow then.”, you beamed and waved your hand at him, as he made his way towards his car. You looked after him for a minute, before you heard Abby calling out for you.

“You could…yk, Go out with me some time.”,You proposed shyly, looking to the Ground.

But much to your Favour, Mike gave you a smile and a nod:”I’d love to.”

You concluded that it was the right decision to answer Mike’s Call.

Bonus:

After a long and dreadful Night at the Pizza Plex, Mike finally arrived back home. He was ready to just fall into his bed and sleep through the entire day.

And as he stepped closer, he felt his heartbeat slightly pick up. There you were, huddled up on the Couch, but what he didn’t expect was that Abby was laying next to you. Or rather, on top of you. The two of You cuddled up together under the blanket, like a bunch of cats.

But his plans changed, as he stepped into the apartment. He was about to call out for you, when he spotted someone laying on the Couch in the Living Room.

A small smile made its way onto his face and he quickly stepped forward to adjust the blanket on the two of you, before quietly making his way towards his room. Mike decided that it was a good idea to call You up and ask for help.

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 5

Summary: Bucky and Shy Violet

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Shy!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of anxiety/panic attack, depictions of social anxiety, mentions of child abuse, mentions of death of a parent, arson, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

*Bucky Barnes edits by Nix Akimbo

*Dividers by @firefly-graphics

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You inhale deeply. Exhaling as you take another step forward. This was a bad idea. It hadn’t been long enough.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Blinking away the tears as much as you can, you look at the aisle in front of you. Grocery shopping shouldn’t be so difficult. And it shouldn’t hurt so much. You drank coffee. You needed things to make the perfect coffee, and it made you think of your father all over again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re not a particularly claustrophobic person, but the aisles are closing in on you. It is becoming difficult to breathe. Just reach out and grab the milk. It was right there, and you needed it. You were told getting out would help you. It wasn’t.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

There are eyes all on you. They are judging you. Whispering about you. They hadn’t seen you out since before your father passed. They were talking about his death. You hear someone even whisper something about a mercy kill.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Your lip trembles as you reach into the cooler. Grabbing onto the milk. You did it. Now to put it into the cart. Inhale. Exhale. One movement at a time. This would have to be all you got for for today, you are already exhausted thinking about checking out. A cart crashes into another, and you flinch, dropping the milk loudly onto the floor. Exploding the carton everywhere.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Dropping onto the floor, you hug your knees to your chest, counting to six way too many times. You messed up again. You failed again. You were being laughed at again. You were hated again. You were a joke again.

“Hey,” his voice is soft as he places your hand over his mouth. “Feel my breath,” you look up at him confused as he deliberately breathes onto your fingers. His silver eyes look at you with the utmost tenderness.

“There ya go. Just like that,” your breathing starts to regulate, and you feel your ass soaked in spilled milk. “Uh uh, keep feeling my breath,” his voice is soothing. Caring. You hadn’t heard a voice like that in years, if ever.

Your body slowly stops rocking as your breathing finally gets back normal, “There she is. Do you need help standing?” You give him a nod, and he pulls you up right along with him. “You want me to get you some more milk?”

“No,” you answer suddenly. He doesn’t question you. Just nods gently. “I’ll just make a grocery order, and pick it up later.

“Okay,” he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you walk towards the exit. You didn’t even thank him. You just walked away. You couldn’t turn back now. So you tell him thank you in your mind, and hope that with enough conviction, he will be able to feel it.

Bucky’s mouth turns up into a smirk as he follows you. Not close enough that you will notice him though. He had to make sure you were okay. Had to know that you would make it home safely. He’d even provide you with milk if that’s what you needed. But something tells him that approaching you would be too much.

He’d find out where you lived, and then find out more about you. It wasn’t weird, it was his duty to make sure you survived making it home. A panic attack could be dangerous. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.

Close enough to watch you, but far enough away that you couldn’t see him. That is his goal.

Bucky leans his body up against his motorcycle. His eyes are focusing in through your window. He worried about you. You had left in such a hurry, and your driving had much to be desired. Dusty old truck. No way it was yours.

You pace around in your living room before sitting on the couch. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you start rocking back and forth. Whatever had caused your panic earlier still was causing havoc on your mind. He knows there’s nothing he could do without making you even more uneasy, but he can’t leave you unattended.

What if something were to happen, and you needed him? It’s a risk he wasn’t willing to take. So instead, he watches you out of the corner of his eyes, while he searches around for your story. So much was put out on the internet for people to find with very little research.

A few clicks and he discovers your veteran father had just passed away recently. Survived only by his daughter. You. Judging by the state of the house, you were the sole caregiver. A few more clicks, and he sees you are quite the prolific writer. You had taken a sabbatical, to care for your father, and you wrote under the pen name Violet Anne Bailey.

It wasn’t your real name, but there is something about Violet that suited you. A shy Violet whose power was in her words. He goes ahead and buys all your books, just to understand your mind a bit more. You are celebrated. Loved. And no one knew or cared that you had a tornado of emotions being worked out in your head.

It’s a shame to see someone who is able to weave and create worlds have her own world in shambles. He needs to know about your father. What was your relationship like? Was he a good man to you? Bucky would kill him again if he wasn’t.

His eyes scan over his phone, determining he was definitely going to have to kill him again. How many domestic violence charges were made and dropped against this man? How many CPS visits were made to this very house. No wonder you were inside of your head, you were still living in your own personal hell.

There were no convictions. Bastard. No one in your life ever put you first. Once upon a time you even had an apartment on your own, but it was short lived. Your dumb ass father had you crawling back here to care for him. He hates him. You had spent his dying days caring for him, but no one cared for you.

Bucky would. Bucky would stay right here just to make sure you were okay. Bucky would do whatever he could to ensure you made it out of here. And could finally relax. Could quit living in turmoil. You deserved better. You deserved freedom.

You slam your computer shut, and rub the back of your neck. Three words. Three insignificant measly words. This place ruined your creativity. You lost your apartment. And nothing was available to rent, and now you sit on a stinky couch with cigarette burns all over the cheap fake leather.

This house smelled musty. Holes in the wall, light fixtures broken, the useless house phone was pulled out of the wall, leaving creepy wires hanging out of the sheet rock. Who even knew where it was. His bedroom was locked on the outside. It was your first act of defiance. Removing the latch from your own bedroom, and placing it on his. Even his stupid padlock was placed there. It stayed locked. His mean self would probably haunt you in your sleep if it wasn’t.

Sleep you hadn’t been getting. You catch your face in the broken mirror, and turn away. Haggard. You had never looked so rough. He was dead, and still you knew no peace. His final abuse of his power was to make sure you never forgot him. In death he still controlled your thoughts. You still tapped on doors three times before opening them. You still could only leave the sink faucet running for ten seconds at a time.

And the worst part is no matter how neurotic he made you, it didn’t matter how many times he shouted at you, or threw things beside you, you didn’t hate him. You made excuses for him. He didn’t throw things at you. He always missed. His words of anger were more directed to your mother who left him. And you. She couldn’t handle his PTSD. Or apparently you.

You wanted more than this crappy house. It received the brunt of the abuse. He never even bothered to fix the damages. How it didn’t burn down with him passed out on the couch, you’ll never understand. His liver. Of course it was his fucking liver. You got to see an alcoholic choose his death of withering away from his addiction.

You didn’t ask for this. And neither did he. War is not kind to anyone. Especially survivors or their families.

You slap your own hand out of your mouth, and stare down at the gnarled skin. Just how long had you been chewing on your finger? The cuticles were dry and ripped to shreds. You needed a manicure, but the thought of another human touching you, while everyone else giggled about their lives makes you sick to your stomach.

He was always going to control your life. You hated him, and pitied him, and still you are the one that suffers. This house wasn’t even worth selling. Perhaps the land would be. But this place was trash. It was begging to be burnt to the ground.

You wondered how many times your father’s cigarette fell on this couch that the walls of the house smiled in glee. Fire would cleanse this place. Fire would cleanse you.

Placing your hands on your knees, you push yourself up to a standing position, and look down the hallway. His bedroom door still had the padlock on it. The key was on a chain around your neck. You didn’t even trust your father’s ghost. He’d be pissed if he knew you locked his spirit up where he slept. You did care.

Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands lift up to place the key in the lock. Twisting it slowly before you push it open. Nothing had changed. And you didn’t try to work on improving anything here. You wanted a cleanse. Your wobbly legs carry you to his bedside table, and you pull out the matches. Your body locks in place as your father’s ghost screams inside your mind.

He is pissed. He knows what you’re doing, and you just didn’t care.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Taking a deep breath, you strike a match, and lay in gently on the bed. Lighting a few more, and repeating the process. His liquor. Cheap Canadian Mist whiskey was still hidden in the closet. Grabbing it out, you pour the remains onto the bed, watching a burst of flames that darken the ceiling. It is beautiful.

Some people describe fire as biting and evil. These tickled the air. Rejoicing right along with you as it eats up vile memories that your father left behind. You go back into the closet, and pull out the other bottles of whiskey. Pouring them onto the floor, and creating trails to other parts of the house.

You needed it all gone. Every bit of it. You didn’t want any more ties to this damn house. Finishing up in the living room you pick up your laptop, and hold it tight to your chest. The crackles from the fire feel almost cozy. Leaving you with a beautiful memory before you say goodbye.

You watch it as your fiery friend starts to travel to where you are. Greeting you with a big smile as it engulfs your surroundings. You whisper a silent thank you as sleep starts to cloud your vision. It will be a divine ending for this house. One it didn’t deserve.

Bucky bursts through the door, and you’re too enraptured by the cleansing of your childhood, you don’t take notice. “What the fuck!” He grunts, stomping over towards you. Grabbing onto you as he pulls you out of the house.

The further he takes you the more you start to focus again, “No! I wanna watch it,” you sob, trying to wipe the tears away from your face. You need to see this. It would heal you. “I gotta see, please!”

The figure behind you never removes his hold, but he stands still, allowing you to watch the house be swallowed up by hell. Just like it deserved. A sad smile creeps up onto your face when you finally hear the sirens. It was too far gone. They couldn’t save it.

An old high school boyfriend turned firefighter gives you a nod before rushing with his colleagues. There is nothing left but the bones of the house, and even those were slowly turning to ash. He was never going to be able to haunt you again. You gave him away to his demons. Right along with his favorite thing. Canadian Mist.

“You got somewhere to go?” Your ex says your name, but you’re too busy watching everything start to crumble. “You her boyfriend?”

“Not exactly,” Bucky extends a hand out to the man, “Bucky.”

“Jake. She uh…she started this didn’t she?” Bucky shrugs his shoulders. He assumed you started it. It happened so fast. He barely even finished pissing when he heard the blazing death trap. “I’m the one that investigates this. She talked about it being her dream for a while. I don’t want charges brought against her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand, and if you need some monetary compensation for making sure she doesn't get charged, I can make that happen.”

Jake shakes his head. He looks down at you, but you are in a complete zone? Shock? None of the words seemed to fit. He supposes it's all the above. “She needed this. She’s cleansing. It’ll be wiring or something. That house has had its fair shares of small fires that the old man put out with an extinguisher anyways. No one will question it. I’m also pretending to be taking her, well your, statement. Just trust me. Can you tell me where you're taking her?”

“Are you her boyfriend?” Bucky’s eyes narrow at the younger man, but he shakes his head no.

“I’m just a friend. She’s a good one. Didn’t deserve these past few months. It’s…it’s changed her even more. Uhh…you’ll make sure she’s safe tonight? That she’ll be okay?”

“I’m the one that got her out of that house. She was standing in shock in the living room.”

“She’ll need her medication. Last I talked to her the psychiatrist prescribed some things. She told me therapy was helping. But she needed this. Just give me the address, and I’ll come by in the morning,” Bucky nods to the boy, and Jake jogs to his truck. It was a lost cause for the house, but they had to put the flames out. This would have been a decent place to live, but it seemed like a bad omen to build here.

“Violet?”

“That’s not my real name,” you respond, finally turning to look at who is holding you. “Y-y-your the guy that…from the grocery store.”

“I was coming to bring you milk. You never got it,” that was a bit of a lie, and you knew it. There wasn’t a car. Only a bike. And there was definitely no milk. “Do you have somewhere you can stay?”

Shit. This wasn’t thought through. You had nowhere, and nothing. Just the clothes on your back, and the laptop in your arms. A different kind of tears wells up in your eyes as you look between the house and Bucky.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“Hey, hey, I gotta place. There’s two bedrooms, and a couch. I’ve got some clothes that don’t smell like smoke, a warm shower, and even Wi-Fi.”

“Do you have milk?” Bucky chuckles a bit, and nods his head. “You don’t want to kill me?”

“If I wanted you dead, I’d have left you in that house.”

“I don’t like people.”

“Good. Neither do I. It’s a small little house outside of town. No neighbors,” what other choice did you have? If Jake didn’t have a girlfriend, he might have been an option. Even though you would have felt obligated to sex. You didn’t want sex. You wanted to sleep.

“Do you have anything besides cheap whiskey to drink? I haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.”

“I have melatonin,” you scrunch up your nose, annoyed at his words. “I also have something that might be of comfort. Come on. Let’s get you somewhere out of the cold, and get a shower. I’ll make you some soup.”

“I like pizza rolls better.”

“I don’t have those, but I have pepperoni, cheese, marinara, and I can make it happen,” who was this man? When things are too good to be true they often are. “I’m Bucky.”

The longer you’re on the back of his motorcycle the more you worry about yourself. Why are you here? Why are you with him? What if he wants to murder you? What could possibly be worse?

He smelled nice. He had kind eyes despite the piercings and tattoos he had. He never touches you more than necessary. His hand never drops to your thigh to make you uncomfortable, but who was he? Was he bad news? Was he your worst mistake? And you just left with him. This wasn’t good.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“We’re almost there,” his head turns to the side, hoping that you hear him. You did. It’s tunnel hearing. It’s the only thing you heard. His voice is nice.

His bike pulls into a garage, and you take in your surroundings. Maybe he meant good, but maybe he was pure evil. Would he have saved you just to murder you? Maybe. It’s what they did to prisoners.

“Come on,” he holds his hand up for you, and you take it nervously. I’ll grab some clothes, and show you to the bathroom. Take as much time as you need. I think Jake wants you to send him your address. It’s 42 Cherry Tree Lane,” nodding your head, you sit your computer down on the nearest surface, and pull your phone out of your pocket. Thankfully it had been there.

“I’ve got a charger you can use.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Fluff takes you out of your mind space, and you look down to see the most beautiful fluffy cat staring up into your soul with beautiful blue eyes. It weaves its body in and out of your legs, and you look up at your savior with glossy eyes.

“I’m impressed,” he squats down to hold out his hand, but the kitty doesn’t move towards him. “Alpine, are you ignoring me? She’s normally a hater of new people. Baby, come see me,” his voice is still so soft, but she doesn’t attempt to leave your legs.

“She's a good companion. Alpine, baby girl, you watch our guest, I’m going to get her some clothes. You want to show her the bathroom, she smells like smoke,” Alpine purrs again, and sets off at a trot. Stopping to look back at you when you don’t follow.

“She’s showing you where to go, and it looks like my bathroom.”

“Oh, I don’t have to…”

“Alpine is the boss here. If she wants you in the big bathroom, that’s where you should go,” you chase after the kitty with Bucky right behind you. She jumps up on the counter, and sits up proudly looking at the bathtub.

“Here,” Bucky hands you a few clothes, and you mouth thank you, but no sound comes out. “You can take my bed,” he shrugs his head back into the bedroom, and then points to under the counter. “Just keep the bathroom door open. This is her bathroom, too.”

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how to make grilled cheese?”

Bucky stands at the edge of the woods watching you walk around the house. Nothing on but your silk robe. He could see your nipples pushing against the fine fabric. Alpine was meowing up at you while you pace. She always worried about you when you got like this. He wondered how many nights you had been like this. You missed him. This was like your waiting game. Every night pacing the living room floor. Picking up your baby kitty to kiss over her fur.

And every night Bucky saw you on the cameras, he missed you even more. He shouldn’t make you wait, but there is something sweet in your routine. Your mouth moves as you count to six. Biting at your lip and looking out into the woods. You wouldn’t see him, until he was ready for you to.

He steps out of the shadows, and your face immediately lights up. Smiling so big as you pull the phone up to your ear, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

“Watching you,” he answers softly. Taking only one step closer to you.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“A while,” taking another step, he laughs when you puff out a bit of air in annoyances.

“Yeah, well, you could go ahead and come home. Seeing how you’ve left me here for weeks by myself,” there you had to go and put your fingers on the window. You are adorable, and he just wants to hold you. Rubbing up and down on the glass, like you are touching him.

“Yeah?” He whispers, taking one single step forward. “And just how do you think you’re going to get me in the house?” You hang up the phone, and pull apart your robe. Nothing else was on. There is only one person you feel comfortable with, and it was Bucky. You smooth your hands down the curves of your body, starting to laugh when Bucky sprints towards you.

Slinging open the door, you jump into his arms the second he crosses the threshold. Smiling up at him in your so sweet way, “Hey, James,” you giggle, kissing the tip of his nose. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, my Shy Violet,” he bites at his lip just once, but his eyes never stray from your angelic face. He makes no comment about your cunt pressing up against his stomach, or your tits just below his eye sight. “What have you been doing without me?”

“I finished my book,” god, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. “Want me to read you the last chapter?”

“Of course, Shy,” leaning towards you, he gives you the softest chaste kiss. Ghosting his lips down to your chin where he kisses up your jaw. Ending right behind your ear, “you want me to make us some hot chocolate?”

“Oh,” you give him a little pout, trying to wiggle out of his arms. “James, put me down.”

“I can multitask. I don’t have to put you down,” his nose nuzzles into your neck, and all the anxiety of him being gone melts completely away. You learned a long time ago to not worry about what goes on with the business, to just be happy he was with you. “Shy, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Tell me what she’s like,” Bucky gives you a bit of an eye roll as he sits you on the counter. You start to close your robe, but he shakes his head no.

“No, you…you keep that how it was. I need something pretty to help decompress.”

“Do you like her?”

“She’s a troublemaker, and also oddly perfect for Steve,” Bucky isn’t the most forthcoming with information. You had to prod him a bit. “You know how Steve is.”

“Just from what you tell me. He’s intense, he’s a brute, he’s passionate, and he’s quick to anger. He sounds like a terrible person for me to be around. Does he actually like her though?” Bucky waits until he pours out the milk before looking back at you, nodding his head. “How do you know?”

“He hasn’t killed her,” your mouth drops open in surprise. Surely Bucky was joking. “She has this bratty side that fulfills this need to control that Steve has. She’s a virgin, and it’s made him blind. So blind he didn’t realize what a target she’s become. People are beginning to realize Steve has a weakness. It’s wrapped up in this cute little packaging.”

“Would…you’ll die trying to save her life, won’t you?” He walks over to you, placing his hands on either side of your body. Pulling his arms in closer until he’s squeezing you. His head lays down on your chest, and you wrap your arms around him tightly. “Who’s going to protect me then?”

“You don’t need protection anymore. You’re more of a fighter than you realize,” that’s not what you wanted to hear. “Shy, baby, what is it?”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I fought my whole life, and when I’m with you I get to relax, and breathe, and I don’t have to count. You’re my safe space,” moving his hands on both your cheeks, he presses his lips against yours, and holds you. “I don’t like her.”

“You’re not going to meet her.”

“Can’t Steve just…he can ask anyone to guard her. Why not Scott or someone else? James, I need you. She doesn’t need you. I…do,” his cool blue eyes stare so deeply into yours. Such a bittersweet homecoming this was turning into. “You don’t want to burn the milk, Jamey.”

Exhaling slowly, he turns to tend to the milk, but holds a hand behind him for you to touch. You hated a woman you never even met. And hated that even more. “Is she nice to you?”

“She invited me in for coffee, and got her ass spanked.”

“What does her pussy look like?”

“You sound jealous,” you weren’t jealous. You just didn’t get Steve’s kink of needing to show his women off. “Shy, you know the only puss I want to look at is Alpine. And the only pussy I want to taste is you.”

“Don’t call our daughter a puss,” you scrunch up your nose, ready to call Alpine, just so you could hug her. “She’s beautiful. And perfect.”

“Just like her mama,” he smiles, turning back with two mugs of hot cocoa. “Here, my sweet little Shy girl. You want to read your chapter for me?” You shake your head no, pushing aside his shirt. “Are you jealous that you can’t see my titties, too?”

“Yep. You have nice titties, so let me see them,” setting his mug down just to remove his shirt, and you pull him right up to your chest. “I love you, bubba.”

“I love you, baby. Have you thought more about what we talked about?”

“Remind me,” you giggle, giving him quick little kisses to his chest, but he pulls you up to look at him. Holding you by the chin.

Bucky sighs, running his thumb over your lips. His voice is so soft, “I don’t want just Alpine to be our daughter.”

“We can get another cat.”

“I meant a baby. I want a baby with you.”

“Do you promise not to die?” With his crooked smile, he nods his head one time, “I’m ovulating, Jamey.”

With one twinkle of an eye to let the words set in, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying the two of you to the bedroom. His eyes still never stray. Ever the gentleman. Always. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs wide, staring down at your glistening folds. Spitting down, his fingers gently massage your bundle of nerves.

“You didn’t need my spit.”

‘You have this ability to always turn me on. Mmm,” you sigh as your body starts to heat up. Relaxing at his ministrations. His free hand starts undoing his pants before he shakes himself out of them. Stopping his touch on you only to crawl on the bed, and uses your legs to pull him where he needs you.

“Remember what the doctor said,” you remind him, and he yanks you tighter against him. His cock laying flat against your body, and the salacious moan for what little he was doing rings into the bedroom. “We gotta let — let your cum sit me in.”

“I’ll fucking plug you up if I have to. I just want to see your cute little bump with our baby inside of you.”

“Shh, I’m supposed to be getting fucked, not having dreams of you holding a baby,” his hand adds pressure to his cock, and he slides it through your velvety lips. Getting right at your entrance when he smirks at you. He only thrusted hard one time, and that was entering inside of you. Bucky was someone who made love.

You brace yourself, nodding slightly, and he rails into you. The only thing stopping him are your bodies colliding. You were never going to get used to his size, and yet, your body always craved him. Always needed him.

He lets your back settle on the bed, and he drops his weight on you. Holding himself up by his forearms, “Hey, pretty Shy. Are you gonna let me know when you’re good?”

“Mhmm,” you breathe him in. Inhaling his masculine scent. Your fingers drift up and down his back. Going lower each time until your dainty little fingers grip the voluptuous spheres of his ass. “I’m…” another word gets stuck in your throat as Bucky draws his hips back.

His cock slides out of you before it slowly pushes back in. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just the two of you. Only you and him in a bubble of love and safety. You aren’t sure how Bucky was able to take every brick off your wall, and allow himself into your heart, but he did.

He was always surprising you. A man that everyone feared was the biggest teddy bear when it came to you, and your daughter, Alpine. He hadn’t ever raised his voice towards you. Your arguments were minimal. You two had created a good life. You had gone to his small little house, and never left him. Even made a big step in buying a house together out in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s lips pucker out randomly for a kiss. It’s like even though he’s closer to you than he can possibly get, he still can’t get enough. They’re just pecks, but they’re desperate and needy. Giving a roll over on the bed, he stares up at you as you readjust your body.

Getting settled, you bounce over him. Admiring your boyfriend’s dashingly handsome face, and a sinful body. Bucky was carved by the gods in the sky, and the underworld. A fallen angel completely. Intricate lines, and blacked out blank spaces covered him from the waist up. He would even let you color them in with markers during your writer’s block

He was all you had ever wanted, and even more than you could have imagined. Even your most perfect fictional boyfriend did not compare to the man that was whimpering below you. You loved it when got like this. Hearing him turned on by your movements, so much that he got vulnerable and made sweet sounds makes you melt.

No man should be like this, and yet there he is. You feared Steve was asking too much of him, and all you wanted was for him to start coming home every night like he used to. It wasn’t being selfish. It was protecting Bucky when he couldn't’ protect himself.

He grabs tightly to your hips, holding you still before he launches himself up inside of you at lightning speed. Eyes rolling into the back of your head as heat drains into your belly. That fuzzy feeling that only Bucky could create tickles every inch of your body. Right as you start to scream his name, that familiar high speeds through your veins, followed by his warmth painting your walls.

Thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb, and he flips you back on your back. The backs of his knuckles brush against your skin as he smiles down at you. “Shy, will you marry me?”

“Will you always come home to me?”

“Yes.”

Bucky brushes your baby hairs off your face. Looking down at his fiance. You’ll notice the ring when you wake up. He hates himself for asking you that way, but it felt right in the moment. Alpine snuggles up against you, your own little heating pad. She once loved only Bucky, and now she just tolerated him.

He glances back down at your printed out manuscript. Reading the final paragraph for the finished book. He didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t a good enough man to come home to someone as perfect, and as smart as you, but he did. Every book you wrote amazed him at how you created worlds from nothing.

It was your way of escaping as a child. Fabricating fictional worlds, so you didn’t have to be present in your real life. The best part of your books is he could tell what part was influenced by him. The way you saw Bucky is something no one ever has before. You saw him as an innocent angel, and Bucky was more of a devil, and had no wings.

You stir in your sleep, looking up at Bucky, “How long have you been up?” You ask without opening your eyes.

“A while. Go back to sleep. It’s still dark,” you blink yourself partially awake as you stare at him. They didn’t make perfect men. They just made Bucky.

“What do you got?”

“Baby, this is perfect,” reaching out to hold his hand, you gasp looking at your own. The most pretty little diamond. It was just what you wanted. It wasn’t gaudy or flashy. It was just perfect. “You were so sleepy I was able to slip it on.”

“You had an actual ring? How were you going to propose? Surely it wasn’t while your sperm was trying to find my egg, was it?”

“No, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding his fingers over the pretty diamond. “I was going to cook us dinner, and we were going to walk to the river, and while you were busy trying to sit on the swing, I was just going to drop to my knees.”

“I like the way you did it better.”

“Oh, yeah, why’s that, you sex fiend?”

“Because we were together. Hopefully creating a life. Even if our daughter was fussing on the other side of the door. It was very us, bubba.”

“I’m going to talk to Steve about getting Dove her own bodyguard. You’re right. I think Natasha would be a good fit for her.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he pulls you in close to his body. He gets a short death stare from Alpine, but she falls back asleep soon after. “We can’t lose you.”

“We?”

“Yeah, eventually, me, you, and Alpine will have our little human.”

“Well, mama Shy, close your eyes, and get some rest. Grow our little egg. You’ve got me all weekend,” that sounds heavenly. You hate to waste it on sleep, but you were tired, and your baby was so warm and cozy. Bucky was, too.

Masterlist

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moonchildstyles · 1 year ago

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ephemere

élan part three: when the night comes crashing down harry is the only one there for y/n.

wordcount: 22k+

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, unwanted advances against our y/n (nothing too intense), and her dad is veryyyy mean in this one

—————

"Good morning!" Dom—(Y/N)'s stylist, and the most important person of the day—sung as he swept through her apartment, a team of people following behind, "We have so much to do today, are you ready?"

(Y/N) sleepily shut the door behind the last person that trickled in. "Yeah," she yawned, forcing herself to keep her eyes open after the lingering blink she gave.

Today was early enough already with the fact Harry had come over an hour prior, and now her apartment was full of half a dozen others that were way too happy for the early hour. (To be fair, it was just before ten a.m., but she didn't love to get up any earlier than that when it wasn't a pilates day).

Tonight was finally the night of the 132 Gala. She'd prepped as much as she could this week—an esthetician visit the other day, waxing studio visit the day before, a touch-up and trial run appointment with her hair stylist earlier in the week—but so much of the process had to be left to the day of.

"Just yeah?" Dom teased, imitating her sleepy voice, "I thought you'd be excited to see me today."

"I am, I am," (Y/N) argued, trudging towards him with her sleep shorts rustling against her thighs, "I didn't sleep well last night, but I promise I'm excited. Just a little tired."

She wasn't lying about her late night, the small hours of the morning having been the only time she managed to sleep. A letter had been sent to her apartment the night before, plaguing her mind a little too deeply.

It had only been a matter of time, she knew when she saw the official publications posting about her secret rendezvous with Harry at the country club. (Her favorite was the subline on one article, saying that (Y/N) was insisting he was only a bodyguard but how could she resist a body like that? As invasive as it was, it was still rather clever). Now that less real drama was circulating about her, rumors had taken the helm and that seemed to draw her admirer out much more often; less concrete answers seemed to draw them out. They seemed to feel a need to rewrite them to fit a specific mold they had for her, one (Y/N) never really understood the parameters of. It gave her a spike of anxiety in the pit of her stomach now whenever she picked up her mail, worrying that something too heavy to be friendly would be slipped between the bills and other pieces.

"Well," Dom chirped, clapping his hands together, "We'll just have to make sure no one can tell!"

With that, the day turned into a bit of a whirlwind. Many of these big events deteriorated into such, too much going on for (Y/N) to properly focus on one thing at a time.

At least there was a photographer Dom brought along to take photos of the whole process. One more person running around her apartment.

Her hair was the first thing to be started on, the one thing that was going to take the longest. Ensuring everything was perfect, a wash was made to start the day, plenty of products and serums applied before everything was dried and brushed. The natural texture of her strands was altered, her stylist wrapping them around hot and heavy curlers. Earlier in the week at the trial, extensions were added to her hair, adding to the weight on the top of her head. Though she loved the look it would achieve in the end, everything looking effortlessly glamorous with big curls and draping strands, she almost erupted into a migraine from the tension.

At least once the rollers were in, though, she caught a break from her hair stylist. Done was all the tugging and pulling from the various hot tools and hairbrushes, now she could just sit there and concentrate on ensuring her scalp didn't throb before she had a chance to feel pretty.

While the curlers cooled enough to truly curl her hair, her nail tech pulled up a seat beside her. Carlotta was her usual warm self, pleasantly chatting with (Y/N) until a light silence settled between them. Applying and filing her nails were comforting motions, knowing that her set was coming together. It didn't take long for the paint to come out, sparkling pearls to be added to the pastel pink French manicure to match that of her dress. Her fingernails looked every bit like the princess set they had been calling it before Carlotta made her exit for the day, her job done in one go compared to the others that would stick around for final touches.

After a quick break for snacks, her hair was ready to be unraveled and her makeup ready to be applied. The photographer began her closeups then, the camera shuttering as her hair fell in large curls around her face, her makeup artist prepping her skin. Dom periodically checked in, ensuring things were going according to their plan all the while he was coordinating garments and creating problems just to fix them a moment later. Around her, members of the glam team began to pull out their phones, their own cameras trained around the space to document their own experience getting her ready.

(Y/N) sat quietly in the middle of it all, eyes closing when instructed, head tilting when needed, body still in her silken robe.

For hours on end, Harry was like a statue in the corner of the room—silent and stoic. When things began to get hectic, Dom tried to kick him out, only for Harry to ignore the attempts and stay right where he was. He wouldn't be going anywhere no matter how hard Dom tried.

—————

"Everyone out! She needs to get dressed! Everyone out!"

(Y/N) could see Dom was moments away from ripping his hair out, the time making him more than stressed. Styling her hair took longer than expected, draining an additional half an hour from their prep time. Dom timed things meticulously, the schedule written down to the minute to leave her to be on the carpet at a fashionable time—not too early, not too late. This was going to through everything off, and Dom was already feeling it.

The second her hair was finally pinned into place, a layer of hairspray going across the strands to keep anything from moving in any direction, he pulled her into her bedroom where she was to be dressed. Everyone was to be shooed out of her space then, Dom directing them with an agitated tone.

On their way out of the previously quiet room, (Y/N) slipped away from Dom and offered her thanks, hoping they didn't take her stylist's tone too personally. They would still be needed for finishing touches, and she didn't want them stepping out on account of her stylist. Especially since she loved them for their regular services, anyway.

Quietly padding back to her bedroom before Dom became more agitated, Harry became her ghost once more.

"I'll wait outside here for you, okay?" Harry murmured, looking at her with a clear gaze as he stopped in the threshold of her bedroom.

"You don't have to," she told him, lingering in the doorway. She could promise she would be on her best behavior if he needed her to.

Harry shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. "I'll be here."

With that, she was pulled into her bedroom with the help of Dom's assistant, her grip much more delicate than that of the stylist.

The process of squeezing her into her garments began then. Shapewear and the proper undergarments pulled over her body, her form smoothing with rounded curves. (Y/N) held her breath with every swath of fabric wrapped around her body, more and more of the look piecing together the closer they got.

"Careful," Dom told her, helping her step into the molten pearl of the Vivienne Westwood dress of her dreams. His assistant held the gown with utmost care, ensuring there was no way there could be a rogue crease or an unwanted footstep on the hem.

(Y/N) stayed stagnant, allowing them to zip her into the corset. Dom took over as his assistant began to shoot photos, documenting the way the tight corset adhered to her body. The top was tighter than the original fitting, alterations stiffening the boning and pushing her breasts up high on her chest. Her cleavage was deeper than she ever thought it could be, the swells pushed up and almost spilling over the neckline. The body makeup her artist applied sparkled in the lighting, highlighting the soft parts of her body in a sunny glow. The draping of pearls as her sleeves dripped down her biceps, strategically broken strands having been added during alterations to allow another string to hang down the length of her arms. The high slit was just as scandalous as she remembered, a breeze settling over her bare skin.

She felt gorgeous.

Glancing in the mirror bolted to the wall across from her, she saw the vision come together. Her hair was perfect, bouncy and full, tickling her collarbones with soft brushes. Her dress glimmered like molten pearl on her body, clinging to every curve and edge. Her makeup glittered in the gentle light, delicate sparkles on her eyelids with soft pinks airbrushed across her cheeks and lips. Everything was dewy and light—she looked like a cross between a celestial body and a mermaid inhabiting the waters of a moonlit lagoon.

There was a level of giddiness rising in her knowing that there were going to be countless photos of herself dressed this way. For the first time in a really long time, she looked forward to the torrent of cameras and flashes that would be pointed her way on the Gala carpet.

That serenity didn't last for very long, though, before Dom found another detail to begin to worry over.

"Where is the purse?" he muttered, voice sharp as he rifled through the bag he brought along with him.

"The purse?" his assistant, chirped, stepping back once the proper photographer had rejoined them, his camera flashing to catch (Y/N) in a candid moment.

"Her purse. The purse. The one (Y/N) is supposed to be carrying on the carpet in less than an hour." Dom was seething now.

"It's not in there?"

"If it was, I'd have it already," Dom snapped back, his arms almost elbow deep into his endless bag of everything.

The level of chaos in her apartment ratcheted up a notch in that moment. Now was not the time for something like that to go wrong. Not when—as Dom listed out—finishing adjustments to her makeup needed to be made, final touches to her hair, and someone needed to help her put her shoes on so she didn't bend and crease the dress. Not to mention the photoshoot Dom planned on having (Y/N) partake in before she left for the event, photos to be taken for his portfolio.

"Dom—I can—"

(Y/N) was quickly cut off as he shook his head, his long hair flying around his face. "No, you are not doing anything! Where is everyone?! We don't have time for this."

His assistant scuttled away then, gathering each of the members of her prep group to accomplish each of the things Dom was beginning to fret over.

"Henry—Harris—Whatever your name is, can you please help instead of just standing around?!" Dom shouted through the now cracked door of (Y/N)'s bedroom.

A beat passed before everyone—including Harry—stepped into her room. Carlotta had an extra file in hand, her hair stylist a comb and a bottle of hair spray in his apron pocket, and makeup artist with a gloss in hand. Harry held nothing but a raised brow over the way Dom spoke to him.

Each of the artists and techs descended upon her then, each quietly assessing what needed to be perfected before they were off. (Y/N) didn't have a chance to see what Dom was commissioning Harry to help with before she had to blink her eyes shut, her makeup artist fluffing a brush of glitter on her eyelids.

"Find her bag, and someone put her shoes on, please! We won't have time for pictures if we keep this up!" Dom rattled off, "The event is almost over at this point! Where the fuck is her bag?"

As much as (Y/N) loved Dom, it was moments like these she wondered if the stress of preparing for events was worth it.

Murmured voices of his assistant and a deep voice (Y/N) thought could be Harry, adding to the chatter of the room. The sound of her door creaking happened before the dull roar finally settled.

"(Y/N)?"

Chancing a blink of her eyes open, (Y/N) saw Harry standing before her, just behind her makeup artist, with the box of her Manolo Blahniks in hand.

He met her gaze over the shoulder of the artist swiping more gloss over her lips, his eyes dropping imperceptibly down to her mouth before ringing back up once more.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Dom traipsed back in, his cheeks decidedly redder than before. "Help her with her shoes, we need to go!" he shouted, Harry not even bothering to look back.

He was hesitating—waiting for her permission. There was an unspoken line they'd put in the sand, one that kept each other at arm's length; (Y/N)'s aloofness, and Harry's professionalism the key administers. He wouldn't come any closer if she didn't want him to.

"It's okay," she told him, her makeup artist pausing as her lips moved.

With that, box in hand, Harry wormed his way in-between the various artists and stylists warmed around her. Bending to one knee, he knelt before her with the pristine white box just off to the side. She could feel his eyes on her when he made the first touch, a hand on her ankle. Unwilling to disturb the makeup artist tending to her face, and the stylist primping her hair, (Y/N) wasn't able to meet his eyes despite feeling them trace her face.

The photographer's camera shuttered at a rapid rate, but (Y/N) knew these photos were going to be the kind that stayed in the archive with her.

His thumb grazed the bone in her ankle as she shifted her weight, helping him slip the first cream colored pump onto her foot. The custom pump had a ring of pearls that were to be attached around her ankle. (Y/N) could feel the brush of Harry's fingers over her skin as he latched the stones around her leg, his touch decidedly more gentle than she could have expected from someone who's entire job centered around the rough use of them.

"Let me go grab a setting spray, hold on," her makeup artist murmured, dropping her hands from where they were separating her fluffed lashes and diffusing the color on her eyelids. With that, the woman scurried away, leaving (Y/N) the freedom to finally shift her eyes.

Glancing down, she saw Harry on his knees, a furrow in his brow as he concentrated on helping her balance on the teetering heels. It was like he knew she was watching with the way he peeked up, the fan of his lashes a frame around the green of his eyes. His hand faltered for a split second when she met his gaze.

The rest of the noise melted away for that moment, (Y/N) only taking in just how delicate the shoes looked in comparison to Harry, how gently he was treating her. How pretty he was. She wondered if Dom had ever considered taking Harry on, prepping him for this event instead; he'd fit right in with the models and celebrities that would be on the carpet.

Despite her eyes following his movements, (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention when he had finished slipping her shoe on, the pearls latched around her ankle. She teetered where she stood, a slight gasp leaving her lips.

In an instant, Harry was there, standing to the full of his height in front of her. He steadied her, his grip on her arms firm in his hold but gentle in his touch.

"Alright?" he asked, gaze skipping down her features for just a moment.

(Y/N) almost thought he sounded breathless.

"Yeah," she answered, the word low between the two of them as if there weren't a handful of others around. "Thank you."

Harry only nodded, his hands lingering for a split second longer before they fell away from where he had them on her biceps.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the way the photographer seemed to be capturing every second of the interaction. Camera flashes and the lens shuttering added to the chaos.

The same time Harry was backing away, her makeup artist returned with a glimmering bottle in hand. She was flustered, immediately stepping back into place in front of (Y/N), leaving only a sliver of a view of Harry over her shoulder.

(Y/N) had her eyes glued to him as he approached the entrance to her bedroom, his previous post having been just outside. She saw as he lingered, his head down as he shifted his weight as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to step forward or step back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"Close your eyes for me," her artist instructed.

Hesitating before doing so, (Y/N) just barely caught the way Harry seemed to look back at her.

A loud commotion burst into the room then, (Y/N) flinching where she stood with her eyes closed.

"I found the purse!"

It took a moment for Dom's voice to register. (Y/N) had completely forgotten about the purse.

—————

(Y/N)'s fingers skipped over the pearls dripping down her arms, keeping her gaze forward as they rushed through the New York streets. Beside her, Harry had changed into an all black suit while she was commandeered for photographs at Dom's request. He kept his gaze solely stretched out the window. He hadn't looked at her since that moment in her bedroom, the space between them on the bench seat just a hair larger.

"When would you like me to come for you?" Sully asked, breaking (Y/N) from her over-analysis of how many inches of space was supposed between two people in a working relationship that had also shared a somewhat intimate moment just an hour earlier. At least, (Y/N) thought it was intimate.

She recrossed her legs, shifting in her seat. "Um, I'm not sure," she murmured, noting the way Harry didn't break his staring contest with the window even at this disturbance, "I don't want to say too long, but Francesca will probably want to go to an afterparty."

"Okay, just give me a call about thirty minutes before you're ready. I'll make it as soon as possible, but you know how these places can be."

A smile stretched across her glossy lips as she nodded her head. "Got it. Thank you."

She wondered if Harry knew how many shades of green were in his eyes, if he saw the same tiny blonde hairs threaded through his dark curls that she did. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was. She hoped he didn't know that she was still thinking about the way he looked up at her when he was on his knees before.

Despite the sun having set and sunk below the horizon, the city was still bright outside the windows. (Y/N) wondered how many of the other vehicles passing around them were also heading to the Gala.

Peering through the front windscreen, the gallery came into view. The large building that was usually splashed in black and white with 132 on the front in primary colors, had been transformed to allow a tent to be set up up front, shielding the public from the massive red carpet laid out underneath. From here, she could spot the overflow of people, bright lights shining from under the white tent. At least a fourth of that light had to be from the crowd of photographers and publications that had made it inside the event.

Coming to a smooth stop in front of the event, Sully put them in park but didn't make any move to usher her out. From the curb, she could see those set up along the carpet, ready for interviews or photos. She could even see Francesca towards the end, nearest to the entrance.

Her fiddling with the pearls of her dress resumed, anxiety spiking. Her crossed leg swung.

For the first time since leaving her apartment, Harry turned to look at her. His eyes stayed fixed to her face, not daring to skate anywhere else on her body.

"Ready?"

A faux-natural smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Mhm," she hummed, glancing at Sully through the rearview. It was too crowded for him to help her out of the car as usual, she knew that. She would have to settle for a smile through the rearview to settle her through the night. "See you soon?"

"See you soon, sweetheart," he confirmed, his eyes gentle as he met them through the glass.

With that, Harry took his leave first, scooting out of the car with her small purse in tow before reaching back inside to offer her a helping hand out. It felt like a movie the way she could hear the snapping of cameras and dull roar from the event. The shadows around him lengthened, backlit by the fluorescent bulbs.

Rubbing her glossy lips together, she put her hand in his and followed him out onto the sidewalk.

Harry was dropped into his element then second they were faced with the budding crowd waiting to be herded onto the carpet. He had to have been familiar with events like these as he let go of her hand only to place his palm on her upper back, ushering her through the bodies. It was a form of a greenroom that was waiting at the entrance of the carpet, another tent with event coordinators ensuring pacing out the carpet. He didn't let her stop even as some familiar faces gave her small greetings.

Dipping his head down, (Y/N) could feel the tip of his nose brush the draping strands of hair by her ear. "'M going to stay a step behind you the whole time, okay? If at any point you want to be done, jus' look at me and we'll go. I'll be with you."

Drawing away just enough to match his gaze, there was that earnest intensity she'd seen only once before at the pilates studio.

"Okay," she said, giving her head a minute no, unwilling to remove her gaze from his.

With one final push towards the head of the line, (Y/N) could spot the event coordinators clustered around the entrance, earpieces in and tablets at their chests. She watched as they ushered someone onto the carpet—a model she remembered from a trip to Milan, but couldn't place his name—cameras flashing the second he made it to the first pose point.

Harry's hand was a warm weight on her back, grounding her as she forced herself not to pick at her nails or fiddle with her dress as she attempted to sike herself up for her own upcoming turn. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the familiar coordinators perk up when he spotted her, one of the ones that had been assisting the event for the last handful of years. The coordinator—Monty—brought the lapel of his blazer to his mouth, muttering something into the covert microphone, before (Y/N) felt extra eyes on her.

With a bright smile on his face, Monty pushed their way through the clusters of people, stopping right by she and Harry.

"Ms. (Y/N), how are you this evening? You look gorgeous," Monty greeted her, his eyes obviously shifting from her gown to the petite pearl bag in Harry's hands. His brow raised just that much more at the sight.

"Thank you so much, Monty," she bubbled, knowing the version of herself he would be expecting and slipping into that role, "How are you? Busy, I'm sure."

"You have no idea," he exaggerated, the words ending with a boisterous laugh (Y/N) joined in on. "Are you ready to walk?"

"As ready as I can be," (Y/N) offered, shaking her head as she gestured down to her shoes, "Didn't get a chance to break in my shoes at all, and you know how the Vivienne corsets can be."

"We'll get you through as fast as possible, then," Monty laughed, smiling a little too bright, "You know, when we got your RSVP, we made sure to stock the bar extra just for you."

It was meant to be a joke, she knew that, a rib at the way she was apparently always drunk whenever she went out. She was sure it was supposed to be something meant to entice her into being that much more excited to get the carpet over. Nonetheless, she couldn't help the way she wanted to roll her eyes and huff a sigh.

Still, she laughed along, leaning forward as if she were doubling over in laughter. The photographers ate it up. "You know me so well," she told Monty, taking in a deep breath, "Thank you."

Casting a look towards the carpet, Monty double checked his tablet before he looked at her with a mild smile. "Ready to go?"

Following his gaze, the patrons in front of her had dwindled down to none, leaving her the next on the chopping block.

Feeling a tad bit stiff after the last interaction, (Y/N) still nodded her head. "Of course."

Harry was a silent pillar beside her as they followed after Monty. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

A beat passed, Monty waiting for a cue, then he looked to (Y/N) with that practiced smile. "Go ahead, Ms. (Y/N). I'll see you in there."

(Y/N) waved her goodbye, stepping carefully into the mouth of the event, the carpet shifting under her feet into something luxurious and soft. At her back, Harry stepped up.

"I'll be right behind you," he murmured, a quiet reminder, before the chaos erupted.

No doubt the media recognized who was at her back, cameras fluttering with flashes burning her gaze. She smiled effortlessly, stopping to pose and look in whatever direction she was called. She stood out against the stark white and deep black of the carpet, the attendees meant to be the color in the gallery for the night. Around her, others were posted up giving their own poses to the cameras facing them, some having brought friends or dates to chat with in between.

(Y/N) hoped she would see Francesca or Emma soon.

Traipsing through the carpet, (Y/N) stopped and pose at ever juncture instructed, blowing kisses and showing off her gown at every stop. As nervous as she was to have so many eyes on her—many wanting some kind of slip up to be able to report on—it couldn't knock how excited she was to have herself immortalized in a look like this. That couldn't take away how pretty she felt.

Harry was a silent soldier behind her, never wavering as the hall had shouting photographers, shuttering cameras, and chatter from the various attendees. He followed her carefully, a delicate pink bag hanging from his hands that were clasped at his front. He stayed far enough away to ensure every shot only captured her, but close enough she could turn to face him and give him whatever signal was needed to get out of there.

Going down the carpet, (Y/N) grew used to the feel of eyes all over her, beginning to revel in the way her body and look was being appreciated by the attendees. While she didn't love the sound of her name being shouted across the carpet, she didn't mind when it meant she was going to be posing for a photo that she would be happy to see floating around the internet.

Scaling the plush staircase trailing further down the carpet, the mass of the photographers thinned leaving only a few here and there to snap the final photos before guests were led into the gallery, with a few publications waiting for a moment to catch an interview. Scanning the few, (Y/N) tried to spot the one interview she was scheduled to make for the night.

Catching sight of a bright blonde head of hair, (Y/N) inched towards her hoping the woman was who she thought it was. It took a moment for the interviewer to turn around, the strands of ultra straight blonde hair fanned around her familiar face. Relief hit (Y/N), then—she didn't have to stand in the middle of everything hoping someone noticed her and gave direction.

"Hi, (Y/N), how are you?" The interviewer, Gwen, greeted her with a bright smile, leaning over to give her a light hug around their immaculate gowns.

Noting the camera that was definitely still recording, (Y/N) ensured her own tabloid smile was fixed to her face, her voice pitched and pleasant. "I'm doing well, thank you! You look amazing, Gwen," (Y/N) bubbled, stepping back to admire the embellishments on the gown.

She wasn't surprised, really. Gwen was the yearly reporter for the major fashion magazine that sponsored half of the attendees at the event. They were one of the few legitimate publications that printed stories about her and reached out for articles about her looks or to be featured in segments on their website—even if there were hate comments flooded on her features.

Starting off like the rest of the interviews that had been conducted that night, Gwen asked who she was wearing and rattled off questions about the inspiration behind her gown. (Y/N) answered pleasantly, attributing everything to the collaborative effort with her stylist and the handful of others that helped her prep for the night. Standing just off camera, Harry stayed back but she could feel his eyes on her as she spoke with Gwen.

More than once did Gwen's eyes shift from where (Y/N) stood, peeking over her shoulder to find her bodyguard. (Y/N) hated to think what she might be assuming at that moment, the kinds of questions that might be swirling. Tomorrow, when all of the analyses of this moment were circulated through the public, she was sure people would assume that there was something more going on in the moment, that Harry was doing something just off screen that would somehow confirm that he was her affair partner and secret boyfriend.

"But, yeah, we wanted something classic for the hair, but it definitely took a lot more time to get there than it looks," (Y/N) ended, brushing those stray strands out of her face.

Waiting for the next question to come, (Y/N) saw the way Gwen tossed a glance towards the producer that was standing behind the camera. Something was exchanged in that look.

Keeping the energy up, Gwen turned back to (Y/N) with her practiced smile. "While I have you here, (Y/N), we do have to ask," she said, lowering her head with a glint in her eye as if she were just a girl friend gossiping over brunch, "We see you've brought a guest with you tonight, can you share with us who that is?"

She was definitely fishing, trying to glean something out of the interaction. Even magazines like this couldn't be completely free from rumors and gossip, she guessed.

Staying in character, bubbly and bright, (Y/N) looked behind her with a giggle. (Another scene that was going to be overanalyzed, edited and clipped to show the "truth"). Waving to him to step forward, she hoped Harry would play along for just a couple of minutes. Hesitant, Harry took a careful step forward, inching into the view of the camera with her purse swinging in his grip.

"This is Harry," she bubbled off, gesturing to him as he gave a reserved smile to the camera before tipping his head down so as to not garner any more attention, "I know he's been pictured with me a lot recently, but he's just my bodyguard. I think there's been a few different stories floating around, but that's the truth."

Gwen paused for a second, certainly rattled by the soft denial she was given for details. In an attempt to recover from the fishing, she joked, "And, is that your purse or his he's got?"

"His, but he let me borrow it for the night," (Y/N) played along, hoping Harry wouldn't mind taking ownership over the mini beaded bag in his grip.

Gwen joined in her laughter, sounding a little more than exaggerated with the way she reached out to grab (Y/N)'s arm as if to steady herself.

"Well," she started once recovering, "it was so much fun talking with you, (Y/N). We'll see you inside."

"I'll see you inside, Gwen," (Y/N) reciprocated, giving another small hug as a goodbye.

"Hopefully, we'll both be at the same afterparty—I'd love a chance to see you let loose," Gwen laughed.

"Right," (Y/N) answered with a peal of laughter, stepping out with a wave as Gwen's next interviewee was set to step up to the plate.

Taking in a deep breath and shaking out her hands, (Y/N) was grateful to be out of view of any cameras. Only a stitch remained off the carpet before she would be ushered into the event, but there was a moment of reprieve in this moment.

Close behind, Harry stepped up beside her, his eyes clear when he matched hers. "Alright?"

"Yeah," she breathed, fluttering her lashes with a shake of her head to get the stray hairs from her updo out of her face, "I didn't expect anyone to ask about that. Sorry."

"'S okay," he murmured, scanning over her features, "Want to wait a second before we go in?"

(Y/N) nodded her head with a mumbled yeah. Harry didn't push her as she lingered in that space in-between, allowing her space as she calmed her rattled nerves. It wasn't until she heard the sound of others approaching, more people to clock her with her shaking hands and stressed demeanor, that she decided she was ready to move on.

"Let's go," she murmured, eyes downcast as she spared a few more moments before she was to be on again.

"Y'sure?" Harry checked, reaching his hand out to hover between her shoulder blades. All he needed was the reaffirming nod from her before he was helping to usher her inside.

The hosts of the event were the first to greet her as they stepped into the gallery, familiar faces (Y/N) had seen year after year. Harry's hand on her back was warm and weighty, keeping her on track as he took the blame to usher her through the interactions as soon as she received their seating tickets and were wished a good evening. She was grateful for him getting her through, still feeling a little bit too exposed after that interview.

Entering into the gallery space that had been renovated for the event to feature round dinner tables and a stage for the hosts and donors to be honored for the night. Matching the carpet out front, everything was left as black and white, the guests being the splashes of color as if they were the artworks for the night. The decor came in the same monotone hues only the cocktails and drinks breaking up the greys on the table.

"Did they seat you with me?" (Y/N) asked, passing Harry his ticket for the night.

Giving the paper a small glance, Harry kept most of his attention on getting her through the clusters of people standing about. "Think so," he murmured, a furrow on his brow.

Peering over the large curls on her head, Harry guided her through, finding their table. Lucky for her, despite being a bit later than she had scheduled, her father and his associates hadn't arrived yet. That allowed her to peek at the seating chart, lips thinning when she saw she'd be at her father's side through the night.

"Can I have my bag?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Harry just a step behind her. He didn't hesitate to pass off her tiny purse. Still embarrassed by what happened on the carpet and thinking about the dull way he confirmed he'd been seated next to her, (Y/N) bit at her bottom lip before turning towards him. "It's okay if you don't want to stay tonight. I know this stuff is really boring, so if you'd rather—"

"No. We've been over this," Harry said, his voice stern as he matched her gaze, "Wherever you are, I am."

While she knew this was all a part of his job—his following of her, his determination—there was something that bubbled behind her ribs. Even if there was no other reason he would spend time with her, at least there was someone always at her side; she wasn't going to be alone in these moments as long as Harry was there.

"Okay," she nodded, biting back a smile. Peeking over his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted Emma and Francesca settled around their own table, chatting away while others breezed past their table with small greetings. "I think I'm going to go talk to my friends before my dad gets here, but you can go get a drink or something if you want. If anyone asks for any payment or anything, just say it's on me."

While she knew there was a high possibility that he wasn't going to take her up on the offer, he only nodded at her before she was sending off towards the girls.

Growing closer to their court, (Y/N) could see Stavros at Emma's side, with Francesca thankfully alone—it was always a good day when she didn't bring some billionaire or to come hang out in hopes of commandeering his yacht for the weekend. They had leaned close together, chatting over the table while Stavros absently stroked his hand up and down Emma's arm, his gaze shimmering as he gazed at her profile.

Franny was the first to spot her approach, her gaze lifting and posture straightening. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, Emma turning in her seat with a matching smile, "You finally made it!"

"You look gorgeous," Emma gushed, her own glimmering dress surely a Stavros original.

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled, taking a free chair at Emma's side to slip into the conversation, "You guys look so pretty, too."

At that, Emma couldn't seem to help herself before launching into the origin story of her dress, introducing Stavros and his genius mind as the one behind her high couture sheath dress. Francesca had clearly already heard this tale, her gaze checked out as she pulled her phone from her purse.

"Did you bring anyone, (Y/N)?" Emma pressed, no doubt having already seen Harry at her table and fishing for more information.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the ends of her hair tickling her collarbones. "No, just Harry."

"Just Harry?"

A smile spread across her cheeks at Emma's prodding. "Just Harry," she parroted, unwavering despite Emma's tease. Turning to Francesca, (Y/N) shifted the conversation, "Has your mom called again since she visited?"

It only took a roll of Fran's eyes to tell (Y/N) everything she needed to know. "It's not if she's called, it's how many times."

With that Francesca started on the epic that was the amount of phone calls, FaceTimes, and voicemails left on her phone with her mom still insistent that being a gallery owner is all her daughter could ever want. Following along and allowing her laughter to flow freely, (Y/N) slipped into herself as she sat with her friends. Seeing the event photographer fluttering about the tables, she was grateful that this moment could be forever immortalized—a time she felt like herself with her best friends.

Unfortunately, also from her peripheral, she could spot her father and his friends having seated themselves at their table. His showmanship in terms of his boisterous laughter that had to be at a volume just higher than the rest of the crowd was what gave him away. Harry was also seated though he was decidedly less interested in the conversation than the rest of the table, his gaze shifting to where she sat more often than not.

(Y/N) couldn't help but to scoot in further to her borrowed table, despite knowing that she was only pushing off the inevitable. She was going to have to speak to her father anyway, especially with her place setting residing next to him. Nonetheless, she preferred to put it off as long as possible. She was having a good time at this point, no reason to cut it short.

Being spared only a handful more minutes, (Y/N) knew she couldn't steal this spot forever when she saw one of the hosts start making rounds before edging towards the stage. She was sure the rightful owner of this spot was waiting for her to leave, anyway.

Finding a pause in the conversation, she began to stand with a careful hand ensuring the slit in her dress didn't open too wide. "I'd better go sit down, guys. I think everything's starting soon."

Francesca gave her a pout. "You'll come see us after dinner?"

"Of course; you think I'm going to stay over there all night?"

Both Fran and Emma let out a laugh, Stavros awkwardly joining in despite most likely needing a translation of what she said from his girlfriend.

Sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) pasted a smile on her face as she made her way back to her own table. At some point she must not have caught, Harry had gotten up and was now returning with a couple of glasses of water in his hands. She watched as he placed them beside their individual plates then took the spot beside her father. A pinch took her brow.

Their table was full of exclusively her father's friends: two men she recognized from the country club, one of their wives, and Harry. The rearrangement would leave her to sit between Harry and the man's wife, a step removed from her father. Not that she was complaining, though.

Without missing a step, (Y/N) approached the round table with her hands folded in front of her, tiny bag on her wrist. The sound of her heels clacking over the floor was muffled under the dull roar of the chattering ballroom.

Silently, she took her rearranged spot. Scooting in, no one acknowledged her, her father instead holding court as usual. At least here, he was one of many important fish, so she didn't have to deal with people fawning over his facade.

Peering at the name cards she had spotted before, (Y/N) saw her's and Harry's cards had been swapped. Harry had been stationed at the table the whole time, she couldn't imagine anyone had a moment—even her father—to move the places around without him noticing.

Eventually, just as she was about to pull out her phone and do anything to entertain herself, she heard her name come from her father's mouth. "You look nice, sweetie" he complimented, his investor meeting smile lighting up his features.

"Thank you," she answered, her own features arranged in a practiced expression, "You look nice, too."

Just like that, he moved on, replacing his attention to now land on Harry. It was a replay of the day at the country club, another round of praises being offered to her "handler" and all the amazing work he's done for (Y/N). Tuning it all out, she instead focused on the ice in her water glass, smiling when she heard a laugh around the table and zoning out otherwise.

It wasn't until there was another joke made at (Y/N)'s expense, that she was brought back to the surface with a discreet brush of a hand against her knee. Blinking back into the moment, she saw Harry looking at her, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Alright?" he murmured, eyes flittering about her features, "Do y'want me to get you a drink?"

The beginnings of a smile touched at the corner of her lips, her mouth going lopsided with her lipgloss glittering in the light. "I'm okay, but thank you," she muttered.

If she was being honest, she was on the brighter side of okay in that second. It was nice seeing someone ignore her dad for once and offer her some attention.

Harry only gave her a quiet nod before seamlessly slipping back into the conversation. Her attention followed him, watching the way he interacted very differently than only a couple weeks prior at the country club.

He was stiff in where he sat, features closer to a flat mask than the more languid expressions she was used to seeing him give her father. His jaw was tight, his forearms coming to rest on the lip of the table, his hands an inflexible bundle over the fine china of his plate. He was taking up space, shoulders broad and eyes solid. Following his line of sight, she saw him fixed on the man sitting at her father's other side.

(Y/N) only recognized him from the country club, specifically during her last visit a couple of weeks back. He wasn't notable by any means, but he was one of the couple that spared her a lingering glance even when her father was promoting Harry to the rest of the table.

Maybe, he was the reason Harry was in such a rotten mood when he met her in the maze. One of the few times she wished she had stuck around her father's drinking table, if only to know why Harry was insistent on shooting this man daggers.

"Right, Harry?" her father jested, most likely looking for Harry's confirmation to a deprecating joke at (Y/N)'s expense.

Blinking in the direction of the man, Harry barely spared a glance to her father.

"Right," he deadpanned.

It was the expression on her father's face, obviously thrown off by the lack of enthusiasm on Harry's part, that had her hiding her smile behind a sip from her glass of ice water.

Perhaps this dinner wouldn't be so bad.

—————

With dinner plates cleared and trays of mini desserts being distributed throughout the room, (Y/N) took her first chance at escape.

Others had started milling about, socializing with drinks in hand before the afterparties that would no doubt last well into the night. It was easy to slip within the masses, the wife of one of her father's friends being one of the only that could have spotted her disappearance. The men at the table were too distracted to even acknowledge her mumbled excusal to go to the restroom—including Harry, even if half of his attention was still placed on the sharp looks he was giving to the man across from him.

Emma and Francesca happily welcomed her back to their table, a couple of other girls they occasionally clubbed with also having pulled up a chair. From where she sat, she could still spot her father's table, his back facing her. She was able to relax then, feeling comfortable around her friends, even when she spotted the photographer from earlier meandering through the tables once more with the camera to his eye.

They bubbled over the surprise performance over dinner, an impromptu concert from one of the celebrities in attendance, with (Y/N) hoping they ended up at the same afterparty as her so she could get a chance to ask who designed her gown. Francesca shared the person she now had her eyes on, a man she recognized from touring galleries with her mom who was now seated only a few tables away. He was an artist, she decided, way more romantic than any guy with a yacht. Emma and Stavros were very much ready to head to the afterparties with the way they could barely finish a sentence before sealing their lips together.

"I'm going to go get a drink, do you guys want anything?" (Y/N) asked, standing from her spot with her tiny purse hanging from her wrist.

Chatters of denial spread over the table, many of the girls having their own drinks or refraining until the afterparties. (Y/N) shot them a smile before turning on her heel and making her way towards the bar.

The bartender was busy lacing together elaborate themed cocktails for the string of other patrons waiting, leaving (Y/N) to lean against the counter, arms folded on the bartop. She watched the show, enthralled with the mixing of ingredients while in wait.

Suddenly, she felt a hand touch the small of her back, the boning of her corset stiffening against her skin. (Y/N) jumped where she stood, her breath coming up short. Turning to face whoever spooked her, she recoiled when she saw it was the man that Harry had been shooting daggers at across the table.

He didn't even look at her as he flagged down the bartender, raising his voice to call across the long bar. (Y/N) stood there, her brain a little too muddled as she watched him speak over her to order a duo of drinks.

All of her father's friends sucked, but never once has any of them so blatantly disrespected her in public like this. He couldn't wait a few more minutes to get his whiskey and gin and tonic?

(Y/N) started to pull away then, shaking off his hand as she slunk away from his hovering body. He didn't let her get very far, his hand flexing on her back as he stepped along with her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said, a megawatt smile on his face, "I saw you standing here alone and figured it was my chance to finally talk to you."

"Oh," she sounded, unsure of what to say. More than anything at the moment, she was now annoyed that there was another order before hers, just wanting her cranberry juice-heavy cosmo in her hand.

"I'm Barron," he told her, dipping his head down as if it was loud enough he needed to whisper in her ear.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, her expression practiced, "I'm (Y/N)."

"I know," he flirted. (Y/N) swore her eye could have twitched.

Just in time, the bartender reached over with a whiskey on the rocks and a crystalline gin and tonic. "Here you are, sir," the bartender smiled, placing both drinks on coasters in front of Barron.

Thankfully, he removed his hand from her back to lean across the bar, relaying the tab information, his voice a little too boastful when spelling out his last name. (Y/N) felt she could breathe easier almost as soon as his hand left her form. Now was her chance: order her drink, and get back to her girls as soon as possible.

Instead, she saw as the bartender stepped away, relaying back to his previous customers as Barron passed the gin and tonic towards (Y/N). "Here you go, sweetheart."

Though she was startled, (Y/N) kept her practiced smile on as she stepped back just enough. "No, thank you. I was actu—"

"I insist," he cut her off, speaking above her with another push of the drink and coaster towards her. His hand returned to her back, caging her in with her front still against the bar. This time, he pressed his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers dipping low underneath the scoop of her corset. Unpleasant goosebumps erupted over her skin. "Your dad said you would need someone to keep an eye on you tonight, and I can see your bodyguard is a little busy at the moment. I can take care of this for you instead."

Her jaw felt tight. Peering over his shoulder, she was able to spot Harry sat with his back facing the bar, just as she left him with her father.

"Well," she started, chest expanding as she pulled in a deep breath, "Thank you for the drink. My friends are waiting for me, but it was nice to actually meet you."

Expecting his hand to fall from her, (Y/N) attempted to make her exit. Instead she was offered a stronger grip, his arm a bar across her back. "At least let me talk to you," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe she was trying to slip away, "I got you a drink, I think that's only fair, right?"

"Oh, I mean," she floundered, reciprocating with a polite laugh, "I should probably get back, though. After I got a drink we were planning on leaving for some afterparties, so."

He barked out a laugh, bringing his whiskey to his lips as he took in a deep sip. The ice clinked within the glass as she shook his head. "You know, your dad did say you were a bit feisty, but I didn't think you'd be like this."

Shifting her weight, (Y/N) would have done next to anything to crawl away from this moment. She didn't like the idea of him asking about her to her father; she dreaded to think what kind of stories were told or publications discussed that could have brought up the topic of her being "feisty".

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographer meandering close by. All it would take was a slight struggle, a slight raising of voices, and that camera would no doubt be up to his eye with a high definition photo of the moment splashed across the internet by the end of the night. That wasn't even taking into account the amount of cell phones around the room that could be trained in their direction in a moment's notice.

As annoying as this man was and how much she was itching to leave her skin over his touch, fighting him further wasn't going to be worth the scene it would cause. Especially not with her father right there; it would be too easy for this man—his friend—to turn this whole thing around on her without any argument from her father.

All she could do was hope Francesca or any of the other girls noticed she was missing for longer than it could possibly take to grab a drink.

"Come sit with me," Barron commanded, urging her to roll underneath his arm so he could guide her to a nearby table with vacant chairs. Swallowing, (Y/N) followed along, her smile tight. "Don't forget your drink."

Her smile grew that much tighter over his words.

The chilled glass was slick against her palm.

Barron pushed her into a seat, his hand finally leaving her skin and leaving an overly hot point on her body. Sinking into her chair, (Y/N) tried to create as much space as she could between them, even with the way he leant across the space to enter her bubble. Her hand clenched around the gin and tonic glass.

"See, not so bad, is it?" Barron teased, taking another sip of his quickly draining glass.

"Right," (Y/N) let out a humorless laugh, "So, how do you know my dad?"

This was a trick she learned to get these men off her back. They loved nothing more than to talk about themselves and the things they thought deemed them important. Barron seemed all too excited to talk about his business prowess that led him to her father's "inner circle", surely exaggerating the amount of acquisitions he headed to get him where he was.

"But, I can't lie," he said, lowering his voice and smirking at her, "I told him I wanted to meet you a month ago, and we've started talking a lot more since. He told me you were having some troubles, and I had a feeling I might be able to help you."

Reaching across, Barron settled his too warm hand on her knee, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh of her thigh.

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten at the touch, the way he looked at her over the rim of his glass, as if he were doing her a favor. She was sure he thought she should be grateful to feel his hand on her skin, like this was the first step to getting her through her troubles.

Her grip around her glass tightened.

What was she supposed to do now?

She felt trapped. He scooted closer to her over the floor, his hand sliding over her thigh. He even stuck his foot out, playing footsie as if she looked open to flirting.

Swallowing, she let out a strained laugh, bringing her glass to her lips for no other reason than to buy herself a moment's reprieve.

She couldn't decipher what would be worse: staying in this situation or causing a scene that would no doubt have her father locking her down in a remote cabin for the winter?

With the amount of cameras in the room, if she flipped the way her bubbling anxiety urged her to, there was no doubt the last vestiges of her reputation would be burned to the ground. Everything was bad enough already, but there would be no recovery from a documented outburst like the one she could feel brewing.

A forced laugh fell from her lips, "I guess you could say that." Glancing through the room, she tried to spot Harry. Maybe, he had miraculously turned around and could see what was happening. If she caught his eye, he could put a stop to this.

He told her all she needed was to look at him, and he would be right there. He could take her away from this. He told her—promised her.

Suddenly, she felt that overly-hot hand that had been on her leg pinch her chin. Barron redirected her strayed attention, forcing her to look right at his smug face.

"Eyes on me when I'm speaking, babygirl. It's respectful."

If not for the fact she was close to having an anxiety attack, (Y/N) could only imagine the amount of rage she would feel at his condescending words.

Instead, all she could feel was his hand too close to her throat, the absolute view of his eyes he was forcing on her. Her skin felt too hot, though she swore goosebumps were rising. Her stomach churned, the corset feeling way too tight around her lungs.

"Sorry," she swallowed, almost choking around the word though she could tell he didn't even notice.

In as casual of a way as she could muster, she pushed his hand off of her chin, disguising it as a move to flip her hair over her shoulder. Barron instead settles his hand on her shoulder, fingering the pearls draping over her skin.

"Good," he said, seemingly pleased with her feigned obedience, "I want to hear about you, though."

"What do you want to know?" she forced out through a high smile.

Her heart jumped into her throat, clogging her airways with every brush of his fingers over her skin. She was on the verge of a panic attack.

One of the only times she ever would have wanted a bodyguard and he's not even here. If her father could shut up for two seconds, Harry could have done the job he was hired for.

Instead, (Y/N) was left with a pit in her stomach, something that she swore could eat through her dress and absorb her as if it were nothing. How was she supposed to breathe when her organs had to make way for the blackhole in her stomach? How was she supposed to think clearly when her instincts urged her to move along, with nothing else managing to make an impression on her brain?

This man was pushing her too far. He was touching her too much, looking at her too closely, talking too loudly.

She needed him to stop. She could barely feel her hands, her toes, her lips. No amount of air in her lungs was enough.

(Y/N) hadn't even realized Barron was talking until his voice was cut off. A decidedly gentler hand settled on her opposing shoulder.

"There you are!" Francesca greeted, bending down to (Y/N)'s level with her eyes widening just enough when she made eye contact, "I'm about to head to the bathroom, could you come with me?"

Without a second thought, (Y/N) released her chokehold grip on the gin and tonic, looking Barron in the eye as she took in the first semi-normal breath in the last handful of minutes. "Sorry, I'll be right back."

Francesca took (Y/N)'s hand in her own, scurrying to the bathroom in record time. Stepping over the tile floor of the single stall restroom, (Y/N) felt a tingle in her hands, her gaze unable to focus while Francesca locked the door behind them.

"Hey, what's going on?" Fran questioned, stepping behind her with a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

All it took was a flutter of (Y/N)'s lashes and a stuttered breath before everything she was holding back spilled over. A whimper sliced from her throat, her vision blurring.

"(Y/N)?"

Spinning on her heel, she couldn't help the way she braced herself against her best friend, Francesca collecting her into a hug as if she might collapse at a moment's notice.

"I-I don't know," (Y/N) cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I—Fran—I'm—Thank you."

Nothing falling from her lips made much sense, everything too mushy and half-baked as she sputtered. She didn't know how to articulate how uncomfortable Barron was making her feel; how much she wanted to crawl out of her skin, how she felt trapped, how she knew what he did wasn't all that bad—even compared to her own experiences—but she swore she hadn't felt so unsafe since that night with Damien Moore. How was she supposed to get all of that out between gasping breaths and tingling lips?

Francesca was her pillar at the moment, keeping (Y/N) upright as she held her. "Okay, it's okay," she tried to soothe her, despite her own voice wavering, "I didn't even know, (Y/N). I'm sorry. I would have helped you sooner, if I had."

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) parroted, sniffling, "I-I think my dad told him to talk to me."

Francesca muttered something under her breath, which sounded a lot like a string of curse words though (Y/N) hoped it was actually a hex against her father.

After tightening her hug, Francesca began to pull away from (Y/N)'s melting form. "I'm going to be right back," she told her earnestly, "I'm going to grab my bag and call my driver, and we're going to leave, okay? Your dad isn't even going to know."

"Okay, okay," (Y/N) repeated in a broken voice, nodding her head, "Thank you."

Francesca left with a concerned look over her shoulder.

Circling the drain, (Y/N) couldn't stop pacing around the bathroom, the clack of her heels echoing in her ears. Her mind was running way too fast to keep up. There was no focus she could give to anything when she swore her corset was strangling her. The spots that Barron's slimy hands touched her dirty, gross and sticky in a way only the longest shower could hope to erase. Her head was too muddy, swimming too far away, for anything to make sense.

Striking through it all, she remembered her father was out there.

God, she was going to be in so much trouble. There was no way she could talk herself out of this one, and with how fragile she felt at the moment, she couldn't imagine making it through a scolding of his like she usually did. Not like this.

What if he blamed Harry, even? What if Harry was roped into her orbit of trouble, being blamed for the fact she had a breakdown in one of the most inconvenient places? Her father would no doubt reject the fact that he was the reason behind Harry's distraction.

The idea made (Y/N) crumble that much more. These were her problems, and now Harry might be held accountable for the fact she couldn't suck it up over a couple of lingering touches and condescending words. As if she didn't know how to handle it already.

Memories of this man's hands on her body—along with a quick montage of others in his place before, including Damien Moore—were a thick ocean in (Y/N)'s head. The illusions were only cut with the scolds of her father, lists of things she'd done wrong and could never recover from.

Through the depths, she could hear distant voices. They were having a muffled argument on the other side of the door, that much she could collect. Every other detail was lost at sea, (Y/N) too busy crumbling by the sink with her breathing too short to be good for her health.

Suddenly, the voices were much closer, a firm tone telling their partner that "I need to see her, let me in!" She knew she recognized that voice, that firm tone and grumbling accent. (Y/N) knew who was on the other side of the door, but nothing could properly register in her head.

The door burst open a second later (or it could have been a handful of minutes, time wasn't real in the moment to her). Both Harry and Francesca tumbled through, Harry's brow furrowed and eyes hard while Fran's were boiling in anger.

"(Y/N), I tried to tell him to—"

Francesca's voice filtered through the bathroom, though (Y/N) only saw the way Harry assessed the situation. His cool demeanor never wavered as he catalogued the crumbling mess that made her up. The only thing that gave away the fact that this was out of the norm of his routine was the furrow to his brows and determination setting his jaw.

Taking broad steps over the tile, Harry met her by the sink, his hands gathering hers from where they were fumbling and picking at her middle.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice somehow louder to her than Francesca's in the background of the moment, "Why aren't y'breathing, (Y/N)? What's going on?"

"I-I want to leave, Harry, I don't want to be here anymore," she rushed out, her tongue tripping over itself with salty tears traced the shape of her lips. "I don't w-want him to touch me again, I want to go home."

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw. "Okay," he nodded, features composed as he slipped his hands out from hers to settle them on the curve of her waist. Before (Y/N) could have any kind of reaction to the touch, Harry was lifting her to sit on the edge of the sink, the slit in her dress splitting to reveal one full leg with the other still draped in the silken material. "Before we can do that, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?"

"I-I can't," she whined, the tenor of her voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. From the corner of her eye, she could see the silhouette of Francesca paces away, quietly watching on.

"Okay," Harry soothed, his hands taking hers once more, "But I need you to try. We can't go anywhere until you try."

The idea that she would have to stay here even a moment longer made (Y/N) choke up even more. How could he ask her to do the impossible like this? She just wanted to leave and Harry was making her stay here, pressuring her to breathe as if he thought she could actually manage that.

"Harry," she cried, her voice broken.

He shook his head, a stray curl falling from his tousled head of hair. "Just for a minute, yeah? Then we'll leave, I promise."

When he didn't dare to break the eye contact he was making with her, (Y/N) couldn't do anything but nod her head to his wishes.

"Copy me," he instructed, taking in a deep through his nose, holding, then exhaling through his nose. When he didn't see (Y/N) doing the same, he repeated, "Gotta copy me, (Y/N)." A pulse of his hands around hers gained her attention.

"Okay," she peeped, nodding with jerky movements.

Another round of structured breathing came from Harry, his chest expanding with his perfect lips forming an "o" when exhaling. (Y/N) copied him as best she could, her chest straining against her corset and her lips feeling sticky with tears when she blew out. Harry stuck with her even when her lungs stuttered and she sobbed through the exercise. It wasn't until she was able to make five full breaths in a row that Harry relented in his pressing.

"Feel a little better?" he asked, eyes searching her face.

(Y/N) took stock of her state, noting the tingling in her fingers and toes had relented, leaving only the aches of a panic lingering in her body. Her head felt a little bloated and her chest tight, but she was doing world's better than she was only a handful of minutes earlier—even if that wasn't a necessarily hard bar to cross.

She nodded.

Using his gentle grip on her hands, Harry guided her off the counter, steadying her back onto her heels. (Y/N) had her eyes on her feet, watching the sparkling of her shoes against the immaculate tile of the floor. She really, really, really hoped tonight wouldn't ruin these shoes for her.

Stepping back into (Y/N)'s line of sight, Francesca looked just as concerned as when she had left the first time. Her purse was now in hand with her phone clutched between her fingers. "Let's go back to my place, okay? I can make sure my driver can be here in five minutes, then we'll leave and we don't have to talk to anyone else."

Francesca reached out a friendly hand, intending to take her from Harry's hold and back to her like they planned before he tumbled into the bathroom. (Y/N) didn't even realize that she was shying away from her best friend until she felt Harry's hand settle on the top of her back with his arm curling around her.

"Fran—I—," she floundered, unsure of where her voice went but not trying to find it, "I want to stay with him, I'm sorry."

Though (Y/N) expected hurt to touch Fran's features, she instead only saw a look of surprise raise her brows and widen her eyes. "That's okay," Francesca reassured her, "Don't be sorry. Just text me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, her hair tickling her bare skin.

Taking a tentative step forward, Francesca held her arms out. "Can I hug you before you leave?"

(Y/N) didn't say anything before she collected her friend in a clumsy hug, cheek against her shoulder with their hair creating a mess.

"I'm sorry, Fran," (Y/N) repeated in a hoarse whisper.

"Why are you sorry, don't be sorry," Francesca reminded her, "I just want you to feel safe, that's all." Pulling away, Fran matched her gaze, a soft smile falling on her mocha lined lips. "You look so hot tonight, so you better still post pics."

It was the way Francesca looked at her so earnestly as if what she was saying was just as important as solidifying her plans to make it home, that had (Y/N) spilling with a huff of laughter. "I will," she sniffled, her cry-swollen mouth, "Love you."

"Love you, too."

Francesca parted with her after another squeezing hug, (Y/N) turning to find Harry with his eyes on the ground waiting for her. He peeked at her through the fan of his lashes, noticing her eye on him once more.

"Ready?"

All it took was (Y/N) nodding her head before she was reaching for Harry once more, allowing him to take her under his arm and bundle her to his side.

"We're going to have to fast, okay?" he murmured to her as he pushed the door to the bathroom open, Francesca lingering in the restroom.

"Okay," (Y/N) repeated, staying still as he peered around the secluded hallway in search of anyone else lurking around the space.

Once he determined everything was clear, he started her in the direction of the ballroom. (Y/N) stiffened under his arm. Her father was out there. So was Barron. And over a hundred cell phone cameras and a trained photographer with a high quality camera for moments just like these.

"I know," he crooned to her, the tip of his nose brushing her hair from where she had her eyes trained on the ground, "But 's the only way to get out. There's a back way, we jus' need to get through by the bar, then we'll be alone again. I promise."

As much as she wanted to stop in her tracks, hide a little while longer, she allowed Harry to guide her steps down the hall. If this was the only way out, she was going to have to endure.

The dull roar of the Gala filled every space in her body the second they stepped back under the chandelier light of the ballroom. (Y/N) kept her head down, hoping that if she caught anyone's eye, she could at least spare herself the humility of them catching her ruined makeup and swollen eyes. She clutched Harry's hand cupped around her waist. Her anchor.

Harry guided them through the space, dodging most of the crowd as he took a swift turn, (Y/N) doing her best to stay steady on her feet. His steps didn't falter once. Until they did.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks when Harry skidded to a stop, something in their path that she was trying not to panic over. She kept her eyes trained on the pearly hue of her shoes as if she could pinpoint every hue that glimmered off of the expensive fabric.

"Harry, what's going on?"

Almost jumping out of her skin, (Y/N) whipped her head up to find her father and Barron standing in their way. Her father spoke through gritted teeth, Barron's cheeks too red and eyes too glazed as he didn't even try to hide the way his gaze clung to her form. It's as if he forgot everything that led up to her fleeing from him and now returning with ruined mascara.

(Y/N) flinched back on instinct. His eyes were almost as bad as his touch.

Harry was a firm cage around her, keeping her steady as he ignored her father. He dismissed them as he tried to get around them, finding a path between a pair of tables. Her breathing caught in her throat when she saw her father try to reach for her, his hand like a wolven claw meant to drag her away.

In a moment, Harry had twirled her away, putting her out of range while he acted as a solid wall between them to her.

"Do not touch her," he gritted out, an undertone to his voice she'd never heard before. He was looking her father right in the eye as he spat out his command, taking him on without a wavering second.

Her father, taken aback, almost stumbled on his feet. "Excuse me?" he let out.

Ignoring him once more, Harry shot a sharp look at Barron. The man recoiled as if he had been struck.

Harry didn't linger a second longer as he took through the tables, getting them back on track as soon as possible. (Y/N) could feel eyes on her, no doubt cameras following suit. This was a moment publication and gossip blogs would rather die than leave out. Tomorrow was going to be a shitshow with the notifications that would blow up her phone, but she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment.

She only focused on Harry, keeping up with him and keeping her hand in his on her waist.

Eventually, they stepped into the back hallway. (Y/N) recognized it from the times she'd visited 132 during a regular exhibition; it was the best way to sneak in and out when she didn't want to be spotted.

Pushing open the heavy door after the hallway forked off into two different directions, Harry pulled (Y/N) into the fresh night air. Though the sky was clear, not a single star could be seen above their heads, the lights too bright to see anything in the heavens. The alley behind the gallery was big enough to allow protected trucks full of art pieces large enough to be considered murals to make through, the space clean enough. Cigarette butts were on the ground, and a dumpster resided on the other side. Still it was enough to please that of the higher clientele that visited the 132 Gallery, though (Y/N) wasn't sure she would care if she were stepping through piles of garbage at the moment.

She was out. The gallery, her father, Barron, the cameras were all behind her.

That knowledge alone allowed her lungs to open just a hair more, the rush of oxygen almost choking her.

"Sully's on his way, okay?" Harry told her, his grip on her lessening now that they were alone, "I told him it was an emergency and he said he'd make it as soon as possible."

"Okay," she gasped, nodding her head as best she could through her muddied mind.

"Yeah," she breathed out, her lungs shaky but nothing like before. She just needed to think about every intake, which was a feat in its own, but whatever helped.

A beat passed, Harry surely keeping track of her breathing. "Thought we stopped crying?" he murmured after a moment, closing in around her with his hands settling on her biceps.

Raising her hand to her cheek, (Y/N) swiped away a stream of tears she hadn't even been aware were leaking out.

"Me too," she whispered, her voice watery with a pinch to her brows.

Through the vignette of her tear-clumped lashes, (Y/N) could see the barely there smile on his features. "You've got all that pretty makeup on, remember? Can't keep crying like that when Sully gets here," he crooned, his voice more gentle than she ever thought he could manage.

He thought her makeup looked pretty. Maybe he wasn't saying that she looked pretty, but it was still enough to loosen her muscles just enough.

A watery smile fixed itself on her lips. "Yeah," she let out, the word floating on a delicate huff of laughter.

From behind Harry, a bright beam of light outlined his silhouette. The sound of tires popping over the pavement and the purring rumble of a car engine filled the alleyway. Harry looked over his shoulder, leaving (Y/N) with only a view of the cut and hinge of his jaw, looping curls on the back of his neck.

The car stopped beside them, Harry not wasting a second before he was gathering (Y/N) in his arms and pulling her into the back of the SUV. She was first in, with Harry following behind her over the leather bench seat.

(Y/N) couldn't look at Sully when she settled, avoiding the reflection of his gaze in the rearview mirror she was sure that was pointed in her direction. As soon as the pair of them were buckled in—Harry having done hers—Sully was off. They were seamlessly incorporated into the city's traffic, the route back to her apartment, one he knew well and (Y/N) hoped he could quick work of.

Harry, having forgone the usual buffer he placed between them, shifted in his seat with his thigh pressed against hers. In the back of her mind, (Y/N) knew this should feel like it was too much for her, that she should be shying away from his touch after the gross feeling Barron left her with, but she didn't feel that instinct to revolt. Instead, he was like an anchor, the steadying pillar that followed her about and ensured there was no way she could drift away from shore.

"Alright?" he whispered, ducking down to peek into her line of sight, "Almost back home."

She nodded, her brain feeling numb though she was sure there were still tears dripping off her cheeks. Now that the initial wave of panic passed, exhaustion was moving in. She would find out soon if there was going to be an aftershock, a tremor that would wrack through her when the night rushed back to her clear mind.

Sinking into her seat, (Y/N) tossed her watery gaze out the window. Only a couple of hours prior she was in this same spot, though with perfected makeup and her skin buzzing from anticipation and excitement. Now she only buzzed with the feeling of oxygen reentering her bloodstream.

God, she couldn't wait to get out of her clothes, and get the pins out of her hair.

No longer caring, she got a head start and began shakily unraveling her shoes from her feet. Her fingertips fumbled over the latch on the string of pearls around her ankles, but it didn't take long for her to kick off her pumps and curl her knees to her chest. Harry silently reached down and took the Manolo's from the floor, his fingers hooked in the top straps.

When (Y/N)'s building came into view, Sully rolled to a stop just outside the entrance. (Y/N) finally chanced a look at the rearview mirror, her driver's soft eyes matching hers through the glass.

"Thank you," she peeped, voice broken.

Sully simply smiled and nodded at her.

Behind her, Harry urged her out onto the sidewalk with a careful hand on her back. She didn't think twice about her bare feet landing on the burgundy carpet rolled out on the sidewalk before her building, keeping her mind focused on getting up to her apartment. Harry lingered for a moment, the rumble of his voice saying something to Sully, before he was joining her.

"C'mon," he murmured, grabbing her hand in his.

Much like he had at the Gala, Harry directed her through the lobby, her hand in one of his with her shoes in the other. He didn't let her linger on what the doormen could be thinking, seeing her with tear stained cheeks and bare feet with her designer gown. He took her straight to the elevator and input the code to her floor.

For the first time since landing in the bathroom with panic in her chest, (Y/N) noticed the small detail of elevator music.

Following after him, Harry took her to her apartment, using the key she'd given him weeks ago to let them in. He let go of her hand once they crossed the threshold as he lingered back to lock the door behind them. Looking around her apartment, the rug under her feet, (Y/N) couldn't pinpoint what triggered her, but the sprinkling of tears leaving her eyes elevated to a full downpour.

Her breathing came out in a stuttered pace, a whimper swirling from her chest. There was that aftershock.

Oh, how this night was derailed.

In an instant, Harry is there. His arms looped around her, his instincts taking over as she was pulled to his chest.

"Hey, hey," he crooned to her, "What's going on, what happened?"

(Y/N) only shook her head against his black suit-covered shoulder. She didn't have a real answer to that, and wasn't interested in digging through the events of the night to give him a full picture at the moment.

Instead, she focused on his hold. She could feel the bump of her heels on the small of her back, but that didn't keep him from keeping her in a grounding hold. Though he was touching her in the same places that Barron had—her back, her arms, her leg, her chin—Harry's touch didn't feel the same at all. She didn't recoil or expect a film to be left on her pores.

She all but melted into him, her muscles liquifying like the tears from her eyes. Harry held her up without a second thought, just as he had the rest of the night.

A pinch took knitted her brows together at the thought, her eyes squeezing shut as more tears fled from her ducts.

Never did she picture herself needing him the way she did tonight. He was so calm and strong, keeping her from falling to pieces on the bathroom floor. (Y/N) loved Francesca with her whole heart and knew she owed her a phone call before the night was over, but she didn't think her best friend could have controlled the situation and her breakdown like Harry had.

He stopped her father from touching her, Barron from talking to her. He knew the precise way to make it out with the least amount of disturbance possible. Even letting Sully know to pick them up as soon as possible wasn't something that had even crossed her mind, but that had to have been one of the first things he did when he realized her state.

She hugged him tighter, her arms around his middle.

Drawing away just enough to look down at her, Harry scanned her with sparkling green eyes. "Do y'need to breathe with me again?" he asked her, the suggestion gentle and quiet as if there were people around to overhear.

"N-No," she said, shaking her head, "I just—... Can you stay with me f-for a second?"

In response, Harry homed her back into his chest. "I've got you," his voice rumbled his chest under her cheek.

Though it was more than clumsy with missteps and stilted movements, Harry led her to the staircase that ran up to her room. From there, he sat her on the bottom step, with him following closely after. She huddled up to him, Harry's arms curling around her as she sat with her dress splayed around her.

She didn't know how long she sat there, one of Harry's hands on her shin with his thumb moving in a soothing circuit over the bone, her face in his neck, but no time seemed long enough. The only reason she even dared to begin to pull back was the itching feeling of her clothes wrapped around her body.

"What do you need?" he asked instantly, ducking down into her space. From this view, she saw a collection of freckles across his nose, faint.

Swallowing, (Y/N) felt her hair sticking to her wet cheeks, the chunks of desecrated mascara surely mixing with the strands on her skin.

"I don't want to be in my dress anymore," she said, her voice as loud as she could manage without breaking. "It's too much."

"Okay," he murmured, giving a small nod, "Okay. I'll help you up to your room, and then y'can change into your pajamas."

The idea of him leaving her being in her bedroom had the lump in her throat thickening. She could barely keep her hands steady and he wanted her to be by herself?

"I-I can't do it by myself," she whimpered, too far gone to feel embarrassed about asking her bodyguard for help like this.

"Y'need my help?" he pressed, looking for verification though his gaze didn't waver from her own.

(Y/N) simply nodded her head.

His lips thinned but he gave her a confirming dip of his chin before he started helping her stand. He kept his hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her up the steps, (Y/N) following pliantly into her bedroom.

With a toss, Harry left her shoes in a heap somewhere in her room, but his attention was firmly laced on her. He kept her bedroom door open, the light from the hallway seeping through.

"(Y/N)?" he voiced, his voice firm, "Can y'look at me?"

Turning her gaze, she found him looking directly at her as his hand slipped away from hers. She almost wanted to reach for it back, unwilling to let go of that tether.

"You're okay with me helping y'undress?" he prodded, reiterating the same question she thought she already answered at the bottom of the stairs, "I need you to tell me if you're sure. I'm not going to help unless y'mean it."

"I-I can't do it by myself, please," she told him. Not once had she made it in or out of this dress by herself, and she couldn't fathom doing that now when her eyes were swollen with tears and her hands fighting off tremors. "I don't want to wear this anymore."

he looked at her for a beat longer, gaze matching her own. Whatever he saw in there must have been enough for him to give her a small nod. "Okay. Tell me what to do."

"Just get the zipper," she told him, facing her back towards him where the scooping line of her dress made it that much harder for her to reach the tiny mechanism.

Silently, Harry stepped behind her, her hair already up and pulled away when she reached towards her. The hook at the top of the form was the first to go, his fingertips brushing the same swatch of skin Barron had violated. Taking the zipper down, every tooth that was pulled apart allowed her lungs to fill deeper with air. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, her dress loosening around her shoulders.

Pressing her hands to her chest, she kept the bodice of her dress up once Harry reached the bottom of the line.

"Can y'breathe better?" Harry murmured behind her, his words fanning across her skin. His breath felt cool against her skin.

"Uh-huh," she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing into a gentle slope, "Thank you."

She heard him murmur a good in response though he hesitated where he stood. "Do y'need any more of m'help? Or do y'want to be alone now?"

The idea of Harry leaving her, setting her to be alone in the dark of her room, the city skyline dusky out the window. She feared his hands were the only things keeping her from falling apart.

"Help," she answered simply.

Wordlessly, Harry assisted her in pulling down her dress, her back facing him as it became an ethereal puddle at her feet. Dom was going to kill her when he found out she let the gown touch the floor.

The nude forms of her shapewear and barely there bra was all that was left on her body as she kicked away her dress, the corset now structureless and folded with pearls a mess around.

(Y/N) didn't even think before she was pulling down her shapewear, the compression just another layer too much.

"I—" Harry coughed from behind her, his voice cutting short, "I'm going to get y'some clothes."

Her skin heated when she realized the way she had so carelessly began undressing in front of him. She was so used to having a team be there when she prepped and redressed from this, the shyness accompanying undressing and pulling layers off her body no longer lingered in moments like these. But, Harry wasn't a member of those teams, and this obviously wasn't the kind of thing he had anticipated when he obliged to stay and help her. She hoped she hadn't scarred him with the way she was almost completely nude in front of him.

At the same time, she couldn't curb the urge to get these pieces off of her body. She wanted to be rid of the night, the touches, the layers of herself that fell victim to her father's pressures to stay perfect at all times. The sooner that could happen, the sooner she would feel like herself again.

By the time Harry returned from her closet, an oversized shirt and a pair of her pilates shorts in hand, she was down to her thong with her hands holding up the push-up cups of her bra. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him move out of the corner of her eye, his steps faltering before he trained his gaze on the ground.

"I'll leave these here for you," he mumbled, the set of clothing being dropped on the edge of her mattress. He brought his knuckle up to brush against the tip of his nose, "I'll be outside your door. Come find me when you're done."

When the door shut behind him, (Y/N) was sealed away by herself. Her room became a vacuum, the air sucked out in a way that only felt calm.

Left in only her underwear, she allowed her bra to drop to the floor as she fell back on her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with the light of the city filtering through her balcony in hazy beams.

This is her apartment. She's in her bed. She was in her skin. Her clothing was waiting at the end of her bed.

(Y/N) eyes fell closed as relief flooded through herself at the mantra. Everything around her was hers. No one could take any of this from her. This peace was hers to hold.

Tomorrow she would be worried about the stories that would be spun, her father's reaction to everything that had transpired, what consequences would follow this breakdown. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to relish the sense of safety, that for a second she worried she would never experience again (that panic in her tummy was rooted deep).

She needed to text Francesca.

While she would have preferred to give her a call, there wasn't enough energy in her body for something like that.

Instead, (Y/N) lethargically redressed into her pajamas. Her top slouched around her form, the neckline wide and sleeves draping. Her shorts were well worn and stretchy from the many pilates sessions they accompanied her to. Taking her phone after she was settled into her skin, she typed out a text to Francesca.

thank you for helping tonight. harry got me home a little bit ago so I'm alright. I love u so much fran thank you thank you thank you

The second she pressed send, the confirmation that the message was delivered popping up, (Y/N) dropped the device among the folds in her duvet to find Harry.

Whipping the door open, she found Harry just outside her bedroom door. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere in her apartment, his tie missing as well. Now he was left with the top couple of buttons undone of his shirt and his shirt sleeves now loose around his forearms. The tattoos she spotted the first day they met were back on display, roses and mermaids and bugs and script.

That peace she found in her bedroom strengthened at the sight of him.

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, his posture straightening from where he had leant against the wall.

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping over the threshold, "I-I can breathe, finally." She swallowed, taking in the state of his messed hair and flush to his cheeks. She knew what the night looked like from her end, but she could only imagine the kind of trouble he went through. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head, lips thinning at her apology. "Don't be sorry," he affirmed, reaching a careful hand out, "C'mon."

Laying her palm in his, (Y/N) was ready to follow wherever Harry wanted to take her. She padded after him as he escorted her to her bathroom, the space littered with beauty products and a bay window showing off the light of the city through the frosted glass.

"Let's get your makeup off and hair down, yeah?" he asked her, meeting her eyes through the glass of her mirror as he flicked on the overhead lights.

"Yes, please," she nodded, her voice heavy with fatigue now that the come down was beginning to settle in. "I'll start with my makeup if you'll get my hair?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry murmured, a shadow of a smile touching the corners of his lips.

A comforting silence settled in the air, Harry concentrating on breaking the hold of the can of hairspray that was used on her styled hair. A furrow appeared in his brow from where she spied him in the mirror.

"Let me know if I hurt you," he mumbled, picking bobby pins out of her strands. He only worked with gentle hands, fingertips brushing her scalp.

Now it was her turn to feel a curling grin tease the corners of her mouth. "Okay."

Pulling her removal balm from her drawer, she spread the oil across her fingertips and began shedding the layers of ruined makeup from her skin. In the back of her mind, she wanted to care about Harry seeing her with raccoon eyes and greasy skin, but she was sure he'd already seen her much worse earlier in the night. Nothing could scare him away at this point, even if she knew it was more for job security than anything that had to do with her. Besides, she didn't mind showing him this part of herself; he was her safety net tonight.

More and more of her strands broke free while (Y/N) peeled her lashes off, a damp cloth being used to get the removal balm off of her skin. Her pores and blemishes were on display once more, her skin breathing after being caked under powders and rivers of tears. Her scalp felt sore with every bobby pin Harry took out, a pile accruing on the counter.

"Can I ask what happened back there?" Harry piped up, breaking the silence that had settled like a fog over the room. His usual deadpan tone softened into something malleable and soft, gentle to her ears.

(Y/N)'s lips thinned at the question. She knew how to answer the question, but it was more of a matter of if she wanted to hear the answer after already living it. She bought herself time as she swiped her face with an extra cleansing water, her reusable cotton pad soft against her skin.

From her view in the mirror, she saw as he kept his eyes trained on her hair, fingers tracing through the strands comb out the twirled mess made earlier in the night.

"I know y'might not want to tell me because we aren't... friends, but even as someone who's meant to look after you, it would help to know just so I can protect you better next time," he mused, his voice gentle.

"Franny didn't tell you?"

A beat passed. "I want to hear it from you, (Y/N)."

Harry kept her steady when her weight shifted on her feet. His hands in her hair dropped to settle on her biceps, his eyes returning hers in the mirror. She felt his eyes scanning over her face. Whatever he found there had his jaw hardening, his resolve strengthening from where he stood behind her. "You're not there anymore, (Y/N). It's all over, don't forget."

She nodded her head, taking in a wavering breath through her nose. "Right, um," she started, her fingers fiddling with the sewn edge of her cotton pad, "It was that guy, at our table. The one sitting on my dad's other side. He found me at the bar when I was getting a drink, and he just didn't really listen. He bought me a drink and kept wanting to talk to me even when I was saying I wanted to go back to Emma and Francesca."

With his hands resuming in her hair, Harry listened along. "Right," he murmured, his voice now holding an edge that had previously been melted away. She had a feeling he knew bits and pieces of this story, and it only made it that much harder to hear it from her mouth.

"He kept touching me, and talking to me like I was stupid. It wasn't that bad, it just felt wrong—it made me feel gross." She swallowed around her dry throat, grateful for the lack of makeup on her face, her tears now welling over clean lashes. "I tried to leave, but I knew people were around and my dad would have been so mad if I made a scene. I tried to find you but I think my dad was talking to you so you couldn't see me, and the girls were busy, and there was a camera guy going around and taking photos. I couldn't... I let him keep touching me, but I was getting so nervous and it was all too much."

With her hair finally down and free from the style it was put in, Harry noticed the shine of her tears falling down her cheeks once more. He didn't hesitate before he was spinning her around, looping his arms around her to collect her to his chest.

"I know, I know," he murmured to her, her own hands curling in the fabric of his black shirt, "'S over now, though, right?"?

"Right," she breathed, voice a bit hoarse.

His hand petted her hair, the strands fluffy now that the hairspray was broken but still holding the heat style she was given. She couldn't wait to wash her hair when she had the energy, already missing the natural texture.

"Y'said it was the man sitting beside your dad? Barron?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) whimpered at the sound of his name. "I guess my dad had told him I needed to be taken care of, and I think he told him other m-mean things about me."

Her words dissolved into a string of sobs, Harry going tense against her. She couldn't help herself, sniffling and crying against his chest, her breathing coming in erratic puffs. She felt guilty, feeling him tense around her. She didn't mean to upset him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, pulling away to look at him with a crinkling sniffle of her nose, "To-Tonight has been a lot. Thank you for helping me."

(Y/N) attempted to unravel herself from his hold, only to be stopped by his arms caging around her middle. "It's okay, don't apologize to me," he told her earnestly, matching his gaze to her blurry one, "Thank you for telling me, but I want to make something very clear right now."

Nodding, she looked up at him, watching as he ducked down into her space, crowding around her with intensity in his eyes.

"If y'ever feel uncomfortable or like you're in danger, for whatever reason—I don't care if you think it's not that bad, or your father will be upset, or whatever reason you think is good enough to stay in that moment—you are going to leave." His words were a command hiding behind a gentle tone. He was unwavering in his stance, that much she could glean. "I don't care what you have to do, what kind of 'scene' y'have to make, come find me if 'm not right there. Whatever will make you feel safest, that's what I want you to do. Don't ever feel like you have to put up with anything that upsets you for whatever reason.

"You matter more than whatever cover story or photos someone could make up. Okay? Don't ever think it's the other way around."

(Y/N) couldn't hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks, her skin stained and chin dripping with every drop. Her father had never said or even made her feel like putting herself first was an option, that she was the one variable in these stories that deserved a bit of protection. There was even a brief period of time when she had a publicist, and he never said anything close to what was coming out of Harry's mouth.

Everyone else around her had always shared the importance of what those around her thought, what could be said about her, the kind of stories that could be splashed across the pages. Her feelings, her safety, herself was always at the bottom of that list.

"Okay?" Harry prodded, his hands on her back flexing with fingertips denting the planes of her back, "Do y'understand what 'm saying?"

"I do," she choked out, lips quivering. Even blurry through her tears, dressed in all black and exhaustion on his features, Harry was the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. An angel in the frosty light of her bathroom. "Thank you."

Harry only tugged her closer to his chest, cupping her back of her head where she snuggled in and allowed tears to run from her eyes.

(Y/N) clung to him tighter.

—————

Waking in her bed, duvet in folds around her with her pilates shorts chucked on the floor beside her discarded gown, (Y/N) blinked her stiff eyelids open. She couldn't be sure what time it was when she stalked to her bedroom, only remembering the ache in her muscles and stuffy nose. Harry had stayed with her all night, soothing her through the bouts of tears and being there when all she needed was to not be alone.

Stretching out of her bed with her feet hitting the floor, she couldn't remember if Harry had stayed after she fell asleep. She was barely aware of her own body when she shed her shorts and flopped into her bed, too exhausted to even crawl under the covers.

Stepping over her cold floor, (Y/N) crept out into the hallway, peering down the bend. Just barely, she could see a folded suit jacket and the first strands of curling brown hair from where she could spot the end of her couch. The closer she came to the living room, the closer she came to letting a smile settle on her features.

How he could manage it, she didn't know, but it was very much in his character to sleep with his brows pinched and arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look like he was resting particularly well, his suit jacket acting as his pillow as he threw himself into an odd shape to lay on her couch.

He stayed.

A heat bubbled under her skin at the thought. Despite the wringer she put him through the night before, he stayed here. Though she wasn't exactly sure how she would navigate the conversation that would have to occur when he woke, how she would handle knowing that he saw those most vulnerable parts of her, at least she knew she wasn't alone.

Letting him stay where he was, (Y/N) silently moved past him to her kitchen. She could start to say thank you by making him breakfast, she decided. If anything, it might be a good enough distraction to push off the conversation a bit longer when he woke.

She fell into her element as she pulled out the ingredients, feeling her muscles relax and joints loosen. Trying to be as quiet as she could so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty on her couch, she pulled the dish together as she went. Slices of toast were warming in a butter skimmed pan while she raided her spice rack. From her fridge she pulled eggs and chorizo, cheese and hashbrowns until she came up with a scramble. A rich and lemony hollandaise started on her stove, her apartment filling with toasted spices and the sizzling pop of the chorizo looking. She hoped he would appreciate the extra shred of manchego she stirred in.

With her mind running around the kitchen, timing and anticipating everything, she felt okay. She knew there had to be more than a handful of notifications on her phone, too many articles with her name tagged, and her father scheming her punishment, but, right now, she was content in living in this moment. She could wash her hair later, answer her phone calls, and explain to Dom that she didn't mean to let the Vivienne gown wrinkle on the floor. Before then, she would allow her only consequences to be the ache in her bones and the crust in the corners of her eyes.

Adding the final seasonings and beginning to plate everything, (Y/N) shifted her attention to the other consequence laying on her couch. She really hoped he liked what she made.

Adding the hollandaise over the hashbrown bowl, (Y/N) finished up with adding the slices of crusty toast to the rim of the bowl. She placed them on her rarely used dining table, hesitating at the chair beside where she determined Harry would sit before backtracking and placing her own serving in the seat across.

Now was the hard part.

Padding over the rug, she made her way to the couch, Harry's restless form still stiff where he laid. With the top buttons of his top undone, the tan skin of his chest was on display, the necklace she had noticed time and time again, the pendants finally on display. The faces of a duo of birds inked on his chest peeked out, matching the dark black of his outfit. He even fell asleep with his shoes on.

He did all that work to make sure she was comfortable—getting her out of her dress, helping her take her hair down, reminding her to wash her makeup off—only to fall asleep with his suit jacket as a pillow and his event clothes wrapped too tight around him.

Crouching beside him, she sat on her folded knees. His profile was on display this way, the line of his nose and curl of his lashes highlighted through the sunny window.

Using a gentle hand, she cautiously settled her palm on his tensed shoulder. "Harry," she murmured. She gave a minute shake to his shoulder.

Harry woke up with a start, his reaction much quicker and more drastic than she had expected. He sucked in a big breath, his eyes flying open as he sat up, his hands reaching behind to prop himself up. She could see the recognition settle over his features, his eyes frantically searching over her face with his mouth in a soft gape.

"(Y/N)," he breathed out.

Having sat back some when he startled, her hands in a bundle in her lap, she blinked up at him. "Sorry," she started, "I just... I made you breakfast, if you were hungry."

Disoriented, he ran a heavy hand through his hair as he shifted where he sat. The suede cushions fluffed up, the fibers mimicking waves around him. "Yeah?" he asked, moving to sit properly with his feet on the ground and knees wide apart.

Still on her knees, she looked up at him, his hair a mess and chest heaving as he caught his stressed breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but every thought was ripped from her head when her front door was flung open.

Whipping around, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her father stepping inside. His face was twisted in anger, wearing a suit too nice for this early in the morning, and his eyes as daggers trained right on her.

He stomped over the threshold, coming towards where she was still folded on the floor.

"Dad!"

Ignoring her voice, she saw him finally take in the scene. For the first time he seemed to realize Harry was there. With (Y/N) on her knees in front of him. His clothes were a rumpled mess, the same ones from the night before. His chest rising and falling from his startled good morning, hair a stressed mess.

(Y/N) could practically see his blood pressure rising through his body, his hair standing on end when he returned his gaze to hers. He was seething, taking his assumptions from the scene before him.

"Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?" he hissed, his hands practically shaking at his sides. He towered over her, even from where she sat feet away. "What do you think you're trying to do to him!?"

Scrambling to stand up, she was already shaking her head in denial. This wasn't the kind of scolding she was going to be able to sit through.

"What? I'm—No, that's not—"

He shook his head, his jaw stiff. He seemed to bite his own tongue, stopping himself from saying anything more. "We will have to talk about that later," he cemented, "Because you need to tell me what the hell you were thinking last night."

While she knew this was coming, she honestly expected more of a phone call. She thought he would be too angry to even look at her. He'd never been angry enough to burst into her home and yell at her there. He much preferred his home turf, where he controlled all the power.

Swallowing, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. "I know it looks bad, but I promise I didn't mean—"

"I don't want excuses!" he shouted, cutting her off despite the fact he was the one that invited her to talk in the first place. "I'm tired of you embarrassing me every chance you get! I always knew you'd be crazy like your mother, but I didn't think it would be this fucking bad."

(Y/N) recoiled at the mention of her mother. He rarely talked about her unless in punishment, but he hadn't said anything so blatantly evil about her.

She didn't know what to say. This is why he never told her about the racing in her heart and the stress that filled her without permission. She didn't want him to think of her as crazy, something that needed to be medicated and put away. But, she supposed now, he didn't need to know that information to say that about her.

Her father took a menacing step towards her, his expression that much more angry after her silence.

In an instant, Harry was sliding between them, his back facing (Y/N) with his height obscuring her view of her father. "Sir," Harry started, a warning to his tone that had to come from years of dealing with pests.

It was her father's turn to take a step back, (Y/N) just barely catching the way he rolled his eyes. Harry's interference only set him off further, it appeared.

Speaking around the wall that was Harry, he yelled to (Y/N), "How am I supposed to trust him now, after I saw what you were trying to do to him. What did you do last night that convinced him that you needed protecting from me when you're the problem!"

Harry took a step towards him, a hand out as if to soothe a vicious animal while barring him from coming any closer should he attempt. "Sir, I think it's best if you step outside for a moment."

Ignoring Harry's plea, he only craned his neck to ensure (Y/N) could see him when he yelled again. "I always knew you'd end up a whore," her father seethed, "But you only seem to like it best when it's a way to get back at me."

With that, Harry didn't hesitate before grabbing her father by the arms and twisting him away. He escorted him out the door of her apartment, pushing him over the threshold with a slam of the door behind them.

Muffled shouts started on the other side of the door, her father's voice the one that was raised. She couldn't pick out individual words, but she figured that was probably for the best. She didn't need to hear any more of what he thought of her.

Staving off a replay of last night's breakdown, she sunk to the floor, her legs a tangled puddle underneath her. Her hands shook in her lap, matching the cadence of her lungs as she fought to keep her breathing even.

Suddenly, a loud bang against her door rang through her empty apartment. Tears filled her eyes.

The blaring noise was compounded with a stretch of silence. The low timber of Harry's voice rose then, though his was layered with the typical composure he always had, even in the face of someone as unreasonable as her father.

The silence gave too much room for her thoughts to grow, her head bloated and heavy.

In an odd way, she was grateful he was as angry as he was. He was too upset, his vision too red, to say anything properly damaging. If he had been thinking any clearer, she worried she would have a plane ticket to Sweden in hand and all credit cards in her name shredded.

While this morning was bad, it definitely could have been worse, she decided.

She couldn't be sure how long she sat on the floor, waiting for whatever would emerge back into her apartment, but soon enough the doorknob twisted with the hinges gliding open. Harry was the only one to step inside, her father missing from the hallway when she glanced around.

His cheeks were red, hair in an even sorrier state than before, but he kept that same calculated set to his irises. He didn't hesitate to crouch to her level, his brows pinching as he met (Y/N)'s eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, intensity laced through his voice.

(Y/N) nodded her head, stray hairs curtaining around her face. "Sorry about everything he said. I-I don't know where he—why he—"

Harry shook his head, his jaw ticking. He dropped his gaze from hers as he shuttered them in a lingering blink. When he dared to glance up at her once more, he said, "No, don't apologize for him. I jus'... (Y/N), I think 's best if I go home, now."

Instinctively, she wanted to question him. She wanted to investigate his reasoning and attempt to make him stay. He was her solid pillar, the buoy keeping her afloat. She worried what she would do without him for the first time in twenty-four hours.

But, she couldn't blame him. Her father just accused her of trying to seduce him to wriggle into his head, with whatever else he shared behind that closed door. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he was now in her presence, both his employer and client having varying breakdowns in front of him.

"Okay," she settled, dropping her eyes to her hands. At least the tremor stopped. "Thank you for staying with me last night."

Giving a curt nod, Harry stood to his full height. He moved silently around him, stoic as ever as he collected his suit jacket and cell phone. His footsteps seemingly echoed in the otherwise silence of her home.

She wasn't even sure if he looked at her again before he slipped out the front door, leaving her alone.

—————

Dad

I have a flight scheduled to take you to Paris in a week. You can't be trusted here to stay out of trouble, even with Harry's help. You will be staying through to the winter, and I hope you take this time to reflect on what you've done and how you plan on fixing your attitude.

Harry will be accompanying you, but I expect you to keep your relationship strictly professional with him. Don't squander this time away, (Y/N).

I will check in soon to ensure things are going well.

(Y/N) felt heavy reading her father's string of texts.

Today had been enough of an obstacle already, and now she had to plan to be out of the country well after Summer had ended.

She didn't bother to type a response, only reacting to the top message with a thumbs up.

Falling back on her bed, the mattress bouncing under her spine, she stared up at the ceiling.

She was going to have to call Francesca.

—————

"Is there anything I can grab for you, Ms. (Y/N)?"

A pleasant smile curled over (Y/N)'s lips, the bags under her eyes shielded by the heavy pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. "No, thank you."

The flight attendant scurried away at her dismissal, all too eager to practically sprint away. While this crew wasn't especially friendly with her, always seeming a little too scared of her, there was definitely a difference in how attentive they'd started for this flight. They'd no doubt seen the articles that had been swirling for the last week.

She couldn't blame them, honestly. Reviewing the articles herself, she was painted as an out of touch socialite, a woman who flipped out after a perceived slight. There were photos of her speaking to Barron, the moment having been described as the final moments before the blowup. The drink clutched in her hand was blown out of proportion, insiders and onlookers dishing out how she'd been drinking the whole night despite those two sips of the gin and tonic being the only alcohol she partook in the entire Gala.

The men around her were painted as heroes, including Harry. Her father and Barron were trying to talk her down from her drunken antics, urging her to calm and remind her of the cameras watching. Harry was doing the chivalrous thing and helping her out of the event before she stumbled around and humiliated herself more than she already had. Some sources even became so bold as to claim that the reason she snuck away to the bathroom for so long, others checking on her, was because of a drug problem she was hiding behind closed doors.

All of it was her fault. She was being unreasonable, and rude. Untamable and embarrassing. Crazy, even.

The webs were spun so well, including the official photographs along with blurry photographs posted by anonymous social media accounts. Every story looked worse than the last.

Even knowing the truth, seeing those photos gave (Y/N) a deep sense of humiliation she couldn't shake.

Seeing an outsider's perspective, the way she clung to Harry with messy hair and swollen eyes, crying over him and using him like some kind of shield. She couldn't believe he had stayed with her after the way she acted—and those were only the things that occurred in public.

If that wasn't bad enough, after the fashion magazine's interview was posted along with the event's photos and stories, Harry was now having articles written about him. People were digging into his private life, hunting down any kind of hint of who he was, what he meant to (Y/N). Most likely, some were even hoping to get into contact with him and earn and exclusive. She couldn't blame him if he took someone up on the offer.

It was all her fault.

Maybe that was why this past week, she hadn't heard from him at all. To be fair, she hadn't gone anywhere, preferring to keep out of the public eye while the gossip circulated. Francesca met her at her apartment instead, helping her with everything; they packed a small bag to get her through her traveling, cried, bitched about her dad, and had a two day sleepover before (Y/N)'s exile began. She was the only one (Y/N) told, knowing it would get to the rest of the girls in a matter of time, only after she had disappeared for a good few weeks.

That left (Y/N) with a small go-bag, a full wardrobe and duplicates of her favorite things already waiting at the French penthouse, sweats on her form and embarrassment too deep to coax Harry into interacting with her.

She felt stiff where she sat, imagining what the stew crew was whispering about her just out of earshot, imagining what Harry was thinking about her as he refused to even glance at her despite the orientation of their chairs. She couldn't relax in her skin. She was too in her head to manage something like that.

Though (Y/N) was happy to get out of New York, these circumstances were killing any joy she could tie to the change in scenery. Paris was one of her favorite places in the world, her penthouse securing a special spot in her heart, but her father wanted to turn it into a prison. he wanted to ruin another safe place for her. It sucked.

And, the one person she was too embarrassed to even properly look at, was the one person accompanying her through it all. Her new roommate was the same guy that she was being accused of sleeping with out of anger at her father, out of her rampant sexual desire that kept her from staying with any one person for too long, or a cute decoration that was placed around her to give her clout. At least that's what the rumors swirling around were.

Heaving a sigh and crossing her legs, (Y/N) wanted to be surprised that Harry didn't even flinch in her direction, instead she felt just a sting of hurt behind her ribs.

—————

"You know where the house is?"

"Yes," Harry answered, his response curt as he shifted the car into drive.

(Y/N) couldn't blame his short reply, she wasn't being particularly warm either.

Instead, she silently settled into her seat, conflicted on how to feel. She'd never really travelled without a driver. Even if it wasn't Sully since he stayed in the city with his family, there was always someone else that took care of her wherever she went. This time, it appeared Harry would be in charge of that.

Most likely at her father's request, she figured. Now there was no reason for her to be away from him for even ten minutes. Her babysitter extraordinaire.

Shifting her gaze out the windscreen, she took in the emerging city. It had been a while since she was away from the lights and the skyscrapers, the crowds of tourists. While Paris wasn't quite as quant as the movies made it out to be, it was definitely different from that of New York. There was more breathing room.

Her dad always thought it was too slow, too boring, a place to spend a single day in before moving on to something much newer and exciting. Maybe that was why it became one of her favorite places, her first request when she was old enough being that she could find a penthouse in Paris. She knew he wouldn't want to follow her here.

Harry drove like an expert through the winding streets, a GPS screen hooked up to show him the way to her penthouse, though she doubted he needed it. He kept his gaze shifting through the cycle of peering out the window, checking his mirrors, and glancing in the rearview. He didn't waver in his routine, as if (Y/N) wasn't even there.

The familiar lead up to the neighbourhood of Saint-Germain had (Y/N) sitting up. She couldn't wait to lock herself away in that top floor penthouse.

Taking advantage of the free space not too far from the entrance to the building, Harry pulled in in one smooth motion. The click of the gear shifter settled them into park. He pulled the key after a beat, finally shooting her a fleeing glance.

"I'll grab the bags and follow you," he directed, not waiting before he was pushing open his door and stepping out onto the street.

She followed suit, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.

Upon her first deep breath in, (Y/N) wondered if she had been away for long enough to convince herself the air really did smell like butter and wine the way poets always described.

There were still a good amount of tourists given the neighborhood's proximity to various landmarks, but this place was worlds different in comparison to the city. She hoped her father knew she was enjoying her punishment.

Harry, with their bags in hand, waited for her to take the lead. She gave him a careful smile before she breezed past him, leading them to the entrance of her building. This place was much different than that in the city, no doorpeople around and only a small bank of two elevators beside the various mailboxes.

Once in the lift, she entered them in to be taken to the top floor. Harry was a silent pillar beside her, his luggage and her duffle bag in hand. She swallowed around the silence.

The top floor was all for her, the space being bought by her father by the time she was twenty. Knocking down the walls, the three separate apartments were turned into one big space that was gutted and turned into an immaculate penthouse. (Y/N) fought to keep as many of the original features as she could.

Stepping inside the space, her efforts were rewarded with the sight of the off-white walls, texture embedded in the slabs. Wrought-iron fixtures were littered throughout, the original doors and biggest kitchen left as it was. Everything held the air of romance, the space a lot more intimate than small than what she had in New York. A trio of different balconies were stationed on the outside, those terraces offering views of the Eiffel Tower.

It was lovely. That was the only way she could describe it. The kind of place that deserved to be draped in roses and lit exclusively in candlelight. Late nights and Burgundy wine with silk dresses.

Harry followed her as she stepped towards a plane of French doors, the glass frosted to keep prying eyes out. "This is my room," she told him, voice detached, "But down that hall are a couple of spare bedrooms and bathrooms, so you can pick whatever one you want."

Dropping her duffle on the floor, he gave her a single nod. "Okay."

With that, he turned on his heel. She watched as he started down the hall, leaving her with a single syllable.

She needed to say something. As distant as she was acting because of her embarrassment, she couldn't not acknowledge what happened. Every time she looked at him, she saw those photos of her clinging and crying on him, her mascara a mess while he looked at her with sympathy. She saw the way he tended to her hair in the mirror, using his fingers to break the hold of the hairspray and gently pick out the bobby pins holding the style in. She saw him defending her against her father.

"Harry?" she peeped, eyes fixed to his back.

"Hm?" He stopped, looking at her over his shoulder.

Taking a step towards him, her hands a fumbling mess behind her back, she swallowed. "I wanted to say thank you again for last week. Especially after everything. And for defending me," she started, her gaze dropping to the middle of his back, "I'm sorry I acted that way, and how I have been acting. I know I can be unreasonable, so it means a lot that you stayed with me and still came here with me. I hope this isn't too bad of a place to be exiled."

She tried to go lighthearted, ending with a breathy laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Harry only looked at her with a pinched brow, his arm dropping the bag he had slung over his shoulder. "I... I don't think I understand."

Clamming up, (Y/N) felt too exposed. She waved him off, shaking her head in hopes of dismissing all that she shared. "Don't worry about it," she said, "Just thank you for looking out for me, and I promise I'm going to make your job as easy as possible while we're here. Hopefully, I'll be able to get you home before the holidays."

A silence settled between them. Harry didn't offer any kind of response, only his eyes following her. She shifted her weight where she stood, her fingers knotting behind her back.

She inched towards her room, the space feeling too heavy as her words hung in the air.

"I think I'm going to unpack and take a nap," she murmured, offering a barely there smile, "We can order food later if you want, but I don't plan on doing anything, so the rest of the day is yours."

With that, she slipped between her open French doors, the warmth of her room enveloping her once she sealed the rest of the penthouse out. She didn't want to see if Harry was still standing there, watching her with eyes that were too observant.

She took in a deep breath, shifting her gaze through her bedroom. Her eyes landed on the open drapes to her balcony. Outside, the Eiffel Tower shimmered.

—————

ephemere is the French words for a fleeting beauty; a summer love, a shooting star, greatness gone too soon

this part is def one of the longer ones of the series so thank you so much for getting through it! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard harry styles #love on tour #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #satellite

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lvnleah · 13 days ago

Text

“little besties” — Rory meets Buddy

a little one shot where Rory and Buddy meet for the very first time <33

as per usual, thank you to @scribblesofagoonerr for all of the help on this!

September 2023

“Are you excited, Roo?” Beth asked Rory, braiding her hair as she sat at the kitchen island.

Rory silently nodded before eating another piece of fruit. Today Kim was hosting a BBQ for team bonding night, or day, and it was the first one Rory was attending. She’d met all of the team multiple times by now but the only one she hadn’t met was Buddy, Leah’s daughter.

She’d had been to training a few times with Beth and Viv but Buddy had always either been at nursery or with Jordan at her house so they were yet to meet. Rory had heard all about Buddy from Monkey and was excited to meet her but like usual, her anxiety was high about going to new places.

Beth could sense Rory's anxiety, so she sat down beside her before placing her on her knee. "I know you’re feeling a little nervous, but remember, Vic will be there. And you like Vic, don’t you?"

Rory perked up at the mention of Vic, nodding again, though her eyes were still slightly wary. "Yeah. Vic is fun."

Beth smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Exactly. And we’ll all be there with you. Plus, you’ll get to meet Buddy. She's really sweet, just like her mum."

Viv appeared in the doorway, car keys in hand. "Ready to go?" she asked, her eyes softening when she saw Rory’s quiet anxiety. She walked over and kissed the top of Rory’s head. "We’ll have a good time, I promise. We can leave anytime you want to if you’re not enjoying it.”

Beth finished Rory’s hair while Viv packed a few things into Rory’s backpack. Soon enough they were putting their shoes on and heading to Kim’s house. Despite their best efforts, the car ride was mostly silent. Rory sat in the back, clutching Twix tightly like always. When they arrived at Kim’s place, Rory’s anxiety only heightened.

When they pulled up to Kim’s house, Rory stayed glued to her seat, her small hands clutching Twix—the stuffed rabbit she never went anywhere without—tightly against her chest.

Beth turned in her seat, offering her daughter a reassuring smile. "It’s okay, Roo. We’re right here. How about we just go inside and see how you feel? No rush, no pressure."

Rory hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. “How about we just say hi to a few people, then if you’re still not feeling up to it, we can hang back for a bit. I’ll stay with you the whole time." Viv suggested.

Rory nodded slowly but didn’t make any move to get out of the car. "You’ve got Twix, and you’ve got us. You’re safe, okay?" Viv tried to reassure her.

With that, Rory finally unbuckled her seatbelt, letting Viv help her out of the car. “Up please?” She murmured, holding her arms up.

“Of course!” Viv laughed, hoisting Rory up onto her hip while Beth got her backpack.

They made their way down the path, ringing Kim’s doorbell before waiting for a while. Leah answered the door, balancing Buddy on her hip, who was clinging to her with an iron grip.

“Hi, Buddy!” Beth smiled kindly at the 2-year-old settled on Leah’s hip, not expecting to see such a grumpy toddler as she whined, “Oh no, what’s the matter, huh? This isn’t the happy toddler I expected today.”

“Someone just woke up from their nap and they're still tired,” Leah informed them while smiling playfully, “Are you going to say hello to Auntie Beth and Auntie Viv, Bubba? They’ve brought Rory as well, do you remember me telling you about her before we came?”

“Hi little one,” Viv smiled kindly at Buddy, who in turn just frowned and nestled her head in Leah’s neck, “You want to go back to sleep, don’t you?”

“I think she would if she could, wouldn’t you Bubba?” Leah chuckled and stepped aside to let them inside the house, “Hi Roo, I love your dungarees. They’re lovely!”

Rory peeked up from Viv’s shoulder, giving Leah a shy smile. They stepped inside and Viv set Rory down. Rory held on tight to Viv’s hand.

Beth leaned down, "You’re doing great, Roo. Let’s just head outside, and we’ll find Vic, okay?"

Rory nodded, gripping Viv’s hand even tighter as they made their way toward the garden where the rest of the team was gathered. The chatter and laughter from outside made Rory pause just before the door leading to the garden.

Viv crouched down next to her, looking into her eyes. "Remember, we can leave anytime you want. You’re in control here."

Just as Rory was about to take another tentative step forward, she heard a familiar voice call out from the garden. "Roo!"

It was Vic. Rory’s eyes lit up immediately at the sound of her name, and her whole demeanour shifted. With a newfound sense of excitement, she tugged at Viv’s hand, urging her forward.

They stepped outside, and Vic came over with a wide grin, opening her arms. "There’s my little Roo!"

Rory didn’t hesitate. She let go of Viv’s hand and ran straight into Vic’s arms, giggling as Vic scooped her up and spun her around in the air. "You made it!" Vic said, laughing.

Rory clung to Vic, her earlier anxiety already fading as Vic carried her around the garden. "Come on, let’s go say hi to everyone!" Vic said, carrying Rory confidently, making her feel safe.

Beth and Viv shared a relieved smile, watching as Rory’s nervousness melted away in the company of her favourite person. Viv slipped an arm around Beth’s waist, and Beth leaned in, whispering, "Vic will help her settle in."

Viv nodded, her eyes following Rory as she happily chatted with Vic. "Yeah, she’ll be just fine."

As Vic carried Rory around the garden, stopping to chat with teammates, Rory’s shyness gradually turned into curiosity. Vic was good at making her feel included without overwhelming her, and with Rory nestled comfortably on her hip, they approached a small group of people by the BBQ.

Kim, busy flipping burgers, turned with a wide smile. "There’s our little Meadema!" she said, pointing her tongs playfully at Rory. "Hungry yet, Roo? We’ve got all sorts of yummy things coming up!”

Rory smiled but shook her head, still a little shy in the larger group. Vic squeezed her gently. "We’ll get you something when you’re ready, okay?" she whispered, earning a small nod from Rory.

Vic continued making her way around the garden, stopping by various teammates, each greeting Rory with warm smiles and playful comments. As they approached Monkey, she couldn't resist teasing Rory a bit.

“Roo,” Monkey exclaimed, from where she sat beside Lia, “Have you grown since I last saw you? I swear that you’re even taller than Vic now!” She said, playfully gasping.

Rory giggled, her shyness momentarily forgotten. “Nooo, I’m not that tall!” she replied, clutching Twix.

“Are you sure?” Monkey grinned, shrugging her shoulders, “It won’t take you long to catch up to her,”

“Oh like you can talk,” Vic remarked, motioning to Monkey’s own short height.

“Ignore Monkey, Roo,” Lia shook her head and rolled her eyes, “Monkey’s being a bit silly like she is sometimes.”

“Me, silly? That’s outrageous!” Monkey mocked a pout as the group around her laughed, “I’m not silly– Life’s dull sometimes and you gotta have fun!”

“Monkey’s always silly!” Rory laughed, burying her head into Vic’s shoulder. Vic continued walking with Rory, taking her to meet more of the team.

“Roo!” Steph called, as she entered the garden. “Hi, sweetheart!”

Rory’s face lit up as she wriggled out of Vic’s arms and rushed over to Steph. “Steffy!” she smiled, launching herself into Steph’s embrace.

Steph swung Rory around in a circle, her laughter contagious. “There’s my girl! How’ve you been?”

Rory hugged her tightly. “Good!”

Steph held Rory close for a moment before setting her back down, kneeling so she was at eye level with her. "Guess who’s here?" Steph said, grinning.

Rory tilted her head, curious. "Who?"

"Calvin!" Steph said, “He’s over with Monkey, your Mummy, Leah and Buddy!” Steph smiled as she pointed to where Monkey was, who was now joined by Beth, Leah and Buddy.

Rory's eyes widened with excitement. "Calvin!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.

Steph chuckled. "You remember Calvin, right? He’s been missing you!”

Rory nodded eagerly. Calvin, Steph’s energetic dog, had always been one of her favourites. She loved playing fetch with him during the few times she had visited Steph’s place.

“Wanna to go say hi?” Steph asked, standing back up.

Rory grabbed her hand without hesitation, practically pulling Steph towards where Monkey, Beth, and Leah were sitting. Sure enough, Calvin was there, tail wagging, eyes bright with excitement as he watched everyone, ready to play.

As soon as Calvin spotted Rory, his tail wagged faster, and he bounded over to her. “Calvin!” Rory giggled, crouching down to pet him. He nudged his nose into her hand, licking her fingers and making her laugh even harder.

“I think he might’ve missed you,” Monkey remarked as she grinned at the little girl, “Bet you he’s been waiting for you to play fetch with him as well,”

Rory’s smile widened as she scratched behind Calvin’s ears. “Can I throw his ball?” she asked, glancing up at Steph, who was now standing next to Viv.

“Of course!” Steph said, tossing Rory Calvin’s favourite tennis ball.

Rory caught it with both hands, her nervousness from earlier completely gone as she stood up and threw the ball as far as her little arms could manage. Calvin took off after it, running across the garden at full speed, his playful bark making everyone chuckle.

“Good throw, Roo!” Beth called out, “Maybe we need to get you into a sport that involves throwing a ball!”

Viv smiled too, watching as Rory ran after Calvin when he brought the ball back, giggling uncontrollably as the dog pranced around her, refusing to give the ball up easily.

“She seems like she’s having a great time now,” Leah piped in, still holding Buddy on her lap who’s reluctant to let go, “Do you want to go and join them, Bubba?”

“No, wan’ stay with ‘ou!” Buddy whined, clutching hold of Leah’s t-shirt, “Stay ‘ere, Mummy!”

“That’s alright, you can stay here with me. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Leah reassured the clingy little girl on her lap as she ran her fingers through Buddy’s curls.

Beth nodded as she watched Rory run around, completely carefree. "Yeah, she’s really come out of her shell. I think seeing Calvin did the trick."

Viv chuckled, “Who knew the way to ease her nerves was a dog and a ball?"

Steph laughed, “Maybe you guys need to get a dog.”

Viv shook her head, “No way! That’s too much, a four-year-old and a dog? No chance.”

They watched as Rory continued to play with Calvin, the rest of the team occasionally joining in, throwing the ball for the energetic dog. Rory’s laughter filled the air, and it was clear that any trace of anxiety she had felt earlier was long gone.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come and join?” Monkey tried to coax her little sister out of Leah’s arms, “We could even find a football and kick it around a bit, huh? Come and meet Roo properly, you two are gonna be little besties, I just know it!”

“No! I wan’ stay with Mummy,” Buddy whined stubbornly, shaking her head and still keeping a tight grip on Leah’s t-shirt, “Tell her to stop it, Mummy!” She pouted.

“Monkey, she’s fine staying here with me if she doesn’t want to play,” Leah told the teenager, “Leave her be, please.” She added.

“I’m bored though,” Monkey huffed dramatically and flopped down into the chair, “I’m also hungry. How long until we eat?” She wondered.

“Not too much longer now,” Kim chimed in from where she stood in front of the BBQ, “How about you be helpful and grab some plates from inside if you’re that bored?”

“You seriously trust Monkey to not drop any of the plates?” Lia remarks, furrowing her eyebrow, “That sounds like an accident waiting to happen, no?”

Kim hummed in agreement, “Good point, maybe not then. Stay where you are, you can’t hurt yourself or anyone else then.”

“I’m not that clumsy,” Monkey huffed and crossed her arms in protest, “I’m pretty sure Lessi is worse now!”

“That’s debatable,” Steph piped in.

After a while, Rory's energy began to fade, and she wandered over to where Beth and Leah were sitting. Buddy, perched on Leah’s lap, was still clinging tightly to her with her head resting against her chest looking a little grumpy.

“Here comes’ Rory the racing car,” Monkey grinned, turning her attention to the little girl, “Maybe you’ll wanna kick the ball around with me instead, huh?”

“I’m tired,” Rory murmured, lacking the energy after running around with Calvin for a bit.

"Hey, Roo," Beth said with a warm smile as she pulled Rory up onto her lap. "Did you have fun?"

Rory nodded, slightly out of breath from running around with Calvin. Her eyes soon landed on Buddy, who was staring back at her with curious eyes.

“Who’s that?” Rory questioned curiously, feeling more braver to ask the question now than when she first arrived at Kim’s house.

Beth noticed Rory’s interest and smiled. "Roo, this is Buddy," she said softly. "Remember I told you about her?"

“Yeah,” Rory replied in agreement.

“Bubba, do you remember me telling you about Roo?” Leah spoke gently, adjusting Buddy on her lap so she could properly face Rory now, “This is Rory, Auntie Beth and Auntie Vivi’s little girl. You two are close in age,”

“Hi,” Buddy spoke quietly, still feeling grumpier than her usual self but she was curious to know who Rory was, “M’ Buddy!” She waved shyly, still apprehensive to meet someone new.

Rory blinked, "Hi," she murmured, waving back with a small smile.

“I told you that you two will be little besties in no time,” Monkey chimed in as Buddy suddenly realised Monkey was there and leaned towards her, “Oh so now you want me, huh?”

“Be nice to her,” Leah told her pointedly.

Monkey rolled her eyes and scooped the 2 year old into her arms, “Come on, I’m always nice,” She murmured, settling Buddy on her lap, “Hey Buddy, did you know that Roo likes Lego too? How cool is that!” She exclaimed.

“Really? ‘Ou like Lego as well!” Buddy seemed even more curious now as a faint smile appeared on her face, “Me an Monkey always build Lego! Ou’ join us!”

“Okay,” Rory agreed early at the mention of Lego.

“Mummy!” Buddy looked back towards Leah who was watching the small interaction between the kids, “Me and Roo wan’ build Lego with Monkey please!”

“Oh you do, huh? Well I think that Auntie Kimmy might not have it here, bubba,” Leah explained to the eager 2 year old who’s mood had shifted dramatically at the mention of Lego, “Maybe you 3 can build it another day instead, yeah?”

“Boo!” Monkey exclaimed in protest, sticking her thumb down.

“Dat too bad,” Buddy frowned grumpily before she looked back towards Rory, “We ‘ave to play ‘nother time instead!”

“Okay,” Rory murmured in agreement, “We can play with Calvin though now!”

“Yeah!” Buddy’s eyes lit up suddenly, “Me like dogs, I ‘ave one at Mama’s house and his name is Blu!” She rambled excitedly, wriggling off Monkey’s lap.

“Mummy, Buddy likes dogs as well, and she has one!” Rory said in amazement over the news.

"I know, isn’t that exciting?” Beth explained to Rory. "Buddy talks a lot, doesn't she, huh?” She smiled, glancing at Leah, who chuckled.

"She sure does," Leah replied, amusedly as she continued to watch the interaction between them, . "She’s a chatterbox just like me.”

“Some would call it a yapper instead,” Viv joked with the blonde.

Rory could see Buddy’s curiosity peeking over her beloved stuffed rabbit, Twix, “Do you want to hold Twix? He’s really soft.”

“Yeah,” Buddy’s eye grew wide as she eagerly reached out for the rabbit offered to her, taking it and holding it in her small hands, “Twix is fluffy. I got Mr. Bear, he soft too!”

“That was kind of you, Roo,” Leah smiled, watching the exchange between the two, “Is he fluffy, bubba?”

Beth placed a kiss on Rory’s forehead, "You’re being such a good big girl, Roo."

Rory’s face lit up at the praise, and she glanced at Buddy, who was now hugging Twix tightly. "You can play with him for a while," Rory said. "He likes you."

“Wow, really?” Buddy exclaimed, excitedly as she was clearly thrilled with the new toy, “Thank ‘ou, Roo!”

A little later in the afternoon, Rory and Buddy were sitting on the grass, happily sipping on juice boxes after a round of fetch with Calvin. Rory was showing Buddy how to poke the straw into the juice box, and Buddy was giggling with every sip. The peaceful scene, however, didn’t last long.

“Hey!” Monkey exclaimed suddenly out of nowhere as she sat nearby with Lia and a few others, “Where’s my juice box?” She questioned with an exaggerated pout.

“Monkey, are you serious? You are 18-years-old,” Leah reminded her with an amused smile, from where she sat with Beth not too far over, “You don’t need a juice box.”

“This is such discrimination right now!” Monkey remarked, sitting up dramatically as she crossed her arms, “Absolutely outrageous!” She complained, making a big fuss out of it while playfully glaring at Leah.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Beth couldn’t help but laugh and roll her eyes, “Somebody get the big kid a juice box before she throws a hissy fit.” She joked, waving her hand in the air.

Everyone burst into laughter, and Leah shook her head, standing up to grab a spare juice box from the cooler. She tossed it to Monkey, who caught it with a grin, immediately poking the straw in with a triumphant air.

“Yay, juice!” Monkey exclaimed, doing a small dance in her seat before taking a sip of it and looking satisfied, “Thank you very much!”

“Unbelievable,” Leah chuckled, shaking her head at her eldests’ antics.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised about this Le when she still orders’ a happy meal just so she can have the toys,” Lia reminded the blonde with an amused look on her face, “Did you really expect any difference with a juice box?”

“She has a point there,” Beth added in.

Rory and Buddy giggled at the exchange, watching Monkey sip her juice like one of the kids. Rory leaned over to Buddy, whispering, "Monkey is silly!”

“Yeah, Monkey’s silly!” Buddy nodded in agreement, “Mummy says that she’s a big kid!”

“Alright everyone, food is ready! Grab a plate and dig in!” Kim announced from the BBQ.

“Let’s go eat!” Rory said, bouncing to her feet and grabbing Buddy’s hand.

“Wait for me!” Buddy squealed, following closely behind as they raced toward the table laden with burgers, hot dogs, and a variety of sides.

“Whoa, slow down!” Viv called after them, chuckling at their enthusiasm. “Let me help you, yeah?”

Rory and Buddy reached the table first, Viv following close behind. Rory pointed at the burgers, “I want one of those please Mamma!”

“Me too!” Buddy echoed, bouncing on her toes.

Beth approached with a plate and smiled at the two girls. “Alright, let’s get you sorted out. What do you want on your burgers?”

“Cheese! I want cheese please!” Rory shouted, her excitement bubbling over.

“Me too! Cheese!” Buddy chimed in.

“Two cheese burgers coming right up,” Beth replied with a grin, piling cheese onto their plates before handing them over.

As they sat down together at a picnic table with their plates in front of them, Monkey plopped down beside them. Vic joined them, a plate of food in her hands.

“How are my two favourite girls doing?” She asked, ruffling Rory’s hair playfully.

“I'm enjoying mine, thanks Vicky P!” Monkey smiled, “Cheese is a bit plastic though, Kim could’ve done a bit better!”

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying it Monkey.” Vic laughed, shaking her head as she sat down beside Rory. “Are you enjoying yours, Roo?”

“They’re nice!” Rory said, smiling wide. “Yummy burgers!” She smiled, holding the burger up to see Vic.

“Good, I’m glad you’re liking it!” Vic chuckled, taking a bite of her own food.

“Can we explore Kimmy’s house?” Buddy suddenly said after they’d finished their food.

Rory’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Yeah! We could explore!”

“Exploring sounds fun,” Vic agreed with a grin, “But you should ask your Mummy’s first.”

“Can you take us?” Rory asked, turning to Vic with hopeful eyes.

Before Vic could answer, Monkey butted in, “Oooh, I’ll go with you both! I happen to know the best hiding spots– We can pretend like we’re pirates exploring treasure!”

Rory’s face lit up in excitement, but before she could agree, Beth interjected. “Monkey, the last time you took Buddy explore she came back with her knee scraped, and the first time you took Roo she was covered in mud.”

Leah chimed in, shaking her head with a smile. “You are officially banned from any ‘Monkey-led’ explorations, remember?”

Monkey dramatically placed a hand on her chest, pretending to be offended. “Accusations! False accusations!” She shouted aloud, “I’m safe and responsible, those just happened to be… very minor accidents though.”

“Nope, still a danger,” Beth said, laughing at Monkey’s exaggerated pout.

“That’s totally unfair,” Monkey mutters, arms crossed, “I would be a great guide with Buddy and Roo!”

Steph chuckled. “I’ll take them,” she offered, smiling at the two girls. “But we have to be good, okay? It’s Kimmy’s house and we need to be careful.”

Rory and Buddy bounced to their feet, nodding their heads. “Yes! Thank you, Steffy!”

Steph stood up, holding out her hands for the two girls. “Alright, adventurers. Let’s go explore the house!”

As they started toward the house, Monkey called after them, “I’ll wait here in case you need a real explorer!”

Steph led Rory and Buddy through the back door, their small hands holding each other. The girls immediately looked around with wide eyes, taking in the hallway lined with family photos and simple decor.

“Where should we start?” Steph asked, “You’ve been here before Buddy so why don’t we show Roo around?”

Rory pointed to the first door on their left. “There! Let’s see what’s in there!”

Buddy nodded eagerly, already taking a few steps toward it. “What’ in there, Steffy?”

Steph laughed softly. “You know that’s just the living room, but let’s go see.” She opened the door to reveal a cosy space with a large sofa, a TV on the wall, and shelves full of books and little knick-knacks.

Rory immediately darted toward the shelves, eyes scanning the rows of books. “Look at all the books!” she said excitedly.

Buddy, meanwhile, was more interested in a small basket of toys sitting in the corner for Kim’s nieces and nephews. “Toys!” she squealed, pulling out a stuffed bear. “Look, Roo! It’ bear!”

Rory giggled and left the books to join her. “He’s cute!” she said, picking up a stuffed rabbit from the basket. “They’re friends!”

The two girls sat for a moment, playing with the stuffed toys and imagining a little story between them. Steph smiled fondly, letting them explore, but after a few minutes, she said, “Alright, you two, let’s go see the other rooms.”

The girls popped up instantly, eager to see more. They rushed down the hallway, stopping at a closed door.

“What’ this one?” Buddy asked, her tiny hand already reaching up to the doorknob.

Steph opened it slowly. “This is just a guest room. Nothing too exciting.”

Inside was a simple bedroom with a neatly made bed, a dresser, and a window with light curtains fluttering in the breeze. Rory and Buddy tiptoed in, looking around as if they might find some hidden treasure.

Rory opened a drawer in the dresser and giggled when she found it empty. “Nothing here!”

“Well, it’s a guest room. Not many secrets in here,” Steph said with a smile. “Ready for the next one?”

The girls nodded eagerly, already moving toward the door. They reached the next room, which turned out to be the bathroom.

“Ooh!” Rory exclaimed as she peeked inside. “A big tub!” She leaned over to look inside it, fascinated for no reason other than it being slightly larger than the one at home.

Buddy, meanwhile, had discovered the cupboard under the sink and opened it to reveal neatly organized towels and a few cleaning supplies. “Just towels in ‘ere!” she called, a little disappointed.

“That’s because it’s a bathroom, silly,” Rory said with a giggle, closing the lid on the toilet. “Let’s find the next room!”

Steph led them to the final door in the hallway, opening it to reveal the master bedroom. “And this is the main bedroom, Kimmy’s room.”

It was a little bigger than the guest room, with a large bed and a small TV mounted on the wall. Rory and Buddy immediately ran to the closet, pulling the door open to reveal a collection of clothes hanging neatly.

“Wow, look at all these!” Rory said, running her fingers along the different shirts and dresses.

Buddy, meanwhile, found a pair of shoes on the floor and slipped her tiny feet into them. “I look like auntie Kimmy!” she said with a big grin, wobbling around the room in the shoes that were several sizes too big for her.

Rory burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “You look funny, Buddy!”

Steph chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, you two, let’s put the shoes back and head downstairs. There’s not much else to explore up here.”

Reluctantly, the girls returned the shoes and followed Steph out of the bedroom.

As Steph led Rory and Buddy back downstairs, they couldn’t help but continue chatting excitedly about their little adventure. By the time they reached the garden again, the girls were clearly winding down, the excitement of the day finally starting to wear off.

Beth and Leah were sitting together, with Viv sat on the other side as Beth cuddled into her. As soon as Rory and Buddy returned, they made a beeline for their mums, tired but happy. Rory climbed onto Beth’s lap, while Buddy let Leah pull her up onto her.

Beth wrapped her arms around Rory, brushing a hand through her hair. “Did you have fun exploring, Roo?”

Rory nodded sleepily against Beth’s chest, her eyelids already drooping. “Yeah, Mummy. We saw a big tub and lots of clothes. Buddy wore grown-up shoes!” she said with a giggle that was quickly fading into a yawn.

Leah smiled down at Buddy, “Did you? That sounds exciting, bubba,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Buddy’s head.

Viv leaned over, smiling at the sight of Rory slowly drifting off on Beth’s lap. “Looks like all the fun’s wore them out,” she said softly.

Beth nodded with a smile, pulling Rory closer. “Definitely. It’s been a long day of playing and exploring for them both.”

Buddy, now fully relaxed, curled up against Leah’s chest. “M’ tired, Mummy,” she mumbled, her little voice barely audible.

Leah stroked her back gently. “I know, bubba. It’s okay, you can rest now.”

As the sun began to set, the garden quieted down and the girls cuddled into their mums even more. Everyone spoke with hushed whispers, careful not to wake the two girls who were tired after a long day. It was clear that this was the start of the two of them being little besties.

#lvnleah #awfc #leah williamson #beth mead x vivianne miedema #rory miedema #chaos fc reader

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hypnoneghoul · 3 months ago

Text

Say It One More Time

WC: 10k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Love Story, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Soulmates, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mating, Insecurities, Suggestive, Fluff, Cuddles, Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, Referenced Panic Attacks, Retirement, Fear Of The Future, Jamming Sessions, Nightmares, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddle Piles, Pack Dynamics, Building A Home, Cooking/Baking Date, Domestic Fluff (old married couple coded), Growing Old Together

The story of Swiss and Mountain. From the beginning to the end. (But not really.)

Notes: Commissioned by the amazing @jimothybarnes! Thank you for letting me basically ramble about my faves fgfhdsgf

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Mountain joined the Ghost project in…trying times. So much chaos all around, there was not a moment of peace and the earth ghoul despised it. He thought he would be begging to get sent back to the Pit after one tour leg.

He did not.

Still, he never thought life like this was for him. He always doubted he would ever be really happy. Dewdrop’s elemental transition changed things; first it took away all hope, but then returned it double as he survived it and made full recovery—at least a physical one. That is when Mountain started seeing the human world a little differently.

He started wanting to have a life there, to settle, and that alone guaranteed him success already. Once his mind was set it did not take long for him to see it all changing in front of his eyes.

Or rather appearing in front of his eyes.

In the shape of a rather good looking multi ghoul.

Mountain has to admit he has found Swiss very attractive since the moment he stepped out from the summoning circle; even though he was slightly underweight and generally neglected when he did. The more time he is spending Topside, the more handsome he gets and, frankly, it is slowly getting out of hand, if you ask Mountain.

He is simply ridiculously gorgeous.

Over half a year since Swiss crawled out of the Pit Mountain has to admit that the amount of time he spends just…looking at him may be slightly concerning. So many times Dewdrop or Aether, who know him the best, had jabbed their elbows into his side teasingly and called him a creep. They never once told Mountain, though, how happy they are to see him thriving and blooming just like his element as he and Swiss get closer.

They are growing a friendship—a meaningful, deep connection.

Despite Swiss’ chaos contrasting Mountain’s calmness they found a common language in music and nature and soon enough it turned out the multi ghoul’s loudness is not all that he is, and the rest is easy to balance.

He and Mountain love working in the greenhouse or in the gardens together just as much as they enjoy jamming out in the rehearsal room with wide grins on both their faces. Swiss could not be happier, whatever it is they do together. Nobody has ever tried to get to know him, to overlook the complete mess that he seems to be at a first glance.

Mountain does and the multi ghoul doubts he is aware how important it is to him. Today the multi ghoul got an idea on how to show him. Or at least try to.

He pops his head into the greenhouse after lunch, knocking so as not to startle the earth ghoul; not so much asking for permission to come in.

“Hi, are–uhm, you busy?” he asks, getting startled himself instead, at the sight of Mountain shirtless. He turns and a small knowing smirk grows on face.

“No, not at all, just finished my work.” Mountain says and stretches. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to go for a walk and…” Swiss has some trouble remembering what he initially came there for as he struggles to rip his eyes away from the slight sheen of sweat on the earth ghoul’s chest, “uh, I was wondering if you’d go with me? I want to show you something.”

“Yeah, I’d love that! Give me just a minute, I’ll get this to the den and I’ll be right back.” Mountain points at a box filled with…something before picking it up. Swiss only nods and hangs his head to hopefully hide the blush on his face at least a little.

“Alright, I’ll wait here,” he mutters, hoping Mountain hears it as he has already walked out of the greenhouse. Swiss paces around the place waiting for the earth ghoul to return and takes a moment to appreciate all the work he does there. He is also happy to notice the plants he himself tended to and how they are flourishing. He smiles with pride.

Swiss is not used to anything thriving after it has been touched by him; that’s Mountain’s skill. His heart warms at the thought that the earth ghoul made him thrive just as he did the flora under his care and changed him; made it so he can bring good into the world, too. That is the greatest gift the earth ghoul could have ever given Swiss.

Soon enough he comes back and they set out into the woods.

“You probably know about it, it’s not like it’s super hidden,” Swiss says, “but I never heard anyone mention it and I just came across it one time and…I dunno, I just like it and wanted to take you there.”

Mountain nods with a smile; intrigued and charmed by the fact that Swiss has possibly found a place no one else knows about and he deemed the earth ghoul special enough to share said spot with him.

They walk for some time—sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting away about various things—before Swiss stops. If not for Mountain's connection to the element they are currently surrounded in, he would be confused; there is nothing there at a first glance, but he can feel there is something.

Swiss takes one more step towards something that looks like a fallen tree resting against a hill and peels some of its branches away to reveal an entrance.

It’s a cave.

Mountain follows the other and they crawl through the tight space and into it. It’s huge and beautiful and the earth ghoul is enamored.

“Swiss, this is–woah, it’s gorgeous here,” he gasps and he is not overreacting. The cave really is something magical.

“So you didn’t know about it?” Swiss asks, slightly surprised. An earth ghoul not knowing every single inch of the local grounds?

“No,” he chuckles. “I heard from Ivy there were some caves around but I never went looking.”

Swiss does not answer, he only grins; proud of himself. He lets Mountain look around for as long as he wants to—the multi ghoul is already familiar with every single nook of the cave.

“There’s a raspberry bush over there,” Swiss says after a few moments, pointing at the other side of the cave where some light is coming from its top. “They’re really good.”

“Let’s see it,” the earth ghoul winks and follows Swiss to them. Before they get to the berries, Mountain crouches by the bush and places his hands where it pierces the ground. He closes his eyes and murmurs something under his breath. Swiss knows what he is doing; thanking the earth for such a gift.

It may just be Swiss’ imagination but the bush seems to brighten when Mountain stands back up.

“You have to teach me that sometime,” he says and the earth ghoul nods before picking up a raspberry and popping it into his mouth. He moans at the taste; they are good.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He smiles at Swiss. “I really appreciate you.”

The multi ghoul returns the smile with a rosy blush dusting his cheek.

One evening seemingly changes everything. In reality, it changes nothing.

Another tour leg, another city, another show, another venue, another bar to let off some steam. Everyone has a drink or two in their hands, holding onto their human disguises and having fun in pairs or small groups. The music is loud, the lights are bright and it absolutely reeks of sweat, but it doesn’t bother anyone too much.

It’s the charm of such places, really.

Even Mountain is fine with all that; even though he’s not a huge fan, he’s content sitting in a dark corner with a mocktail and watching his packmates.

He sighs. Who is he even trying to lie to? Himself? Lucifer?

He’s watching Swiss.

Beautiful Swiss, laughing and smiling so brightly Mountain thinks he missed his destination; he should have been an angel, not a demon. The earth ghoul zones out staring at him as he laughs amongst their pack, as he dances and sings and Mountain can not help but think Swiss is the most perfect thing in the world, and…

Oh.

He’s in love with him

Fuck.

Mountain can’t look at him the same after that realization. He ran away from the bar and avoided everyone for as long as possible—a whole ten hours—not knowing what to do with himself. Now that he knows what that feeling warming up his heart every time Swiss smiles at him is, the earth ghoul only knows need.

He needs him so bad.

He needs to hold him, to kiss him, to be held by him, to be kissed by him. He needs to be devoured and to devour and it feels like the longer none of that happens, the more breath he loses, and it does not take long for Mountain to feel as if he is suffocating.

Little does Mountain know, that he is actually a fucking idiot.

Swiss feels the exact same way; burning for him.

He’s not even discreet about it—he’s painfully obvious, actually—but Mountain is so focused on the doomsday scenario of getting rejected that he’s blind to the signs Swiss is throwing his way. Right under his feet.

It’s another few months before any of them do something more direct than stare yearningly at the other, and it’s not even either of them's idea. It’s their pack that all but pushes them into a tight broom closet and threatens not to let them out until they kiss. Or fuck.

Metaphorically, of course.

What they actually do is a whole scheme of talking them into it. They play a little dirty, they have to admit; showing one of them the messages that were never supposed to see the light of day from the other one, and the other way around.

They just have to make them believe it isn’t one big joke; neither Swiss nor Mountain have enough faith in themselves to accept that someone they see as absolute perfection could even consider…loving them. Oh, how wrong they both are.

Favorite method of Aether’s became getting Swiss high and filling his head with the images of a beautiful future he and Mountain can share if he only stops being such a cunt. He does not even need his quintessence for that.

“Mount’s a romantic, you know?” Aether sighs—slurring a little on purpose, so he seems more high than he actually is after only taking a few hits and feeding the rest to Swiss. “He loves spoiling people he loves and he gets all into it.”

“Mhm,” Swiss hums, sprawled out like a starfish on the quintessence ghoul’s bed. “He’s real sweet.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Aether confirms. “He likes giving gifts. He makes a lot of stuff and then gives it to people. It’s one of the ways he shows affection.”

“I got a few things from him,” the multi ghoul notes. “He grew a flower for me.”

Aether wants to scream at how stupid they both are.

“That’s cute,” he says instead. “What kinda flower?”

“A rose, orange and red.”

Aether face-palms himself. “That’s really lovely.”

“Yeah…” Swiss sighs dreamily. “I’m not so good at…being sweet.”

“Bullshit. You just do it in a different way.”

“Meh.”

“You help everyone,” Aether explains, trying to direct the conversation onto the multitude of times Swiss helped with or did something for Mountain. He also might pull up an article on love languages on his phone and force Swiss to read it, but that’s plan B. “I think that’s how you show affection.

“Huh…I guess it is.”

One evening it all comes to a climax. Swiss is returning from chores with Cirrus and the air ghoulette is laughing at how heart-eyes he gets the moment she so much as mentions Mountain.

When they get to the den they notice said earth ghoul resting in the common room on his own. Swiss tries to turn on his heel and run away—not in a state he would wish Mountain to see him—but Cirrus is done with them jumping around each other.

“Oh, no, you don’t, loverboy!”

She pushes Swiss into the room and Mountain notices him right away. Well, if he can’t run away, maybe he should just…go for it, like the air ghoulette advised him to.

Mountain is looking at him questioningly as he just stands there, contemplating, and he decides he can not make it worse. At least he hopes so.

Swiss walks up to the earth ghoul and plops down onto the couch next to him.

“Hey, can I ask you–” he starts, but Mountain speaks at the same time.

“Hi, I was actually–”

“Oh, you first, but–”

“So I wanted to–”

“I was wondering if–”

They both pause this silly exchange—blushing bright red—and take deep breaths before speaking again.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” Swiss blurts out, tired of the thoughts that could not be let out jumping around in his head.

“Yeah…” Mountain sighs and giggles to himself before cupping the multi ghoul’s cheek and bending down to kiss him, indeed. Swiss melts into it and nothing else but the two of them exists anymore in this chaotic world.

If their pack that is looking out of the windows cheers as they watch, Swiss and Mountain will never know.

Ghoulish nature is a curious thing.

There are many strange things about it—at least to humans—but it’s understandable considering they are quite literally demons from the pits of Hell. One thing that humans are always particularly amazed by is mating.

It’s not as common as it is sometimes believed. It’s unlike human marriage; that is something frail and all but an act—it does not influence one’s very core.

Mating does.

The spirits of ghouls that mate split and twist together and bind them with a bond unbreakable.

That is why some deem it too dangerous.

Swiss and Mountain, even if they are not aware of it, have both dreamed of committing such an act.

Swiss, who despite his confidence always feels out of place, wanting to experience the comfort of being someone’s, of belonging. Being owned, even.

Mountain, who despite his metaphorical wealth always feels like he’s lacking something, wanting to have someone to be there for him, to choose him.

For years they have both been scared of bringing it up, fearing the other would laugh in their face or push them away.

At the end of the day, neither of them bring it up, really.

“You stink!” Dewdrop announces one day as he storms into the common room where Swiss and Mountain are lounging comfortably on a sofa. “You’ve both been stinking up the place for days now and we all decided to keep our mouths shut because you’re cute, but I’m done with it! You know you should keep away for a while after mating! Besides, how are you just laying here and not fucking twenty-four seven!?”

The pair looks at the agitated ghoul with confusion.

“What the hell are you on?” Swiss snorts.

“We aren’t mated,” Mountain adds.

Dewdrop’s jaw drops as he realizes they really are clueless.

“Except you are, idiots!” the fire ghoul yells. “Last friday, did you fuck?”

“Dew, that’s–”

“DID YOU FUCK!?”

“Fucking Lucifer, yes, we did,” Swiss laughs. “So what?”

“Oh, let’s see! Whoever was topping, did you happen to knot and bite the other one?”

“Well…yes, but we’ve done that so many times before, and–” Mountain mutters, now calculating in his mind.

“SURPRISE, you’re mated! I don’t fucking know how you managed to do it by accident, but you did, so I wish you a happy mated life and now get the fuck out to the woods, I have to air the den out.”

Mountain is the first to stand up—or rather shoot up—but he does not wait for Swiss. No, he runs out of the common room, leaving the remaining two ghouls confused.

The multi ghoul swallows the growing lump in his throat as he follows, albeit way slower. As he leaves he can hear Dewdrop swearing under his breath as he slams the windows open. Swiss is about to cry. Did Mountain…he claimed him by accident and ran away when he was made aware. Does he regret it, does he not want him? Does he not love him?

The multi ghoul wraps his own arms around himself as he leaves the Abbey. He does not know where Mountain went to, but he is sure it’s not to the cave in the woods. Swiss hopes so, at least, wanting to have that space for himself.

Indeed, he does not find his mate there, but it does not make anything better. Swiss crumples to the floor with his claws digging into his sides as he sobs.

He thought he finally found home. He thought that after hundreds of years of loneliness and abuse he found love, but now…it seems it was all a lie. He spends the night curled up in one of the nooks of the cave; with stone digging into his cold body.

Mountain does not sleep.

He ran and ran until he ran out of breath and collapsed somewhere by the other edge of the forest. He cried, realizing how many mistakes he has managed to make.

He knows Swiss, knows his insecurities. He knows what the multi ghoul is now surely thinking.

That he hates him.

The truth is that Mountain panicked once it hit him that Dewdrop was right. Some instinct must have overtaken that last friday and the earth ghoul claimed Swiss without realizing. He did not run away because he regrets it, he–well, he does regret it, but only because he did it without Swiss’ consent.

They have never even talked about it and he just did it to him; Mountain feels like a monster. What if it’s something Swiss never ever wanted to do?

It doesn’t matter now; if he wanted it before, now he certainly wants nothing to do with the earth ghoul. Not only did he violate him, but he ran away like a coward after.

He has fucked up beyond measure.

It’s a few days before either Swiss or Mountain emerge from their hiding spots; though still not knowing what next step to take. They are both clueless that they’re getting closer and closer as they’re trying to return home; only realizing once they bump into each other.

“Fuck, sorry, ‘m sorry,” Swiss mutters and immediately turns on his heel to walk away.

“Please, don’t go,” Mountain begs, voice cracking. The multi ghoul snaps his head back with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why?”

“I’m an idiot, I–I panicked,” the earth ghoul whines, “I didn’t know what to do so I ran, I’m so sorry, my darling.”

“Why?” Swiss repeats.

“You never agreed to it.”

Swiss’ eyes widen.

“That’s…that’s it? You felt bad for claiming me because I didn’t say you could do it?”

“Yes, darling,” Mountain breathes out. “I know what you must’ve been thinking and I’m so, so sorry for making you think any of this was on you. I love you so much, Swiss. I always have and always will.”

The multi ghoul stares at the ground, swallowing thickly. Mountain is all but shaking with anxiety; not knowing whether he is about to be rejected for good or not.

It all dissipates when Swiss throws himself at Mountain, jumping up into his arms. The earth ghoul grabs him as he stumbles backwards and clings to him for dear life as their lips meet.

“I love you, too,” Swiss cries into his mouth. “I’ve always wanted to be yours.”

“Fuck, Swiss, can we–uh, can we pretend it isn’t done yet?” Mountain mutters. “I want to do it properly. Will you let me?”

“Yes, my love. Let’s do it properly.”

It is a few more days before they actually leave the woods.

Swiss always complains when he and Mountain have to work not only separately, but also in the opposite sides of the Abbey. It’s cruel and, frankly, homophobic—as Aeon likes to joke, having picked the phrase up from Tik-Tok.

The multi ghoul would much rather work with Mountain, or not work at all, and he tried to use an argument that he’ll be much more productive with his mate by his side, but one time was enough for Sister Imperator to know it would make them both way less productive. Swiss will not agree, of course—at least not out loud—but he realizes that defiling something they were about to clean was not a great way to prove they could work together on a daily basis.

Anyway, knowing his mate is close enough keeps him as calm as he can be without being in his arms. Swiss can never wait for the work to be finished so he can fall right back into Mountain’s hold, of course, but at least he can survive the hours leading to it.

M: hi my heart, i finished my chores early so ill be in the practice room if you need me, see you soon <3

Swiss grumbles reading the text from his mate. How on earth does Mountain always manage to finish all his work hours before the others? It’s truly unfair, he thinks. It is definitely not caused by Mountain actually doing what he is supposed to instead of getting distracted with a multitude of other things as Swiss happens to.

S: alright, ill catch u when im done, love u

Groaning at having to be away from Mountain for another hour, at least, he gets back to work. Thankfully he’s been left alone in the room without many distractions. Still, an hour is way too long, so when Swiss shoots his next text, half an hour later, he may or may not have forgotten about some of the tasks yet to be done.

S: i’m done, my love, still practicing?

Lack of an answer is an answer enough for Swiss, so he bolts in the practice room’s general direction before someone can notice him ditching chores. He catches Mountain’s scent just before he gets to the sound-proofed door and takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of fresh grass, blooming flowers and pine. He can not hold back the smile that grows on his face as he enters the room.

Mountain is—as usual—fully immersed in music, smiling to himself and moving his entire body to the rhythm as he plays. Swiss closes the door behind him and hangs by it, watching his mate all heart-eyed for the next few minutes. Only when the earth ghoul finishes up another song and pauses to check his phone does he look up and notice Swiss.

He chuckles, “How long have you been standing there?”

“A little bit.” The multi ghoul shrugs and makes his way over to the drum platform. “I like watching you play.”

“Creep,” Mountain teases before closing the remaining distance between him and his mate and wrapping his arms around him, sweat and all. “Missed you.”

Swiss is immediately purring up a storm, nuzzling under Mountain’s cheek and breathing in the scent he loves so much. “Mhm, I missed you, too, my love.”

“Let’s get something to eat,” the earth ghoul proposes, “and then we can take a nap.”

“Okay, but…” Swiss sighs, “in a moment. Wanna stay like that just a minute more.”

“Of course, my heart.” Mountain smiles against his hair. “However long you need.”

Ideally, Swiss would never pull away. He would stay glued to his mate for eternity if he could. Alas, just standing there is neither comfortable nor really fun, so eventually he does. He grabs the earth ghoul’s hand instead and they go back to the den, talking about their day. Soon enough they reach the commons and head for the kitchen first.

“What do you want to eat, my love?” Swiss asks, already rummaging through some cabinets. Mountain hums as he trails a hand over the multi ghoul’s hip before he wraps his arms around his waist and glues himself to his back.

“You,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss under Swiss’ ear.

“Maybe later,” he laughs and turns in the other’s arms. “You can get a taste, though.”

Mountain would never deny, of course; he grabs Swiss’ chin and tips his head back gently to lick into his mouth with near reverence. The multi ghoul sighs into it, sagging in Mountain’s arms. He hooks his hands under Swiss’ thighs and picks him up to sit him on the counter before stepping in between his legs to get that much closer and kiss the breath out of his mate.

“So sweet,” he breathes between kisses, “could just–eat you up.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Swiss giggles, “but maybe some actual food first, hm?”

“Fine…” Mountain rolls his eyes as he pulls away, making his mate grin widely. The earth ghoul turns to the fridge and grabs a yogurt. “Want some, too?”

“Yeah, gimme.” He scoffs at Swiss’ grabby hands and pulls out another one before shutting the fridge. The multi ghoul is already waiting with two spoons.

They chat some more as they snack, spreading some Abbey gossip as two ghouls do. Soon enough the empty yogurt packets end up in the thrash and they move to the living room.

Mountain sits in a big armchair in the corner of the common room, sprawling himself out in the deep plush to get comfortable. Swiss plops himself in his mate’s lap once he gets the go-ahead and curls up against his chest, rubbing his nose up and down Mountain’s neck.

“I love you,” He mutters. The earth ghoul kicks up a low, rumbly purr and wraps his arms around Swiss, holding him close.

“I love you, too.” Swiss starts his own purring and it is easy to fall asleep enveloped in the comfort of having each other so close.

Mountain has learned how to fight his anxiety relatively well long ago. It’s not something that can just be cured or gotten rid of, of course, but he manages it as well as one can.

But if you can’t get rid of something permanently, it will resurface every now and then.

The earth ghoul has always struggled with low self-esteem. He used to lack any confidence, always preferring to hide behind his drum kit.

It changed a lot over the years.

Mountain’s pack and Swiss helped him a great deal; proving every single day how kind, smart, beautiful, and most importantly loved he is. It took him years, but he finally believes it all and now he knows his worth.

But doubts creep back into his brain, sometimes.

That he’s not good enough, that he’s worthless, that he’s useless, that he’s a burden, that he’s unlovable. All lies, of course, but it’s hard to ignore a nagging voice inside one’s head repeating it all over and over again.

Whenever it does speak up, Mountain goes to Swiss.

Today has just been…rough for the earth ghoul and he finds himself in a not-so-good headspace around dinnertime. He had seen Swiss barely half an hour ago but he feels like spiraling and he knows he should not wait until he’s down there.

But on the other hand…Swiss is probably busy now, he can’t just go and bother him and–

No. Swiss loves him, he won’t–

Mountain squeezes his eyes as if it can get him rid of these awful thoughts and goes to find his mate before they change his mind and force him to hide.

It’s happened before, many times. There were times when he would panic so hard he would run to the woods, blend in with his element and not emerge for days—convinced nobody had even noticed he was gone.

They always did and they always looked for him.

He gets to the den, unsure if Swiss is there at first, but he catches his scent quickly. It leads him to their shared bedroom and Mountain tries to compose himself a little bit before knocking on the door and entering. Swiss is doing something by the closet—probably taking care of the freshly washed clothes.

“Hi, my love,” the multi ghoul grins as he sees him. He is always an image of pure joy when he sees him.

“Hey,” Mountain responds quietly, dragging his feet as he comes closer.

“What’s wrong?” Swiss asks, having immediately picked up on the sadness in his voice, the sour edge in his scent, and the slump of his shoulders.

“Nothing, can I just…” Mountain sighs and drags a hand down his face as his voice cracks, “can I get a hug?”

“Oh, baby,” the multi ghoul coos with a sad pout on his face, already coming towards him with open arms—all but running to comfort him, “of course you can, come here.”

Mountain melts the moment these strong and warm arms wrap around him. He sags in Swiss’ hold and hides his face in his neck. He can not hold back a dry little sob that breaks its way free at the newfound comfort.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Swiss mutters, “I’ve always got you.”

It doesn’t take long for the comfort of Swiss’ embrace to make Mountain’s tears fall. He lets out a choked sob and hides further in his mate’s neck.

They stand like that for a while; just being. The multi ghoul holds his mate close and sways them side to side a little, letting him cry out whatever it is that has been bothering him. He does not need to know, not if he can help without that knowledge.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he repeats, rubbing his back. “You’re alright.”

Moments like these always make Swiss think about how he has seen Mountain when they first met. A huge ghoul with a stoic presence and yet a kind smile.

He thought his name was fitting not only because of his height. He thought the earth ghoul was unshakable, unmovable.

Swiss was pleased to find out Mountain is all but the definition of a gentle giant.

“Do you want to move to the nest?” Swiss asks once he deems his mate calm enough to move. He nods into his neck and the multi ghoul kisses his hair before gently maneuvering them over to their nest without untangling their limbs. It is not very easy and they end up having to pull away at least for a second.

“Sorry, I’m–I’m a mess,” the earth ghoul mutters, wiping tears and snot from his face as Swiss gets comfortable against the headboard. He opens his arms again once he is settled. Mountain falls right back into his embrace.

“You’re my mess, baby,” Swiss chuckles and kisses his forehead before poking his nose with a finger, making him giggle wetly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Mountain cuddles up to Swiss’ side with his head over his heart and their hands clasped together. Their tails wrap around each other, too; Swiss’ tapping lightly against the mattress as he purrs. It relaxes the earth ghoul and he can feel the tension leaving him as he gets heavier against him.

Mountain is half asleep when Swiss speaks again. He does that on purpose; knowing that as sleepy as he is, the earth ghoul will not argue.

“You’re the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Swiss tells him. Mountain can only listen and breathe softly into his neck. “You give my life meaning, I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I need you, my love. I’m a part of you and the best part of me is you, Mountain. I don’t know what your brain was telling you earlier, but whatever it is, you know it’s not true and I’ll spend years proving it to you, okay? Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

It may not be so easy to believe all that Swiss is saying right away, but the one thing Mountain will never dare doubt is the multi ghoul’s devotion to making him believe.

He nods weakly in agreement just before he falls asleep in his arms.

Swiss always feared that retirement was going to bore him to death.

What would he do with his time? Stuck in the Abbey all year long with no opportunities to travel and have fun, really? How would he—a creature that lived on the adrenaline that playing shows all over the world provided—survive not touring? Sure, he would have his mate and his pack and they could play together in the rehearsal room as much as they wanted, but it would not be the same without both exhaustion and excitement of the real thing.

The multi ghoul could not see a point in living like this and he was scared.

He did not think he would be able to return to his old life after getting a taste of something bigger. He has spent countless nights worrying and coaxing himself into pointless panic attacks.

Now that the time to leave the Ghost project behind has come, Swiss realizes it may not be so bad.

Sure, it has only been a few months—no more than some breaks they had between touring—and he already feels a hole in his heart that is never fully going to get filled. But it is not so bad.

He thinks he has Mountain to thank for that.

When touring was the only thing for him, he used to think life would lose all meaning without it, but now it is Mountain that is Swiss’ life. He’s not scared anymore because he has his mate.

His life is full even though a big chunk of it was ripped away.

It’s slower now. They can sleep in every single day if they wish. They can go for week-long walks into the woods. They can do anything they want, really.

The only thing that matters is that Swiss and Mountain are together.

Mountain does not really miss touring—having had more than enough of it—but he doesn’t consider it all bad memories. Quite the opposite; all these years going around the world with his pack are the best of his long life. He misses the good moments, both on and off stage.

That is why he never declines when the pack asks him to join them in jamming out like the old times. It always feels good to climb his platform and sit behind his fancy drum kit again, to overlook the rest of the musicians as they run and jump around the stage.

Just like the old times.

They all still play a lot, but it is usually on their own, in their bedrooms. Each of them also spends a lot of time teaching both their instruments and elements to the new generation of ghouls summoned to continue the Ghost project.

Dewdrop—to everyone’s surprise—seems to have found his calling as a teacher; he loves it, and both he and his pupils are doing exceptionally well.

Aether and Aeon are switching between teaching the new quintessence ghoul guitar and quintessence, introducing them to the infirmary already.

Rain and the new water ghoul spend as much time in the lake as over their basses, just like Mountain with his pupil in the greenhouse and behind their drums.

The ghoulettes are—as always—rather secretive about their doings, but the old one’s voices can often be heard overlapping with the new trio’s.

Even Swiss has a pupil—a multi ghoul as chaotic and joyful as he is; perfect fit for replacing him.

But sometimes their pack meets in the rehearsal room purely for their own enjoyment.

Mountain turns to the right and relies solely on his muscle memory as he watches his mate on his platform—dancing and singing and laughing and playing. It hurts him sometimes, the fact that even if he does not, Swiss clearly misses it. Mountain would let him tour for decades if he only could, even if he would not go with him. He wishes he could give that to him.

Swiss looks at it differently now.

Yes, he misses touring terribly, but he does not regret being forced to retire. His life Topside until now was full of…everything, really, and now it’s time to tone it down, to go slower.

The rest of his life is for Mountain and he could not be happier about that.

They all get lost in the music again. All of them, Dewdrop, Rain, Aeon, Aether, Cirrus, Cumulus, Aurora, Sunshine, Swiss, and Mountain.

The ghoulettes are all dancing on two platforms, holding hands as they fill the room with the beautiful sound of their combined voices. Dewdrop keeps chucking picks at Aether. Aeon leans against Rain, nuzzling up to him like a car.

Swiss seems alone, but it could not be further from the truth. In that moment he feels less alone than ever.

Mountain can only smile and thank Lucifer for sending all these amazing ghouls his way when life was rough.

For sending Swiss his way when life was rough.

Their fun ends too soon, with the entire pack exhausted, but content. They slowly filter out of the room, thanking each other for the amazing time they had.

“Did you have fun, my love?” Swiss asks, coming up the platform behind his mate.

“I did,” Mountain sighs as the multi ghoul drapes himself over his back, not minding the sweat dripping off of him. “Did you?”

“You know it, baby,” he laughs. Mountain hums before turning on his stool and sweeps Swiss off of his feet. He yelps as he ends up in his mate’s lap with his arms around his neck. They both laugh like they are the happiest people in the entire universe.

They are the happiest people in the entire universe.

Mountain leans in to rest his forehead against Swiss’, knocking their horns together. They close their eyes and breathe the same air for a moment.

Despite all the little things they miss, their life could not be more perfect.

Swiss does not think his nightmares will ever go away. They have become less frequent over the years since he has been summoned, but once in a while—when he least expects it—something will hit him again. The less often they happen, the more frightening they are, though, and sometimes it takes the multi ghoul as much as a week to recover.

He wakes up gasping and sweating bullets for the first time in a few months and his first instinct is to blindly pat around for Mountain. He finds him, of course, and lets out a shaky breath of relief as he grabs his limp hand, but the dream still leaves him unsettled. The earth ghoul shifts in his sleep after being smacked a few times, but does not wake up.

Swiss was all alone again. Alone and cold in the Pit, but not like it was before he got summoned. He was alone then, yes, but he was also clueless. This time he was left with memories, knowing he had a pack and a happy life that suddenly was gone. Lacking and missing something is so much worse when you know exactly what you have lost. He felt like he was never going to experience the warmth of being loved again and it was horrible.

But he is awake now. He is awake and Mountain is right there.

Swiss stares at his mate; watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically and his nose twitch. It’s completely dark in their room, but his water part allows him to see well anyway. Mountain looks so peaceful and the multi ghoul’s heart feels like it is about to burst with the amount of love he has for him in it.

At some point the earth ghoul turns onto his side and unconsciously reaches out for Swiss, flopping an arm over his lap. He chuckles wetly and lays back down to snuggle into Mountain’s chest, his face slotted right over his heart. The tears that have been lingering in his eyes fall when his mate’s warmth envelopes him; falling in cold drops onto Mountain’s skin. This and Swiss’ heart pounding against him wakes him up.

“S’iss…’r you okay?” he slurs, all syrupy with sleep as he nuzzles into his hair.

“Yeah, baby. You’re here, I’m okay.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Swiss sighs, cuddling up even closer. Mountain wraps his own arms tighter around him.

“I’m here,” he assures. The multi ghoul nods and tries to focus on his mate’s heartbeat and go back to sleep, but he can not quite shake off the fear that the dream has filled him with.

What if it is his future? What if he will be sent back before others? What if they will be sent back together but won’t manage to find each other? What if it will all be different and everyone gets sent back but him? Being alone Topside would be as bad as being alone in the Pit.

The worst part of his dreams is always that they are not completely unrealistic.

He sits up again, thinking Mountain has managed to fall back asleep and intending to just stare at him for the rest of the night and assure his brain all is fine. The earth ghoul did not, though, and he rises with Swiss.

“Wanna talk about it or just…be?” he asks as he intertwines their fingers.

“I don’t know, I just–didn’t have that one in a while and it got me all messed up.”

“I understand, my heart.” Mountain kisses his forehead and adjusts them, all but manhandling Swiss so he is in his lap, curled up smaller than it should be possible considering his actual size. “It’s okay, I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

He is, but…their family is bigger than the two of them.

“Do you, uh–do you think we could go check on the others?”

“Yeah,” the earth ghoul mutters, “yeah, of course.”

Swiss nods with gratitude and crawls out of their nest. He grips Mountain’s hand tightly as they leave their room and go down the corridor, intending to check their packmates’ bedrooms one by one. Mountain pauses before they can open Rain’s door, though, and his ear flicks.

“What is it?”

“Let’s go to the common room,” the earth ghoul says without actual explanation, but Swiss trusts him. He trusts him more than he trusts himself, so they do indeed go to the common room. Swiss looks with an anxious stare at each door they pass without checking, but Mountain just drags him along; albeit gently.

When they reach the commons Swiss understands.

Their whole pack is there, cuddled up in one big pile on the floor lined with tons of bedding. They are all snoring away, tangled in a way that makes it impossible to really notice where one ghoul ends and the other begins. Dewdrop is curled in a little ball on Aether’s chest; his face shoved between the other’s pecs. Rain is on his side, snuggled up to the two with his tail wrapped around the fire ghoul’s leg. Aeon is spooning Rain and drooling into his hair. Aurora is laying perpendicularly to him; her legs are thrown over the quintessence ghoul’s middle. Her head is resting on Cumulus’ stomach while Cirrus’ head is in the crook of her neck. Sunshine is sprawled half on top of them two.

The multi ghoul smiles and kisses Mountain in a way that expresses more than words ever could. He understands.

“Do you want to join them or get back to our room?” The earth ghoul asks.

“Here…” Swiss mutters, “but you don’t have to, your back will–”

“I’ll stay. I’ll always stay.”

Swiss doesn’t have it in himself to disagree; he nods and finds a spot where he and Mountain can lay down with the others. They slot in perfectly right next to Aether and the moment they get comfortable someone’s—most likely Dewdrop’s—tail drapes itself over them.

“You will never be alone again, my heart,” the earth ghoul whispers, kissing Swiss right below his ear. “No matter what happens, we will always be together.”

A couple of years into their retirement, Mountain and Swiss start to fantasize about having a space that would really be their own. Moving out of the Abbey isn’t an option. Not because of the Clergy’s control or some binding magic. Well, not unless the bond between a pack is considered magic, but truth be told it’s as close as it gets.

They simply don’t want to leave their family.

They would hate being unable to see them at least every other day, being unable to have cuddle piles; they would miss them terribly, even if they would not travel far. They are older now, though—especially Mountain—and the chaos is sometimes too much. That is why they started thinking of their options.

The Ministry’s grounds are big.

Swiss and Mountain share not only the element of earth in their cores, but also deep love for it, and when they are offered by the Clergy—or rather Copia himself, always the one to spoil his ghouls—to be provided with supplies to build a house in the woods, they accept without a second thought.

They begin planning immediately.

They have to have a little patio to drink tea in the mornings and to lounge with a book or guitar on. They need a big kitchen to cook and bake together as much as their hearts might desire. There must be a speaker system all over so they can have music they so love surrounding them at all times. Their bed has to be big and sturdy for…obvious reasons.

Thankfully both Mountain and Swiss are good at drawing.

They spend hours online, looking for inspiration and appliances they are going to need. They plan and draw everything, spilling their shared dreams onto paper.

Once it is all done, they insist they can do it all by themselves, but Copia does not agree. Not because he does not trust them, but because he loves them so much he only wants the best for them—he hires an actual architect and construction team for them.

It does not dull their excitement to bring their drawings to life; only now they are sure their house will last years. And they still do participate in the process, of course, but while the professionals are working on their cabin, Swiss and Mounty focus more on its surroundings.

They must have a garden, too.

They divide the space around the house into three parts and surround it all with magical hedge to keep away animals that might want to steal some of the things they plan on growing. The middle part they leave empty—apart from some flowers just to keep it in their style—to later on equip with chairs, tables, a swing, and anything that they might come up with that would make it a place that one wants to spend time in.

The other two parts are divided into growing fruit, vegetables, and even some grain. Whatever is possible, and considering Mountain’s power it is a lot.

Swiss and Mountain are standing there one evening, holding each other in a place that will soon be their patio, after the construction team has already left. They watch the sunset; sky painted oranges and pinks just behind the house that is steadily growing. It is as if Lucifer is congratulating them on the peaceful life that is just around the corner.

“We should get a cat,” Swiss hums into the space below Mountain’s jaw.

“What?” the other laughs quietly, slightly surprised by the proposition.

“Yeah, like a little kitten. They’re so cute.”

Mountain thinks about it. Yes, they are cute and now that they are about to have their own little home it would be precious to have something—someone—to raise there. They can not have kits Topside, so a pet would be the next best thing.

“Yeah, we should,” he mutters after a moment. Swiss pulls away and looks up at his mate, beaming. “What? Were you joking?”

“No, I just didn’t think you’d agree,” he giggles and stands on his tiptoes to kiss the earth ghoul. “I want a little calico girl.”

“Whatever you want is yours, my heart,” Mountain whispers and brings his mate closer. Swiss purrs at his warmth and he knows the earth ghoul means it; Mountain would bring the stars down from the sky and rip out his own veins to wrap them in if that would be Swiss’ wish.

The building of their house takes just short of a year. The final step is, of course, furnishing and decorating it, and the pair invite their family to help with that. The younger ghouls may not be aware, but in the Pit there is a certain tradition regarding couples that mate and leave the pack to live on their own. The pack or packs that the ghouls come out of build shelter for them to live in as a sign of the claim they still have on them. Not a possessive, objectifying one, but an affectionate one. It is simply extending the whole pack’s protection over the ghoul’s mate and their potential future kits.

That tradition is not cultivated by ghouls that get summoned Topside, and it would be especially senseless considering how unusual Swiss and Mountain’s pack and life is. So they come up with their own version.

Each ghoul of their family has a part of their cabin to decorate as they see fit.

It ends up being a patchwork style that would absolutely horrify any professional designer, but Mountain and Swiss could not be happier with how it all turned out.

Once their house is ready to move into, they walk into the fresh space and stand in the middle of it with proud smiles. They did it and it is not only their house now; it is their home.

“I think we should…initiate it,” Swiss says after a moment of just taking it in.

“As in…baptize?”

“Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t say that’s the right word for what I have in mind.”

“Oh…oh.”

The little kitten held against Swiss’ chest seems to agree as she meows loudly.

One of the things that have become a habit for Swiss and Mountain is their little kitchen dates—Mountain baking while Swiss cooks next to him.

They have them often, now that they have so much time to spare on their hands, and it never gets old or boring.

They plan their whole day in advance, prepare their recipes and make a list of groceries they need to get. Most of the ingredients Swiss needs to make dinner can be found in their garden, and most of the ingredients Mountain needs to bake dessert can be found in the pantry they have worked years on supplying. For anything else they make a trip to a local grocery store, holding hands and mirroring the smiles older ladies send their way.

A spacious kitchen with a lot of working space was one of the priorities when they were planning their cabin; they needed space to be able to cook side by side comfortably. Besides, the two-in-one living room and kitchen turned out to be the place they spend most of their time, followed closely by their bedroom and the outside.

Both Swiss and Mountain are usually clean about their cooking and baking—that is until one of them starts a food fight. They each have their favored bowls and spoons and dishes and rags. They have a silent agreement about the division of the counter, too, but that one blurs more often than not.

The pair prepare everything; they wash the vegetables and eggs, measure the dry and wet ingredients separately, and pick out all the utensils they’ll need. The last step is putting on their matching aprons they got as a gift. They switch them sometimes, but usually Swiss wears the one saying big spoon, while Mountain’s says little spoon.

They always have music on put through the speakers scattered all over; the type depending on their mood. Sometimes it is quieter, sometimes they turn it into a full blown cooking party with the music loud and their dancing energetic.

Today, though, they are enjoying the peace of it; they are humming to the soft music Swiss put on, swaying their hips as they work.

“How’s it going for you, my love?” Swiss asks, bumping his hip into Mountain. He looks over his arm into the bowl clutched between his hands and hums, unable to recognize what it is that his mate is working on.

“Alright,” Mountain says. “It’ll need a moment to rise before I bake it.”

“You won’t tell me what it is?” the multi ghoul whines jokingly, poking his mate’s arm with his horns.

“Nope,” he giggles, “you’ll see.”

“Fineee…” Swiss is not one to accept such mortifying defeat without a fight, though. He turns back to his own station and waits for Mountain to let down his guard before he strikes; shoving his fingers into one of the other bowls and pulling back with them covered in some kind of cream.

“Swiss!” Mountain throws his arms up; acting offended even though it’s a regular occurrence. “You menace!”

The multi ghoul only giggles as he skitters away to lick the cream off of his hand out of the other’s reach. It is sweet and kind of fluffy; that is probably what Mountain was beating the eggs for earlier. It’s delicious and Swiss tell his mate as much.

Mountain shakes his head and huffs as he goes right for Swiss’ own cooking and dips a finger in a warming up sauce in Swiss’ favorite green pan.

“Oh, you!” he laughs and walks up to him to wrap his arms around his waist from behind. The earth ghoul can not even pretend he is mad at him when Swiss kicks up a low purr and nuzzles his face against Mountain’s back. He can't help but set everything down and turn around to steal a kiss from his mate, too.

Thankfully nothing on the stove needs urgent attention; they can take their time loving on each other during their little break. They hear a little meow behind them and they pull away to look at someone who loves interrupting.

“Hi yourself,” Swiss laughs, turning to their cat Aira. He reaches out for her and she nuzzles her little fuzzy head into his palm. Mountain shakes his head but he can not deny their little lady is so adorable it is impossible to deny her affection. He comes closer, picks her up, and immediately brings her to his chest.

“Cat thief!” Swiss accuses. Mountain only shrugs; it can not be denied.

Aira is purring loudly all relaxed in the earth ghoul’s arms as he hops onto the clean end of the counter. Swiss mutters something about unfairness under his breath as he returns to his cooking, stirring something and poking a finger in to taste it.

He focuses on and gets lost in it all over again and Mountain watches him intently despite his attention seemingly being focused on the cat. He is not in a rush; his dough has to rest anyway. The earth ghoul is grinning at his mate by the time the alarm he set goes off and he has to put Aira down and get back to work.

In the evening they eat what they made, sitting on the opposite ends of a small table that’s just barely wide enough to fit their plates. They devour the meal so carefully and lovingly prepared by the multi ghoul; Mountain always praises the food and Swiss himself to the heavens. Not long after, Swiss does the same to Mountain and his dessert as he picks every single crumb from his plate and licks the cream off of his fingers.

Providing for each other is one of the love languages they share and love indulging and it fills them with more and more affection every single time; until they feel like they are about to burst with it. That is a part of the reason why every single one of their kitchen dates ends up the same—with them making love in a significantly different way than cooking for each other; kneading something else than pasta or cake dough.

When you have someone you love by your side, time goes by simultaneously slow and fast. It is slow when you look into your beloved’s eyes and get lost in them, when you enjoy every single second spent with them. But at the same time no amount of time feels enough. No matter how many years you have spent with the one you love, it will never be enough—in that way it all moves too fast.

It is different for ghouls; for any being that is considered immortal. Nothing can really come to an end for them and while living forever may feel like a terrible sentence, it does not have to be.

Swiss and Mountain are not afraid of eternity.

For them it is a gift. Not many have the chance of never running out of time. So many humans do and it is something neither Mountain nor Swiss can even imagine experiencing.

The curse of humanity is a horrible one.

They know how lucky they are and even though the ghouls being demons are called the damned ones, it could not be more wrong a description when it comes to Swiss and Mountain.

They are the blessed ones.

They have lived a big, full life already and there is still so much waiting for them.

The bonds of their pack loosen a little over time, mates distancing themselves to focus on each other—it is a natural way of things, even for a pack as unusual as theirs. Most of them stay in the Abbey—they of course spend more time together—but those who don't, hear from each other every few weeks and meet ever less often.

It is a little sad, if you think about it, considering all that they have been through together over the years.

But again, it’s different for ghouls.

They aren’t tied to one lifetime; they have multiple, and they divide them fairly.

Ghouls do not die. When—and if—they or somebody else decides their life Topside must come to an end, they simply turn into ash. Their spirits, something we could call a soul, retire back to the Pits, to the very place they were summoned from. Down there it is as if they never left, but their minds and hearts know otherwise. They are filled with memories and affections of what was and with them they continue their endless existence in Hell. It is not torment, it is not eternal damnation.

Not if they can find the one they linked their soul to.

When the time comes—whether it be tens, hundreds or thousands of years—Swiss and Mountain will find each other again. One single day they will spend apart; not more, not less.

And maybe they will find others, too.

Rain and Dewdrop, who will have left earlier to rid the water ghoul of the pain tied to his mortal vessel. The ghoulettes, all four of them, who will have enjoyed what the human world has to offer for as long as it is enjoyable. Aether and Aeon, not mated, but linked by something as strong; a brotherly bond like no other.

Maybe they will find older ghouls also. Alpha and Omega, Zephyr and Ifrit, Mist and Delta, maybe even Chain himself. Maybe the Emeritus brothers will be there, too, if the old rumors of them being favored in such a way by Lucifer turn out to be true.

For now, it is all a mystery; a riddle that is not to be solved for centuries or millennia. There is only one certainty in all of it.

Swiss and Mountain will always be together.

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