#willing to trade for you bringing me lunch both days

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[pedrospatch]

to do the right thing l part ii

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel has a hard time dealing with things as the pregnancy progresses; you and Joel ask Bill and Frank for the favor of a lifetime.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA. ((TW)) PREGNANCY, mentions and references to adoption, angst, asshole Joel, mentions of Sarah, softer Joel towards the end.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: i actually spent more time writing this second part, so hopefully it is a bit more well written than the first one that i wrote in an hour in the middle of the night. T_T

February, 2020

“Well, can I just say that we are just so incredibly thrilled that you two could finally come and join us for dinner this evening,” Frank beamed, grinning from ear to ear as he burst into the dining room with a bottle of his favorite red wine in one hand and a bottle opener in the other.

Bill snorted, stabbing his fork just a little too aggressively into his cut of chicken breast.

“Speak for yourself,” he grouched under his breath before taking a bite. Although he’d quit bringing his gun to the table, both you and Joel knew he had the pistol tucked somewhere nearby. You were willing to bet it was tucked into the waistband of his khaki trousers, but Joel would probably argue that it was in a less obvious place, like strapped to his ankle.

It really seemed as though Bill would never allow himself to get used to you, Tess, and he especially wouldn’t allow himself to get used to Joel. He knew it was the smart, logical choice, keeping you three around for the sake of trading supplies and resources when needed, but overall, it wasn't all that necessary. He and Frank had been doing just fine for years before you all had come into their lives after Frank had met Tess over the radio one afternoon. Or at least, that’s what he liked to believe despite the fact that during your very first lunch together, Joel had easily pointed out several flaws around the perimeter of their neighborhood—weak spots that could be vulnerable to raiders if they ever came along. You and Tess joked that Bill put Joel at the top of his shit list the moment he pointed out that their fence only had about a year left to hold strong. He’d been on it ever since.

Having you all around at this point was more for Frank’s benefit than anything. Bill would do just about anything to make Frank happy, and much to his chagrin, you, Tess, and even Joel, made him happy—having friends made him happy. Bill could do without socializing for the rest of his natural born life, but Frank, on the other hand, would lose his sanity. 

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just been in a bad mood because we had a massive roof leak the other day after that huge thunderstorm," Frank explained, rolling his eyes. Being the attentive, gracious host that he always was, he quickly made his way around the dinner table, pouring everyone a generous glass of wine to enjoy with their meal. “He spent hours up on that roof trying to patch it up and then damn near broke his ankle coming down when he missed the last two steps on the ladder. Can you believe that?”

“Thought I noticed a limp,” Joel remarked with an amused smirk.

Frank nudged Joel in the shoulder as he poured his wine. “I had told him to wait for you, Joel, what with you having been in construction before and all. But Mister ‘I don’t need anyone’s help’ decided to do it himself even though he has never patched a roof before in his life.”

“Tell you what, next time we’re over for lunch, I’ll go up there and check it out. Make sure he did it right ‘cause I highly doubt he did.”

Bill glowered at him.

You roughly smacked the side of his thigh underneath the table.

Joel, please, You thought silently. We need to stay on his good side.

Frank chuckled as he fell into step beside your chair. “That would be very helpful if you did, actually. It would definitely give me a bit more peace of mind, especially since the rainiest season of the year is approaching fast.” He offered Bill an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but we really should let an expert take a look at it, just to be on the safe side. Joel knows his stuff, after all.”

As he reached for your glass, you quickly placed your hand over the top of it and lightly shook your head. “Oh, none for me tonight, thank you,” You declined politely. The wine was normally your favorite part of any meal they hosted, seeing as Bill and Frank, who were both quite the wine enthusiasts, knew how to make the most heavenly of pairings. It really was a fucking shame that it would be at least a few more months before you could drink again. Lord only knew you could use the alcohol after all of the bullshit that had been going on lately with Joel. “May I have a glass of water instead, please?”

“What? You don’t want any wine?” Frank frowned and reached out with his free hand, pressing the back of it against your forehead. “Are you feeling sick or something? Should we be worried? Bill, where’s the reader—?”

You chuckled at his usual dramatic little antics. “No, I’m fine,” You assured him. “I’d just rather stick to water tonight if that’s okay.”

“That’s really fucking weird of you, but alright,” he sang over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a tall glass of clean, filtered water in his hand and set it down on the table in front of you before taking his seat next to Bill. He picked up his red cloth napkin and draped it gingerly over his lap. “So, tell us again why Tess couldn’t make it tonight?”

“She, uh, she had a few things she needed to take care of back in the QZ,” Joel explained to him briefly before popping a piece of roasted rosemary potato into his mouth. The truth was that Tess had opted to stay behind and sit this one out, stating that the conversation that would eventually take place tonight would be between the four of you. She didn’t need to be there, nor be a part of it.

“Well that’s such a shame. I really miss her,” Frank lamented between bites of his garden salad. “It’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together for a meal. Hell, this is the first time we’ve seen you in what, a couple of months at least, right Bill?”

“Felt like a lot less than that. But sure, let’s call it a couple of months.” Bill eyed Joel suspiciously. “Sounded a bit urgent when you radioed in and let us know you had to come see us tonight, Joel. More so than usual. I’m guessing that you two must really need something from us.”

You and Joel exchanged a silent glance.

“Jesus Bill, can you please not be so rude to them for once?” Frank scolded, waving a hand dismissively at his partner. He smiled apologetically at you and Joel. “Again, please don’t mind him. It seems to me that we still have some work left to do with his manners.” He paused just long enough to take a delicate sip of his wine. He set his glass down, then picked up his fork and knife. “But, if you do happen to need anything, you know that we are more than happy to help you out as best as we can if we have the supplies and resources to spare.”

“Which we don’t,” Bill chimed in, earning himself a light smack to the shoulder.

Joel ignored him and instead focused his attention on Frank. He was the one to win over out of the two. “That’s awfully kind of you, Frank. You know that we always appreciate your warm hospitality,” he remarked, and although he was laying it on a little thick for the sake of getting into his good graces, there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. He actually happened to like Frank—it was hard for anyone not to like him. Joel lifted his glass of wine to him in a toast. “Of all the people we could’ve come across on the radio that day, we’re grateful that it was you.”

Frank touched a hand lightly to his chest. He then picked up his own glass, clinking the rim against Joel’s. “Well, cheers to that.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Bill grumbled, shaking his head.

Joel nudged your leg under the table as if to let you know it was time.

On the way up to Lincoln, he had suggested Bill and Frank would be a lot more inclined to agree to yours and his pending request if it came from you. Joel could butter Frank up well enough, but Bill hated his fucking guts, and you probably had a better chance of winning the survivalist over than Joel did.

You cleared your throat lightly, garnering everyone’s attention. “I have some news to share. Well, actually, we have some news to share.”

Bill raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. “What kind of news?”

“News? Is everything okay?” Frank asked, suddenly worried. “Wait. Is it Tess? Is she alright? Did something happen?”

“No, it isn’t anything like that at all. Tess is perfectly fine,” You quickly reassured him, causing him to sink back against his chair in relief. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling it softly through your mouth and announcing, “I’m, um—I’m pregnant.”

Bill nearly choked on his chicken and Frank gasped, both hands flying to his mouth in complete shock. The seconds passed in silence, and the room had gone so quiet that one could have heard a fucking pin drop on the floor. You felt the heat flood to your face and nervously shoved a forkful of baked chicken into your mouth, deciding it would be best to just give them a bit of time to process the news before moving onto phase two. However, Joel wasn’t there to waste any time and decided to step in.

“Listen, I know that this is probably a lot to take in, but we didn’t exactly come over here to share that with you just for shits and giggles. As much as it pains me to say it, Bill is right,” he admitted reluctantly. That was one phrase Joel Miller could do without saying ever again. “Truth is, we do need somethin’ from you two. We’ve got a favor to ask you both, a big one at that.”

That had been enough to slap Bill back into reality.

“Oh no, stop right there! I can see where this is going from a fucking mile away!” He jumped up from his chair, furiously shaking his head as he wagged his index finger at you and Joel. “Listen here, we have been as generous as we can possibly be with the two of you, and with Tess—but there’s got to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it! There is no fucking way in hell that we’re taking you into our home, into our neighborhood! This place belongs to us, we built it, we secured it! We worked our goddamn asses off for all that we have and just because she’s pregnant does not mean we will allow you to—”

“That’s not it.” Though your voice was smaller, softer, it managed to get through to Bill over his angry ranting. “That’s not it at all, Bill. We’re not trying to move here or invade your space like that, I swear it.”

His hand dropped down to his side. “Really?”

“No. Of course not. We know you have boundaries, and so does Frank. And whether you choose to believe it or not, we do our best to respect them as much as we possibly can.”

“Oh.” Bill slowly sank back down to his chair, looking relieved. “Then what is it that you two want? You need baby clothes or baby blankets from the boutique or something?”

“Not exactly,” You mumbled. You took a quick minute to think it over in your head, wondering if there was any correct or tactful way to ask what you were about to ask of them—there wasn’t. It didn’t matter if you spun it a million different ways, Bill was still going to blow a fuse again no matter what. “We wanted to ask you and Frank if you would be willing to take the baby into your care once it’s born.”

And just like that, Bill’s temporary relief vanished.  “I beg your fucking pardon?”

You turned to Joel, saying tightly through your teeth, “A little fucking help here, please?”

“Look. Boston ain’t no fuckin’ place for a child,” Joel started, lifting his hand in an attempt to keep Bill calm this time. “Too much shit’s been goin’ on there lately. Violence has escalated, supplies are gettin’ harder to get and costin’ us more than ever before. So we want to know if you and Frank are willing to take the baby after it’s born. It would be better off here with you two than with us in the QZ.”

Bill didn’t need to think twice about it. He answered Joel with a stern, “Absolutely not.”

Joel let out an irritated sigh and dropped his fork. The utensil clanked loudly against the white porcelain plate. He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing it harshly. “Fuckin’ knew he wasn’t gonna make this easy for us.”

You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip, an overwhelming feeling suddenly washing over your entire body from head to toe. It was strange to feel this way, considering the fact Bill and Frank’s place had always been something of a temporary escape for you. Their neighborhood, their home, it usually brought you a sense of peace and tranquility—you felt comfortable whenever you were here. But between Bill’s angry outburst, his instant decline to your request, and Frank’s wide, shocked eyes still fixed intently on you, you suddenly found yourself wishing you were anywhere but in Lincoln.

“You’re pregnant?” Frank’s incredulous voice broke the silence that had fallen over the dinner table. Part of you wondered how much of the conversation he had even heard or if it had just gone in through one ear and out the other. “You’re really pregnant?”

“Frank,” Bill said his name warningly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Frank ignored him, his attention still on you. “How far along are you?”

You glanced at Joel before turning back to him. “It’s just an estimate, but we’re thinking at this point that I might be about four and a half months, maybe almost five?” You replied with a small shrug of your shoulders. “We aren’t too sure, though.”

“And it’s yours?” Bill questioned, eyeing Joel in disbelief.

Joel glared at him, his aggravated silence speaking for him.

“Oh, Bill.” Frank suddenly turned to him with a hopeful expression. “A baby!”

There had been a couple of different occasions where, while sitting outside on the front lawn enjoying a glass of iced tea in the sunshine, Frank had confessed to both you and Tess of his desire to have a family one day. He acknowledged the chances of that ever happening were virtually impossible, but he admitted that it was something he had been dreaming of since meeting Bill. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a child, and here you were, with one that you couldn’t keep.

“Frank. No.” Bill stared at him, unable to fathom how he could even think that taking in a child could possibly be a good idea. “I’m sorry. You know I try to give you everything that you ask for, but I have to put my foot down this time. I have enough trouble keeping you safe as it is! We’ve had raiders come and try knocking at our door before—”

“And you’ve fought them off,” Joel reminded him. “Successfully.”

“Not to mention, think of all the things we would have to do in order to raise a kid, all the supplies and resources we would use up in just the first year alone—”

“Bill, we know this is a lot to ask of you, of both of you,” You somehow managed to chime in. “We know that a favor like this is one we would never be able to repay you for, not in this lifetime. But it’s this child’s only shot. What kind of life would it have where we live? What kind of future would it have in the QZ?”

“Hm. Sounds like not our fucking problem,” Bill quipped. “Sorry.”

Frank’s eyes left his partner’s and met yours across the table before they fell down to your midsection. “You said you’re about four and a half months?”

You gave him a small nod.

Bill might not have been on board, but you still had Frank.

He was your only hope. 

“Yes, but again, it’s an guess. We don’t want anyone else in the QZ knowing that I’m pregnant, so I haven’t been to see a doctor. But we think it’s a pretty close guess.” Suddenly, an idea came to mind. You hesitated, at first, but knew it was your best shot at finishing the job and reeling Frank in. You slowly stood up from the table and with trembling fingers, you started to unbutton the flannel jacket you were wearing—Joel’s flannel jacket—and showed him the swollen belly you had been hiding underneath it. It was on the smaller side, but still quite prominent underneath a snug-fitting, cotton blue tank top.

“Oh!” Frank breathed out in surprise. He rose to his feet, rushing over and around to your side of the table. He excitedly lifted his hands, but then stopped himself, glancing at you for permission first. “Would it be alright if—?”

“Of course, go right ahead,” You encouraged with a tiny smile as you continued holding the jacket open for him.

Frank sank to his knees in front of you. He lightly cradled the small bump in between his palms, looking up at you with a look of absolute wonder on his face.

It felt bizarre, not only showing your midsection to someone else, but having another set of hands besides your own on it felt foreign as well.

As soon as you’d started showing, Joel had refused to go near you—the way he tried painfully to ignore it caused you to keep it hidden away underneath oversized clothes, even in the privacy of your own quarters.

During the first few weeks of your pregnancy, he’d been just fine. Well, as fine as he could be. But once your belly had popped, it was as if it had all suddenly sunk in and really clicked for Joel—this was one hundred percent fucking real now and that was his baby growing inside of you. Since that moment, he hadn’t quite been himself, at least not with you.

Joel still looked out for you, of course. He didn’t dote sweetly on you and shower you with affection, but he did take responsibility in the ways that mattered. He made sure that you were taking the prenatal vitamins Tess had found for you, he made sure that you were eating enough, and if he ever noticed that you were still hungry, he would shovel his own portion onto your plate without asking and head off to sleep on an empty stomach. He helped you out whenever you were assigned to the same work detail, taking on an extra load of work on top of his own if it meant sparing you from even the slightest risk of straining yourself or over exerting your body.

Sure, he still cared for you. He wouldn’t do any of that if he didn’t.

But that didn’t mean things between you hadn’t changed.

They had.

Drastically.

Joel kept his distance from you, physically. He hadn’t fucked you, kissed you, or so much as even touched you in the last couple of months. He’d even started sleeping on the couch, leaving you to sleep alone in your once shared bed. Whenever he spoke to you, he stood at least a few feet away, and his eyes always remained trained on your face—he took especially great care to not look at your growing stomach. You could briefly recall one morning when you’d squeezed past him in the kitchen to grab a mug from the sink while he’d been making his morning coffee; when your belly accidentally brushed against his hand, he had cringed, snatching it away from you as if he’d touched something unpleasant. Deep down, you knew this was his own twisted, fucked up way of coping with how he was feeling, but it still didn’t stop you from wishing that he’d quit acting as if you and the baby were the fucking plague.

 As much as you tried to deny it, the way Joel had been treating you lately hurt you. It cut you deep, down to your very core. You put on a good front for him and Tess, though, acting as if none of it bothered you. But the tears that you shed on the nights they left you alone to go out on their runs were endless.

“Oh Bill,” Frank glanced pleadingly over his shoulder at his partner, his hands still on your stomach. “Please.”

“Frank—”

“Please.”

Bill couldn’t refuse Frank a majority of the time. But this was bigger than anything he’d ever asked of him and it was going to take more than his usual amount of convincing to get him to agree.

Bill scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Let me guess. You want us to take this baby in and you want us to clothe it, feed it, and protect it. You want us to do the real work of raising it, using up our supplies and resources. And then what? You two come along to play mommy and daddy whenever you fucking feel like it?”

You shuffled from foot to foot, wincing slightly at his harshness. “No, of course not.”

Joel wasn’t all too fond of Bill’s tone towards you. He leaned forward, throwing him a warning glare across the table. “She’d like to visit,” he informed him, keeping his temper under control. He knew better than to go off on Bill, not when you were still trying to convince him to do you both the favor of a fucking lifetime. “Every now and again, just to see the kid. But we think it’s best if we do a closed adoption, if you wanna call it that. You and Frank are the parents, and we’re just a couple of friends who come by and visit daddy and daddy every now and again for lunch.”

“Right, and you really want me to believe that there’s no chance she’s going to be attached to this baby after carrying it for nine months?” Although Bill was facing and speaking directly to Joel, it was obvious he was indirectly grilling you. And here Joel thought the man might have had something of a soft spot for you. “Think about it, Joel. You don’t think one day she might waltz in here and decide she wants to take it back? Break Frank’s heart when he has to give up a child he’s going to undoubtedly fall in love with?”

Anger simmered underneath your skin, bubbling in your veins at the insinuation that you could ever do something to hurt Frank. “First of all, stop talking about me like I’m not in the fucking room, alright? I’m standing right here, so fucking look me in the face if you’re going to talk about me.” You seethed. Frank stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder in an effort to calm you, but it was too late. “This isn’t a fucking game, Bill. This isn’t a decision that we made on a whim or that we’re taking lightly. Me and Joel are just trying to do right by this child. If you and Frank agree to take it in as your own, it’s all yours. I’m not going to take it back,” You practically spat. “Once it’s done, it’s fucking done.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to need you to just take a deep breath and relax before you bring on early labor in the middle of my dining room.” Frank gently guided you until you were sitting back in one of the chairs and handed you your untouched glass of water. He waited patiently as you took a few sips and then took the glass from your hand, setting it back down on the table. “Listen, before we decide anything, I just have to ask—is this really what you want to do? This is a decision that you made, right? No one is making you do this?” He noticed Joel raise his eyebrows at what he was suggesting, and before he could chime in, Frank quickly added, “I just need to hear it from her, Joel.”

“This is what’s best,” You answered honestly, feeling a dull ache in your heart that had become all too familiar. “I have spent so many long nights lying in bed just thinking this over. We don’t have any other choice, not if we want it to have a chance at a decent life. That is what I want, Frank. For it to have a chance at a decent life.”

“This child is gonna grow up and want to know who its parents are,” Bill pointed out. “Thought about that at all?”

“Use your imagination,” Joel remarked before taking a quick sip of wine. “Make somethin’ up. Lie. Tell it you found it in a basket floating down the fuckin’ river. Whatever it takes. We don’t ever want the kid to know it’s us.”

“Going to be kind of hard if it comes out looking like your clone.” Bill gestured to you with a nod of his head. “Or hers.”

“It’ll be a long, long time before this child is even old enough to notice things like who he or she looks like,” You released a little scoff, tired of him using any reason he could think of to stand against it. “Bill, please. Can’t you at least think about it for the next few weeks and at least consider it?”

“No.”

Your face fell. 

Motherfucker really wasn’t going to budge.

“Well now, wait just a second.” Frank walked over to him and put his hands on his burly shoulders. “Bill, think about it. This is our chance.” He squeezed his shoulders. “To have a family. A real family.”

“Family? It’s not our fucking kid—it’s not a part of me or you.”

“But we’ll love it like it is! Blood isn’t what makes a family. Love is,” he reminded him softly.

You swallowed back the lump that had risen in your throat.

Bill might have been a stubborn jackass, but you knew that Frank would show him how to be a good father. He had already shown him how to be an amazing, loving partner.

“So?” Joel prompted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair.

Bill scowled at him. He said nothing as he reached for his glass of wine, chugging every last drop in one long gulp before he stood up and stalked out of the dining room.

Frank had his answer.

And so did you and Joel.

As the next several weeks turned into months, pregnancy—and your ever ongoing attempts at hiding it from everyone in the Boston QZ—had really started to take its toll on you, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Joel had given you all but his entire wardrobe, helping to keep your condition hidden as well as possible, but it was taking a hell of a lot more than just his jackets and shirts to keep it a secret. When you entered your third trimester, you were starting to struggle immensely with work detail, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with what authorities expected of you. Everything ached—your feet, your back, and even the hairs on your fucking head were hurting, and yet you were forced to carry on with your daily duties as best you could to avoid raising any suspicions.

“Frank said it might be best if you gave birth at their place,” Joel commented over dinner one night. Tess was out doing a solo run, and it had just been the two of you for the last couple of days. Lately, you almost wished she would stop leaving you alone with Joel. Ever since that night at Bill and Frank’s, he had been acting a lot colder towards you, more than ever before. He could hardly look at you most days. Before, he could at least stand to look at your face. Now, there wasn’t a single part of you that his eyes could meet. “As soon as you start feelin’ off, we’re gonna need to get you over to them. Frank talked Bill into lettin’ you stay for a few days if it comes down to it and you need some time to heal.”

You simply nodded, your gaze fixed on the torn paper napkin in front of you. “Okay.”

He bit into his piece of jerky, his eyes also glued to the table. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see that you’d finished your portion already. He reached out, dropping his piece in front of you onto your napkin. “Need to eat more,” he grumbled. He picked up his glass of whiskey, polishing it off before pouring himself another. 

You couldn’t stand it.

You couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“Joel.” You said his name in a smaller voice than what you had been aiming for. “Can we talk?”

He racked his brain for the first bullshit excuse he could think of. “It can wait. S’real late and we need to get to bed soon. We got early work orders tomorrow.”

“No, Joel, actually, it can’t fucking wait.” Your heart was pounding at a rate that felt far too fast for your body and you tried to remind yourself to remain calm. You knew you needed to keep your emotions in check, or else your distress could cause distress to the baby. “We need to talk. Now.”

Joel drew an impatient breath. “Talk ‘bout what, exactly?”

“About how you’ve been acting over the last few months.” Your voice trembled and you almost kicked yourself for it. The last thing that you needed to do was fucking crumble. “And about the way you’ve been treating me, too. You’ve been keeping your distance from me, acting like I’m some kind of—I’ve seen you cringe a lot less when dumping the infected bodies into the fire pits, let’s just put it that way.”

“Those pregnancy hormones,” he released a short, bitter laugh. “Got you bein’ all dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic.” Your hands curled into tiny fists. “You won’t talk to me. You won’t touch me. You won’t even fucking look at me anymore! I’m sick of it, Joel.”

“It’s nothin’,” he replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. He looked down into his whiskey, feigning a sudden interest in the rich amber hues in his glass.

“Nothing?” You repeated, flabbergasted. “Then why haven’t you slept in our bed with me? Hm? Oh that’s right, because you can’t fucking stand to be that close to me! You’d rather break your back on that old fucking couch rather than sleep next to me.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched, his grip around his glass tightening. “Listen, I ain’t doin’ this right now, alright?”

“Joel.” You hesitated. If you crossed this line and pushed one too many of his buttons, there was no fucking going back. “I know that you’re afraid, okay?”

“I ain’t afraid,” he countered through gritted teeth. Finally, he brought himself to look up at you, his eyes meeting yours—that same emotion that he’d just denied was right there behind them as clear as the fucking stars in the sky outside. Joel wasn’t made of stone. He wasn’t any kind of special exception to having normal human feelings. He hid everything pretty well, and because you cared about him, you were willing to put up with his asshole façade because he needed you as much as you needed him. Still, even after years of trying to take the wall he’d built down brick by brick with your bare hands, you hadn’t gotten very far and you wished the man would help you out every now and again and throw you a fucking hammer. “Ain’t no reason for me to be afraid. I ain’t the one who’s fuckin’ pregnant.”

“It’s yours too! This is your baby too, Joel. Your child. It is part of you, just as much as it is a part of me. And ever since day fucking one, you have been scared shitless of it,” You confronted him, another trembling edge coming to your voice. “And I know why, okay? I know that what happened to Sarah—”

Joel froze, going rigid in his seat. His free hand had curled into a fist, his tight knuckles turning ghost white.

It was something of an unspoken rule. 

Nobody talked about Sarah.

Hell, the only reason you even knew about his daughter was because you’d accidentally stumbled upon an old polaroid of her while washing his jeans in the kitchen sink one morning. You had found it in one of the back pockets while cleaning them out, the photograph heavily creased as if he spent ample amounts of time folding it open and then folding it closed again. Sarah’s name had been scribbled on the back of the polaroid. Her smile, her nose, it was all Joel, and it had taken you less than sixty seconds to realize the young teenaged girl posing goofily in the picture had been his daughter.

When you’d handed the picture to him while his jeans dried, it was like a silent bomb had detonated. Although it’d been a mere accident on your part, Joel had been so incredibly angry with you, as if you had gone snooping through his past life on purpose. For weeks, he hadn’t said a single word to you unless it had something to do with work or a run.

He’d lost her. He hadn’t told you that, but you’d guessed it.

Whether it was to infection or something else, you didn’t know. And you knew better than to ask him. All you knew was that losing her had done something irreparable to Joel Miller. Whoever he’d been before losing his daughter was dead too.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice strained. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Joel, please,” You whispered. “Whatever happened to her, you can’t possibly keep it to yourself for the rest of your life. You can talk to me about Sarah—”

Joel slammed his curled fist down onto the table, startling you. He then turned in his chair and flung his glass at the wall behind him, the sound of it shattering into hundreds of pieces echoing throughout the small apartment. Jumping to his feet, he pointed a threatening finger in your face. “Don’t you ever utter her fuckin’ name ever again! You understand me?”

“But Joel—”

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

“I understand.” You hardly recognized the squeak that left your lips.

“Go to bed. Now,” he ordered, whirling around on his heel. “It’s fuckin’ late.”

Without another word, Joel stalked over towards the couch and dropped onto it, rolling over onto his side so his back was to you.

You pulled the neckline of his shirt that you wore over your mouth and pressed your palm against it in an effort to muffle a sob.

A few hours later into the middle of the night, Joel had awakened and stood up from the couch only to find you sitting there in the exact same spot where he’d left you at the table. Though it was dark in the apartment, the moonlight that shone through the torn curtains over the window illuminated your face and he could see you hadn’t stopped crying since he’d fallen asleep.

“Y’need to go lay down,” he told you quietly.

You knew this tactic all too well.

His way of apologizing for losing his shit on you without actually apologizing.

“I’m fucking fine right where I am,” You snapped stubbornly in response, quickly dabbing at your damp eyes with the back of your hand. That was a downright lie. Your lower back was on fire from having sat in the chair for so long.

Joel sighed, hanging his head. He knew he’d fucked up. He’d been fucking up for the last several months. He pulled a chair around in front of yours and sat down, his knee touching yours lightly. That alone was enough to send a chill throughout your body. “Sittin’ in that chair for too long ain’t good for your back,” he stated. He waited to see if you would speak and when you didn’t reply a couple minutes later, he sighed again. “Look, I’m real sorry about earlier, alright? Hell, I’m sorry for everythin’. You were right, I’ve been treatin’ you like shit and you definitely don’t deserve it.”

Stunned, you looked up at him.

“I was angry, but I shouldn’t have lashed out on you the way that I did. Much less while you’re in this condition.” He paused, reaching up to rub his face tiredly with one of his hands. He then let it fall back down to his thigh with a loud slapping sound. “It’s a sore spot for me, alright? Always has been and always will be. Nothin’ or no one is goin’ to change that, not ever. Not even you,” he admitted, shoulders sagging as if the realization had just come to him. “You know you mean somethin’ special to me. You know I care about you, and you know you’re what has kept me goin’ these last few years. I’d do just about anythin’ for you. But I need you to respect that I don’t wanna talk about her and I don’t want you bringin’ her up. She is from my past and that is where I need to leave her.”

“But why?” You frowned, wiping a stray tear that had fallen away from your cheek. “That’s not fair to you or to her. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten about.”

“That what you think it is? That I’m tryin’ to forget about her? Impossible. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

You placed your hands down onto your lap and started wringing them together anxiously. “It’s not that I think you’re trying to forget about her, Joel. But you refusing to talk about her, it’s erasing her memory, whether you think of it that way or not.” Noticing him wince at your words, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him—stroke his cheek, hold his hand. But you were finally getting somewhere and you knew better than to move too fast, so you willed yourself to keep your hands to yourself. “And besides that, you aren’t doing yourself any favors by keeping her story a secret. You’ve been carrying the weight of whatever happened to her on your shoulders for what, almost two decades now?”

“It’s my burden to carry, alright?”

“You shouldn’t have to carry it alone.” Your expression softened. It dawned on you. You’d thought you knew how much pain Joel had been in for all these years, but the honest truth was that you didn’t have the slightest clue. You didn’t know how bad he was actually hurting—and that killed you inside. “You need to talk about it, Joel. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday.”

“No. I can’t—”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Joel almost seemed offended that you’d even ask such a thing. “Of course I fuckin’ trust you.”

“Then why won’t you let me in, Joel?” A fresh batch of tears brimmed your eyes, and you blinked them back furiously before they could fall. “After everything that we’ve been through together. I’m carrying your fucking child for god’s sake.”

He didn’t answer. Tearing his gaze away from you, he looked straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

“Joel.”

Silence.

“Joel. Come on. Can you just fucking look at me, please?”

Nothing.

You let out a long, sad sigh of defeat. So much for getting somewhere. “Alright. Fine.” You placed a hand on your stomach and stood up from your chair. “I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.”

As you padded over towards your mattress, Joel’s voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Sarah was my daughter.”

Slowly, you turned around, your lips parted slightly.

“Pretty sure you knew that already though,” he chuckled in spite of himself. “She was fourteen years old. Her mom walked out on us when she was just a baby. I spent her entire life raising her by myself. Tommy, well, he was around too, but he was more of a bad influence than anythin’ and sometimes it felt like I was lookin’ after two kids instead of one.”

You walked back over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Joel reached up and took your hips in his hands, carefully pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“No Joel, I’m way too heavy.” Embarrassed, you quickly tried standing up.

“You think you’re heavy?” He snorted lightly, holding you firmly in place. “If anythin’, you could stand to have a bit more meat on your bones bein’ almost nine months pregnant and all.”

“Blame my nutritious, nourishing diet of jerky and stale crackers.” The sarcasm dripped from your tone. 

He let out something in between a snort and a laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile a little and draped an arm around his shoulders.

How you’d missed this. Missed him.

You leaned into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. For the next several minutes, Joel just held you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder how long the silence would last, he broke it.

“I’m not ready to talk ‘bout what happened to her,” he explained, quietly. “Might not be ready for a long, long time. Not sure if I’ll ever be ready, if you want the honest truth. Sarah, she was my sweet little butterfly. The absolute love of my fuckin’ life. Losin’ her was the worst fuckin’ thing that has ever happened to me. It’s a wound that’s still raw as hell, even after all these years. Might even be one of those wounds that just never heals, you know?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, your hand going to his hair. You ran your fingers through it, amazed how even after going days without a wash, it always stayed so soft. “I know you don’t want me to say that I’m sorry—”

“I really fuckin’ don’t,” Joel confirmed with a shake of his head. “Won’t change shit. Won’t bring her back. Sure as hell won’t make me feel any better.”

“Then I won’t say it.” You brought your hand back down to your lap and leaned forward. You pressed your lips against his forehead, letting them linger. He stiffened, and you could feel him restraining himself from completely melting into your touch. You knew things would take a little time and you were willing to be as patient as you needed to be for him.

“Losin’ another child—” Joel trailed off, voice hoarse. “I just—I can’t.”

“I know,” You soothed him. “Which is why we’re doing the right thing and letting Bill and Frank take him.”

“Him?”

You offered him a small, tired smile. It really was getting late now and the exhaustion was creeping in. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you. But I think it’s a boy.”

“And how the hell could you possibly fuckin’ know that?”

You shrugged. “Just a gut feeling. Tess thinks it’s a boy too. She says with the way I’m carrying, it must be—” You stopped, doubling over in pain. “Fuck. Ouch.”

Alarmed, Joel’s hand found the small of your back, the other was in front of you, making sure you didn’t fall over off of his lap. “What? What is it?”

“The baby just kicked me.” You grimaced, leaning back into a sitting position. “Right in damn the ribs too. And there goes another one.” You exhaled sharply, the discomfort radiating throughout your body. “Jesus. He must take after you with all the violence.”

Joel seemed a bit stunned. “This the first time it’s ever kicked?”

“No. He’s done it a few times before. But never this much in one sitting. Or this hard.” You winced. “He’s really fighting in there.”

Joel just stared at you, something that looked a bit like awe in his eyes.

Through the slight pain, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to feel him?”

“Oh I don’t think, uh, I don’t think I should—”

“It’s not going to fucking kill you, Joel.”

He hesitantly lifted his hand. “Where—where do I put it?”

“Here.” You took his hand in both of yours and placed it on the side of your round midsection. “Just give it a second. You’ll feel it right here.”

You watched his face carefully. He jumped slightly once he’d felt the fluttering motion against the palm of his hand, his dark eyes going wide.

Even before the outbreak, Joel never thought he’d feel something like that again in his life.

“He’s strong,” he murmured. “Real strong.”

“I know. Wonder where he got that from,” You joked lightly.

Moving his hand away, Joel placed it on your thighs and awkwardly cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty late. You really do need to get some sleep.”

“Okay. But on one condition.”

“What condition?”

“Will you come to bed with me?”

“‘Course.” He stood up, letting out a small, labored grunt as he lifted you up into his arms.

“I told you I’m heavy,” You reminded him with a laugh. “Joel, put me down. This cannot possibly be good for your back.”

“Oh, shut up.” Joel walked over, gingerly placing you down onto the mattress. He waited for you to get comfortable before climbing in behind you, pulling a wool blanket over both of your bodies. He pulled your back against his chest and draped his arm around you, his hand subconsciously—instinctively—resting on your stomach. His lips found the delicate spot behind your ear and he pressed his lips gently against it, sending a small shiver up your spine.

“Joel?”

“Hm?” He mumbled into your ear. He was already falling asleep.

They were right there, right on the tip of your tongue, those three words that you had been aching to say to him for years.

I love you.

“Nevermind.” You sighed softly. “Goodnight.” 

“Mm, g’night,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into your neck before allowing his sleep to consume him.

[pinkrifle]

Hello ml!<3 i was wondering if you could do yandere team stan and craig x reader platonic please! Like they see reader as a little sister!^^

hi lovely! i do not take SP requests anymore buttttf this seems really easy, so i should be able to do this !

saying this rn i’m so sorry if this is short #_# <\3 i’m sorry if i missed a character or two aswell!

only team stan right now as i can’t really think of much to do for team craig, sorry once more! D:

Stan Marsh -

a little careful not to bring you around his friends too much.. especially cartman AND COVERS UR EARS EVERYTIME ONE OF THEM SAYS A DIRTY JOKE LOL (no matter how old you are!1!1!)

would 100% go off on anyone who tries to mess with you (and Kyle would probably join him too) , ya don’t F with family, folks!

trades his lunch or snacks at lunch to give them to you!! loves seeing the look on your face when you get a snack size pack of skittles. Even if it’s super small your face always lightens up and he just laughs and feels very proud of himself after

he makes sure shelly isn’t too mean to you, let’s her rip on him instead if she gets a little aggressive with you (she wouldn’t really go that far dw <3)

Eric Cartman -

GETS YOU IN TROUBLE ALL THE TIMMEEEE

(don’t worry he always does something in return after. begrudgingly and hesitantly.) (he just feels bad)

brings you on all of his little dangerous adventures but makes sure you stay safe all the time,, if you get hurt EVER he’s SOOO dramatic. begging for a hospital!

if any of his friends (aka rest of team stan) dare to say anything to you (they don’t cuz they don’t care) he will 100% be dramatic ALLO OVER AGAIN, threatens to beat up his friends (he can’t rlly) and is nice to you for the rest of the day!!

steals cute stuff from other classmates and brings them to you, steals snacks from people and brings them to you!! probably stole some snacks from stan that he planned to give to his own little sibling

Kenny McCormick -

tones down his dirty jokes when with you, and also does not let you around his friends LMAO

loves hanging out with you, karen, and kevin! at first he was really hesitant on stuart and carol having you (like with karen) but loved you so much after your born!!

protects u FOR LIFE. is basically also your guardian angel when he’s in his mysterion costume! when your in the foster home thing(?) he’s visiting you like crazy and bringing you treats aswell. makes sure you never get beaten up in the basement by the parents

loves whenever you show him something you like. Anime? cartoons? etc? your not cringe to him at all! he likes weird shit too, trust. Watches and plays everything you show him <3

a video game MASTER! having any trouble with a boss fight? he’s got it. Cant find an item? he already has it and is gonna trade it to you!!

Kyle Broflovski -

takes care of you and Ike RELIGIOUSLY. love you two both to death!

plays dolls/action digs with you even if your in middle school or whatever (in the event he’s in HS or whatever) , he doesn’t want his little siblings to ever grow up! brings a tear to his eye.

every Hanukkah he makes sure you get the best presents and NEVER lets your presents break, always has them in pristine condition ! hates seeing you sad , it affects him more than he’d like to admit.. he also gives you his hat to wear when your a little down!

bakes and cooks with you, he’s pretty okay at cooking but if your bad it’s no problem! he’s willing to teach you the 3 dishes he knows how to make LMAO. If your better than him at cooking? EVEN BETTER, teach him! but he’ll be a little embarassed to learn stuff from his little sibling

having trouble with homework? he’s on it! he won’t let you cheat on anything, but he’ll help you and guide you to the right answer.

Never let’s people talk shit about you or make fun of you, he will fr fight his friends if they dare to do that.

heya! thanks for requesting, i haven’t been really willing to write lately but this got me off my booty!!! i really should open my tf2 and scp foundation reqs.

sorry again i couldn’t do team craig! i hope these were good enough, feel free to request this again some time if i’m ever active again! <3

[doctorstethoscope]

The Shirt || A. Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hi besties, here is some smut for your Tuesday evening! No real reason I just had a rough day at work and wanted to write something self-indulgent. 

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI 

contains: sir/daddy kink, thigh riding, dom aaron, spanking, degradation, oral (f receiving) penetrative sex

wordcount: 2.7k

Aaron was beginning to wonder if he needed to brush up and take a profiling course. You’d been sitting across from him in his office, stabbing and picking at your salad for the better part of the last twenty minutes, and he still couldn’t figure out what was wrong. 

You couldn’t be mad at him, he figured, or else you wouldn’t have joined him for lunch. You’d been joking around with everyone in the bullpen all morning, so no problems there. Maybe it was something with your parents? He knew your mother had called a couple weeks ago and gotten on your nerves, but you’d seemed to have moved past that. He was at a total loss. 

“Did you sleep okay?” He tried, knowing full well that you had. He practically had to pull you out of bed this morning. 

“Yeah, I did,” you looked up from your salad and smiled at him. 

So she’s definitely not mad at me, Aaron thought to himself. “You feeling okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, baby. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”  You shook your head, looking back down at the lettuce you were meticulously poking. 

“Whatever it is, it’s clearly not nothing,” he chuckled. “You’ve hardly touched your lunch and you can barely look me in the eye.” 

“We can talk about it later, Aaron.” You told him. 

“Oh, so now there is something to talk about!” He said, victorious. “Spill.” 

“You really don’t want to know.” You warned, and he reached across the table to take your hand in his. 

“Of course I do.” He tells you, looking you in the eye and trading his previous mirth for a look of concern. 

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks before you even spoke. “You look really, really good today.” You confessed lowly. 

“Oh?” Aaron asked, confused. 

“And I can’t focus, because all I can think about is crawling under that desk and pulling down your fly and--”

“Naughty girl,” Aaron cooed, and you laughed. 

“I tried to warn you.” you said, looking down at your food again, embarrassed. 

“That you did.” He agreed with a smirk on his face. 

“You don’t have to look so pleased about it, you know.” You rolled your eyes at him, and he stepped out of his chair, moving to the other side of the desk to tilt your chin up and kiss you. 

“I’m smiling,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you again, “because I’m thinking of everything I’m going to do to you the minute we cross the threshold tonight.” He leaves your lips to plant a kiss on your jawline and you’re standing up and throwing your arms around him in an instant, grateful for his closed blinds. He indulges you for another moment, although you're certain it’s only to get you more hot and bothered, before separating his mouth from you and giving your ass a quick slap. 

“Now, go back to your desk and try to behave, and we’ll see what kind of fun you’ve earned when we get home.” He whispered in your ear and you shuttered. 

“Yes sir,” you whispered back, not daring to look him in the eye for fear that your knees would buckle. 

The anticipation for the rest of the day was torture, for both you and Aaron. But he could at least have the good grace not to hide it so well. You tried not to look like you were rushing out of the office, but in truth you didn’t know how much longer you could be patient for. You silently thanked whatever God was out there that Jack had taken the bus home with a friend for a sleepover this afternoon as you slipped into the passenger’s seat of Aaron’s SUV for the ride home, anticipation building even further in your stomach. Aaron wrapped an arm behind your seat to pull out of the parking lot, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. He caught you, and smirked, moving his hand to land on your thigh, pulling you towards him and lighting your skin on fire, even through the material of your dress pants. 

“Aaron,” you mumbled, but he cut you off. 

“Ah, ah. You’ve been such a good girl all afternoon. Don’t spoil it now.” 

You let out an almost imperceptible whimper at his words, but willed yourself to be quiet, worrying your bottom lip against your teeth as Aaron traced patterns into your thigh with his long fingers. Goddamn tease.

He’s silent for the whole drive, letting the consistent motion of his index finger against your thigh do all the talking. You’re breathing so heavily you’re sure he can hear you, but you don’t dare make a sound. By the time Aaron parks the car at home you’re practically buzzing with excitement. He unbuckles his seatbelt, and leans across you to undo yours. 

“We are going to have so much fun this evening,” He whispered before kissing you breathless. You brought your hands to either side of his face, letting him trace his tongue over your teeth before he pulled away. You saw your lipstick smudged on the corner of his mouth and smiled. 

 “For the sake of public decency, we should probably take this inside.” Aaron says, and you open your car door, leaving your purse and his briefcase in the car. He follows you, snaking an arm around you to open the front door for you and let you in first. The door is shut by the weight of your body slamming against it once you are both inside, Aaron not even bothering to flick a light switch before he attached his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that made your toes curl. 

“I’ve been thinking about taking you all afternoon,” Aaron confessed into your collarbone, moving his hand to unbutton your trousers. “Thinking about how pretty you are going to sound screaming my name when I make you cum.” 

You threw your head back against the door. “Aaron,” you moaned out, working with him to shove your pants down your legs as you kicked your heels off and across the room. 

“Exactly. It’ll be just like that, but louder.” He teased you, pressing a quick peck to your cheek. He slotted his knee in between your legs once your pants were discarded, already able to feel how wet you were against him. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out, pushing his suit off his shoulders and digging your nails into his back through his shirt. 

“Darling, you’re practically ready for me and I’ve barely even touched you. What did it for you? What was it that made you so needy that you were ready to crawl underneath my desk and take my cock into your mouth, feet away from all of our coworkers?” 

You bucked against his thigh as he talked, and he smirked, bringing a hand to rest against your cheek. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you loved and hated him for it in equal measure. “Y-your shirt.” you gasped out.

“My shirt?” He asked, genuinely confused. It was a regular button up shirt, the same type he always wore under his suits. 

“It’s tight.” You stammered out. “And you’re not wearing an undershirt.” 

“Neither are you,” he countered, pulling your own shirt over your head and leaving you in your bra and panties. 

Despite the fact that you were already panting, practically naked, and all but riding his thigh in the doorway of your apartment, you felt a twinge of embarrassment admitting the next part. “I could see your pecs through your shirt. I was thinking about kissing my way down your chest and then sucking you off.” You admitted.

“Such a dirty little whore,” He smirked, and you let the ghost of a smile pass through your face. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, and then begins to kiss down your chest, along your ribcage, and in between your breast. You’re sure he’s going to give you mind blowing orgasms that make you forget about all this teasing, but you will yourself to remember if only so you can pay him back. He’s kissed all the way down to your belly button before he picks you up by the thighs and carries you to the bedroom. You wrap your arms around him and take the opportunity to kiss up the column of his neck, pulling his earlobe between your teeth gently before he lays you against the mattress.

He undresses quickly and takes a moment to look at you, cheeks flushed and hair spread over the pillows, chest heaving up and down with the weight of your arousal, and you’re tempted to whine, but you look into his eyes and know that he’s not doing it to tease you-- he’s adoring you. He’s committing every goosebump and every dimple and every beauty mark to memory, because he loves you. You smile. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispers against the skin of your breast, “That you can’t walk. You can’t talk. You’ll just be stuck here, blissed out and recovering all weekend. Does that sound good?”

“Yes sir,” you breathe out, and he gets to work. 

He sucks your nipple in between his teeth and immediately your hips buck up off of the mattress. Without abandoning his task, he moves a hand to pin your hips down, but that doesn’t stop you from blindly searching for friction. You were getting desperate, at this point. The hours between lunch and leaving the office had been foreplay all their own, and everything that had happened since you left the office had only intensified your need. He laved your other nipple against his teeth and moved his hand toward your slit, just barely tracing his way up to your clit. 

“You’re so needy. All for me.” He whispered. 

“All for you,” you confirmed breathlessly. 

“What am I going to have to do to keep you satisfied at work all day?” he asked, rubbing against your clit slowly, enjoying the pinch of your brow as you attempted to grind down on his hand. “Should I buy a special vibrator I can leave inside you while we work?” He asked, plunging a finger into you and you cry out. “Should I give you an orgasm right there at your desk, in front of the whole team, while I watch you from my office? Would that keep my little slut satisfied?” He asked, but true to his word you can barely speak. “Should we get you a little plug, angel?” He inquires as he sticks another finger in you. “Keep you good and stretched all day so you’re ready for me when we get home?” He teased you further, pumping his fingers in and out of you. “No, I’m not going to do that. You know why?” He asked, and you knew that this question wasn’t rhetorical. 

“Why?” You gasped out.

“Because,” he starts, inching his way down the mattress to plant a kiss on your hip bone, “I’m possessive, and I like that I’m the only person who can make you feel this good. No one knows your body like I do. No one can bring you to the edge like I do. Isn’t that right?” He asked, now face to face with your pussy and licking his lips in anticipation 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl,” he whispers, and replaces his fingers with his tongue in an instant. 

“Fuck!” you scream in pleasure as he drinks from you like a man lost in the desert. You’re certain your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you’re reduced to one continuous drawn out moan as Aaron laps at you greedily for what could have been seconds or hours. Your thighs are shaking, and you feel so good you’re practically drooling. 

“Aar-- fuck, Aaron. If you keep this up I’m going to cum without you.” You warn him urgently. 

You feel his smirk against you before he responds. “I want you to cum, angel. Cum for daddy.” 

The new name does you in-- the rubber band snaps inside of you and you're bucking wildly against him as pleasure courses through you over and over and over again. “Fuck, thank you daddy. Thank you, thank you thank you,” you become a litany of gratitude, unable to form any other thought until you collapse against the mattress, chest heaving. Aaron sidles up against you, kissing you delicately and allowing you a moment to catch your breath.

“Did it live up to the fantasy?” Aaron asked once your breathing evened out. 

“Baby, in my fantasy, you were the one getting off.” You reminded him.

“Details,” he shrugged, kissing your shoulder. You smiled over at him. He was fully prepared to call it here, after giving you one of the best orgasms of your life and getting nothing in return, but you wouldn’t have it. You rolled over, straddling his thighs. “That particular detail is very important to me,” you countered, leaning down across his chest to suck at the base of his neck. He’d be able to cover the purple mark with the collar of his shirt, but you’d know, and that was enough. You start rolling your hips against him, and you feel the groan reverberate in his chest before you hear it. 

“Use me, sir. I’m ready. Use me,” you whisper in his ear, and he deftly maneuvers to enter you. You gasp, still sensitive from your first orgasm but overwhelmed with pleasure. He starts canting his hips up into you, and you get into a comfortable position, satisfied to meet him gently thrust for thrust. 

“You know, you’re lucky I didn’t tease you more after everything you put me through tonight,” you tell him, and he lets out a growl before flipping the two of you over. 

“Mouthy little brat,” he chastises you before lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder so he can drill even further into you. The change in angle is incredible and you’re crying out in moments. 

“I’m gonna cum again. Are you close?” You gasp out, and he turns his head to press a kiss against your leg. 

“Go ahead, doll. I’m right behind you,” he whispers tenderly, and you come undone, your second orgasm somehow even more powerful than the first. True to his word, Aaron comes just after you do, and you both collapse against the mattress and take a moment to catch your breath.

“You did so good, sweetheart. Was that good for you?’ Aaron asked, propping himself up on an elbow and brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead with his free hand. 

“Do you really have to ask?” 

“Of course I do,” he said, looking you in the eye so you knew you weren’t getting out of giving him an answer. 

“It was amazing, hon. You know I would tell you if you pushed too far.” You answer the question you knew he was really asking.

He smiled and leaned in to give you a quick kiss before rolling off of the mattress and padding into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. 

“Alright, sweet girl. Time to clean you up.” He said, climbing back up on the mattress and in between your legs to clean you reverently. “Are you sore? Does anything hurt?” 

You gave him a tired smile. “No more than usual. A good night’s sleep and a fresh bagel from the place down the street in the morning will make everything all better, I think.” 

“For you, anything. Every bagel in Virginia.” He smirked, getting up to dispose of the washcloth. 

You followed him, going into the bathroom to brush your teeth and pee. After a few moments, you’re both back in bed with all the lights off, wrapped up in each other like nothing exists outside of the bed you both shared. True to his promise, Aaron went out and got you both bagels the next morning, and you relaxed the morning away, watching TV and snuggling in bed until it was time to pick up Jack. 

And if Aaron forgot his undershirt more frequently, he’d pretend it was an accident.

[milenadaniels]

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

[h2bakugou]

Hiii hope you are doing well 💖💖💖

Can I please request HC's x fem or gn is cool with Bakugou with a s/o who decides at the end of UA they don't want to be a hero any more? Maybe his s/o just wants to pursue a normal degree or something and goes to university & how Bakugou would react /how he spends time with them despite they're busy schedules etc

a/n: oooo of course!! this is actually a really interesting request and i hope you like it hun!! i hope you’re doing well too <3!! i kinda branched out at the end and touched on like after college stuff, was also lowkey just crying happy tears writing this idk why i just said ‘ight really cute fluff’

pro hero au (there’s some pre pro hero au at the beginning!!)

headcanon: them with a s/o who decides they don’t want to be a hero

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugo

»»————-　★　————-««

Throughout your time at U.A. things had always seemed sort of out of place.

You had loads of fun, you’d met your current boyfriend, Bakugou, and you had made so many memories.

But as time carried on, the dream of pursuing a hero career seemed less and less like what you really wanted.

You started looking into colleges and universities, looking into careers that didn’t revolve around heroism. 

For the first couple of weeks, while doing so, you battled telling Bakugou or not. You were already third years now, and your plan was to finish out at U.A. and then head onto higher education in a normal career. 

But as you battled telling Bakugou your plans, you also struggled with whether or not this was a good idea. It felt selfish, like you were too focused on your own life to care about those who needed heroes.

But after heavy thought, it was more logical than it was selfish. You wanted to pursue something else than what you had originally intended, and that was okay.

When you finally told Bakugou, you were nervous. You’d both grown since you started U.A. and it was crazy to think that you’d been together for nearly two years now.

The sky was clear as you sat at the outdoor table on campus. Bakugou had prepared a lunch for you as you took a stroll, having arranged a little date.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” You broke the peaceful silence which caught Bakugou’s attention.

“What’s up?” He asked, resting his arms on the wrought iron table. You sighed, taking in a deep breath before looking at him.

“I’ve decided that I want to go to college and pursue a different career.” You admitted, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bakugou was silent, still registering what you’d said.

“Alright. Are you dropping out to attend a regular high school?” Bakugou questioned, completely confusing you.

“You’re not mad? And no, I’m gonna finish out here at U.A., I’ve already found a college willing to take me in after.” You answered his question while asking the one that had boggled you after hearing his response.

“Why would I be mad?” Bakugou huffed, a small smile on his lips. You shook your head, laughing as you twiddled your fingers.

“I guess I was just worried you would be upset. I’m sorry. I am really happy about everything, and I don’t regret coming here, or being with you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me too.”

“No! No! I was just saying, that even though I don’t want to pursue a hero career, I wouldn’t trade this experience for a different one. I’ve loved every second here.” You smiled, reaching across the table to hold Bakugou’s hand.

“Good. I love you, dumbass. And thanks for telling me.” Bakugou sighed as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, brining it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your skin.

“I love you too.”

When you finally leave off for college, all your friends are cheering you on. You’re going to miss the ragtag group of friends you’d made, but you of course would spend time with them whenever they could. 

Bakugou and you stay close for a while. Even when it’s hard to see each other, with busy schedules, you always make time and arrangements for dates, even if it just includes you swinging by his patrol area with some takeout.

When he’s on break or has a day off, he might come visit you at college, drop by with some food and ask about your day, how your classes are going, etc.

Sometimes he dresses like a college dad with like those university hats ‘cause he doesn’t want the few minutes of alone time he has with you to be swarmed by fans or paparazzi so he goes terrible undercover.

You occasionally get recognized as Dynamight’s partner in your profession.

Throughout college, you received a bunch of questions about U.A. and why you left. The one classmate that questioned you the most, who often called you ‘hero’ became a close friend of yours.

Also fangirled when Bakugou showed up to bring you lunch out of disguise.

“You’re dating Dynamight and you just left that part out???” They whispered at you, face flushed from embarrassment.

“Hey I’m dating Dynamight.” You teased.

Bakugou is supportive of you, just as you are of him. When you graduate college, he’s there, along with most of your U.A. class, including Mr. Aizawa who promised he’d be there for the day you walked across the stage at your university. (a true dad *cries*)

Okay speaking of your college graduation- they rented an entire section and it’s legit just Class 1-A and everyone’s just like staring at them and then you walk across the stage and they lose their minds.

Kirishima and Kaminari are like screaming.

Aoyama, Uraraka, Toru, and Momo are sobbing, they’re so proud of you, waving little flags with your name on it.

There’s a big reunion class photo at the end of the ceremony where Bakugou’s holding you in his arms while you kiss his cheek, showing the camera your degree.

It’s framed and hung in the center of your new shared home with Bakugou.

Bakugou never once hated you for your decision, and he’s always shown his support and love for your strength and perseverance to do something else.

He’s honestly kinda jealous about your big degree that’s framed in the hallway.

I also totally see him wearing like your school’s t-shirts on like his days off. They’re a little faded and maybe a bit too small for him now that he’s a little older, but he’s just so proud of all you’ve done, he loves to be domestic sometimes.

He’s just so proud of you. A true hero.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[jaskiersvalley]

What's Cooking Good Looking?

A/O/B ahead with omega mpreg.

Moving into a new neighbourhood was a little nerve-wracking, especially when two alphas were shacking up without an omega to act as a buffer. It wasn't that Lambert and Aiden were an oddity but, despite society being progressive it was still unusual for two alphas to be together. They wouldn't have turned their noses up at each other if one or both of them had been an omega but, as luck would have it, they fell in love with each other. So they took the plunge, found a house in a quiet cul-de-sac that they liked and moved in.

All in all, it was a lovely area, close enough to town to be convenient but out of the way enough to be secluded and peaceful. The people living around them all seemed decent and kept to themselves. It wasn't that Lambert and Aiden wanted to be reclusive but between unpacking, work and decorating they didn't have the time to go make friends with the people around them. That would come with time. So they focused on making the house a home, starting with the kitchen. Cooking was one of the things they enjoyed to do together, moving around each other with such natural ease and creating something together that they could enjoy. Music playing, pots bubbling away and kisses being traded while leaning against the counter, the doorbell ringing was an unwelcome distraction.

"I'll get it," Lambert grumbled and moved to deal with the idiot who dared interrupt their lovely evening.

Though Lambert liked to think of himself as non-judgemental and openminded, he still found himself stalling when he opened the door to an obviously pregnant omega on their doorstep. One who was very much not bonded. Of old, it used to be that an umated omega was only pregnant by misfortune or nefarious reasons, never for their own good. Even now, an unbonded omega with a child was looked down on. Lambert bristled a little, worried that he was about to get pulled into a welfare case.

"Can I help you?" he asked, somewhat cold and not too kind.

In the doorway the omega shifted from foot to foot. "Hi, sorry to bother. I'm Cahir, your neighbour." Licking his lips, Cahir looked nervous all of a sudden. "This might be a really weird thing to ask but what are you cooking? I caught scent of it and it smells so good." Unconsciously, he ran a hand over his bump. "Any chance you'd be willing to share the recipe?"

It was a ridiculous ask and Lambert couldn't help but smile. Despite his reluctance to get involved, instinct still have him wanting to protect and provide for a pregnant omega. So he stepped aside and gestured in.

"I can do one better, why don't you come in and try it? It's almost ready."

Eyes wide with hope and gratitude, Cahir smiled. "Let me just leave a note for Eskel. He'll be back soon and might wonder where I've got to."

While Cahir ambled back next door, Lambert gave Aiden a quiet heads up about their unexpected guest. All too soon though, the three of them were at the table, Cahir trying not to look too keen but was visibly struggling to conceal it.

"Why don't you try a small portion first, to make sure you like it?"

"Thank you," Cahir said and helped himself to a sample. "I've had it before where something smelled incredible but was such a disappointment to eat." Sitting down, to didn't waste any time in popping a forkful into his mouth and moaning around it in delight. "Fuck me this is amazing."

Chuckling, Lambert watched before glancing over to Aiden who looked equally charmed as this stranger took such obvious pleasure in their cooking.

"As you know, we've just moved to the area, what's it really like?" Aiden asked, much more adept at conversation and small talk than Lambert ever was.

"It's nice. Quiet. People don't ask questions." The last bit was added softly, a hand gravitating towards his bump. He didn't look sad though and Lambert was hard pressed to not ask questions to sate his curiosity. In the silence Cahir looked up at them with a smile. "I like it here and hopefully you'll be really happy too."

The doorbell went again and Lambert moved to answer. He suspected it was Cahir's Eskel but he didn't expect to come face to face with a rugged alpha holding a box of chocolates and a card.

"Hello, I'm Eskel. Cahir left a note to say he's popped over?"

It only felt right to have Eskel sit at the table with them and eat, there was enough food for four. Usually, Lambert and Aiden cooked enough to have dinner and lunch the next day. So it wasn't difficult to make sure all four of them had a good meal, lunch the next day could be something else.

Any concerns Lambert may have had about Cahir and his relationship with Eskel evaporated the moment he saw the two of them interact. The pure joy on Cahir's face was echoed so tenderly in Eskel's that it was impossible to fake. It was reassuring and heart-warming at the same time. Especially when, after everyone finished eating and they were chatting, Cahir started yawning. Without even thinking about it, Eskel wrapped an arm around Cahir's shoulders and helped him snuggle in.

"Shall we get you home, sleepy?" he rumbled, dropping a kiss to the top of Cahir's head.

"Please."

Waving them off, Lambert closed the door and stared at Aiden with wide eyes. "Tell me I'm not alone in these feelings."

"You and me both."

They were invited to dinner the following week and had quite the most wonderful evening. So much so that they gave Cahir permission to come along whenever he wanted if he smelled food that appealed to him, he just had to knock and they'd have enough for him to enjoy too.

Sure enough, Cahir took them up on their generous offer, often bringing dessert with him in exchange.

"Thank you," he said out of the blue one evening. "For being so welcoming and kind."

"As opposed to?" Aiden asked.

A hand rubbed at where the bonding bite ought to be on Cahir's neck. "I know it's not very socially acceptable to be expecting when not bonded." It felt like all of Lambert's unasked questions were about to be answered. "Eskel and I, we don't want to bond. Don't want that tie, that exclusivity. Don't get me wrong, we love each other but we don't want to be just a couple, it wouldn't be fair if we meet someone else."

"Someone else?" Lambert didn't squeak but it was close.

"Our hearts are plenty big." The shrug from Cahir almost felt nonchalant. "We don't want to limit ourselves and our love. It wouldn't be right to be bonded when it's not just the two of us in a relationship."

That evening Lambert curled around Aiden, thinking about what Cahir had said.

"It's a lot to process," Aiden murmured. "But it's something to mull over. See if there's something there."

Lambert had never loved Aiden more than in that moment for his understanding and acceptance. There wasn't an overnight change. Just because Lambert and Aiden agreed that they might be interested in exploring the possibility of more with Cahir and Eskel didn't mean they were going to barge into things without thought or care. Their joined dinners became more frequent, they got pillows for a chair to make Cahir more comfortable. It wasn't unheard of that Cahir would drop by during the day and quietly read while Aiden worked on his laptop. The gentle company was really appreciated.

The feelings they had talked about exploring had seeped in without their express permission. Friendship, fondness, tender care, they all bubbled up piece by piece. Despite the talks, the preparation for what if scenarios, it wasn't Lambert or Aiden who took the plunge. They were in Eskel and Cahir's garden, a fire was flickering away. While Cahir was trying to make smores, Aiden was next to him, a hand on the small of his back and smiling. Next to Lambert, Eskel sighed happily. Their eyes met and it all just felt right.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" Eskel asked in a low voice, breath warm on Lambert's face. There was only one answer Lambert had, he leaned in and slotted their lips together.

[howtosingit]

Fic: On An Ordinary Sunday

TK and Carlos spend a Sunday morning at the park.

*

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 1: “You’re the only one for me.” + Romance/Fluff

2K | Also on AO3

- - - - -

The summer sun shines brightly in the blue Austin sky over Butler Park, the heat from the blazing inferno having little effect on TK after years spent rushing into flaming structures with little ventilation. He may have made the switch to the paramedic team a while ago, but some things will never leave him, and he’s always thankful for his experience as a firefighter when the relentless Texas sun threatens to roast him alive during the hottest months of the year.

Besides, he finds that he has little reason to complain as he scans the cityscape before him, the constant murmur of the Texas capital all around him. The fresh, gentle breeze feels like a salve against his skin after a long week of wild calls and less-than-adequate sleep, and he sinks down onto the large, soft blanket beneath him, letting the sound of children in the nearby playground lull him into a state of serenity as he rests his eyes beneath his sunglasses, his breathing deep and body relaxed as his anxious mind stills for the first time in what feels like forever.

That is, at least, until a groan from his right pulls him out of his newly acquired Zen-like state. The corner of TK’s mouth slides upwards until he’s wearing a slight smirk, trying to press down the laugh that he can feel crawling up his throat.

“You alright there, babe?” he asks, turning to glance at the man lying next to him on the blanket.

Carlos merely groans again, the sound barely audible from where he has his face hidden inside his balled-up t-shirt that he’s been using as a pillow ever since they sat down on the lawn.

TK bites down on his bottom lip, reigning in his smile as best he can, even though Carlos can’t actually see it. He reaches out, dragging his fingers gently along his fiancé’s bare back, slick with sweat. He feels Carlos shutter beneath him, another groan pulled from deep inside him.

“You know, if you feel so terrible, we could’ve just stayed in bed this morning,” TK reminds him, scooting a little closer to press his lips against his partner’s shoulder, resting his chin there as he stares at his favorite head of wild curls.

“Nuh-uh,” Carlos whines, turning his head slowly towards TK and squinting against the harsh sunlight. TK takes pity on him and brings his left hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, watching as Carlos blinks sadly up at him. “I promised.”

TK rolls his eyes, his heart nearly bursting with all of the fondness he feels for the man laying next to him. When Carlos had realized just how much the week was wearing on both of them, he had vowed to take TK on a relaxing date during their joint day off. Now, here they are, having made plans a few days ago to spend the morning at the park together, just the two of them enjoying the sunshine and, when they get to it, a picnic lunch.

“I know you did, and I appreciate your commitment to never breaking your promises to me,” TK tells him, leaning in to press his lips against Carlos’s loose curls, his fiancé letting out a small sigh at his touch. “But, Carlos, you made that promise before you did multiple tequila shots with Paul last night. I would’ve understood if you needed a morning in bed.”

TK watches as Carlos closes his eyes again, and it’s only because he knows him as well as he does that TK can practically feel the guilt radiating off of the other man. He leans in, pressing the tips of their noses together. “Don’t you dare feel guilty about it either.”

Carlos scrunches his face, letting out a soft whine when the action no doubt causes his head to throb painfully. 

“I just don’t like it when I lose control like that.”

TK pulls back, watching as Carlos opens his eyes to stare at him. He gives him a calculated look. “You don’t like it when you get drunk, or you don’t like it when you get drunk around me?” he asks. His fiancé doesn’t answer, which is all the answer that he needs.

“Carlos, babe, I love that you love me so much that you’re willing to sacrifice a fun night out with our friends for my sake, but you know that I would never ask you to do that. In the three years that we’ve known each other, I can count your wild nights on one hand.”

“I just don’t want you to feel left out or like I’m rubbing it in your face,” Carlos explains, his voice small.

“I mean, you know I’m not the only one in our friend group who doesn’t drink, right?” TK reminds him, running his fingers through Carlos’s curls to soothe him. “Besides, I cannot tell you how much fun I have watching you let loose with Paul and Mateo. They’re some of my favorite memories of you, and I wouldn’t trade for the world.”

“You’re really not mad?”

TK’s heart thumps in his chest at the question, Carlos’s uncertainty nearly splitting it in two. He leans in again, pressing their lips together this time, hoping the act will be enough to reassure the other man. “Of course not.”

When he pulls away, he can tell that Carlos is more relaxed as he lets TK continue to play with his curls. A shadow falls over them as the sun darts behind a small cloud for a moment, and a memory from the night before suddenly flashes through TK’s mind. 

It’s not every day that he gets a chance to tease his well-controlled husband-to-be, and TK refuses to miss an opportunity when it presents itself. 

“However,” he begins, dragging the word out as he runs his fingers down Carlos’s face, tracing his beautiful features, “I would prefer it if you didn’t flirt with the bartender the next time you decide to let loose.”

“What?!” Carlos cries, shooting up into a sitting position so fast that TK swears time jumped ahead a few seconds. “Fuck!” his fiancé yells, pressing his palms against his face. TK is sure his brain is swimming in his skull, and it can’t be a comfortable feeling.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he assures him, moving to sit in front of Carlos, running his hands along his arms to soothe him. “Breathe, Carlos, in and out.” He bites his bottom lip, the guilt rising in his chest at his failed joke.

It takes a few moments of deep inhales and exhales, but Carlos finally lowers his hands, his face pale and pinched. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” TK laughs, the sound thin as he scoots closer, sliding his hands down to grip Carlos’s wrists. “I promise you didn’t flirt with the bartender, I was just kidding. It was a bad joke, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d freak out like that.”

“I would never flirt with someone else,” Carlos says, his tone serious and his eyes wide as he stares at TK. “I would never hurt you like that, you know that right? Even if I was so drunk that I could barely stand, I wouldn’t. You’re the only one for me, Ty. The only one.”

“I know, baby, I know,” TK says, shaking his head as he takes Carlos’s face in his hands. “C’mere.”

Carlos sinks into him as TK wraps his arms around him, his fingers once more finding their way into his curls. 

“You know, that’s actually exactly what you told me last night, too,” TK finally says, his tone bright as he fills in the gap in Carlos’s memory.

“I did?”

“You did. When you didn’t come back to the table after a few minutes, I went looking for you. Found you talking the bartender’s ear off. He seemed pretty relieved when I finally pulled you away, actually.”

“Oh god,” Carlos groans into his neck. TK clutches him even tighter. “I don’t even remember any of that, or what I might’ve said to him.”

TK flushes, his smile growing as he presses it into Carlos’s dark curls. “I, um, I think it was mostly about me?” he explains, shaking his head a bit at the memory. “He definitely seemed to know who I was when I came up, and you may have said something like, ‘See, Tony, I told you his eyes were like green stars,’ though it was very slurred so I can’t be totally sure that was it.”

“Oh god.”

“I know,” TK says, rubbing his hands up and down his lover’s back. “And then on the way back to the table, you told me I was the love of your life. Many times, actually, and with so much conviction you spilled half your beer all over yourself because you weren’t watching where you were going.” He chuckles when Carlos shakes his head against him. “Tony’s going to be so mad you’ve forgotten him already, you two really seemed to be hitting it off.”

Carlos pulls back to glare at him, and TK admires his willingness to commit to that action while thoroughly hungover. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Just a bit,” TK teases, darting forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Sue me for loving how disgustingly cheesy you get when you’re drunk. I don’t get to see it that often.”

“I just like people to know how special you are,” Carlos mumbles, his lips pulled into a pout as his eyes look everywhere but right at him. “And I like to tell you how special you are to me.”

TK practically melts at his fiancé’s confession, his heart pooling into a liquid puddle at the bottom of his stomach. No one has ever loved him the way that Carlos loves him - so open and honest and completely without shame - and even after all this time, the knowing still doesn’t stop the awe and affection that he feels when he gets to experience that level of unyielding devotion. 

“You’re the only one for me, too,” he says, just because he wants to make sure Carlos never has any doubts about how committed he is to what they have, and how much their love means to him, too. “Nothing could ever change that.”

“What if I tell you that I need to go throw up in that trash can over there?” Carlos asks, pointing to a bin along the path to their left. “Would you still want to marry me then?”

TK doesn’t even hesitate. “Not only would I still want to marry you, but I’d even stand next to you and rub your back while you do it. 'In sickness and in health,' right?”

Carlos smiles, reaching up to rub his forehead as he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. “Okay, that’s good to know. I mean, I’m not going to do it because I have too much self-respect in the daylight, but it’s still good to know that you wouldn’t call off our engagement.”

TK chuckles, sliding back over to his original spot on the blanket. “Here, lie down again. My offer of back rubs is not conditional to you emptying your stomach in a public trash can.” 

Carlos slowly crawls back down onto the blanket, burying his face into his t-shirt again with a barely audible sigh. TK removes his own shirt this time, bunching it under his own head as he scoots closer to his fiancé, lining up their bodies, skin touching skin. It's a little too hot for it, but he wants to be as close to Carlos as possible, and he's willing to suffer the heat. Without a word, Carlos takes his right hand in his own, linking their fingers together where they rest against the blanket.

TK presses his lips to the solid shoulder in front of him, bringing his free hand up to drag it along Carlos’s spine, providing him as much comfort and security as he can as his fiancé sleeps off his unexpectedly wild evening.

And under the midday Austin sun, on an ordinary Sunday, they’re both finally able to relax.

[whiskehorange]

RZ Michael scenario where y/n is a nurse at Smith's. There's a lockdown & she's trapped in Michael's cell. Pls make it nsfw & hella fluffy. TY

Hell YEAH BABY. I got carried away im so sorry-

Michael

Today, of all days, why did it have to be the day that you traded your later lunch for an early lunch.

You had always managed to get the last lunch schedule; which happened to be close to two o’clock. At this point, you’d absolutely give anything to have the twelve o’clock lunch just once.

And that’s what you did. And hour or do before the the call for the twelve o’clock lunch sounded, you had asked the front nurse if there was an opening for at least one person at that lunch, or at least anyone willing to take her spot just for today in trade for the last lunch.

Flipping through the nurse charts, she picked out one file that was near the bottom.

“Joyce was moved for today down in corridor three for today, and we’ve been looking for someone to take her place for patient checkup today. For Myers. That’ll give you first call lunch.”

She pushed her glasses back up and looked at, awaiting a response.

You moved your head back slowly, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You’d take it.

She handed you the key and went back to the routine click-clack of her keyboard after handing you the key to Myers cell.

Myers was a famous name around the lunch room and just about everywhere in the sanitarium, really. Most nurses commented on his chilling yet oddly attractive height, while other combatted them with hoe dangerous he was. One recalling how she was there when he snapped a guard’s leg for getting in his face.

Hey, all you had to do was check up on him, take his tray, and do a routine mattress inspection, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

His inspection was in a few minutes, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it now so that you could head to the cafeteria early.

Jingling the door keys, you make it to Michael’s cell. Stepping inside, your stomach dropped, only for a moment, however.

That was normal for you. It’s that unexpected pit of fear that you’d get entering anyones cell, but it never lasted that long, knowing that you’d be out of there in a flash anyways and guards were at the end of each hallway.

“Hi Michael. I’m you’re nurse for today, Joyce was moved to another corridor just for today.”

You’re voice was cheery, something that a lot of your other regulars enjoyed and got you patients who respected and acted well. Michael, however, didn’t say anything.

You close the door behind you, setting the keys in your skirt pocket.

“This should only take a few minutes. Now if you could stand up for me and move to the side, that would be great, please?”

Michael, sat at his desk, didn’t move at first, but eventually stood up. He was much taller than you’d expected, he towered over your small form. He moved to the side as you walked over to his desk, taking the tray from breakfast.

You set it on the little shelf under his door window for you to take when you left. There wasn’t too much room to move, considering there was enough for a desk, the bed, him, and maybe a nurse. his walls were covered with what looked like paper-mâché masks. He himself had an orange one on. Either way, the masks took a little more space from the room to walk.

You smiled up at him, tilting your head slightly, “I like your mask. Orange is my favorite color.” Once again, there was no answer, but that was common with some patients.

Turning back around, you stand at the foot of his bed, “I’m now going to do a mattress check, then I’ll be out of your way.

Lifting up each corner and running your hands across the sides and tops of the mattress you found nothing, expect a small paintbrush tucked in between the wall and the bed. 

It wasn’t carved for a pointed end or anything like other patients would have, but it was mandatory that you should take it anyways. It could have been “hidden with the intent to harm someone or oneself.” But come on, it was a paintbrush, and Michael seems to actually use it for something else, he probably didn’t know it was there.

You felt eyes narrow in on you, the feeling was overwhelming. Almost scary.

You turned and held it out to Michael.

“I know I should take it, but I doubt you where going to use it. If you were you’d have it on you. Go on, this’ll be our little secret. I’d hate for you to not be able to make anymore masks.” You cheerfully offered

Michael’s hand slowly took the brush out of your hands and held it, remaining eye contact the entire time. 

“Thank you for being cooperative, Michael. Hopefully I can be your nurse again another-”

Your sentence was cut off by a loud ringing that echoed off of the empty halls. It was the lockdown alarm. Normally they tell the nurses when a routine drill is happening but you didn’t get one... which.. meant that there was... an actual emergency 

“Michael, if you could step back into the corner for me that would be amazing,” you said, but much more serious. The smile fading off of your face .

You slowly turned back to the door to open it before the automatic locks kicked in to not raise suspicion, but inside your heart was practically pounding at the door already.

You grabbed the door handle and pulled as hard as you could, expecting it to open for you. You were a nurse of course, you didn’t have to be locked in here.

The door didn’t budge.

It was locked. With you inside.

Stepping back, you bump into something firm. Gulping, you slowly turn to see Michael standing directly behind you.

You’d expect someone in this sort of place to think about how they’d kill you. Maybe he was going to use that brush and plunge it into your eye. But it was quite the contrary. 

Michael appreciated your kindness, you had a likable spunk to you that the rest of the nurses just didn’t have. Maybe because they were dealing with mentally insane people all day, but at least you were a nice light in this place. 

You looked to... innocent. For a place like this, at least. Micheal was still a man, after all. You looked very pleasing to his needs. 

“M...ichael?”

By the look in his eyes you could tell he was thinking of something. You didn’t know what, but it couldn’t be something good.

Michael took a small step forward, making you step back. The another, and another, until the top of your legs touched the edge of his desk.

He had never wanted or desired to do this to a nurse, or anyone since he had gotten here, but you looked so pleasing to him. Delicious isn’t the right word for someone as twisted as him, but he just knew that he wanted you and that he was going to have you. 

The guards would have all been down attending to another situation, so it was only you and Michael in the cell.

He reached down, moving a piece of your hair to the side of your worried face as another hand hiked up your skirt. The hand that had moved the hair was ready to quiet your screams, but instead you only blushed madly, looking to the side in embarrassment. 

Pulling your underwear off, he lifted you up onto the desk with ease to match his height. Tugging at the small belt on his pants, he shoved them off and out of the way.

Your mind raced as you thought of how wrong this was, hoe you should be screaming for help and fighting back, but instead you eagerly scooted to the edge of the table. Closer to him.

The gasp that escaped your lips as his length was pushed into you was a mix of pain and confusion. You had a small feeling he would be big, but not this big. You clenched your legs together in an attempt to get comfortable with him, but he pushed them back open. 

Your mouth was agape. Michael’s hand reach up and grabbed your face, pulling your face to his as another pulled you closer to him. Bringing you forward onto his entire length. The twitched of your eyelids and legs were enough for Michael to stay hard.

Leaning his forehead against yours, your face still in his hand, he began to thrust himself into you slowly, but picked up the pace the moment he could adjust to your small form.

Your body was limp for a moment, the only way to stay in this position was to wrap your arms around Michael neck, which you did. At this rate, there was no getting used to Michael’s length, but you couldn’t deny that this was better than anything you’ve ever had before.

The wailing of the alarm was loud enough to drown of your own moaning. With each hard thrust came an equally powerful moan. Michael gripped your hips with both hands as you set your back against the wall. There was nothing to hold onto but the desk itself that was leaving scratch marks on the painting brick.

Your legs quivered with need as his cock continued to ravage your insides for what seemed like hours. You had already came but there was no use in attempting to speak. It’s not like your overstimulated body would be capable of producing words.

One of Michael’s hands ripped open your blouse, gripping your breast as he pushed his head onto your neck. Your hand running through his hair as he did so.

He was close, very close. As tight as you were he wondered how he had lasted so long, but it wouldn’t be too much longer. The clapping of his skin against your sped up as he did everything to push himself over. 

You cried out his name as his final thrust buried himself deep inside you, spilling every last drop of his seed. His nails made cuts into your hips and ass while he firm grip left purple bruises.

As he pulled out you went limp against the wall, attempting to think about what to do next. The alarm had gone off about 30 seconds ago and the guards would be doing their rounds to make sure nobody else was causing trouble.

You stumbled off of the desk, pulling up your panties and up your skirt. Your legs were still shaking, you doubted you’d be able to walk in the heels you came in with.

Michael had already pulled up his pants and stood in front of the door so that nobody would see you as you bashfully buttoned up your blouse. Your hands were pretty shaky too, struggling to get the buttons in the correct slot. Michael bent down and buttoned the last three for you.

You head heavy footsteps approaching the end of the hallway as a guard could be heard lock checking each door. Panic spread throughout your body at you fixed your hair and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. Even attempting to control your shaking.

Michael brushed the hair out of your face once again and fixed himself, standing behind you as the guard looked through Michael’s cell window.

“What the- where you in here this whole time?”

You nodded. Michael’s hidden hand rested inside the top of your pants, making you blush madly once again.

“Did he touch you?”

You shook your head, “No, sir.”

[calpops]

honeymoon | c.h.

Your honeymoon with Calum is two weeks of bliss, snow, and going home. 

1k words 

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included). 

<< >>

Calum’s hand takes yours and you feel the coolness of his wedding band, it sends shivers up your spine and contentment through your heart. His grip is loose and he swings your arms back and forth as you walk through the airport with luggage toted behind you. You’re not sure how he had managed to keep your honeymoon destination a secret until landing but he did it and surprise hits you when snow whirls outside the windows. The location and its climate explains the long pants and sweaters he had packed in your suitcase but not the bathing suit, shorts and sun hats. You ask about them but all he does is shrug and smirk and tell you to wait and see. Calum has everything arranged—the ride from the airport to a small cabin situated in the mountains, the cabin warm and spread with your favorite flowers. Your luggage gets abandoned as Calum decides scooping you up and carrying you over the threshold is more important.

He sets you down in the small living area where a fireplace stacked with logs greets you. Though the cabin is warm a chill runs through from the open door and you shiver, but it doesn’t last long as Calum wraps his arms around you, dips down to kiss your cheek and brush hair from your face.

“We’re married,” he says, the two words becoming much like a mantra as disbelief still sits with you both. You sway in his arms and blush as you look up at him.

“Everything is perfect,” you praise, hoping he knows you mean everything from the wedding to the cabin you stand in now. To him. “But we should probably shut the door.”

Calum laughs as a blow of chilly air comes in through the open door. Your luggage still sits on the small front porch. You both go out to bring it in and shut the door so the warmth can stay with you and the cold can stay outside. Large snowflakes fall from the sky and add to the blanket of white claiming the ground. You’ve travelled with Calum before, usually going to warmer places with beaches and sunsets. The contrast is stark and white and the sights of the mountain and snow that dazzles from sunlight are beautiful. You’d go anywhere in the world with Calum. He starts a fire and turns back to look at you as flames flicker to life. He glows golden from the light and you pat the couch cushion beside the one you’ve settled on.

The night previous was long and filled with excited bliss and lovemaking. You’d talked of starting a family, not wanting to wait any longer, and then set out to try and achieve it. You stayed up until the sun claimed the sky and then raced to the airport to make it to snowy hills. Exhaustion hangs thick and weary in the air, content sighs follow as Calum settles next to you and doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms.

“You like it?” Calum asks, eyes darting around the charming cabin.

You nod as a realization strikes you. “It’s very private.”

All you could ever want for a honeymoon is time with Calum. Uninterrupted. Just you and him and the warmth of being with each other.

“Good, we have an entire week here,” he says.

“I thought we had two weeks?” You ask, knowing he had said two weeks for the honeymoon.

“One week here,” he responds and noses at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “Next week is another surprise.”

You smile and find yourself spending the week between soft sheets, keeping each other warm, in the hot tub on the back deck, out on the mountain with cold noses that rub together and trying to start a family, all while dreaming of your hopes. Most nights bring candlelight and soft music. After days of roaming the mountain and spending time in the snow you’re both content to head for the bedroom where a king sized mattress bids you well. You pull him into bed, his lips roaming your skin, whispered words of want slipping from his lips, your body reacting to the desires between you both. He mumbles words of praise and compliments that make you shiver. You respond in kind, his name a song on from your lips as you sigh. You know each other and all of the things that drive the other wild. His hands roam and wander and his lips leave marks where you like them best. Highs are reached and come down into soft holds and small kisses peppering each other’s faces. More desires are traded as nights drag along. Talk of a family claims your discussions.

Time slips by in bliss and one week seems too short. Your goodbyes to the mountain are filled with sorrow. You don’t think that anywhere could ever get better but you’re willing to find out so long as it’s with Calum. He makes you close your eyes through the airport, his hand leading you and headphones claiming your ears so announcements won’t spoil the surprise. You’re not sure where you are when you land, nothing about the airport is of note, nothing about the view gives anything away but when Calum tells you there’s another flight in store you have an inkling of where you’re headed, the time and preparation for the sun clueing you in.

Another flight slips past though it’s long, you sleep against Calum and wake to his grin and a summer sky greeting you. He’s brought you home to Australia where summer is warm and those shorts and sun hats in your suitcase will be put to good use. You end up in a hotel near the beach, spend your time under the sun, trading kisses and bliss in the sand, in the hotel bed and shower and seemingly never take your hands off of each other. You both find new habits of twisting your wedding rings, holding each other’s hands and staring at the bands in wonder and awe as you dream about the family you want. It’s a subject that comes up when you go to visit Calum’s parents during a day you’re able to drag yourselves away from the beach and the bed and each other; somewhat, he still holds your hand and kisses your cheeks and keeps you close. They broach the topic and where Calum would have hesitated before, uncertain eyes flickering to you and then away, he answers right away, a sureness capturing his voice.

“We want at least two kids,” he tells his mum one afternoon you’ve taken her to lunch. “Sooner rather than later.”

You watch as his mom lights up and coos about grandbabies. When lunch is over and you find yourselves alone again, laid on the beach with the sun in your eyes and the crash of waves on the shore you turn to Calum.

“I love your family,” you say, starry eyed at the prospect of being parents like his—loving and caring and always there.

“They’re your family too,” Calum says softly and brushes your cheek with his thumb.

You smile and nod, knowing that’s true.

“Maybe we’ll have a start to ours when we get home,” Calum says with longing in his voice and softness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be a parent with you.”

You can’t either. You’re not sure what will happen when you get home. If his words will come to life or if more time will be needed but you know you’ll be together through it all.

<< >>

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[kyber-crystal]

➳ catch me || s.r

summary: in which you struggle to tell the difference between liking him as a friend or something more. until one fateful moment forces you to decide where you ultimately stand.

words: ~3.9k

warnings: mentions of death, blood, overused friends to lovers, slight enemies to lovers LOL

a/n: i suffered through this WIP for like, 3 mf MONTHS before i was finally able to finish it off. i feel so relieved. but i will warn you, it’s terrible

"Rogers."

"Y/N."

You exchanged curt nods with him as you went to grab yourself some water after attending a meeting with Fury. Ever since Sharon started showing up more often, you began to distance yourself from him because you know that lingering by will only make you feel worse.He doesn't know why you're acting so cold all of a sudden, but decides not to question it as it won't help the situation in any way whatsoever.

He was quick to break the awkward silence that had fallen. "Where are you being sent off?"

"We," you replied coldly. "Northern Europe. Got word of an arms trade happening tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

Footsteps were suddenly heard from down the hall and without warning, he tugged you forward by the wrist and pressed his lips to yours.

You didn't protest because you're still too shocked to fully register what's going on and 2) you actually liked the way he made you feel. 

Though you really weren't supposed to be.

"What was that for?" you breathed out as you both pulled away, breathless.

"Sharon," he replied simply, looking around for a moment. "She's been bothering me for the past few weeks and I had to do something."

"You just noticed?" you said, sarcasm lacing your tone as you looked out of the corner of your eye to see the blonde woman walking away. "She's been all over you since her recruitment."

His brows furrow together in confusion as he notices the darkened look in your eyes, but doesn't say anything. You toss him the black manila folder containing information on your mission for him to read, sitting down at the kitchen counter together.

"Infamous dealer carrying nuclear weapons overseas. Headquartered somewhere in the Arctic Circle, I think," you explained as he pulled out the wanted man's file. "Can be taken either dead or alive. We have to stop them from going through with the attack."

"When are we leaving?"

"Wheels up at 8:30 p.m. Should take about 6 hours...we're being flown in via helicarrier."

Great.

You just realized you'd be stuck in a plane alone together for 6 hours straight, when the very thing you were trying to do was avoid him.

You're mostly silent as you board the jet, securing your bags and weapons before taking your seat. Fatigue is tugging at your body and your eyelids grow heavy, although it isn't even that late. Without thinking about what you were doing, you rest your head against Steve's shoulder and close your eyes. He wraps an arm around your waist in response.

Before you knew it, the aircraft was hovering over the drop zone. The two of you got up and went towards the back, fastening parachutes to your backs as the gates dropped open.

"Stay safe out there," you blurted out as you glanced down at the base below you, then over at Steve. "Circle the perimeter and meet me inside. Don't die or I'll kill you."

"Yes ma'am."

Inhaling sharply, you gripped the straps of your jacket and squeezed your eyes shut, the dry wind whipping your hair in your face as you descended downwards.

With his icy blue eyes still imprinted in the back of your mind.

...

It was quite ironic seeing that you, an Avenger and a former SHIELD pilot that flew everywhere all the time, had a crippling fear of heights. The mere idea of being jumping out of planes and having to go on missions involving multi-story buildings shook you to your core, and it always took you at least a week to recover once you got back.

"Steve!" Your voice heightened to a shriek as you felt the plane's velocity increase suddenly. The crates next to you toppled over and you went crashing to the floor alongside them, barely managing to grip the armrest of something and pressing your back against the wall, feeling your head spin. The sticky warmth and stinging, white-hot pain in your side tells you that you were shot. You didn't need to look at the wound to know it wasn't pretty. "Where the hell are you?"

"Fifty yards away from the northeast entrance," he replied breathlessly. "I got nothing. You?"

"The weapons," you panted, "are on the plane!"

"Okay. Where are you?"

"On the damn plane! They're gonna detonate at any moment, I have to get this thing away from the city—I'm not gonna make it so I just wanted to tell you that—"

"Fuck, don't say that," he hissed. You know things were bad when Steve Rogers, the man that coined the 'Language' line, swore. "Just—hang tight, I'm coming for you."

"No. Just forget it," you shouted over the noise, grunting in pain as your head hit the side of a storage box, muttering a string of curses under your breath. "I can't afford for you to risk your own life for me. It's okay. Just leave me behind."

"No, I'm not leaving you!" he yelled back. "I'm not going back home without you."

"Steve," your voice was thick with tears, throat feeling tight as you swallowed back the sob that was threatening to erupt from your lips. You wipe a tear that slips down your cheek and cleared your throat. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," he says hoarsely, "I lost you once, and I'm not losing you again."

"There's no point, Steve. I'm going to die. This thing's on autopilot going God knows where at top speed and if there's any chance of stopping this thing, I gotta crash it. If you come and get me you're gonna die, too. You know Fury's not gonna like having to send out an extraction team to drag both our corpses back to headquarters."

"Y/N, don't-" His voice breaks and you swear your heart shatters into a million pieces. "Please, don't- don't say that. I'm gonna come and get you. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

That was the last straw for you; and you lost it at those last words. Tears sting a steaming hot trail down your cheeks as you hastily try to wipe them away with your bruised and bloodied knuckles. "No, we're not. I don't think you understand. I'm over 30,000 feet in the air with no protection whatsoever. They're gonna shoot you down before you even have the chance to get to me."

You always told yourself you'd be willing to put your life on the line to save someone else's; to sacrifice yourself for the greater good. But now that death was looming threateningly close to you and staring you down, for the first time in a long time, you didn't know if you even wanted to leave and you were scared. Scared of what was to come if you really were to meet your end. Scared of what was to come at the end of the tunnel, what would happen when you were swallowed whole by death's bottomless, dark pit. You didn't expect your fate to approach so quickly, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Being a superhero meant that making sacrifices were a must-do. You always knew you would need to give things up in order to successfully do your job. That one day, your time to die would come but you didn't know it would happen like this; so unexpectedly.

Now you realize people were right as they told you in your final moments, you'd see your entire life flash before your eyes. You blink and you're transported back to when you first joined the Initiative, skeptical of the six unfamiliar faces before you. But it only takes a matter of three minutes before Thor cracks a joke that has you all howling in laughter, and another one for Natasha to approach you and start a conversation. To you, her, and Steve on the run as fugitives of SHIELD as you conducted the search for The Winter Soldier. The heartbreaking decision of having to choose between your mentor and best friend in Berlin--which you realized, happened barely over a year ago. So many memories had been created in such a short amount of time and you didn't ever want to let any of them go. You couldn't bring yourself to.

You stumbled over, sliding into the pilot's seat and buckling up. Your grip around the controls were so tight that the barely healing cuts around your knuckles reopened and began bleeding again.

You let out a shuddering sigh, tapping several buttons overhead before reaching down to turn on your comm again. "Steve? Are you there?"

"Darling..." The pure agony in his voice only makes you feel worse. You've never heard the great Captain America in such a soft-spoken tone before, so you could only assume it took him a lot to get him into this state. "Yeah. I'm here."

"So..." you readjusted your grip and let your shoulders fall back, "...you remember that one time we took the subway to see Hamilton last weekend?'

"Last weekend? It was only last weekend?" Steve tried his best to keep it together, but his wavering tone gave it all away. "Feels like forever since we got a break."

"I know," you let out a broken laugh, "and then you wouldn't stop talking about it the entire way back? It got so bad to the point Tony had to forcefully shut off all the speaker systems around the compound because he woke up at 3 am to see you sitting in the kitchen, playing the soundtrack at full volume."

"But when he saw you dancing around in the kitchen while making lunch the next day, he couldn't keep doing that for any longer. You have an amazing voice."

"I don't know..." you sniffed, forcing a smile, "you're the one who's pretty good at singing and playing the piano. I think you got all the musical talent-"

"Y/N," he interrupted, "stop. Don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"You're talking as if you're gonna die."

The gravity of the whole situation comes crashing down on you again. "...Because I am."

"No, you're not. I'm not letting that happen."

"I don't think you have a say in things this time, Rogers," your voice cracked. You shook your head. "I'm done for. God, I really hoped this wasn't how I'd meet my end. I hate heights. I hate the ice, I'm scared shitless of dying, I can't- I can't do this. But I have to. If I don't, millions of people will die and I can't have that on my conscience."

You sucked in a breath as you looked out of the corner of your eye to see you're falling, and falling fast. In a matter of minutes you'll be plunging through the surface of the ice and into the depths of the icy-cold water. There's no turning back now.

"Geez," you spoke up again, "this is like some repeat of '45. Is this how it felt? Knowing you were gonna die, but doing it anyway because you knew you had to do it?"

"That's not the same. It was a matter of chance that I made it at all. Chances are slim to none that you'll end up frozen in a block of ice for 66 years."

"See, it's hopeless," you sighed. "Go back. You need to go...or you're gonna end up filled with bullets."

"I'm not going back," he repeated. "Not without you."

"If you're gonna think of a plan, you better think fast-"

"Jump."

"What did you just say? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"I said, jump. There's no other choice. Look for an emergency exit...there should be one above you. Do you see it?" His voice was calm, gentle, as if he was speaking to a child, and it soothed you a bit. You muttered a quick 'yes'. "Alright. Pry that open, get out of there. I'm coming with the Quinjet right now, so hang tight."

As if he could sense your fear, he softened his tone a bit more, "Hey. It's okay. I'm coming for you. You'll be alright."

"It's like we're Romeo and Juliet," you managed to choke out in between a laugh and sob,  "except only one of us dies."

"Y/N, you're not dying." He couldn't mask the obvious pain in his voice. "Honey, I promise you're not gonna die. You're gonna be alright."

"Steve-" You let out an earsplitting shriek and scrambled to get a stronger grip as blaring alarms sounded throughout the aircraft. The impact of the hits nearly made you topple off and you clung to the side of the jet for dear life, praying to God you weren't going to fall off and crack your head open on an iceberg. "I got hit. They're tailing after me, you can't, I'm actually gonna fall-"

"Okay, okay, I'm here. Do you see me?" You turned your head to the side ever so slightly to see the Quinjet hovering below, but your heart dropped when all you could see were snow flurries blowing around - and zero sign of the super-soldier.

"No-"

"Just jump. I see you. I'm literally right below you, so jump, okay?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Do you trust me?" he yelled out, his voice carrying over on the frigid winds. "Y/N. Do you trust me?"

"But-"

"I've never let you down before and I sure as hell won't now. Trust me, Y/N, come on."

You pressed your lips together. You knew he was right. Either you made the jump now, or get filled with a dozen bullets and dying a brutal and gory death.

You finally bring yourself to look down again and there he is, a little closer this time. His gaze finds yours and suddenly, you're drowning. You might've been hundreds of feet apart but no distance would be able to extinguish his piercing gaze. His eyes were the ocean and you were lost at sea, lost in those endless pools of blue and losing yourself in him—the one guy who stuck by your side for so long and thought as nothing more than a best friend, a teammate until now. The one guy who took your breath away with his million-dollar smile every time you made eye contact.

In the one guy who you thought was just a friend, until you realized you were hopelessly in love with him - the Steve Rogers.

And now you weren't sure if you'd come out of this alive to finally tell him so.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let go. The wind whipping at your hair and face feels like a thousand tiny needles being jabbed into your skin and you swear if you kept your mouth open you would've puked - if you'd opened your eyes you knew you'd die from fear first before anything else.

But all those thoughts are suddenly put to a halt when you're stopped by a pair of strong, warm arms you'd sought solace in countless times before.

"Y/N, thank God you're alright, oh my god," Steve let out a shuddering sigh as he held you close, cradling your head against his chest. "I thought I lost you. Oh my god. Are you okay?"

"I just fell out of an airplane without a parachute and I have no idea how I survived."

His look of concern immediately turns into horror when he pulls his hand off your waist to see it come back covered in your crimson blood. His face falls. Then it hits you all at once, and you're overcome with a nauseating wave of dizziness - the aftereffects were beginning to get to your head.

The super-soldier hurriedly jammed a finger to his ear. "I got her. We're on our way back. Prepare the medbay; she's gonna have to be operated on as soon as we land."

"Yes, sir," a STRIKE agent replied from the receiving end. "We'll get right to it. Please have a safe flight home."

"Thank you."

Steve put the jet on autopilot so he could sit with you in the back, frantically applying pressure to your wound and doing his best to patch you up. But with each round the bandages made around your waist, the blood flow increased, seeping through the fabric. You didn't have to tell him directly for him to know you didn't have much time left and if he were to save you, you would need to get back home, fast.

...

As soon as Steve stepped down the ramp with your limp, unconscious body in his arms, he was bombarded by a flurry of medbay agents, who had you in a gurney and were wheeling you away within minutes. He tried to follow after them but Tony quickly grabbed his wrist and yanked him back.

"Let me go," he growled. "I swear to Odin, Stark, if you don't-"

"You can't follow her in there."

"I can if I want to."

Tony let out a sigh of defeat. "Rogers. She's going to be fine."

"How do you know? How can you possibly guarantee her survival?"

"I just know. Sheesh, you're a hopeless romantic."

...

You glanced over at the monitor tracking your vitals beside your bed, the constant beeping of the machines seemingly echoing in your brain on a loop. You were too exhausted to do anything at the moment, but you couldn't seem to fall back asleep, even with the drugs coursing through your system.

You try to shift around and find a more comfortable position, and felt a twinge of pain on your right side. Note to self; don't place all your body weight on the side where a bullet tore through your stomach. Bad idea.

Laying flat on your back again, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to fall back asleep. But sleep never comes, and a few minutes later a knock on your door pulls you out of your momentary trance.

"Hey there, soldier," you managed a sleepy grin as Steve stepped into the room, pulling up a chair to your bedside. "Nice weather outside, isn't it? Feels like just yesterday I was gunned down and forced to drive myself to near-suicide...wait, that was yesterday, right? I've lost all sense of time-telling-"

You paused and looked back over to see a rare sight - he was on the verge of breaking down. His bright blue eyes were dulled and glossed over with fresh tears that threatened to spill, and although it had barely been over a day since your admittance to the hospital, it looked like he hadn't slept in over a week. And it was all your fault.

"Are you okay...?"

He shook his head, clenching his fists in his lap so tightly that they began turning white. "You’re seriously asking me if I’m okay? I almost lost you. You almost died."

"I'm sorry-"

"If I hadn't gotten to you in time, then...I don't know what I'd do if-"

"Steve, it's not your fault."

"I let you down, Y/N." His voice was cracked and raw, as if he'd been crying for hours on end beforehand. Your heart shattered at the sound. "I let you down and I'm so sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. I'm sorry I left you alone on that ship because I didn't look out for you well enough. This is all on me. My job was to protect you, to look out for you. And I failed to do that."

"You didn't fail, Steve," you said softly. "You did your best. You saved me. I'm alive right now because of what you did."

The super-soldier inhaled sharply and moved his chair closer so he could reach his hand out to place it on your forehead, letting it stay there for a moment before sliding it down to cup your cheek. You didn't make any efforts to remove it and if you were being honest with yourself, you liked how his warm skin felt against your own. He smelled like honey and freshly ground coffee and everything good in the world. He made you feel like you were at home.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you let yourself bask in his warmth, melting into his soft touch. If it weren't for your currently uncomfortable predicament, you would've fallen asleep on the spot all over again.

"Something's on your mind, isn't there," you mumbled, eyes still closed. Even without your powers, it didn't take much for you to figure out that something was wrong. "Tell me what's going on."

You opened your eyes again to see that there were tears streaming down his face. He hastily tried to wipe them away with one hand as the other was gently placed on top of yours, but his efforts were fruitless, of no avail whatsoever.

"Steve-"

"I was so worried," he croaked out. "I don't want to think about how things would be if you died. I can't live without you."

"I'm here now, okay? I'm going to be fine. I'll heal," you said softly. "You saved me, you caught me, so now I'm okay. We're okay." You moved over slightly to give him room to sit. Steve's arms encircled your waist as yours slid down and over his shoulders, and he pressed his trembling lips to your temple.

It was quiet. Whispered oh-so-quietly, as if he was hesitant to open his mouth. But you heard it regardless.

"I love you."

You smiled sadly. "I know. I love you too."

"Just...please don't try and pull off something off like that again."

"I won't. I promise."

You heard each shaky inhale and exhale as he tried to regain his composure - strong arms tightening around your figure with his face buried into the crook of your neck. Letting out a trembling sigh, you held onto him even tighter as if by some miraculous way, doing so could keep him from falling apart. As if somehow, your arms being around him could squeeze all the million little shattered pieces of his heart back together again.

You knew deep down, exactly why he had been so afraid to watch you meet your potential end. It was the jet plunging into the depths of the icy blue, monstrous sea. He didn't want you to experience even a fraction of what he had and prayed you’d never have to. He swore a silent oath to himself to shield you away from as much of the horrifying world as he possibly could, but you were nearly dragged under by the clutches of Death herself that day, and he couldn't help but feel like he failed you.

You took in a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent of coffee grounds and warm honey as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. For the briefest moment in time you could pretend everything was in fact, going to be okay, because it was just you and him wrapped up in each others' arms without a care in the world. It was just you and him, basking in each others' warmth, silent whispers of reassurance into his ear and repeated soft, fleeting kisses to his temple that reminded him you were still alive and breathing, and you were just fine.

For the first time in a long time, Steve Rogers felt whole again. The hole in his heart was gone, the void finally filled. And all it took was your presence, and your presence alone.

...

(if your username is striked out, that means i couldn’t add you)

general tags and mutuals who may be intersted (if your username is here, pls go check the taglist link in my bio to specify which specific taglist you’d like to be added to!): @sylvie-writes @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild @buckybarnesthehotshot @musicalkeys @carryonmywaywardbucky @thinkingofbuckybarnes @rynhaswritersblock @wheresmyjae @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @patzammit @cicicantblog​

permanent tags: @sandwitch-god @renaissancecherub @poesflygirl

steve/chris tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @marvelfanatic16 @stainedsouvenir @smokeandnailz

[sigillaria-svt]

Apartment Dates

One-Shot Scenario

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Reader

Word Count: 1,789

Genre: Fluff, slice of life ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

You put your bag down on the sofa, looking around at the apartment that you haven’t visited in almost half a year. Due to your work schedule, it has been a bit difficult to meet each other. Now that you finally managed to convince your boss to give you a weekend off, you spend the day at his apartment.

You lay on the sofa and stare at him.

"Just as soft as when you last visited, right?" he says cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, I couldn't have survived without you," you smile. "Can I get a hug?"

He laughs and hugs you. "It's been too long," he says.

You sigh. "Too long is an understatement, it's been months. I really, really miss spending time with you."

He frowns and hugs you tightly. "I'm sorry, I should've visited you sooner."

You sigh again. "And get in trouble for sneaking out again? The last time you did that, your manager almost went crazy.”

He laughs.

You say "Let's go and make lunch. I heard you've been learning how to cook pasta recently. "

"Yeah, I learned how to make pasta from Joshua.” He smiles. “I’m still learning, don’t get your hopes up. I think I still have some ingredients left from the last time Joshua and Jeonghan came over.”

"How about we head to the supermarket nearby? Let’s get snacks for later.”

He lets out a small groan. “But we just got here…”

You hold his hand and look up at him. “Cookies and cream ice cream? Please?”

After a big sigh, he grabs his bag and hurries over to the front door.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You say with a wide smile.

You quickly get up from the sofa and the both of you walk out to the grocery store nearby. You hold on to his elbow as you walk, looking around at the bustling city. On your way to the store, you start to reflect on your relationship.

You never thought that you and Cheol would end up together when you first met. To be honest, you hated each other's guts because neither of you wanted to back down. It wasn't until later on that you realized that he had a great sense of love and protection for his friends. As the leader, he had to make sure that he stood his ground, but only because he had to do what was best for the team.

Later on, you figured out he was a kind person who just likes to have fun. You knew he would be the first one to help you out if you were in trouble because that's just the kind of person he is. When you messed up a job a few years back, it was Cheol that came running in the middle of the night to help out. You would've never thought he would've done that and that's why you realized just how much you actually liked him.

The both of you arrive at the grocery store. You look around and see that there's hardly anyone else around.

"Let's go into the bakery section," you say. You browse through the pastries while Cheol grabs a few. "Let's get some garlic bread. It'll taste great with the pasta. "

"Yeah, and it'll help me survive the garlic breath I'll have for a week," he laughs.

You and Cheol look at each other and laugh as you both find the garlic bread aisle.

"Oh come on, you're not going to have garlic breath for that long."

"I sure will!" he laughs again, "You’ll be tasting garlic bread for the entire week too.”

He winks at you.

"What?" You say, slightly flustered.

"Let's get some ice cream.” He grins as he heads to the ice cream aisle, satisfied at his attempt to rile you up.

"What are you talking about?"

He leans in and whispers into your ear. "We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You can't help but blush at the thought. It doesn't help that you always seem to wear your heart on your sleeve. The thought of this makes you feel embarrassed and vulnerable. But with him being the way he is, you always expect him to do something weird like this so you don't really know how to react.

You try to not smile or make eye contact and look down as you grab the pint of mint chip. "Let's get out of here."

"I got you a bit excited, didn't I?" He said teasingly. "You're so shy. I'll have to work on that."

"Shut up," you say, not wanting to have this conversation for multiple reasons.

The both of you make your way to get the snack aisle. However, Cheol's hands never seem to leave your waist, making you even more flustered. You want to pull away, but you also don't. He's being especially close, even more than how he was this morning. You got shy whenever he did this in public, but he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you.  He gives you a small smirk when he sees how red your face has become. Although you missed him so much, you never seem to get used to public acts of affection.

“You’re going to be mine for the rest of the weekend.” He says

"Don't say that in public, what if someone heard you?!" You try to hush him.

"What's wrong, are you ashamed of how much you miss me?"

"No! I just... don't say things like that out loud!"

You two eventually get to the counter and Cheol takes out his wallet to pay. He takes out enough money to pay for everything.

“You’re paying for all of it?” You ask.

“Why not? I’ve got money to spend.” He looks over at you and nods. “If you want to pay for anything, you can do it later at the apart—”

You pinch his side and give the cashier an awkward smile. The cashier puts the food into two bags and gives them to you.

"Thank you."

The both of you make your way back to the apartment. "You're welcome," he says with a wink as you both walk out of the store.

When you arrive back at the apartment, you put the ice cream in the fridge as Cheol prepares the ingredients for your lunch. The scent of garlic and onions fill the apartment, making your stomach grumble. You walk into the kitchen, seeing Cheol chopping up the garlic and onions. You roll up your sleeves and help him with boiling the pasta.

The whole time he's flirting with you, he begins to move closer to you.

"Why are you acting like this?" You ask him.

He takes a deep breath and speaks, "Why not? Don't you like it?"

You stop what you're doing and stare at him.

He continues, "I thought you said you wanted to spend the weekend with me. If that’s the case, let’s spend it like we’re spending two months together.”

"No... It's not that I don't like it. I love you, I really do.” You couldn’t help the thought that’s been disturbing you for the past few months. You didn’t want to bring it up because you knew that it would just make everything awkward.

Still, you take the shot. You love him too much to hide what you really feel from him. “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

"What do you mean?" He says while stirring the pasta slowly.

"It's because of me that we haven't met in months. I was the one who decided on my work schedule, and even when I didn't have work, I stayed at home all day to sleep. "

He stops stirring the pot and looks at you. He then goes back to stirring.

"If I wasn't ready to deal with all that, I would have broken up with you a few months ago when you first told me about your new schedule," he says. "But I didn't."

You say nothing to this, it's obvious he's willing to put up with a lot because of how much he loves you.

"I love you," he says as he gets closer to hug you.

"I love you too."

He puts his arms around you and lays his head on your shoulder. Over the next few hours, you and Cheol enjoy your time together. What was meant to be a peaceful lunch turned out into a rollercoaster of topics. You talked about everything that you couldn’t over the phone. At some point, you shared about this coworker that’s been getting on your nerves, almost riling Cheol for a fight. There was so much to talk about, and yet so little time.

Eventually, the both of you had to clean up after three hours of talking. After cleaning up, both of you snuggle over at the sofa as you watched a movie. The two of you laugh when certain scenes came up and you hit him when certain ones came up. You didn't really realize movies could make you laugh so hard, but you enjoyed it. But to be honest, you only enjoyed it so much because it was with Cheol.  Without him, you wouldn't really find anything about this movie all that funny.

After the movie, you and Cheol head over to his room to sleep. You drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. After a few hours, you wake up. You look at your alarm clock. It's 8 AM.

You look over to your right and find Cheol soundly sleeping.  You hesitate to wake him up, happy to see him sleeping like a log. A loud buzzing noise makes you jump up. You look around and find it to be your alarm clock.

You quickly turn it off, but Cheol ends up awake. He looks at you with a smile.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He says, half-awake.

"I should be saying the same to you," you respond, sitting up. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Mmmm." He replies, pulling you back down to the bed for more snuggles. “Five more minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. For such a tall man, he was always like a child when he just got up from bed. You decide to spend the rest of the morning with him in bed.

“What am I going to do with you, Choi Seungcheol?” You say as you stroke his hair.

He snuggles more into you at the sound of his name from your lips. In moments like this, it made you remember why you fought to keep this relationship in the first place. You wouldn’t trade him for anything else in the world. - END -

[stxrrywildflower]

kid

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you get kindnapped

warnings - cursing, injuries, angst

word count - ?

a throbbing pain in your head and the metallic taste of blood in your mouth was the first thing you could process when you regained consciousness. the warm feeling of blood was trickling down the back of neck. that meant one thing, you had to have been hit in the head.

your wrists were restrained behind the cold metal chair you were tied to. the rope burned your wrists and ankles. you knew they were going to scar, you had seen it on various bau team members.

everything felt incredibly foggy. you couldn’t quite remember where you were or what had happened. as if your kidnapper has read your mind, a man stepped into the room, his face just barely illuminated under the light.

“welcome y/n! i’m so glad you could make it,” the man grinned.

you rolled your eyes. “what the hell did you do to me,” you growled. the unsub chuckled, “you, little girl, are going to make me a lot of money.” with that, the man just smirked before spinning on his heel and leaving the room, your own thoughts now being the only thing to keep you company.

rossi hummed quietly to himself as he put his suv in park before stepping out of the car and onto the driveway. the warm summer heat of washington d.c. met the senior profiler. between the trees swaying in the slight breeze and the birds chirping, it was a pretty good day.

walking up to the front door, rossi pulled out his keys. however, after twisting it and finding it to be unlocked, he was more than confused.

“figlia, i’m home!” rossi called once he stepped in. there was no response, the house was actually deadly quiet. usually there was always some music playing or the sound of the tv or your computer. “y/n?” rossi called again.

when rossi took note of the faint mud footprints on the floor leading up the stairs, he drew his gun. the only sound was the slight creeping of stairs as rossi walked up them. just in case, he spoke out as normally. “i’m home for lunch. what are you in the mood for?” once again, there was no response.

the second rossi saw just a drop of blood on the floor, he pulled out his phone. with shaky hands, he pressed hotch’s number. “aaron we have a problem,” was all rossi said.

within just a few short minutes, the entire bau team as well as a few cop cars were pulling up to rossi’s house. “rossi what happened?” morgan spoke once he walked in.

“y/n’s in trouble,” rossi started, “i think kidnapping but all i can go off of is some footprints and the blood in her room.”

the team all went their separate ways, spencer and j.j. to check the locks and footprints while everyone else headed upstairs into your room. just like rossi had said, there was a spot of blood on the floor. sure the spot wasn’t huge but it was still large enough to not be from a cut or other injury.

searching your room went on for just a few moments. finally, when hotch was digging around through your desk, his face hardened as he stood up. the air in the room tensed as hotch held up a piece of paper. in small dark letters was ‘8pm’. “what does 8pm mean?” emily piped up.

“i’m guessing that’s when we will be getting a phone call,” hotch answered simply.

they found your phone a moment later, the screen now cracked most likely from the attack. when it was unlocked, it opened right up to the messages app. more specifically, to rossi’s contact. that was the final confirmation of your kidnapping.

as the rest of the police and other crime scene investigators did their thing, the rest of the bau team regrouped in the kitchen. “we’ll work from the bau. garcia is already combing through security footage but as we know, child abduction cases need to be handled with care. i expect all of you to have your full focus on finding y/n and bringing her home safely.”

to be honest, rossi wasn’t exactly listening to hotch’s orders. his thoughts were going a mile a minute. he hasn’t even realized hotch was done speaking until morgan nudged him with his arm. “rossi, we’re heading back.” the italian man nodded before following the rest of his team out of his house and back to the cars.

driving to quantico took painfully long. everyone was on edge, especially rossi. well, that was obvious. garcia greeted them all when they stepped out of the elevator, holding her laptop in one arm while the other was motioning for j.j. and spencer to follow her back to the lab. the rest of the team headed into the bullpen.

“dave, a word?” hotch spoke.

rossi nodded, quickly putting his bag in his office before heading back down the catwalk. “you’re off the case,” hotch simply said once rossi stepped in.

“my kid is missing and you want me off of the case?” rossi exclaimed.

“you’re too emotionally invested in this case. you know the rules, hell you made the rules,” hotch rephrased. damn, hotch got him there.

there was a few moments of tense silence before rossi finally spoke up again.

“gideon and i formed the bau so we could keep people safe. it’s been a lot of years but i like to think that we’ve done just that,” rossi started, “and when y/n was born, i vowed to keep her safe as both a father and a profiler. and i failed.”

hotch remained quiet as the senior profiler in front of him sat down in one of the chairs and rubbed his eyes. “i wasn’t there to protect her and now, now she’s in the hands of a criminal. we have absolutely no idea where she is or if she’s even alive,” rossi ranted.

“don’t say that,” hotch cut in. “dave you’ve been an incredible dad to y/n. one incident which you had no control over will not change that. the team is doing everything we can. besides, we still have the phone call tonight.”

“thanks aaron,” rossi smiled slightly. he had to admit, the pep talk did help.

“you screwed up big time man,” you groaned. you couldn’t have woken up more than a few hours ago but the torture in that time was intense. the rope burns on your wrists and ankles were much worse as well as other cuts the unsub has inflicted on you. your entire face was bruised and bloody, mostly from punches to your eyes and nose.

the mans harsh and callused hand gripped your cheek, pulling your head up to look at him. “and why is that?” he asked. you almost wanted to laugh at that question.

“you kidnapped the daughter of one of the founders of the bau!” you exclaimed as if it wasn’t obvious already, “i’m guessing stephen gideon wasn’t available?” that remark earned a hard slap across the face.

“i’m going to get rich off of you. you really think daddy dearest isn’t going to pay off your ransom?” the unsub questioned. “i know that my dad isn’t dumb enough to give into your demands,” you rolled your eyes. “oh we’ll see about that.”

the man returned to the room at what he informed you was almost eight o’clock. “what’s with the phone?” you questioned. “like i told you before. i’m going to be rich. and all it takes is one phone call.”

emily kept her hand in front of rossi when the phone started ringing on j.j.’s desk. this was standard procedure. they never picked up right away when negotiating with an unsub. hotch motioned for them to stay silent as he leaned forward and pressed the answer button.

“hello?” hotch spoke.

“i’m looking to speak to david rossi.”

all eyes went over to rossi who’s stone-faced expression would give hotch a run for his money. “this is he,” rossi replied.

“perfect. now i’m willing to propose a trade. 20 million for her return,” then unsub offered. the teams eyes widened at that. even you, who had a cloth around your motion, was extremely suprised. there was no way your dad would pay that. right?

“prove that she’s alive,” rossi fired back, not even mentioning the deal.

the unsub trudged over your where your were still tied to the chair. with rough hands, he ripped the cloth off so your mouth was open. “say hi to dad!” the unsub exclaimed ina sickeningly sweet voice.

“bafangu chooch,” you growled out in italian, “bastardo, figlio di puttana.”

rossi’s mouth fell slight as did spencer’s and emily’s who both knew limited italian. you had pretty much just used some extremely choice curse words to prove that you were actually alive.

the unsub rolled his eyes and walked to the other side of the room. “see? she’s alive. now the 20 million by 10 or else the girl gets it. and i think we both know what that means.”

just before the unsub hung up, you yelled one final time. “shut the fuck up bitch boy. your hair is worse than morgan’s!” your voice was slightly staticky as you were yelling to a cell phone multiple feet away. nonetheless, the team heard exactly what you said before all lines of communication were cut off.

“go to hell!” you spat, unable to contain the tears that started to.

“well i’ll see you there,” the unsub fired back. you furrowed you’re eyebrows, that didn’t even make sense. “whatever, i need to get some things set up. let’s just hope that money gets here fast.”

back at the bau, the team was in slight disbelief at the phone call. “what did she say?” morgan first asked. “basically she told him to go screw himself and then something along the lines of being an ugly son of a bitch. i’m paraphrasing but i’m sure you don’t want the exact details,” rossi answered, his tone slightly proud.

garcia was typing away at her computer, trying to trace the call. “it pinged off of multiple cell towers. i can’t pinpoint the location but i may be able to get the general area,” the tech genius informed everyone. while garcia did that, everyone else listened back to the call, desperate to process the information.

no one was quite sure how she did it but just around 9:30, garcia had managed to find the five mile radius where the call had originated. from there, she found the only bulding that would be suitable to hold someone. rossi had thanked her profusely before suiting up alongside the team to head out.

“you’re staying outside. we’ll let you know when the unsub is apprehended,” hotch ordered.

rossi huffed and leaned against the car as the team entered the warehouse. his hands were shaking at the sole thought of you being just through the door. just three minutes later, hotch’s voice echoed in his ear.

“we got y/n!”

when rossi heard those words through his communication system, he immediately rushed into the warehouse. the unsub was being dragged out by a very unhappy morgan and hotch. after shooting the man an extremely nasty glare, rossi stepped further in, stopping slightly when he saw you.

j.j. and emily were focused on untying the restraints on your wrists and ankles while spencer was surveying your injuries. you were unconscious, probably from the fact that there was more blood on the back of your head as well as a fairly deep cut down your thigh. your right arm was bent at an awkward angle, definitely broken.

“figlia,” rossi gasped, kneeling down in front of you. part of him was incredibly thankful that you were found and would be taken to the hospital to be treated. on the other hand, the injuries you suffered were pretty intense. there was definitely going to be some trauma from the whole thing.

the paramedics arrived soon after that. they had made rossi step back so you could be put on a stretcher, an ambulance taking you to the hospital soon after that. all rossi could do is wait there and hope you would be okay.

you woke up a day later, your vision blurred as your eyes adjusted to the extremely bright hospital room. there was a tube in your nose helping you breath as well as an iv in your arm administering some pain medication.

“dad,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around your father with the limited mobility you could.

rossi held you tight, incredibly thankful that you were now awake. he just sat there, holding you as you continued to cry.

there was going to be a lot of both physical and emotional healing for you along with nightmares and pain. but you knew you had your dad and his team by your side ever step of the way.

and that made it a little better.

[hoe-doroki]

picnic

warning: eating disorder, food restricting, food withholding

pairing: Izuku x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 1.8k

a/n: This is the fourth of four attempts to answer this ask. This is a story with a reader who is food restricting, so everyone  be careful to take care of yourselves! The other three attempts are Trust Yourself, Gratitude, and A Start. All parts are unrelated to each other.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

“A…picnic?”

Izuku was dressed perfectly for a second date in the park in his khakis and blue button down. But your dubious tone made it sound like he was perched on your front stoop with a dead rose. Or a boa constrictor. Not a wicker basket filled with, you were sure, lots of little treats for you to share.

“Yeah, I…” Izuku looked down at the basket nervously, his face wrinkling as he seemed to question every choice he’d made leading up to this moment. “My mom thought it was a good idea…since we were going to the park anyway, I thought we could stop when we were done walking and have a little picnic. But if you don’t want to, we don’t have to!”

He was shaking his empty hand in front of his chest, trying to lower the stakes by giving you a way out. But really, how could you possibly refuse? A picnic? His mom? He’d trapped you in this dreamy scenario, one you wanted no part of.

“No, that sounds lovely,” you said, walking out your front door. “Let’s go.”

A breath of air left Izuku’s body and his muscles seemed to deflate, making his buff body match his cute face a little better. Not that you thought he was anything less than gorgeous, but still. Whenever you were reminded of all the muscles he had, you couldn’t help but be a wee bit intimidated.

Izuku’s lips pursed as he reached his spare hand out towards you, eyebrows raised in question. This you could do. You smiled, catching his hand in yours, and the two of you began the short walk to the park from your house.

You could do this. A picnic meant finger food. Little bits and bobs. It wasn’t a whole meal. You could snack on a couple things and move on, right? But you didn’t want to insult his cooking either. Crap, you weren’t prepared to deal with this.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

You realized abruptly that you hadn’t been listening to Izuku, totally lost in the narcissism of your own thoughts.

“I was just asking if you wanted to go left or right?”

“Oh…right is fine.”

The two of you went on your merry way and you did the best you could to focus on the conversation. You liked Izuku a lot, and he was really easy to talk to so long as neither of you were too nervous. And usually you were able to trade back and forth well enough which one of you could keep up the conversation, so it was never too much of a problem. Besides, Izuku was so thoughtful and such a good listener that he always had a million questions for you and seemed really eager to get to know you better and you tried to do the same for him.

The two of you went on long enough, walking aimlessly through the park when you happened across a grassy meadow. Izuku’s face perked up.

“Do you want to have the picnic here?”

You tensed. You’d almost managed to forget about the basket swinging on Izuku’s other side, just out of sight if you were looking either straight ahead or in his emerald green eyes. But now that you were reminded of it, a stone of dread fell into your stomach, taking away any hint of an appetite that the walk might have worked up.

“Oh…yes, this looks fine.”

You helped lay out the blanket he’d been thoughtful enough to bring and when he began taking the treats out of the basket you blanched.

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but I wasn’t certain what you liked, so I thought I’d try a few different things,” Izuku said, pouring you both some water and slightly adjusting the placement of all of the foods, trying to get it perfect.

“Yeah, wow, you put in a lot of effort,” you said, your mouth drying up.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t too much work,” Izuku said hurriedly. “My mom helped me.”

“That was sweet of her.”

There was an awkward beat of silence as Izuku looked at you somewhat expectantly. Then he smiled and looked down at the food. “Well, choose whatever you’d like.”

“Okay,” you said, eyeing each of the many bentos suspiciously. “Thank you for the food.”

You reached for the one closest to you and took a small bite. You hummed your enjoyment, or at least you hoped it sounded like that and then took a sip of water to swallow it down with.

You managed to keep it up for a little while. A nibble here and there, chewing slowly and spacing out your bites as much as you reasonably could. But Izuku kept looking at you, kept offering you to try different items, so eager to please you. And you wanted to show him your happiness, but you were failing, you knew you were failing.

“Do you not like the food?” Izuku asked after a while. “It’s all pretty traditional…if you want we could pack this up and go somewhere with a different cuisine?”

“No, the food’s great!” you exclaimed, wanting, praying that he believe you. “I just…I had a big lunch.”

Izuku frowned. “It’s 1pm.”

“Right, an early lunch,” you said. “Woke up early, early breakfast, early lunch. You know how it goes.”

“Really, if you don’t like the food, it won’t offend me,” Izuku insisted. “I know I’m not a master chef.”

He was looking down at the gingham blanket, the whole scene so picturesque you could sob for how you were ruining it.

“No, it’s not you, it’s not the food, nothing,” you said, hating yourself more and more with each breath. “It’s not you.”

Izuku looked at you, expression shifting into something totally different. Instead of seeing the picnic and the park and the date, he was just seeing you, and you felt totally naked in his view.

“Do you, um…” You could see the full monologue running over his eyes, hear the rapid muttering happening just behind his lips as he tried to choose which words to verbalize. You couldn’t help but fear what they would be. “Is this, um…something that you struggle with?”

He’d asked it straight out. You’d hoped, hoped that he’d skew the question so that you could bounce off it aslant and land mostly on your feet. But straight out there was no opportunity for spin. And you couldn’t lie to him. You could never lie to Izuku.

So you would skip the whole conversation. Skip the affirmation from you, the disgust from him, and go right to the ending. It would hurt less that way.

“I guess you don’t like me much anymore, huh?”

You looked down at your outfit. The fourth one you’d tried on before leaving the house. You’d so been looking forward to this. Izuku had been your crush for so long that you couldn’t even remember the last person you’d been interested in before him. And your first date had gone so well that you’d thought that maybe this could be it. It. But now you’d gone and cocked it up with your stupid problems.

“Wh-What?” Izuku asked, his voice wavering. “No, not at all! Er, I mean, yes, I still like you very much! I just…I didn’t know this was something in your life.”

“You don’t have to say that,” you said, still making firm eye contact with your shoes. “I know it’s not an attractive trait.”

“Well, I mean…no, I wouldn’t be attracted to you for it, of course,” Izuku said, stumbling a bit as he went. “But it doesn’t make me like you any less.”

“You don’t know the extent of it,” you said darkly. “This kind of stuff is all I think about sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” Izuku said, reaching a hand into your field of vision, placing it on the blanket. “Well, no, obviously it’s not okay, but, look, it’s not like every thought I have is healthy either. And that’s not okay either, but we all have things that we’re working on and that’s not a bad thing.”

You looked up at him, and he looked relieved to see your eyes. Like seeing your eyes was better than the view of a perfect spring day in the park.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m willing to take…” he gestured generally down at the picnic and then to you, “this, if it means that I get you too. And as we learn more about each other, we keep making that decision or we make a different one. But this? Not a deal breaker.”

“It’s not?”

“Of course not,” Izuku said emphatically. “Not if it helps me get to know you better.”

Your eyes began to sting and you looked down at the blanket again. You’d never imagined that this, as Izuku had so delicately put it, was something worth knowing about you. That it was just another part of you that someone would get to know, and that it didn’t ruin everything else that you were. You sniffled and Izuku began to panic.

“Oh no, did I say too much?” he asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make things super serious, it’s just that, well, I just like you a lot but if it’s too much too soon I get it and I can back off—”

“No, I just—” You cleared your throat. You could barely talk. Your heart felt so full that it was bubbling up your throat and gumming up your vocal chords. “I just never thought someone would say that about me.”

Your breathing began to stutter as you tried to repress the tears with everything you could. The second date was at least one date too early to be crying. Izuku was looking at you, body raising and then falling back a number of times before he finally said, “Can I...hug you?”

You nodded your head and Izuku was over in an instant, kneeling off to your side and pulling your head under his chin. He stroked your back soothingly and the next shuddering breath you took released the tension out of your body and you sank into his embrace fully, despite the awkward angle.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said into your hair.

“Thanks for…” You didn’t even know where to begin, to be honest. You just let out another sigh and said all that you could. “Thanks.”

“One day we’ll be able to have a picnic,” he said. “And it won’t make you anxious and we’ll have fun and think back on today and see how far we’ve come.”

You smiled, almost able to imagine it in your mind’s eye. Not quite, but almost.

“I can’t wait.”

[snelbz]

Reckoning and Retribution {2}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, House of Earth and Blood, & Throne of Glass Crossover, Western AU fanfiction.

Based on a prompt sent in for the 4k follower contest {winner}, from Anonymous: “Ok hear me out: WILD WEST AU CROSSOVER”

@snelbz​ / @tacmc

The town was much smaller than he had suspected. When he got Rowan’s letter, Lorcan had at least expected to come to a bustling town, but when he arrived, it was surprisingly quaint. As he rode into town, there were only a few out to greet him, and they all had a skeptical look. One thing was clear: this town was not friendly toward outsiders.

Lorcan probably wasn’t too helpful, either. He didn’t have the most welcoming demeanor. Every look, every gesture, scared people away.

He couldn’t help it, though.

It’s what came natural.

He tied up his horse next to the familiar mare outside the sheriff’s office. Patting his blue roan on the neck, he started up the stairs and let himself in.

The front of the office was empty, just a sitting area and some pictures hanging on the wall.

He could hear music playing from somewhere and debated on whether he should go up the stairs or towards the back. The music seemed to be coming from the back of the building.

That meant Rowan was most likely upstairs, as far from the jovial tune as he could be.

Every step creaked as Lorcan stepped on them, eventually landing himself in the nearly empty second floor landing.

True enough, Rowan was in the back office, his boots propped up on the desktop, his hat pulled down over his face.

“This town is so boring all you do is sleep all day?” Lorcan asked, in way of greeting.

Rowan chuckled from beneath his hat. “It’s about damn time you showed up.” He slowly slid the hat to the top of his head and gave Lorcan an amused look. “Welcome.”

Lorcan’s jaw locked. “Don’t welcome me yet.”

“Too late.” Rowan stood and made his way over to his oldest friend. “Thanks for coming, I’m… in a bit over my head here.”

Lorcan leveled him a look. “You expect me to help you figure out how to be sheriff? Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

A quiet chuckle. “Of course not, but I know at some point, I’m going to have to get my hands dirty. It’d be better if they weren’t… my hands.”

Lorcan nodded, thinking about the offer. It’s the same one he’d made him in the letter he’d received a week ago. “And I’d be promised immunity?”

“As much as I can offer,” Rowan admitted. “This would be an under the table sort of arrangement.”

Lorcan was about to say something when he heard the front door open and hurried feet ran up the steps. A young man appeared in the doorway. “Sheriff Whitethorn, there’s a-.”

He froze when he beheld Lorcan standing in front of the sheriff and he swallowed hard.

Rowan asked, “What’s the problem, Luca?”

His eyes darted between the two men. “Ma- may we talk in private, sir?”

“Of course,” he said and followed the man downstairs.

Lorcan sighed and sat down in one of the wooden chairs in front of Rowan’s desk, leaning back and waiting. Only a few minutes later, he heard his friends steps returning and when he glanced back, he saw an amused smile on his face.

Leaning against his desk, he sighed and said, “I brought you here to be one of the good guys, not the bad guys. You can’t scare the shit out of the townsfolk.”

He was smirking, and he said, “But I’m good at being the bad guy. Besides, all I did was ride into town. I can’t help it if the people of this town are pussies.”

“Lor,” Rowan warned, and he held up two hands in surrender. Rowan sighed and said, “What do you say? Are you willing to help me out?”

Lorcan made a show of debating the question, even though they both knew what his answer would be. “Will I be paid well?”

“Of course,” Rowan said, plopping back into the chair behind his desk.

“How are the women in this town?” Lorcan followed.

Rowan gave him an exasperated look. “Seriously? When did you get picky about women?”

Lorcan grinned. “You’re paying for my whiskey, right?”

“If I did that, I’d be broke within the week,” Rowan countered.

Lorcan snorted. “Fine. I’ll stay. For now.””

“For now?” Rowan asked.

Lorcan smirked and repeated, “For now.”

Rowan sighed and leaned across the desk extending his hand. Lorcan took it in his own and shook it as Rowan said, “Lorcan Salvaterre, welcome to Rose Creek.”

___________________

Azriel wasn’t exactly sure how Elain Archeron convinced the ground to produce such beautiful flowers. Everyone else who tried ended up with dead, dry weeds within a few weeks, but not Elain. No, every grave he dug was decorated with whatever floral beauty was growing in her garden that season.

As he stepped out of the little hut they had the audacity to call his “office”, he found her sprinkling water over the buds she’d placed on the grave he’d dug only the day before.

He meandered over to her, admiring her natural beauty as he did so.

“Good morning,” he said, quietly.

Elain looked up at him, over her shoulder with a soft, wistful smile. “Why do I feel like you’ve been digging more graves the last few months?”

Azriel met her eyes. “Well...it hasn’t been your imagination, unfortunately.”

With a sigh, Elain stood up and brushed off her skirts, admiring her display atop the dirt. “I chose lilies. I’ve always loved lilies.”

“They’re beautiful,” Azriel agreed, his voice low. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Of course.”

“Why do you bother?” He asked, nodding toward her flower display. “Most of the people buried here are criminals and vigilantes.”

She turned around, looking back to the flowers she’d placed so reverently on each of the graves. “Because every single one of these men had at least one person who cared for them in our messed up world, yes?” She turned back to look at him, but decided her question didn’t need an answer. She smiled. “Everyone, even the lowliest of criminals, deserves a little bit of beauty and peace in death, don’t you think?”

He nodded. He saw more death than most people saw in their entire lives, had seen things that would make some of the corpses that surrounded him roll over in their graves. But he agreed.

“I also do it so you’ll have something beautiful to see everyday, too.”

He lifted the brim of his hat, looking up at her, and he found her smiling. He asked, “For me?”

“Yes, for you,” she confirmed, quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the sides of her skirts. “I won’t pretend to know what you face, doing this job. If I can make it even the slightest bit more pleasant for you, that is what I’ll continue to do.”

He watched her with a small smile, his eyes narrowed. He had known Elain for a while now, had come to value her friendship. She alone made every day better for him, but he wouldn’t let her know that.

“Thank you,” he whispered, at last.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, and looked back towards the town. “I should go. Feyre has to work tonight and I promised I’d cook her favorite lunch to prepare.”

“You’ll be alone tonight?” He asked, and though it sounded like a proposition of sorts, she knew it wasn’t, just genuine concern for her wellbeing.

She nodded. “I will. Nesta is expected at seven and Feyre will be there around four.”

Azriel opened and closed his mouth three times before he let it fall shut. He sighed and said, “Don’t leave your cabin, please.”

“I won’t,” she said, smiling at him as she tied the loose hat back onto her head. “I’m a smart girl, Mr. Draeven.”

“Azriel,” he corrected her, but he knew the posterity was for his sake, not hers. She loved to mess with him in that regard. And the smile on his face proved he did as well.

With a nod, she said, “Have a good day, Azriel.”

As he watched her walk back into town, her skirts kicking dust up with every step she took, he cursed himself for not asking her to have dinner with him.

____

Aedion hated working in the mines. He had to do what he had to do, though, and he knew no other trades. His father owned the damn mines, as his grandfather had before him. It made for long, exhausting days, but at least he got paid. None of that easier because you’re family bullshit. Even Aedion’s father worked in the mines with them.

His pay wasn’t much, but it was enough to get a drink and eat a hot meal at the end of the day.

“Dreaming of that lady of yours?”

Aedion looked over his shoulder and wiped sweat and dust from his brow as he took in a grinning Ruhn.

“Back to work,” Aedion snapped, although he was smiling. “And she’s not my lady.”

She wasn’t a lady, at all, but that didn’t stop Aedion from having eyes for Lysandra Ennar, and her alone.

Ruhn’s pickaxe hit the mineral rich dirt in the wall and he grunted with the force of it. “She's a lady.” Another grunt and rain of rocks and dust as the tip of his ax dug in deeper. “You’re obsessed with her.” Grunt. “She’s obsessed with you.” Grunt. “Sounds to me like she’s your lady.”

Aedion smiled again, but it was sad now. “You know as well as I do that she can never be mine.”

The quiet sigh that left him was telling enough. “Yeah.”

Ruhn loved someone trapped in Maeve’s servitude as well, but a wholly different kind of love. Aedion counted his blessings and thanked the gods that he didn’t have to endure what Ruhn did each night. That he didn’t have to watch Aelin whore herself out to atone for someone else’s sins, like he did with Bryce.

In the distance, an explosion sounded and the walls shook. Aedion was throwing his hands over his head, shaking and cursing and going pale as his axe hit the ground.

His ears were ringing, and he couldn’t hear a thing, couldn’t think straight, could only feel the heavy thumping of his heart and his heavy, uneven breaths.

Dirty, calloused hands gripped onto his shoulders and shook him, and next thing he knew, Ruhn was in his face.

The explosion hadn’t been anywhere near them.

Nothing had fallen, nothing had collapsed anywhere close. The men around them were still working, still swinging their pickaxes.

“Hey. Hey!” Aedion could finally hear Ruhn’s voice, trying to bring him back from the memories that had forced their way inside his mind.

Aedion blinked, trying to bring himself back, to orient himself back in the present.

“Hey,” Ruhn said, gripping his shoulders a hair tighter. “You’re not in that shit anymore. You’re here. You’re back with us.”

A shuddering breath left Aedion and then a gasp as his lungs remembered how to function. He was staring at Ruhn, letting the familiarity of his friend’s face ground him.

“You’re home, Aedion,” he said, barely able to be heard over the clang of metal around them. “You’re home.”

Home.

He looked around them, at the dank, dark mine, the tunnels and shafts shooting off in every direction, as far as the eye could see.

Home.

What a fucking joke.

————————

Elide entered the Sheriff’s office to near silence. If it wasn’t for the heavy footsteps upstairs, she would have thought the building was empty.

Picking up her skirts in one hand so that she wouldn’t trip, and holding the handle of the basket in the other, Elide walked to the second floor, where she peeked into Aelin’s office.

And found a man who was definitely not Aelin.

The man met her gaze beneath the brim of his hat, his dark eyes settling on her with a coolness that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

“Pardon me, sir,” she began, quietly, keeping her chin held high even though her voice was hesitant. “I apologize for the intrusion. I was looking for Deputy Galathynius. I brought her a gift to congratulate her on her new position.” She held up her basket, but after seeing that the man behind the desk was not at all intrigued, she let it fall back down to her side.

“Where’s my welcome basket?” He drawled, letting his eyes scan over her. She seemed harmless enough, but Lorcan trusted nobody. Even waif thin ladies carrying baskets of baked goods.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you, mister, but knowing you would not make you anymore entitled to a gift from me.” She held her chin up as she spoke to him, something not many people dared to do.

“And who are you,” he asked, removing his hat and placing it on the desk.

The desk that did not belong to him.

“A friend of Deputy Galathynius. So if you wouldn’t mind telling me where I could find her, sir, I’ll be on my way.”

A dark brow rose. “She and Rowan are out at the Nazari ranch. Had a calf that turned up mutilated.”

He expected her already pale skin to bleach at the talk of gore, but she did no such thing. Instead, her lips parted slightly. “One of Cassian’s calves?”

The familiarity with which she said the rancher’s name displeased Lorcan. “Guess so.” He would have liked to hear her say his name the same. “I’m Lorcan Salvaterre. Newest deputy in your quaint, little town of Rose Creek.”

Elide blinked. She gazed at his black hat on the desk, his dark clothes, even his eyes and hair were as dark as night. “You’re a deputy? Of justice?”

He snorted. “Something like that.”

Elide hummed, because she didn’t have another reaction to the thought of the man in front of her doing anything for the greater good of a community.

“You haven’t told me your name, miss.”

Miss on his lips sounded more like a tease than anything else.

“Elide Lochan,” she replied, chin still raised. “I’m the teacher down at the schoolhouse.”

“Teacher?” he asked, one brow raised. He glanced down at her basket, “And baker?”

“In my spare time,” Elide said, with a nod. “I find that people like it when you gift them with baked goods.”

“Then I’ll continue to wait for my welcome basket,” he said.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, Mister Salvaterre,” she said, placing the basket on the table in the corner. “You could be waiting for a while.”

She wiped her hands on her skirts and was down the stairs and out the door before Lorcan could even think of what to say.

____________________

Cassian Nazari stood alongside the sheriff and his deputy as they gazed down at the calf.

What was left of it, at least.

“You suppose it was a coyote?” Cassian asked, crossing his broad arms over his chest.

Rowan bent down, stooping to get a better look. Aelin was getting as good a look as she needed from where she stood, thank you very much.

“Might have been a bobcat,” he mused, looking at the uniform gashes along its body.

“It was a knife,” Aelin said, causing both mean to look at her.

Rowan stood and looked down at her. “What animal do you know of that can use a knife?”

Aelin scoffed and put a hand on her hip. Her trouser-covered hips. No ruffles, skirts, or dresses while she was on the clock. Her self-imposed new rule. “Not an animal, you ass. A human did this.”

Cassian stared at her. “This is a lot of damage for a person to inflict. This is brutal.”

“Of course it is. Because it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to scare the shit out of you, Cash.”

Rowan blinked. “I’m not following.”

Cash’s eyes narrowed. “Are you insinuating the Black Brothers did this?”

“I have no definitive proof who did it,” she said, stepping closer to the mutilated animal. She bent down and pointed to the bullet hole in its head. “But I don’t know of any animals that can use guns either, Sheriff Whitethorn.”

Rowan stiffened, then looked over his shoulder at Aelin Galathynius. They had hardly worked alongside one another at this point, but every little thing she did annoyed the ever loving shit out of him.

“Would you like to say something, Sheriff?” Aelin inquired, noting his annoyance.

“Good observation,” he muttered, looking back down at the calf. He had read about the Black Brothers since his arrival, since he was given his new position. It was true that they were up to no good, but they had managed to dodge the law up until this point.

“I think we should bring them in for questioning,” Aelin said.

Rowan rose to his full height and gave Aelin a questionable look. “Based on what evidence?”

“Based on the evidence that this looks like something they would do, and we have to start somewhere.” Aelin turned her attention to Cassian. “Was anything else out of place this morning?”

He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Not that I can think of. I mostly just noticed this one was missing.” He gestured to the calf. “I looked for her, but I didn’t see a single animal that could do this. None of my other animals are missing either.”

“Hmmm.” Aelin crossed her arms over her chest. She knew Rowan was right, they couldn’t bring someone in for questioning based just on the fact that they were sleazy.

“We’ll keep in touch, Cash, yeah?” Rowan said, shaking the man’s hand. “Let us know if you see or hear anything. We’ll look into some things.”

Cassian nodded his head. “Thank you, Sheriff, Deputy.”

Aelin nodded, and the two of them walked back to the horses while Cassian prepared to dispose of the animal.

“You can’t possibly think the Blacks have nothing to do with this,” Aelin said, turning her gaze on him.

“I have no reason to think Erawan and Hybern Black would do this,” Rowan said, a hand in his pocket as they reached their horses. “Aside from the fact that they’re greedy and would do anything for a quick buck, what would they gain from killing one calf on a cattle ranch?”

Aelin hesitated. She wasn’t sure. It was peculiar, and it sure did not make sense to her, at all.

“We should do some questioning, though,” Rowan said. “Maybe with Hunt, if he saw anything in the middle of the night.”

Hunt stayed at the saloon for most of the night, into the late hours of the morning. He would know who was up and about throughout the night, or at least may know of someone who was.

“Not a bad idea,” Aelin admitted, pulling herself up onto her saddle.

“Mr. Athalar will be our first stop, then,” Rowan decided, helping himself up onto his mare.

They rode back into town, and Aelin had to admit that it was much easier to ride a horse when you didn’t have to ride side-saddle in inches and inches of skirts. She could definitely see herself getting used to the trousers she now wore.

Rowan’s reaction the first morning she’d walked through the door of their building, her hair braided back off her face, the bright cosmetics of the night before nearly forgotten, was one she would remember forever. He’d been drinking his coffee, standing by the stairwell, and Aelin was proud to see it spray along the side wall as she’d stepped inside wearing the high waisted trousers.

Now, after learning how easily she could ride in trousers, she was hard pressed to say she may never go back to dresses and skirts again.

Rowan’s shock definitely had a hand in her decision to buy multiple pairs, too. It was apparently difficult to surprise Rowan Whitethorn, and she had done it only twenty-four hours after they met.

It was a proud moment to add to her long list of accomplishments.

___________________________

With a huff, Feyre dropped the bus tub full of dishes in the kitchen where Luca was busy scrubbing away. “Hunt says we need more glasses.”

He lifted a hand in acknowledgment and Feyre was rushing back out into the lively front room, the sound of card games and merriment in the air. The piano was at the heart of it all and there were girls dancing on the tables.

Not the type of girl like Nesta; no, these girls were here of their own free will. The only thing making them get up and dance was the ale they’d been sinking since before she arrived for her shift. They weren’t trapped into a contract by the Devil’s Wife herself. Speaking of, Feyre couldn’t locate her sister in the sea of faces, meaning she must still be upstairs with a client. She’d have a shot of whiskey ready to slip to her the moment she returned back down the stairs. Being rip roaring drunk by midnight was one of the reasons Nesta was able to endure the physical torture night after night. Feyre would do anything in her power to help, in any way that she could.

Looking around the crowded room, she did catch the eyes of the handsome, young mayor. Rhysand was a fair man, and though he came into the saloon almost every night, he rarely drank. The former mayor had gotten drunk every night, so whether this was a political or personal choice, it caught Feyre’s attention. Not to mention the way he always seemed to be watching her.

Working in the saloon, even as a lowly barmaid, often came with its own struggles. Especially when said saloon was attached to a brothel. Hunt put a stop to it when he could, but sometimes Feyre had to do so herself.

Feyre had just noticed the bar top was full, and Hunt was well and truly swamped. She stepped around a table, headed for the bar, when a firm grip wrapped around her wrist and she was tugged backwards. She found herself face to face with a man about her age, who’s dark eyes promised nothing but pain. “And how much are you for the hour?”

“I’m not for sale.”

It usually worked. Most respected what she said, backed off and let her go on her way.

The piece of shit holding onto her had no intention of letting go.

Feyre jerked her hand back, but the stranger’s grip was firm. She would surely have a ring-shaped bruise around her wrist when he finally got his shit together and backed off.

“I said, I’m not for sale,” Feyre hissed, her chin raised high. “Hand off.”

“I like a little spitfire,” he replied, his drawl strong, the scent of liquor on his breath even stronger. His grip tightened to the point that Feyre cringed, her skin stinging from his hold. “I bet you’ve got even more of an attitude in bed-.”

Feyre’s spit landed in the middle of the stranger’s face before she could even think better of it. Surely, she would pay for the hasty decision in tips, but she wouldn’t let a man take her to bed after she’s said no.

She wouldn’t.

The stranger’s eyes turned hard as he yanked Feyre forward, but that was as far as he got. Someone new was grabbing the stranger’s collar, his fist cracking the drunk stranger’s jaw.

The saloon fell quiet, even the jaunty tune of the piano slowed and stopped as everyone turned to where the man had fallen to the floor in the middle of the room. The men around the table looked up at the man attached to the fist that knocked their friend out as he said, “The lady said no.”

It was a moot point, the man was out cold, and his friends were scrambling to lift him from the floor and hurrying out the door. Apparently, the look on her savior’s face was enough to deter not only a second round of brawling, but also the propositions as well.

Feyre turned to thank the man.

She didn’t know Ruhn Danaan well, not as well as she’d come to know and love his sister since she came to work as a barmaid, but she knew his face well. He came into the saloon every night, and every night, he ordered a whiskey, sat in the corner and nursed it until closing time. He never came to get drunk. He came to keep as close an eye as he could on his sister.

Feyre knew how he felt, knew the feeling. She had to watch Nesta do the same thing Bryce did every night, and it never got easier. If anything, it became harder, more difficult, watching it day after day.

“I can take care of myself, Mr. Danaan,” she said, but her voice was light, her smile soft.

Ruhn chuckled, quietly. “I know, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“Perhaps not,” she agreed, as the piano’s happy tune continued and the saloon went back to normal. “Thank you. He got what he deserved.”

“He deserved worse, but Hunt says no weapons within his walls.” Ruhn looked over his shoulder at the owner, then back to Feyre. “Last time I pulled out my gun in here, I was banned for a week.”

“Well, Mr. Dannan, we can’t have that,” Feyre said, a glint in her eye.

“No, Miss Archeron, we can’t,” Ruhn agreed.

Feyre tried to think of something snarky to say back, working in the bar had certainly made hee more comfortable having a more colorful vocabulary, but before she could, Ruhn’s name was called from across the bar.

His eyes flicked over to where his friends had just walked in. They settled back on her and he said, “Until next time, Miss Feyre,” and was gone, joining his companions.

Those sapphire eyes unsettled her, but also had her stomach tied in knots. Once she remembered how to walk, she hurried back over to the bar, helping Hunt fulfill drink orders and laughing and chatting with her friends who came in.

All the while, she felt sapphire eyes on her, tracking her every move. And violet eyes as well.

[iboughtaplant]

Sing Me Awake With A Song About Pirates 

Prompt: Beach Day 

Relationship: Yennefer/Renfri/Jaskier 

Rating: G

Warnings: no warnings apply 

Summary: Pirates Yennefer and Renfri dock in Kerack and have a relaxing day at the beach only to come across a merman tangled in a net.

Here is my first prompt fill for the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Read it on AO3

They had just docked in Kerack and Yennefer was looking forward to taking a break. They recently had a rather nasty run-in with a Nilfgardian trading ship and even though they made it out with the loot, she wanted it off her ship as soon as possible. She stretched her arms above her head as she walked down the gangplank onto the dock.

Her crew was hefting barrels off the ship, rolling them down the dock to bring into town. Once on the dock she adjusted her hat and strutted over to Renfri, her second mate, who was just finishing talking with--read bribing--the dock master.

“Are we all set?” Yennefer asked Renfri once the man had walked away.

“Yup, we were never here. Won’t be included in the log when we leave in a few days. And I can have the boys dock the ship in the cove nearby if we run into trouble and need to get out of port.”

“I can only cross my fingers we don’t run into trouble.”

“It does seem to have a way of finding us. Remember that time in Skellige with the Cintran man of war, we got out of there by the skin of our teeth.”

Where Yennefer could do with a break from finding themselves in trouble. Renfri seemed to relish in it. She was energized by the adrenaline of a fight or a chase. And Yennefer could admit she did love the gleam in Renfri’s eye whenever she was itching for a fight, or a fuck. Which is where it worked out that they were lovers.

All that being said, Yennefer just wanted to relax. She wanted to take a break from being the captain of her ship and her crew, even if just for the few days until they had to set sail again.

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

After all the business was taken care of, Yennefer and Renfri had lunch at one of the taverns. It was all very expected. Renfri said she wasn’t that hungry, but then ate part of Yennefer’s portion in addition to her own. Yennefer had to glare at a fellow pirate captain who wouldn’t stop leering at her. Renfri threatened to stab a man and Yennefer convinced her not to. Just normal everyday things.

Yennefer figured they would pay for a room, she and Renfri would make love and she would get a chance to sleep without having to worry about ten different things at once the way she would on the ship.

Which of course meant that Renfri grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the tavern and in the opposite direction of the inn and brothel. “Come on, this way!”

Renfri pulled her along and they sped up into a run. “Where are we going?” Yennefer asked.

Renfir gave her a smirk and said, “You’ll see.” Which was about what Yennefer expected. But Yennefer also noticed that there was a bottle of rum in her hand.

“Nick that did you?”

“The tavern won’t notice that one measly bottle is gone. And we are pirates, gotta live up to the stereotype.”

Renfri slowed her pace, which made Yennefer slow her’s. They came to where the path met the beach and turned to sand.

“I was hoping to sleep, not drink myself to oblivion and pass out.”

“Then more rum for me,” Renfri said as she waved the bottle at Yennefer, who only rolled her eyes in response.

“Come on, Yenn, a relaxing walk on the beach is what you need. Plenty of sunshine left. And then we can watch the sunset, it’ll be romantic.”

“So you’re the romantic one, now?”

“If it gets you to smile, then sure.”

Yennefer of course couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on her face. “Alright then, lead the way.”

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

They walked arm in arm down the beach and then Renfri stopped. “This looks like as good a spot as any.”

“For what?”

“To sit, to relax.” Renfri elbowed Yennefer in the side. “C’mon <em>Captain</em> take a load off.”

Renfri then plopped down and sprawled out, uncaring of the sand getting everywhere. She unhooked her sword belt and laid her sheathed sword next to her in the sand.

Yennefer sat down next to Renfri and nudged her to put her head in her lap. She combed her fingers through the wind-tousled hair. It was relaxing. “Are you going to pop open that rum or what?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Renfri said as she sat up and pulled the cork out with her teeth. She took a sip and then passed the bottle to Yennefer.

“That’s some strong stuff.”

Yennefer took a pull from the bottle. “It sure is. You don’t need much to feel it do you?”

“Nope,” Renfri said with a laugh before grabbing the bottle and drinking some more.

They lounged in the sand for a while, eventually shedding their boots and laying down on their spread out coats.

Yennefer closed her eyes for a bit, enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing and the warmth of the sun on her closed eyelids. She would always love the sounds of the ocean, the smell of salt in the air.

With her eyes still closed, Yennefer felt and heard Renfri get up. “Where are you going?”

“Down to the water. Come with me?” Renfri asked as she started to shed more of her clothes. She kept on her smallclothes, consisting of short linen braies and a fitted sleeveless tunic.

Yennefer followed suit and stripped down to her own similar underthings. He took her tricorn hat off last and tossed it on top of the pile to keep their clothes from blowing away.

Renfri grabbed Yennefer by the shoulders and initiated a kiss that turned as searing as the hot sun on their skin. Yennefer licked into Renfri’s mouth and Renfri gently nipped Yennefer’s lip in return, making her moan.

They pulled away from each other panting as they regained their breath. Renfri pushed her forehead against Yennefer’s. “Let’s go cool down. I’ll race you,” Renfri said right before he let go of Yennefer and ran down the beach towards the water.

Yennefer ran after her, following her into the foaming waves and wrapping her arms around her waist. They tussled playfully and Renfri dragged Yennefer further into the water until it was up to their thighs. They kissed again, this time lazily as the water crashed against them.

They stayed in the water for a little while longer, swimming out further to submerge their bodies fully and enjoy the cool water.  

Once they felt they had thoroughly soaked in the salty sea water, Yennefer dragged Renfri back to their pile of clothes to dry off in the slowly waning sun. It was still bright, but nowhere near as high in the sky as it had been.

The sun warmed their bodies once again. Yennefer tugged on her pants and coat, shoving her shirt and stockings into the deep pockets. Renfri pulled on her own pants and slung her coat over her shoulder.

“We should have plenty of time to walk over to the rocks to watch the sunset. If you want?” Renfri asked, turning to look at Yennefer.

“Of course,” Yennefer said, leaning forward to kiss the side of Renfri’s mouth. “Maybe we can do more than just sit and watch the sunset.”

Renfri’s breath hitched before she nodded and gathered up her boots in one hand, shoving the nearly empty rum bottle into one of them.

They linked arms and started their barefoot stroll down the beach.

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

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while just enjoying each other’s company and the quiet beach.  

As they progressed down the beach, Yennefer could make out a shape on the sand in the distance. She nudged Renfri’s shoulder and pointed. “Do you see that? I can’t make out what it is, and I don’t have my spyglass on me.”

They both squinted into the distance. “A beached whale? Maybe.”

“Seems too small to be a whale.”

“Guess we have to keep walking and get a closer look.”

“We were headed in that direction anyway,” Yennefer answered.

They picked up their pace a bit, still walking barefoot across the sand. As they near the shape on the sand they could make out a scaled tail. Yennefer dropped her boots and trudged her way over, it was where sand started meeting rocks, the sand littered with smoothed rocks she had to make her way over. Renfri was a few paces behind her, picking her own way through.

As Yennefer got closer, her eyes widened. It was a man, well a merman if the curled blue tail was anything to go by. Yennefer really hoped that he was alive. It was a bit unnerving that the merman didn’t move.

Getting even closer, Yennefer gasped as she noticed that the merman was tangled in the rope of a fishing net. She dropped her boots she was holding and scrambled closer. The merman’s suntanned skin was dry to the touch, he must have been out in the sun for hours and he washed up too high for the tide to reach.

“Renfri!” she yelled. “Quickly, come on.”

“I’m here,” Renfri panted behind her. “Oh no.We have to help him,” she said with conviction.  

“I know. Quick, we need your sword. I’ll hold the ropes taut and you can cut them. Then we have to get him down to the water.”

Yennefer kneeled near the unconscious merman and grabbed the ropes of the net at random, just wanting to get him untangled and not willing to waste anymore time in trying to fiddle with the ropes.

Yennefer held lengths of the net as far away from the merman’s body as possible  as Renfri slashed through them. After repeating the process a few times, the merman was surrounded by slashed pieces of rope, and was freed. Yennefer shed her coat and chucked it and her hat out of the way. She was able to roll the merman partially onto his side. Renfri came to her aid to help roll him onto his back.

Once on his back, they could see just how parched his lips looked and just how wilted his fin-like ears were. They didn’t ogle long as they were more concerned with helping the merman regain consciousness.

Yennefer stood behind his head and squatted down to gripp under his arms. Renfri was already positioning herself near his tail as Yennefer said, “Grab his tail.” It worked because Yennefer knew Renfri was stronger than her and that tail had to be pure muscle.

It was not a very dignified trudge down towards the water, carrying a full grown merman, but they eventually made it down to the water and lowered the merman into the shallows. Once the water relieved them of some of his weight they were able to drag him deeper into the water where his body was submerged.

Yennefer’s instinct was to keep his head above water before remembering that he is of course merman and his head underwater would probably be beneficial. Yennefer lowered his head under the waves once Renfri nodded that she had a grip on his body and wouldn’t let him sink.    

Yennefer felt her breathing return to normal and could only hope that they had made it in time to help the meman. She wasn’t a religious person, but as a pirate she was a superstitious one, so she prayed to every god and goddess she could think of with hopes that one of them would hear her. She looked over at Renfri, “Thank you for wanting to help him as well.”

“You don’t need to thank me Yenn, it was the right thing to do. I just hope he comes to soon.”

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

A few moments later, the merman’s tail started thrashing and Renfri lost her hold on it, but the merman must have still been weak because he didn’t or couldn’t swim away and almost clung to Yennefer where her arms were still around him. His head then emerged from the water with a splash. He gasped and Yenenfer wasn’t sure if it was just from surprise or if he was gasping for breath. From her limited knowledge of merfolk, she knew that they needed water to breathe but could get oxygen through the air the way humans and other land creatures did.

“Oh goddess, is this the afterlife?” the merman asked. “It must be since I am being held by two goddesses themselves.” He answered his own question. Renfri snorted a laugh. The noise made the maerman turn his head to look at her.  

“At least he’s conscious now.” Renfri said, mostly to Yennefer. Yennefer hummed in agreement, glad that their rescue attempt wasn’t for naught.

“So this isn’t the after life or a dream, huh?” the merman asked.

“Nope, you are thankfully very much alive.” Yennefer said.

“Thankfully? You don’t even know me, why would you be thankful I’m alive?”

“Because I care for the wellbeing of others?” Yennefer said, in a questioning tone. “Is that so foreign to you?”

“Well, no, not fully, but I had given up hope of being rescued before I fell unconscious.” He paused, “Would you lovely ladies like to get out of the water? I can imagine it might not be comfortable for you to stay in it for so long.”

“Can you swim on your own?”

“I believe so. Though I will admit it is lovely being wrapped in your arms. But I usually at least know the names of women before I embrace them. I am Jaskier by the way.”

“Yennefer, and my partner is Renfri.”

“It is wonderful to meet you both, I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“We do as well,” Renfri said with a smile.

Yennefer let go of Jaskier and was happy to see he was able to hold up his body weight in the water and his skin no longer looked parched and sun-dried.

Yennefer and Renfri trudged out of the water, their clothes clinging to their bodies. They both sprawled out on the rocks that had  been their destination earlier and Jaskier followed them at a sedate pace, leaning his crossed forearms on the rock while keeping his body from the chest down submerged in the water.

“So what brought you lovely ladies down to the beach?”

“Our ship is in port and I figured this one,” Renfri pointed to Yennefer, “needed a chance to relax and the beach was the perfect place.”

“Oh no and I interrupted your relaxing beach day, I’m dreadfully sorry.  But I can’t thank you enough for saving me.”

“You mean no one else came along before us?”

“If you hadn’t noticed this is a fairly quiet stretch of beach. Not many humans frequent it, it’s one of the reasons that I swim near here so often. I do love watching humans, but they don’t really like the sight of me. Must be the sirens giving us a bad name still. But it’s not my fault that my kind also enjoys singing. I had hoped that my singing might attract someone more than yelling for help. Most humans around here tend to run in the opposite direction of someone in need of help. But then I was too parched to even sing anymore.”

“Lucky for you we aren’t like most humans,” Renfri said. “Yenn’s not even fully human and people are often weary of me being born under a bad omen and all.”

“We tend to have differing opinions than most who share our profession. We might be pirates, but we are also women, so I have always found merfolk to be good luck. Ask almost any male sailor and they’ll tell you that having a woman on a ship is a bad omen, let alone having her captain on,” Yennefer said with a bit of a smirk. She knew she was a better captain and a more skilled sailor than a majority of the men she ran into.

“So you’re pirates!? Oh that is so exciting. You must tell me stories of all your adventures.” Jaskier said excitedly, his tail flicking out of the water to further emphasize his excitement. A few drops of water splashed them when his tail entered the water again. “Oops, sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly.

Yennefer and Renfri shared a look. A look which Jaskier must have read the wrong way if what he said next was anything to go by.

“I mean—I’m sorry. I am interrupting your relaxing time together and the sun is going to be setting any minute now. I’ll just go and maybe I will see you lovely ladies again some day.” He flashed them a small smile, though it was wide enough to show his pointed eye teeth.

Jaskier made to swim away from the rock, but Yennefer crawled forward and reached out to grab his hand. “Stay. Please.” She laced her fingers with Jaskier’s slightly webbed ones.

Jaskier looked up at Yennefer with his blue eyes that mirrored the color of the sea and Renfri gently grabbed his other hand, “What Yenn said. We would like it if you stayed. I have a boatload of stories to tell you.”

“I would love that. So much.” Jaksier smiled, flicking his tail again and chirping a bit. His face flushed a bit, the fins, where a human’s ears would be, flattened to his head as if in embarrassment. He pulled his hands out of both of theirs, but otherwise only moved a short distance away. At least it seemed they convinced him not to dive into the ocean to never be seen by them again.

Yennefer moved down the rock a bit to sit with her feet dangling in the water and put her hands out for Jaskier, beckoning him towards her. He propelled himself forward with his tail and stopped when he was floating between her calves dangling in the water. He gently place his webbed hands onto her knees and smiled up at her.

She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. It felt terribly forward, but there was something about the merman that was luring her in. And she had enough knowledge of merfolk to know it wasn’t some sort of magic taking hold. She pulled away to see a smile on Jaskier’s handsome face.

Renfri moved closer and wrapped an arm around Yennefer. She addressed Jaskier, “Just letting you, you want one of us, you better be okay with getting both of us.” Jaskier’s smile grew even wider if that was even possible.

Yennefer sat on that rock until well after the sunset. They told Jaskier stories of their swashbuckling adventures, as well as some tales of the more mundane things they got up to. In turn Jaskier rather theatrically regaled them with stories of his own. It was well into the night that they finally made to leave.

“Promise you won’t set sail without saying goodbye.”

“We promise,” Renfri said with conviction. “But maybe us leaving doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“Oh, meaning?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I have an idea. Just have to see if it’ll work. I’ll tell you about it either way before we are set to depart in a few days.”

“Alright.” Jaskier said. “I will see you soon then. Have a safe journey back to your lodgings.” He then leaned forward from where he had been lounging with his upper body out of the water and on the rock to lift Renfri’s hand and bestow a kiss upon it. If the light was better, Yennefer swore she would be able to see Renfri blushing.

Jaskier then repeated the action with Yennefer and she returned his affection by placing another kiss on his forehead.

They said their goodbyes and Renfri and Yennefer gathered up their belongings before picking their way across the beach by the light of the waxing moon.

Subtle splashes accompanied their journey. If Yenenfer turned towards the water, she could see the shine of scales in the moonlight: Jaskier following to make sure they made it across the beach. She huffed a laugh, “You silly merman.”

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

It turned out that Renfri’s idea was to scour the town for the biggest bathtub that she could buy. Yennefer found the thought to be sweet, but didn’t say so since Renfri didn’t like too much attention drawn to the nice things she did for those she cared about.

Which is how Yennefer and Renfri ended up hauling a spacious copper tub, that Renfri bought from an innkeeper after haggling, back to the ship. Yennefer had two of her men help them get it up the gangplank and situated in Yennefer’s quarters.

Renfri smiled with accomplishment and Yennefer couldn’t help but show her just how much she loved her and how thoughtful she really was. They made love in the bed they shared with feeling even more at home with the smell of the salty sea air around them.

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

Yennefer and Renfri went back to the beach everyday that they were still on land. Each time, Jaskier was excitedly waiting for them near the rock where they spent the first evening talking. Renfri didn’t mention the bathtub yet, wanting it to be a surprise. But Yennefer knew she was apprehensive, just as Yennefer was herself.

What if despite all of his proclamations that he wanted to follow them and go on adventures, Jaskier wanted to stay where he was in his little corner of the ocean? They would both be a bit devastated even if they would get over it in time and still be able to visit Jaskier when they came into port.

Of course they had nothing to worry about. On their last day in Kerack’s port, Yennefer and Renfri once again went down to the beach, they now knew the way to the rocks like they knew the layout of their ship.

Once they reached Jaskier, he immediately exclaimed, “Please take me with you. I don’t think I will survive not seeing you for months at a time. Please, we can figure something out. I will swim behind the ship if I have to. I want to go on adventures and I want to keep seeing you both. And I can compose songs about your, or well our, adventures. I will sing so many songs about pirates, just you wait.”

Yennefer chuckled. “Well that’s good to hear since we were going to ask if you wanted to join us on our newest voyage. You won’t even need to swim alongside the ship, that is unless you want to be in the ocean. Renfri found a spacious bathing tub for us to fill with sea water for you.”

“That is immensely kind of you. And I promise I can earn my keep if need be. I can catch you fresh fish whenever you want and I think I know my way around the ocean better than any land creature.”

“Don’t let our navigator hear you say that.” Renfri said.

“You know your way to the harbor so meet us there, we won’t leave until you are aboard.” Yennefer said as she knelt down to caress the side of Jaskier’s face.

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

Two hours later they were untying the ropes tethering the ship to the dock, raising anchor, and steering the ship out of the harbor and into open waters.

Jaskier had insisted on his bathtub—because it was his now—being placed on the deck at least for the first stretch of the journey so that he could observe the way a ship was run. He wanted to witness it all and write down all of his initial reactions.

It was funny that one of his first requests was for paper and a writing utensil. Yennefer gave him one of her own bound journals that had yet to be written in along with a quill and a pot of ink. Apparently merfolk had their own written language. While Jaskier was able to speak Common as well as Elder, he only knew how to write in the language exclusive to his kind, although Renfri promised she would teach him how to write in Common.

Once the sun went down and it was time for the crew to retreat to their cabins or hammocks, Renfri and Yennefer dragged the bathtub plus Jaskier into the captain’s cabin they shared. Jaskier was excited to look around. He asked questions about everything and could already tell which items belonged to Yennefer and which belonged to Renfri.

Jaskier’s tub was positioned so it was near the bed, allowing Yennefer and Renfri to lounge on it while they all talked, enjoying each other’s presence. And Renfri made sure to move one of the smaller trunks near one side of the tub so that Jaskier would have a place to stash his notebook and writing supplies.

They spoke late into the night about everything and nothing as was becoming a habit for the three of them. Yennefer wasn’t sure when she finally succumbed to sleep, but she awoke to Jaskier quietly singing about pirates and mermen, with the sun shining off of the ocean waves.