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joezworld · 2 years

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An Ill Wind

Traintober Day 9 - Brace For Impact

So, this is the long one. There always has to be one. I hope this is the only one. As a note, this isn't horror, per se, but rather ominous dread at the most. At time of writing everyone reading this has lived through These Times. We all know what's coming.

As a housekeeping note - this story relies upon a lot of stuff I've previously written or it won't make much, if any, sense. I've tried to link everything in the first place it's mentioned. Please let me know if you're confused at any point.

This is also a very long story, with explanatory paragraphs that sometimes become Very Dense. I also wrote it exclusively between the hours of 11:00 PM and 4:00 AM over two consecutive nights. (A bad decision on my part - don't do that.) Please bear with me if there are any glaring errors - I did check this over but I'm not omniscient.

Summary - An ill wind blows from the East, and Sodor prepares for the oncoming storm.

Mid February - Tidmouth

“-and you’re sure that this isn’t an engine that British Rail… missed? Your father didn’t shove her behind a shed or something?” The insurance agent said, looking over his papers at Stephen. “Engines don’t appear from nowhere.”

“Tony, as much as I would like to believe you, in this case she did.” Stephen said seriously. “There are records of her being scrapped.”

“So you’ve showed me.” The agent was from Lloyds of London, and was used to people trying to ‘finesse’ their way out of a claim, but everything that he’d seen so far, and his many previous experiences with the NWR, was making this far more believable than he was comfortable with. “So I take it you didn’t pay for this engine?”

“No.”

“Of course. Do you have any idea of what something like Daphne would be valued at?”

A few papers were shuffled, and Stephen’s notepad emerged from the clutter on the desk. “I have tried to purchase several Deltics over the years. Depending on whether you wish to base the valuation on Alycidon, Tulyar, or Royal Scot’s Grey and Gordon Highlander together, Daphne is worth somewhere between fifteen million pounds, thirty million pounds, or, and I will quote directly here: ‘absolutely priceless, I will never sell either of them.’” He ran his finger down the paper. “He sold the two of them less than a month after I inquired. Everyone seems to think Jeremy Hoskings is a better owner than I am, to my continued bafflement.”

There was a snort from the insurance agent, followed by a sigh. “My department manager knows Hoskings. We’ll confirm the valuation with him, but for right now I’ll leave it at… twelve?”

“That sounds appropriate,” Stephen said, pleased that he’d come to more or less the same valuation before the meeting. “Is there anything else you need from us right now?”

“No, I can’t think of anything else at the moment.”

“Well then Mr. Kwon, we are done for now. You must excuse me for leaving so quickly, but my attention is needed all over the island. You do know your way out?”

“Yeah…” The insurance agent said, suddenly engrossed in his phone, papers half in his briefcase. “Excuse me.” He said, suddenly shoving everything into his case before bolting for the door. Stephen and his secretary watched as the man receded down the hallway, speaking rapidly into his cell phone in an unknown language.

“What was that all about?” His secretary asked, watching as the man vanished around the corner.

“I don’t know.” Stephen said as he shrugged into his overcoat. “Hopefully nothing.”

As it turns out, it wasn’t nothing. Stephen had a meeting with the Barrow City Council, and was making his way to the first class compartments of the Limited when he came across Tony Kwon in a coach vestibule. He was still talking into his phone, the language foreign but the tone urgent. He paid Stephen no mind, but when Stephen eventually reached his seat, he found the Insurance Agent’s case and coat sitting in the seat opposite his.

The train was almost to Kildane when Kwon eventually came back, his face flushed. “Is everything all right?” Stephen asked, concerned.

“No.” The man all but collapsed into the seat, as if the life had been drained from him. “My brother… he works for Toyota, in Yokohama. Last week he went out to China for a conference, and now fifteen of the people he went with have come down with this… strange pneumonia.” He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling of the coach. “He’s a hypochondriac, so between that and the cruise ship I’m having to talk him off a ledge - metaphorically, of course.”

‘My goodness.” Stephen had no idea what to say to that, and offered some brief consoling words.

“Thanks, but there’s nothing you can do about this.” Tony blew out a breath resignedly. “Fuck, there’s nothing I can do.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his phone rang, cutting him off. “クソ地獄, it’s my mother.”

He exited the compartment, and remained on the phone in the vestibule until the train reached Barrow.

Stephen left via a different door, and didn’t see the man again, but felt strangely ill-at-ease for the rest of the day.

----

A few days later - Near the Hatt Family Estate

The credit card machines at the petrol station were out, and Stephen was forced to go in and pay for his fuel in cash. As he waited in line, the rack of newspapers caught his eye; while the local Sodor papers were focused on the Lord Mayor of Suddery having some sort of extramarital affair, The Daily Mail featured a prominent picture of a cruise ship, with the equally bold headline of “PLAGUE SHIP”.

The woman in front of him seemed intent of paying for her petrol in pound coins, and Stephen tuned out the furor this was eliciting from the rest of the line of patrons, reaching for the newspaper.

The byline read ‘Yokohama, Japan’, and within a few sentences, alarm bells were ringing in the back of the Fat Controller’s head. He read through the rest of the article, and was only brought out of the paper by the clerk trying to get his attention. “Sir? We’ve run out of cash to make change, so right now, we’re-”

Stephen needed to be elsewhere, now, and he pressed a hundred-pound note into the clerk's hand before walking out, paper under his arm.

Something is happening. I can feel it.

-----

The next day - Tidmouth Station

The usual clutter on Stephen’s desk had been rather abruptly piled on the floor. In its place were newspapers and website printouts, their topics all on the eruption of a virus in Southeast Asia.

The Fat Controller himself was engrossed in a phone call when his secretary stuck her head in the door. “Rolf Tedfield to see you, sir.”

Still on the phone, Stephen waved at her to let in his visitor once the phone call was over. “-yes, Secretary, I understand but- no, I understand perfectly. Yes there is a problem! Mr. Secretary, Grant, for the love of god, do not brush this off! Something is happening! What proof do I have? THE NEWS! Good God man, just listen to the BBC! Or read the Guardian! Or the Financial Times! For god’s sake, I found an article about this next to a page three girl in The Sun!” There was a pause as the man on the other end of the call - The Secretary of State for Transport - said something, and Stephen’s head dropped almost to the desk. “It is not like Ebola. It will not go away on its own.”

There was another pause, and his head met his desk. “The position of the government is that this disease will not be a threat to the United Kingdom. Do you mind if I quote you on that? Considering that Hong Kong has a land border with China, I feel very differently. Yes, I am aware the border has been closed for a decade but considering there’s a steady stream of asylum-seekers going through there I feel like it may not- yes, Mr. Secretary, thank you, Mr. Secretary. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone as gingerly as he could before staring at the ceiling and counting down from ten. When he reached zero he called in the visitor. “Rolf. What can I do for you?”

The manager of Crovan’s Gate works sat down with a distracted sigh, his eyes scanning the papers on the desk. “I think you’re already ahead of me.”

Stephen followed his gaze. “You’re following this too?”

“Aye. I’m from Hong Kong, got most of my family there still.”

“I didn’t know you were from there.”

“My parents went over from Pembrokeshire in ‘49. Anyways, my sister and my brother still live out there; few cousins too, and they’re scared, Stephen. Whatever this is, it hasn’t been sitting around at the Chinese border.” He tapped at his phone, and pulled up an image from a messaging application. It was taken from a high-rise building, showing a group of helicopters and rescue boats surrounding a ship. “Five days ago a Chinese trawler got run over by a ferry. Coast Guard went and picked up the crew, took ‘em to Queen Mary Hospital. Now the entire place is on lockdown. Everyone thinks it's SARS but… sir, from what I’m hearing it’s worse than that.”

Stephen felt suddenly sick, and then realized that he should probably start using a different expression. “When was this?”

“Last night, well, it was daytime there. We’ve not heard anything because it’s still the middle of the night there.”

“And they’ve only now locked down the hospital?”

“Yeah. For all the good that will do.” Rolf seemed to be on the same page. “S’like waiting until after the zombie bites you.”

The Fat Controller took a deep breath, and steadied his nerves. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. As you might have heard before you came in, I was on the phone with the Transport Secretary trying to convince him of the seriousness of this, and I was not successful. I feel that we are going to have to act on our own.” He rose from the desk, already composing an email as he walked, and swung open the door to his office.

“Sir?”

“Rolf, I don’t know what I am going to do just yet, but I want you to - very quietly - start pulling all the coaches we have available in the out-of-use lines and the P-way trains and start making them habitable again. Interiors, then mechanicals. Focus on the buffet and sleeper cars first.”

“Yes sir. Why sir?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure yet, but I feel that having spare beds and hot meals will only help us. Aside from that, I want you to make sure that the works is stocked on spare parts and other consumables, and stop all new work on the engines and coaches.”

“Sir?”

“I mean it, Rolf. Finish everything that’s in progress as quickly as possible - use as much overtime as needed - but unless an engine catastrophically fails I don’t want anything or anyone in pieces right now. Something is happening. I’m just not sure how bad it will become.”

With that, Stephen left, his coat flapping out behind him dramatically as he marched towards the door to the station proper. Rolf watched him go, and blinked owlishly before pulling out his own cell phone, taking careful notes on what had just been said. “Did you get all of that?” He asked Stephen’s secretary, who was used to the Fat Controller’s occasionally abrupt departures.

Without a word, she shoved a piece of notebook paper into his hand. On it, in neat handwriting, was everything that had just been said.

“Thank you, Gladys.”

------

A few days later - Suddery

The Sodor Regional Council - the governmental board in charge of Island-wide affairs - met in a lecture hall at the city’s technical college. Usually they met inside Suddery’s Government Hall, but the short notice of their meeting meant that the hall was being used for other business. The atmosphere inside the room was decidedly tense - the unusual surrounds and urgent nature of the meeting meant that everyone was ill at ease even before the proceedings began.

The Mayor of Kirk Ronan spoke first. He was a svelte man of about forty, in his youth a multi-time gymnastics medalist at the Commonwealth Games. “Look, we all know why we’re here, and we all know what’s going on. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries and get down to it: There’s a sickness coming, from China, Japan, Iran, and now Italy from what I heard on the car ride here.”

A few murmurs came after that, and he held out his hands for quiet. “Now I’m sure that almost everyone here has called down to London at some point, and they’ve all said the same thing, haven’t they?”

“Yeah,” came one voice in particular - the Barrow Harbormaster, who watched five ferries a day pull into his port, each one loaded full with French and Irish passengers. “That we’s gonna ignore Hong Kong bein’ loike The Walkin’ Dead and just hope tha’ the Border Force can do bet’er wit’ t’is than theys do wit’ the moigrants.”

London seemed to think that, like Rabies, Termites, and asylum-seeking refugees, the width of the English Channel was all that was needed to keep the mysterious ‘asian flu’ out of the British Isles. Frustrated mumbles broke out as everyone tried to recount to their neighbor the lies that their contact in London had fed them.

“Thank you, thank you, I know what it was like, I phoned them too.” The mayor signaled again for quiet. “I know we are all frustrated. I know that we are all in the dark. I know that we’re all scared.” And for a moment he let his guard down, and showed his true emotions on his face, before continuing.

“But we aren’t some helpless home county who can’t do anything themselves. We’re Sodor, damnit. London hasn’t given a monkey’s arse about us in a thousand years and they’re not about to start now. So what are we going to do about it?”

Despite his best efforts, Stephen Hatt’s lifestyle and means of employment meant that “punctuality” was something he only ever chanced into, rather than it being a regular occurance. In this instance, James-related issues at Tidmouth had meant his arrival at the hall was almost ten minutes after the meeting’s already-delayed start time.

Fortunately, chance often smiled upon Stephen, and he hadn’t gotten this far in life without being quick on his feet. “If I may,” He called out as he strode through a side door near the lectern. “I do have some suggestions.”

Two hours later

The meeting had gone as well as a crisis planning session could go, and the participants filed out with brimming notebooks both physical and digital, their faces grim with worry or steeled against what would happen next.

The parking lot of the technical college backed up against the city marina, and a cold sea breeze whipped across the tarmac, rustling papers, tugging at clothes, and teasing hair. Stephen took refuge in an enclosed bus shelter to organize his notes, and was joined a moment later by a man he knew more from reputation than meeting - the head of Wellsworth’s St. Tibba’s Hospital, the largest and best hospital on the Island. Stepehen knew very little about the man - his first name, (Dembe), his nationality (English, to Ugandan parents), that he was a paediatrician by training, and that he’d been appointed head of St. Tibba’s over several local candidates whose CVs may as well have been written in crayon when compared to him. He’d sat through most of the meeting in complete silence, only answering questions when asked directly.

“Doctor.”

“Mister Hatt.”

There was silence, broken only by the doctor pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a silver lighter.

“Your ideas are sound.” The man said only after he’d puffed a Dunhill into life. “But it’s not going to be enough.”

“Do you really think that?” Stephen kept his expression neutral, staring out into Suddery Bay rather than at the other man. Fittingly, a storm was brewing on the horizon, huge clouds rising into the sky.

“I do.” The cigarette smoke came out in measured smoke rings. “We haven’t got enough beds.”

“Surely the-”

“It doesn’t matter how many train cars you give us, Stephen. It doesn’t matter if there’s a line of them going from one end of the Island to the other. We’ve only got two hundred fifty beds across the entire Island, and our staff levels reflect that.” Another, more violent puff of the cigarette followed. “Give us all the beds you want, but what we need is doctors. And you can’t build those out of an old train car.”

“What would you recommend we do then?” The storm was beginning to worsen, and lightning crackled across the high tops of the clouds.

“Honestly? Pray.” With that, the man raised his collar against the cold wind, and walked across the parking lot to a mid-sized saloon car at the back of the lot.

Stephen waited another moment, carefully adjusting the papers in his folio, before heading off.

He’d just opened the door to his Audi when his cell phone rang. He waited until he was inside the car before answering. Intriguingly, it was Louisa Duncan, Fergus Duncan’s daughter, and new controller of the Arlesdale Railway. She’d been in the meeting with him, and had left not even ten minutes prior.

As he answered, the skies opened up, and a torrential downpour thundered down onto his car. At first, it was hard to understand what Louisa had been saying; her voice was broken with tears and sobs.

By the time he understood, the rain was pounding hard enough that his own sobs couldn’t be heard.

Less than a month ago, on the fourth of February, Ivan Farrier, the Chief Mechanical Engineer of the Arlesdale, had gone on a long-awaited holiday to the Italian Alps with his wife Amanda.

It was now the twenty-seventh, and both of them were dead, killed by the ill wind from the far east.

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

March

For the next week or so, everything went quiet, but it did not go gentle.

In Crovan’s Gate, the works threw itself into overdrive; and seemingly every useful piece of rolling stock, from first class coaches to old General Use Vans left over from BR’s discontinuation of newspaper trains in the 1990s, were being scrubbed and painted to within an inch of their lives. Bafflingly (to them), once their interiors were refreshed, they were shoved outside, onto the storage tracks, while more coaches were pushed in to take their place. In the locomotive depots, the engines undergoing overhaul were suddenly being kept up at all hours of the day, as their repairs went on around the clock. Dane, one of the electric locomotives, would later remark that his overhaul was so quick it had taken three whole days off of the official Works record.

At Wellsworth, St. Tibba’s hospital was receiving deliveries of everything from life-saving medicine to whole hospital beds, much to the irritation of the higher-ups at the National Health Service, who were under orders from London to minimize any potential panic. The hospital director found himself keeping his supervisors at bay more and more. His usual tactic was forwarding them email chains and whatsapp screenshots from colleagues in Hong Kong, who had been caught effectively off-guard, and were now paying a heavy price. As the days went on though, he wasn’t sure if it was calming or terrifying that the complaints slowly trickled to a halt.

At Tidmouth, strategy meetings were being held seemingly every hour. No detail was left to chance, with the limited information they knew being factored into their plans for the future. Engine cabs were being measured, much to the confusion of the engines themselves, platform signage was reassessed, and staffing requirements were being examined with a fine-toothed comb. A huge sum of money was spent from the company’s discretionary fund, and arrived in the form of a heavy goods vehicle, which backed up to the station’s sole loading dock and disgorged pallet after pallet of masks, gloves, soap, and disinfectant, to be distributed as needed.

In one of the upstairs conference rooms, a pair of 70-inch televisions sat on one wall, the joined displays mostly empty. They displayed the master list of scheduled trains for the railway, a vast, spreadsheet-like document that documented every train movement on the railway’s February-May spring timetable. Daily trains were often “booked” months in advance, and the chosen rolling stock was altered as required. In an ordinary March, trains would already be scheduled out until the end of the spring timetable in May. Now, only train 3B00 - the Flying Kipper - was scheduled beyond the end of the month, its nocturnal run sitting alone on several score of date markers, going all the way to the bottom-right corner of the screen: MAY-1-2020.

In the sheds, the engines grew more and more concerned. The “minor virus”, as London still called it, was now making the headlines of every television, newspaper, and social media platform in the country. While the general public still viewed it as something that was happening to other people, there were many in the NWR fleet who remembered the Spanish Flu of 1918, or, more recently, the mass hysteria that had surrounded the SARS outbreak in 2002.

“Something vicious this way comes.” Edward muttered one morning in the sheds, as the news showed the ever-unconcerned Prime Minister giving a news conference on the state of the lockdown in Hong Kong.

“It’s not coming,” Thomas said grimly. He was old enough to remember 1918, and even if he hadn’t, Tornado was connected to the Internet, and found increasingly-distressing posts about the disease on social media with every passing day. “It’s already here.”

Meanwhile, on the main line, one green engine came to another.

“You’ve heard about the virus?” Tornado asked, trying her hardest to be subtle and discreet.

“Yes..?” BoCo answered. “So has everyone else. Why are you whispering?”

“There’s something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“I hear they’re holding a diesel gala at the Crewe museum next month.”

“Tornado, there’s not going to be a next month at this rate.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay…”

“They’re taking diesels from all over the country for this - they wanna show off engines that need restoration funds.”

“Oh good, a sideshow. How modern and progressive of them. I’m sure PT Barnum would be honored.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind. Is there a point?”

“You’ve been seeing how the economy is going away again?”

“Yes.”

“Well nobody’s gonna have any money to fix them, innit?”

“And..?”

“We’ve gotta do something!”

“About what? The virus? The economy? Tornado, we’re engines!”

“Not that! Our brothers!”

“What?” BoCo’s mind spun for a second.

“They’re bringing your brother, 05, down to Crewe for this gala - he might already be there, and they’ve got Peter, my brother, there too.” Tornado looked more scared than BoCo had ever seen. “If they run out of money… they’re never gonna get fixed up.”

“What do you propose we do?”

A mischievous glint filled her eyes, and a pit suddenly opened up in BoCo’s crankcase. “There’s a container train going to the Crewe Freightliner yard right down the tracks every Wednesday and Sunday. I say we get on that train and steal them!”

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

Two Weeks Into March

The Prime Minister had finally started to show concern whenever he appeared on the telly. Mass panic in Hong Kong forced the Queen to make an address to the nation. On Sodor, the early stages of the Regional Council’s plans started to come into effect, and public events were canceled or majorly curtailed by government order. Supermarkets began self-imposing purchase limits, and all Universities on the Island began transitioning to online-only classes, with the local school authorities following in their wake.

Slowly, the NWR began to cancel off-peak trains, and office staff began figuring out how to take their work home with them. In the midst of it, someone made a “meme” - a form of image-based joke - about the drivers taking their work home with them, using an image of Thomas’ infamous crash into the Ffarquhar stationmaster’s house. (In a sign of how deathly serious the times were becoming, even Thomas himself found it funny.) The harbours at Knapford and Tidmouth, which were controlled by the NWR, began influencing quarantine protocols on incoming freighters, and several cruise ships were denied entry. The harbourmasters at Kirk Ronan, Barrow, and Tidmouth began impressing upon the ferry companies the importance of canceling their services, to limited success; the international ferry services from France and Ireland stopped, but Northern Irish and Manx ferries all continued with minimal delays or curtailments. The airport at Dryaw, however, was more than willing to comply, and all but two passenger flights to the Island stopped before the 14th, with cancellations lasting for two weeks. All cargo flights, save for the mail, stopped as well.

In all, it seemed like the Island was weathering the oncoming storm well, and those in seats of government - who had been expecting criticism for their overly cautious approach - were instead receiving praise from London. If the entire country acted like they did, they were told, this whole thing may blow over in a month!

Then the wheels came off.

It started in the United States. President Trump declared a state of national emergency on Friday, and state-by-state declarations of emergency put nearly the entire country in lockdown by the end of the weekend. The already-down global financial markets fell through the floor on Monday morning.

In the United Kingdom, those who watched the Prime Minister’s daily briefings on the virus swore up and down that they could see him sweating, and later on in the same address, he announced a recommendation to avoid unnecessary travel.

And on Sodor, the tipping point was reached.

Several days earlier, an outbreak occurred in a council estate in Slough. The source, or ‘index case,’ of the outbreak was found to be a Polish truck driver, who lived in Ireland but had decided to ride out the impending quarantine at his British girlfriend’s flat. He’d picked up a load bound for England in County Kildare, presumably contracting the virus at the same time, entered the UK through the Northern Irish border, and then boarded the Tidmouth ferry.

According to all the contact tracing done in those frenzied days before the world came to a stop, he had been aware that he may be contagious, and had worn a mask and gloves the entire time. He didn’t leave the cab of his lorry, nor did he stop for fuel or food until he was well east of Barrow.

But he was contagious.

And that’s all that mattered to the people of Sodor. To them, Pestilence, the first horseman of the apocalypse, had come through their land riding not a horse, but a shining white mechanical steed with the name of Scania.

This was someone that they knew about. And he’d tried to minimize his risk. They were a tourism and travel hub for the entire North-West of England and with the rest of society only now seeming to realize that anything was wrong, if nothing was done, the people of Sodor would soon be at the mercy of not international lorry drivers, nor the general public, but the worst, most careless form of humanity known to exist in the United Kingdom: The British Holidaymaker.

The end times were clearly upon them, and the Island reacted accordingly.

-----------

The Ides of March

The container train rumbled into Crewe at half past ‘fuck-me-it’s-late’ in the evening, long past dark, but still before the start of a new day. “Signaling issues” was the official excuse given by the train - some nonsense that would have Network Rail crews working all morning and into the afternoon to solve a problem that didn’t exist.

The electric engines in the yard were fast asleep, and few, if any of the people on the platform at Crewe station were aware of the engines that had led the train in.

BoCo, quite honestly, couldn’t believe that anyone had believed them at any point, but wasn’t about to quarrel with a trouble-free journey. Once the very tired crews from Freightliner had uncoupled them from their train, he and Tornado slipped across the main line into the old diesel works. It was now a heritage steam facility, owned by a very rich businessman, and the Fat Controller had a contract with them to supply his engines with coal, water, and fuel when they took trains to Crewe.

Being railway enthusiasts, they were overjoyed to see BoCo, and thrilled beyond reason to see Tornado, and many selfies were taken before the refueling was done. All at once, someone (Definitely not an employee who was also an A1 trust volunteer, who most certainly hadn’t been sent an email by Tornado, asking them to be at this place at this time, not at all.) remembered that, wouldn’t you know it, Blue Peter, the only other Peppercorn-designed locomotive in existence, was in the works right now! It was quickly asked if he’d like to see Tornado, and before anyone could say anything else, Tornado had pulled her brother out of the workshop and proceeded to start crying hysterically, claiming that she missed him. This put somewhat of a damper on the jubilant attitude of the staff, and they made themselves very scarce, very quickly.

The instant they were gone, the waterworks stopped, and Tornado beamed at Blue Peter, who was quite surprised at both the sudden start and abrupt end of the hysterics.

“Come on,” she whispered quietly. “We’ve got to go.”

“Go?” The older pacific asked, quite confused. “Go where?”

“Sodor, Silly!” she said, in a voice that she probably thought was secretive. “We’re breaking you out of here!”

“What? Why?”

“Haven’t you heard the news?” BoCo broke in. “The world is ending.”

“wha-I, when… it is?”

Blue Peter looked entirely too overwhelmed by the deluge of information, but managed to stutter out. “Ye-yes. They took him up the line to the museum for storage.”

“Yes, quite soon too. We’re taking you back to Sodor and by the by have you happened to see an engine that looks identical to me, by chance?”

BoCo’s face fell. “ That’s on the other side of the station. Damn it, how will we get him out of there?”

“Don’t worry,” Tornado’s eyes fairly twinkled as she said that, and both BoCo and Blue Peter began to think that they really should. “I can take care of that, but let’s go before anyone sees us!”

“Wait,” Said BoCo. “What about the couplings?”

Their crew had quite graciously agreed to see nothing and hear nothing in the Freightliner crew break room until it was time to leave. (Tornado may have annoyed them into submission. Maybe. Possibly. Yes, she did, and BoCo helped.) However this meant that they’d be unable to couple or uncouple anything once they left the depot. Fortunately, Tornado Had A Plan.

“Oi,” she whispered to the A1 trust volunteer. “Wanna have the night of your life?”

(BoCo and Blue Peter both nearly had their eyes pop out of their sockets. Tornado ignored them.)

The young man spluttered out a yes before he even thought to ask any follow-up questions, and very quickly coupled the three engines together, with Tornado and Blue Peter bracketing BoCo. He climbed into Blue Peter’s cab, and as soon as the dispatcher granted Tornado permission, the cavalcade was across the West Coast Main Line and into the Freightliner yard again.

Quickly stopping on their assigned road, Blue Peter was positioned at the rear of the container train, while Tornado and BoCo ran around to the front of the train, the young volunteer helpfully throwing switches (and returning them to the position they had been in afterwards) as needed. BoCo was now at the front of their odd little consist, and the volunteer had to stand in his cab with a radio to tell Tornado what signals were ahead, once she’d lied to ‘control’ about why she needed to go out on the main line again.

Unlike the heritage depot, the Crewe Heritage Centre was empty, it being long past their business hours. What little security there was, was focused inwards, not expecting sneak thieves to use the rails.

The museum grounds were small, nestled in between the V of two converging lines. Historic diesels in varying states of disrepair were scattered about the facility’s tracks. A small banner above the entranceway of the site’s sole building read “DIESEL DAYS - COMING 13 APRIL!”

BoCo’s brother - D5705, was easily visible from the tracks, parked next to a line of yellow, white, and red coaches that had clearly seen better days. An eye slowly opened as Tornado ‘peeped’ her whistle as quietly as possible. “I see that the Final Train has a sense of humour.” He rasped, his voice shaky and uneven. “Is it finally my time?”

“No!” BoCo said, much more firmly than he’d been intending. “It’s me, Fives. This is a jailbreak.”

The other eye slowly opened, the ruined diesel coming to wakefulness. “What odd company you keep, Two, and strange timing you have. But I will not be opposed to your plan.”

The Volunteer (who hadn’t introduced himself to BoCo, claiming that “the less you know, the better” like this was an actual criminal enterprise) hopped down, and quickly made the necessary connections.

“Go. Go with glory and make your life fruitful, oh-five.” Groaned a voice from the next track over.

The Volunteer looked around the diesels and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Oh wow! I forgot you were here!”

BoCo looked around his brother, and an eyebrow rose in surprise. “You’re not Ward… and what are you doing here?”

“I beg your pardon?” The partial APT-P set said, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Ten minutes later, and a very chilly trainspotter with a cell phone arrived at Crewe station. He’d received a text from a friend - apparently the NWR had sent down a diesel and a steam engine on a container train to Basford. Hopefully he’d be able to get them when they-

A single solitary ‘peep’, and the sound of chuffing steam was the only notice he had the train was coming, and he almost fell off the platform when he spun around to see 60163 Tornado, 28 002 BoCo, D5705, and an ATP(?!) rolling quietly through the station.

Hie tried desperately to fumble for his phone’s camera app, but the dark conditions and poor-quality camera on his phone meant that he got a blurry, dark, and grainy smear of an image that showed nothing comprehensible at all.

He still tried to tell his mates, and posted the picture online, but nobody believed him - some laughed at him, and it was quickly forgotten about.

Tornado and BoCo had performed their heist without a hitch.

-----------

The Ides of March, Plus One Day

Bloomer was a notoriously slow riser. Even with a full head of steam, there would be mornings where he would have to be roused multiple times before he was fully awake. The crews got around this by just moving him while he was still asleep, and the old engine didn’t find it unusual to be finally woken up by the stationmaster “accidentally” spraying him with water while watering the plants on the platforms.

This morning, however, he was woken by an unfamiliar sound,and cracked one eye open to find himself in the yard - and it was in total disarray. “Land sakes!” He croaked as he woke up fully. “Lad! What’ve you done!”

In an effort to help out heritage rail organizations, the Fat Controller leased older engines from their owners for duties that the NWR had on the mainland. For example, the Barrow yard shunter was a revolving door of small shunters that came from various preserved lines across the country. For the past month, a quiet but dedicated class 06 had been doing exemplary work, and it seemed likely that his contract would be renewed for a few more months.

“It wasnae me!” The shunter protested, and Bloomer had to blink more than once to confirm what he was seeing. The shunter was chained down to the top of a low loader wagon, ready for transport back to his home railway. “They said Ah’m a-goin and quick! It’s the yon diesel tha’s makin the muckle disaster!”

A growl answered this, and a red Class 60 emerged from the depths of the yard, a line of stone hoppers trailing behind her. She was a low-numbered 60, number 003, and a nameplate was affixed to her cabs: PRAETOR. “Ignosce. I am not well suited to such tight confines. Would I happily leave the duties to this peritissimus faciens, but alas I must convey him home with the speed of Mercurius.” Her expression darkened. “There is an ill wind coming, and we all must seek safe harbor.”

She’d stopped to allow the yard crews to hand throw a switch, and the instant they finished, she pulled away out of sight, giving both Bloomer and the shunter the distinct feeling that they’d just been dismissed.

“Alrigh’,” Bloomer blinked again. “Ignoring that, they’re really sending you home?”

“Aye,” The shunter answered, grunting slightly as his flat car rocked - the 60 had taken the line of hoppers and backed them down onto his low-loader. The guard was already affixing a rear lamp to the flat wagon, indicating that the train was getting ready to depart. “An’ it’s no just me - they’s sending everyone home - ye as well. Something’s going doon, an’ it’s happenin’ now laddie.”

With a stately horn blast, the 60 set off as soon as the colour light signal changed to green, and within a few moments the train had vanished from sight.

“What does he mean? I am home.” Bloomer said somewhat indignantly to his driver.

“It’s not like that Blooms,” the man said. “You know that virus thing we’re all panicking about? It’s happening now. Mr. Hatt is packing up everything in the yard and I mean everything.”

“Surely you jest!” Bloomer retorted.��

“Don’t believe me? Wait ‘til the yard empties a little more and we’ll get our train. Then you’ll see.” He said ominously, before leaving the cab and walking across the sleepers to the station building, leaving Bloomer alone in the yard as he built up steam.

With the outbound track now empty, Bloomer had a prime viewpoint of the yard, and what he saw began to confirm his growing fears.

The trains were arriving, and were doing so out of order.

Usually, at midday on a monday, the only inbound mainland train (other than the odd slow goods train that wasn’t on the schedule) was the Scottish Motorail, which took automobiles and their drivers on a non-stop trip from Edinburgh all the way to the ferry docks at Kirk Ronan. The next several hours were mostly goods trains which ran as far as Barrow, before leaving their trains for Sodor engines to take later; the last of which was a container train from the Freightliner yard in Crewe. The Sodor Motorail came after that - it ran out of London a few hours ahead of the night express, with auto carriers bound for Barrow, Kirk Ronan, and Kildane; it would drop the Barrow and Kirk Ronan cars at the special motorail platform just outside of the station, and continue on down the mainline, while another engine would come up the line and pick up the cars for Kirk Ronan. Finally, just before dark, the evening Express, with Pip and Emma powering it, would glide into the station, stop to pick up and let off passengers, and depart as fast as it arrived.

That was the usual order of things.

Today, the Scottish Motorail pulled into the station right on time at 11:55, with a single Class 37 leading it. The engine was tuxedo black, with yellow warning panels and small leasing company logos by the cab doors, a serious expression on his face. Curiously, the train didn’t continue on to the Motorail platforms, and instead stopped in the station’s run-through track.

Bloomer expected the train to continue on at any moment, and was baffled when over a half hour passed with no movement. “Signal troubles?” He called over to the 37.

“No.” The engine called back, his London accent fit for the BBC. “We await another train. The ferries will hold for us, don’t worry.”

Bloomer eyed the large number of automobiles lining up at the Motorail terminal, but said nothing.

A further half hour after that, one of the platform signals dropped, and Bloomer’s eyes almost popped out of his head as Pip appeared in the distance. “Aye?!” He spluttered as the HST screeched to a stop at the platforms. Unlike the usual song and dance of disembarkation, where passengers departed the train and transferred to semi-fast trains for their final destinations, or took the pedestrian underpasses to the exits into Barrow, there was instead what could only be referred to as a stampede, as passengers - many wearing clothes over their faces and mouths - stormed off the train en masse, charging down the platform stairs to the underpasses with a clatter of voices and luggage. The instant the last ones had gone (a group of wheelchair users who were herded off the train and into an electric cart brought out by the station staff), the doors to the station waiting room opened, and an identical exodus of people came charging down the platform - easily two or three trains worth of people, who crammed into the coaches while mumbling about ‘distancing’. They were heavy enough that some of the coaches groaned from the strain, and when Pip and Emma set off again, their engines howled from the excess load.

“It’s bad out there!” Emma called as the train cleared the platform. “Euston’s a ghost town! We’re one of the only trains with passengers!”

A tight ball of worry had begun to form in Bloomer’s firebox, and with this it just grew larger.

As soon as the train cleared the bridge, the signals dropped and then rose again, to ‘slow ahead’. With a ‘peep peep’ that caused Bloomer to swear in surprise, Henry slowly rolled through the station tender first, a short line of wagons used for transporting steel coils following behind him.

The stationmaster met the train on the platform as it rolled through without stopping. “You get them all?”

“Yes,” Henry said he counted the trucks again - yes, they were all here. “They found one of them in the far sidings, but we checked thoroughly before we set off.”

“There’s nobody else!” The lead wagon confirmed. “And I’s not just sayin’ that. Everyone else belongs to the Shipyard, not Sodor!”

“All right,” The stationmaster said. “You’re going to Ballahoo - they’ve got enough space in the goods shed for this lot.”

“Right!” Henry whistled as he picked up speed, and soon crossed the bridge.

As soon as he cleared, the signals dropped and rose for the third time in a row - this time with an added signal for the goods yard - and a horn sounded in the distance, followed immediately by a steam whistle. “What now?!” Bloomer asked himself in frustration and worry.

‘What’ in this case turned out to be the container train, which had BoCo leading, and Tornado not only as the second engine, but facing backwards to boot. They led the train into the far side of the yard and stopped just long enough for BoCo to get pulled off the train.

Almost immediately, the freight yard staff sprung into action and pulled the couplings for the first ten container wagons, which were bound for Barrow. Tornado quickly puffed away with them to the unloading tracks, where they were set upon by the yard’s container handlers.

In the meantime, BoCo reversed away to the fuel track, which was close enough to Bloomer for him to ask questions. “What in the name of god are you doing?” He hissed to the diesel. “The world is apparently ending and you both go gallivanting off to the mainland?”

BoCo was unphased as the fuel was hurriedly piped into his tanks. “We’re fine, Bloomer. I’ll explain later.”

“You had better!” Bloomer wanted to question more, but the signals dropped and rose for a fourth time, and finally, the Sodor Motorail clattered in.

If the double-header of BoCo and Tornado was unusual, this train was downright startling, as both Daphne and Delta were pulling hard as they rumbled into view.

It was easy to see why Sodor’s two strongest diesels were needed for this train - the Motorail operations required some extra rolling stock to be kept at the terminal in London for emergencies, and it seemed like all of the emergency stock, along with every other motorail wagon that wasn’t on the Scottish Motorail, were on this train.

And they were full.

Not a single space was to be seen on any of the open wagons, and every passenger coach was filled to standing with passengers. The train was so long that when it pulled ahead of the switches to the Motorail terminal, it was not only on the bridge to Sodor, but Daphne and Delta were actually on Sodor proper before they backed the train into the terminal.

The motorail trains set down coaches and wagons here, with the car wagons on one platform and the coaches on another. With so many coaches and car wagons on this train, neither rake fit into the platform, and stuck out over the edge quite considerably.

Not that the passengers noticed or cared. Much like the Express, they streamed out of the coaches that were on the platform like rats from a sinking ship, and swarmed the station building to pick up their cars. As each wagon was unloaded by the stewards, people would hurry to their cars, oftentimes wielding cleaning wipes or disinfecting spray, and then leave the station so quickly that the tires chirped. One young man was reunited with his fluorescent green motorcycle, and proceeded to leave the station grounds with his front wheel in the air, before vanishing into the distance at assuredly unsafe speeds, his bike’s engine almost louder than Daphne’s motor.

Speaking of Daphne (and Delta), once the last passengers had disembarked, they quickly pulled forward, taking about half of the coaches with them, and then backed down to pick up half of the car wagons - only the rear half of the train was for Barrow or Kirk Ronan, with the forward section going to Kildane. The guard blew his whistle, and the two diesels roared onto Sudrian soil and quickly disappeared into the distance.

“People need to get home.” BoCo, who had been watching the proceedings with Bloomer, remarked simply.

“What?”

“It’s the last Motorail to Sodor - there’s no more trains after today.”

“Good lord.” Bloomer’s eyes widened as the full weight of the situation came down on him. “How bad is it supposed to be?”

“Edward says it’s like the early days of the Spanish Flu.”

“Half the world got that!”

“I’ve heard worse.” Called the 37 as he carefully shunted the Scottish Motorail into the platforms. Fortunately, the train had been put together in such a way that automobiles could travel down the length of the car wagons with the use of gangplanks between wagons, otherwise the train would have been much more difficult to put together. “The rumour up north is that the government has been deliberately under-reporting numbers so as not to cause a panic.”

“I’d say they didn’t succeed there…” Bloomer scowled as the doors to the station opened, and passengers swarmed the train. There was pushing, shoving, and shouting, and it took longer than usual to get everyone corralled into the lengthy train.

There was a whistle behind Bloomer and BoCo, and Tornado appeared, still running backwards. “Right, I’m off! Best of luck!” Behind her, the ten container wagons and another fifty empty flatbeds, hoppers, vans and tankers clattered behind her - just about every truck and wagon left in the yard. With great care, she threaded her train around the Motorail, and into the distance.

Bloomer was still goggling at the sheer length of the train when the end of it came by. “Eh?”

“I will tell you, later.” BoCo hissed as the rear of the train, which consisted of a brake van, a steam engine that looked a lot like Tornado, a diesel that looked exactly like BoCo, and… “Ward? What are you doing here?”, passed by.

“Who is Ward?” Asked the electric intercity train as he disappeared into the distance on the end of the train, a red lamp dangling off of his face.

There was a long pause as both Bloomer and the 37 on the Motorail absorbed what they just saw. “BoCo… did you and Tornado…” Bloomer began, but when he looked over to where the secretive diesel had been, he found that BoCo had driven away!

“Be seeing you! Stay safe!” The green diesel called from the yard, as he was quickly connected to the remaining container wagons, before powering across the bridge as soon as the signalman would let him.

“Thieving youngsters...” Bloomer grumbled to himself as the red lamp at the end of the container train vanished from sight.

“Very crafty, elder.” The 37 whispered respectfully, as the last of the cars were loaded into the wagons.

As the 37 started reassembling his train, Bloomer’s driver re-emerged from the station, fireman in tow. “Right-ho, we’ve got a few pickups to make and then we’re off.”

“Pickups?” Bloomer looked around the yard. “There’s nothing left!”

As it turned out, there was, just a bit. On Sundays, the railroad ran ‘period’ excursion trains down the main line, and they’d procured a pair of reproduction LNWR open carriages for when it was Bloomer’s turn. The coaches were expectant, apparently having been told what was happening by the shed staff. “Quickly please!” Maribel, the lead coach said. “We don’t want to get left behind!”

“Nobody is going to leave anyone behind!” Bloomer said firmly, ignoring a creeping sense of being ‘out of the loop’ - this was not the first time that someone had been worried about being left behind, as if the drawbridge were going to collapse or somesuch. He worried he was missing something important.

Following them was Lilly, a former passenger coach that had been turned into the kitchen coach for the Permanent Way train. She was a full sized Mark 2, and was now laden down with literal tons of kitchen equipment. Bloomer groaned a little as his coupling stretched out under her weight. “Too small for this nonsense…” He grumbled. “Should’ve had the thieving idiot do it.”

Next was a piece of little-used rolling stock: the railway’s scale test car. Named Ingot due to his weight and shape, he sat behind the shed unless a yard needed to re-calibrate a weighbridge used for weighing goods wagons. “This must be serious if you’re taking me with you.” He said as Bloomer dragged him out of his weed-covered siding.

“Steel, actually.”

“It, erf, seems, agh, that way!” Bloomer gasped as he lugged the heavy wagon into motion. “Do they fill you with lead?”

“Agh.”

Then, there was a very long trek out of the yard, (“Heavy, fucking train..”) across the station throat, (“Look Blooms, the Motorail left a wagon behind for us.” “Oh. Joy.”) and back down a track that ran around to the far side of the station, (“When did this get put here?”) a little used siding that P-way trains sometimes parked in… oh dear.

“Oh thank goodness!” Marion the steam shovel gushed as Bloomer pulled up to her. “I thought I’d be left here!”

Bloomer ignored her, staring at the siding in disbelief. “You all do see my driving wheels? How there’s only two of them?” He glared at the yardmaster and the stationmaster, who looked at him like he was the mad one.

There were four cranes/shovels - Marion, Eh & Bee the breakdown cranes, and Jebediah - a diesel crane who worked with the P-way team. Each one of them was a heavy beast in their own right, and Bloomer would probably wear a groove in the rails before he got them moving, let alone Ingot and Lilly.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” The yardmaster said, climbing into Jebediah’s cab.

“What’s he gonna do? Push?”

“Yes, actually.” Jebediah glared. “I’m self-propelled and mighty strong, you’ll do well to note.”

Bloomer was entirely too out of his depth at this point, and mumbled a thanks as the already heavy train was coupled to the line of cranes. Blowing his whistle, he pulled away slowly, expecting his couplings to go tight and stay that way, but he was pleasantly surprised to hear Jebediah’s motor rev up, and then feel the weight go from “immovable” to “manageable.”

They made for a bizarre sight as they rolled out of the siding and backed into the station. When they first got moving, Bloomer had felt ridiculous and vaguely self-conscious, but that faded as he stared out over the yard, and found it totally empty. Between all the frantic train shuffling, and the reduction in traffic over the last week, there wasn’t a wagon, coach, or engine to be seen anywhere.

It was honestly quite spooky, and that was before he looked into the station building, which was empty as a tomb despite it being the middle of the day. Only the staff were left at this point, and they were leaving the station too, carrying personal belongings and certain company items.

Somewhere in Barrow proper, a clocktower bell chimed twice, and everyone looked towards it. “I didn’t know there was a bell in the town.” Lilly murmured.

“It’s because usually you can’t hear it.” The stationmaster said as he shoved a porter’s trolley loaded with cases of company documents and the cashboxes from the ticket booths into the Kitchen coach. “S’not supposed to be this quiet ‘ere.”

Bloomer had thought that the full severity of the events unfolding around him had sunk in, but as he listened to the tolling bell, while also watching the assistant station master lock the doors of the station, he suddenly felt like the world was ending.

Honk-honk

The spell was broken by a horn sounding from the junction behind them, and everyone who could do so whirled around to see a small diesel multiple unit roll into the station.

“What in the absolute fucking hell is that doing here?!” The stationmaster swore as the train came to a complete stop next to Bloomer.

“Hi.” Said the DMU - her number identified her as 170 640 - with some amount of embarrassment. “Sorry I’m late. Signaling issues.”

At this point there was some amount of shouting. It turned out that this train was the 0910 service from Manchester to Norramby, and was supposed to have already departed Sodor in the other direction by now. In fact, it had been so long, with so little notice given about it, that both the NWR signalman and the Barrow stationmaster had assumed the train had been cancelled.

When the multiple unit meekly said that her railway always got the train there, no matter what, there was a further round of shouting about blasted Open-Access Operators!

Like every other train that day, she was heavily laden with passengers, and the station staff had to guide everyone who wished to depart the train through a side gate on the platform end as the stationmaster stomped up and down the platform, bellowing into his phone at someone.

This turned out to be most of the people on the train, and once the stationmaster calmed down a little, he addressed the multiple unit and her driver. “Alright, here’s the skinny - you go over that bridge, there ain’t a promise you’re coming back over any time soon. The whole Island is locking down tonight. Unless you can get there and back in the next thirty minutes, you’re up without a paddle.”

“Well I suppose there’s nothing else for it,” The 170 said, her weak voice surprisingly steely.

“Yeah.” Said her driver.

“We’re going over.” | “We’re dumping them here.”

“WHAT?”

Man and DMU stared at each other for a moment, and then there was more shouting and arguing, this time about cowardice and stupidity. It went on for some time, until eventually the DMU had tears at the corners of her eyes, and the driver was storming off down the station road in search of alternative transport back home.

Bloomer looked at the little multiple unit with newfound respect. “That took some nerve. Good lass.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed weakly. “I can’t just leave - what would that make me?”

“A Bad Engine.” The coaches and cranes, and P-Way equipment said firmly. Bloomer and the station staff still on the platform looked at each other for a moment at that, suddenly confident that wherever this unit ended up getting stored until she could be sent back, she would be well cared for.

The last passenger - a man on crutches - was escorted out of the station on an electric cart, and with that the station doors were securely locked. A spare driver had been part of the station staff, and he hopped into the DMU, taking her across the bridge just before the clock tower tolled 2:30.

“Hopefully this all blows over!” She called to Bloomer as she receded into the distance.

“I can only hope…” Bloomer said as his odd train set off for its last stop.

There was a single Motorail wagon left on the platforms. He was an older flat wagon, with Whitewall stenciled on his front end. The electric cart from the station bounced across the staff crossings with a porter at the wheel, and its charger cable bouncing around in the cargo tray. It joined a Mercedes Unimog lettered for the P-Way gang, the stationmaster’s personal car, a huge porter’s trolley the size of a Mini, and a few motorbikes and bicycles belonging to the station staff on the back of the wagon. Staff jumped out of the coaches and quickly strapped down the cart and went around checking the other straps. A few of the Motorail staff came over and boarded the train as well, while one man (who shouted that he lived in Barrow when asked why he wasn’t boarding) locked up the station and dragged a gate across the automobile entrance before walking off towards the city bus stop on the corner.

The stationmaster got out of his seat in Maribel, and marched forward to take a spot in Bloomer’s cab. “Go forward nice and slow. We’re stopping once we clear the switch.”

“Sorry?”

“Just a few more people.”

Orders now given, Bloomer and Jebediah slowly pulled and pushed the train out of the motorail siding and onto the main line. Once Whitewall had cleared the switches, they clunked into place, and Bloomer and the rest of the train watched in astonishment as every signal in the yard and the main line dropped to red. Soon thereafter, the signalbox door opened, and the signalman came out, a bag over his shoulder and his face hidden behind a paper mask. He turned off the lights in the box and locked the door, before coming up to Bloomer. “You’re the only train for two miles. Treat everything between here and the bridge as green.”

For effect, he unfurled a green flag, waved it, and then clambered onto the train, sitting as far away from everyone else as he possibly could in the crowded open air carriages.

Once again, Bloomer was struck with the sudden sensation that the world as he knew it was coming to an end. With a subdued whistle, he set off again, leaving Barrow-in-Furness station and yard as quiet and empty as a tomb.

The train slowly rolled over the bridge, and Bloomer gasped as he saw the difference between the island and the mainland. Sodor was quiet, the streets of Vicarstown still except for a bus and a police car driving along the waterfront. A few people with cameras were in the park by the station, photographing his approach.

Barrow was alive and noisy. Traffic rumbled and roared, the sound of people talking and chatting from bus stations and bike baths was audible even over his own chuffing. In the distance, the Jubilee Bridge was choked with traffic - police cars on the Sodor side of the bridge were stopping each car, and forcing most to turn around and leave. Those allowed through the bridge were almost all cars with license plates from Sodor or the Isle of Man - any one without had a large sticker applied to the back, although what it meant wasn’t immediately obvious. As the train went by, a flurry of radio calls, some of which were audible on the cab radio - meaning the railway’s dispatch was involved to some degree - went through. On the road bridge, the police began waving through what traffic there was - it seemed like most, if not all of the Sodor-plated automobiles had gotten through already - and then made some kind of waving motion to the bridge operator. Red lights began to flash, and the road bridge began to raise, cutting off Sodor’s road network from the mainland.

Meanwhile on the railway bridge, a man stood aside the tracks, a yellow flag in his hand. It was the bridge operator, and he hopped onto the footplate as Bloomer steamed by, a bag in his hand.

“Thanks.” was all he said, and Bloomer had another pit-of-his-firebox moment as he realized that he had been out of the loop, somewhat badly.

The bridge control cabin was on the mainland side of the bridge, but there was a small emergency panel on the Sodor side. The driver applied the brakes, but didn’t stop, as the train drove by the small electrical box. The bridge operator jumped down, ran to the box, wrenched it open, and in one smooth motion jammed a key into it, turned it, and pushed a yellow and black striped button, before removing the key and slamming the box closed. He was so quick that he was able to clamber onto Jebiediah’s cab steps as the diesel crane rolled by.

Behind him, a klaxon sounded in the distant bridge cabin, and an automated gate closed over the tracks. A pair of massive locks proceeded to open, and with slow mechanical precision, the Walney Channel railway bridge began to cycle open, severing the last link between the mainland and the Island of Sodor.

Bloomer, pulling what the media would later refer to as “The Last Train,” felt a chill go down his boiler as the massive bridge span locked into the upright position. The world has just changed, He thought. And it won’t be for the better.

------

A few days later, as the Virus hit the mainland in force through packed Chunnel trains and repatriation flights, and as the first few cases sprung up inside the Island’s hospitals, Bloomer knew he was right.

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kingofthering · 2 years

Text

aesthetics for my f1 fics ➖ you, however

A deep breath steadies him and Daniel barely feels like he’s vibrating out of his body when he takes the couple of steps that separate him from Max and straddles his lap, knees bracketing Max’s hips. Max’s hands immediately come up to his waist.

That part Daniel knows, by heart. They’ve been here too many times for him not to be able to anticipate every single one of Max’s wants and needs.

It’s probably a little fucked-up, when you develop feelings for someone but the only sexual experiences you have together are wrapped under power imbalance rules and always set between the same four walls.

(or it’s just messy when you take it out of there and the rules change and no one knows what to do then)

#daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #f1 rpf #333 #ficsaesthetics #can’t believe this came out of me in 4 days when i have more urgent stuff to write

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pen-observing · 3 years

Text

request: how lucifer, mammon, satan, belphegor and diavolo react and find out about you having 'I now own your soul' under the terms and conditions of a webpage.

Lucifer:

While Lucifer is certainly busy all the time, and tries to balance it by having you in his study as he works, he can’t hide how tired he has actually been for the past 4 weeks.

All you know is that Diavolo has made the meetings more frequent and they are taking a toll on him

And since he means that much to you, regardless of if you wish to acknowledge it or not, you have to ask what is going on once he stands up and walks over to reach for another bottle from his shelf Lucifer does not drink that often and he certainly doesn’t try to avoid work by drinking.

Just what could be making him act this way?

“Lucifer, you have to tell me what is going on.”

He stands on his side of the desk just pouring another glass down.

Curse him for being elegant and showing his forearms while doing so!

And then he dares to look at you with full focus and furrowed eyebrows and he is about to say something and he looks like-

‘no. You are human.’

Fuck.

“Come on! You know I won’t tell anyone!”

He does trust you at least after so long.

"Very well. I will tell you since it has something to do with a human. If, by any chance, you spread the information, the price you pay will be a heavy one."

He can’t intimidate you that much but you know when he is serious.

"You see, recently, Diavolo has had more issues than ever with someone we like to call ‘code soul stealer"

“Uhn,, and that is?”

He takes a sip of his drink and holds the glass while looking at you.

“Apparently, a pesky human added ‘I now own your soul’ in their terms and conditions on a web page and some application. With this, they have stolen many souls and Diavolo has grown even more concerned these past few weeks since the page is just gaining popularity.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Thats you that he is calling a pesky human! You only did it as a joke because you saw a meme! It wasn’t supposed to make an enemy out of you to the prince of hell!

How are you supposed to tell Lucifer that? How will he react?

Maybe if you do tell him it will actually create more good than harm?

Or, you could hide it for the rest of your life and- no! The honest way with Lucifer is the best way. He trusts you enough so you have to trust him too!

“Lucifer...I am the pesky human you are referring to...”

He drops the glass.

“I swear I had no idea souls were actually real and now I own a lot of them! O-On the good side I went viral 4 weeks ago so...oh, that is why you’ve been so busy....sorry.”

Lucifer says nothing.

He just falls into the chair in the most dramatic way you’ve ever seen.

He covers his face with both hands and groans into them loudly.

If you were not ‘code soul stealer’ you would laugh at him right now. But he has to figure out a way to protect you now.

Mammon:

You see, dating Mammon means that you two will bicker plenty.

However, it is usually silly stuff that you bicker about like; are gold or silver lines better on this cup of tea or not?

He just loves you too much to get into a serious argument with you.

However, Levi dragged you both to play a spy/heist game that just came out and Mammon cannot accept to lose such a challenge.

He is not proud that people call him thief, but he is proud and believes he has the skills to back up his many enrichment-plans

So the fact that you won against him for 3 times in a row is UNNACCEPTABLE under this dark, dark sky.

Mammon denies it all. ‘i went easy on you’; ‘I did it cuz you are happy when you win’ and ‘please, don’t you know who I am? I am THE Mammon!”

And while he is cute while bickering, sometimes it becomes unbearable.

So, you do what any normal human would: you challenge him by listing your biggest ‘heist’ ever.

“You don’t know who you are talking to! I have created a heist unlike any other! I have stolen a million souls so far! The DevilTV refers to me as – unstoppable soul collector!”

Levi left long ago so Mammon is standing there completely stunned with the stupidest look on his face so far. He kind of looks like a blowfish.

Still, he runs and puts a hand over your mouth and whispers:

“Don’t yell! We don’t want others to know that we run that business!”

Excuse him? Who is this –we- he speaks of?

“You will add your boyfriend to those plans, won’t you?”

Mammon will not let shock stand in the way of money or souls. You can explain to him how you managed that later but for now – just add him as your accomplice.

Satan:

You love your boyfriend.

You really, really do.

You love seeing him so excited and focused on finding clues to the newest Devildom mystery that you chose to let him have his fun by not telling him YOU were the one he was searching for.

And while you love him that much, you are about to ruin the whole game.

Why does he think it is appropriate to own 48 pairs of the same Sherlock Holmes outfit with THE UGLIEST MATCHING HATS YOU HAVE EVER LAID YOUR EYES ON.

First, he wore them in his ‘detective office’ only. Also known as the Lamentation house storage room for cleaning products. And that was fine, it was.

But then he started to wear them inside the house and in the garden. The saddest day was when a cat knocked the ugly hat off and ran away with it. Oh praise that cat! Praise the little paws!

However, he has gone too far.

He knows no bounds and shows no signs of stopping.

He started wearing the outfits OUTSIDE! In the middle of cobblestone paths of the main street while you were trying to have a nice date!

"Who knows where the soul snatching culprit could be hiding? I must wear this outfit everywhere to catch their clues. Trust me.”

That is it.

If one more iguana-looking-ass demon points their finger at you two and snickers as you walk past – he will have a rude wake up call.

How is it possible that he is trying to catch the culprit that is you but doesn’t pay any attention to you?

So, when you arrive home and he walks into the mop closet to add another unrelated photo to his crazy whiteboard as a clue – you tell him to sit down for a moment.

“Satan, honey, I have something to tell you about your soul snatching culprit.”

That definitely got his attention.

Finally! He is actually looking at you!

You lean down and gently kiss his head.

“I am the culprit you’re looking for. How does it feel to completely miss something right under your nose?”

He freezes up and throws a pen towards the whiteboard. It just bounces off and hits him in the back.

“You....you mean to tell me that,,, the biggest Devil Mystery TV phenomenon is ACTUALLY YOU?”

You are met with complete disbelief. Satan demands a detailed explanation on how you did it. He even tells you to use his whiteboard to retrace your steps!

...good luck...

Belphegor:

Will Belphegor ever actually publicly say that he has changed because of you? No.

Will he ever actually admit that to other brothers besides Beel when they’re talking in the late hours of the night in their room? Oh, absolutely not.

Will he tell you? Yes.

Yes but.. He will leave something out.

Sometimes Belphie looks at how you smile and remembers things that make him famous in this realm.

Yes, he is one of the most powerful demons and yes, he has a reputation of rebellion and the biggest steak of unattendance in RAD but

He is also a fairly famous scholar.

His papers and research are cited on the regular.

But when you smile and say a witty joke – he remembers that most of them focus around him proving just how dumb or naïve humans actually are.

But, you’re human and he hopes that you never see those.

Except that you do.

Because he is so famous it is no surprise that while looking for research papers to reference for your next assignment you saw his name while browsing through

And while you love him - you will not allow him to just diss the whole mankind.

So, you grab one of them from the library. Walk home, go to the attic while he is napping and open it up, putting it right on his face.

It takes a couple of seconds but he feels something is wrong and his hand reaches for it.

When he pulls it away, he is met with his thesis that was further developed from the seduction speech class assignment.

It sets it up as: ‘Seduction speech as a matter of blatant deception that humans always fall for but could never recreate.’

You are not even that mad at it to be honest.

But proving him wrong is always fun. And little does he know about your biggest secret ever.

“I will cut right to the chase and say – fix your bangs I want to see the way your eyes look when I tell you this!”

“I wonder who messed up my bangs with the academic paper in the first place?” is what he replies but his hand is already on his forehead.

“Whatever. Prepare to be amazed! I am the one the elders of the devildom are always ranting about on TV! Yes, I am the ‘pesky little human’ who is stealing away ‘edible’ souls! How is that for your thesis now? Is that not true deception?!”

He likes your smile still. You’re standing in front of the bed looking at him with sparkling eyes and clenched fists while striking a pose. It is silly really but he smiles.

Because you are.

And while he will ask you a bit more about that claim, he is just happy to know that maybe his next academic paper (which everyone eagerly awaits) will be tad more positive to your kind.

Diavolo:

You got an urgent call from Barbatos.

On the doorstep he told you that Diavolo needs you in his study.

What could you do that Barbatos can’t and will help Diavolo? Does such a thing even exist?

You walk inside of his office and are pretty sure Barbatos did not want to go inside because of the fact that a rat could be hiding under the mountain of papers that are all around the room.

Usually, Diavolo immediately stands up, lights up the room with his smile and stretches out his hands for a hug.

Now? He hears the doors open and looks at you with a weak smile while his head is resting on his elbows from behind the desk.

He has never looked worse.

“Barbatos said you called for me?”

You are unsure where to begin with this so you state a fact while thinking of questions to ask.

“He has? I have done no such thing?”

Great. Now both of you are confused.

“Can you tell me what is going on?”

Diavolo sighs and his smile is still nowhere to be seen.

“The elders have been so annoying lately. I understand that the biggest threat to the Devildom and everyone’s life here still has not been identified but there is nothing I can do except search!”

Just what threat is that? What could be making Diavolo so miserable?

“They keep comparing me to my father without actually offering any ways of fixing this!”

“I will try to offer some way if you tell me what the threat is!”

There you are, making a grand exclamation and promise while trying to avoid papers on the floor. Diavolo sighs again.

“A human is ruining our business! They somehow set up a page that allowed them to own souls by consent in some application under the terms and conditions. I mean, this has never happened before! Humans were never expected to think of that or have access to such means! And the name they used was fake. How am I supposed to find them and then burn them in the darkest pits of hell as the elders want me to?”

You stop trying to avoid the papers.

Did...did he just say darkest pits of hell? Did he just say the elders want YOU burned?!

How are you supposed to fix this? It was a fucking joke! You did not imagine this could ever happen!

“Diavolo you promised you would protect me no matter what, right?”

His eyes are serious when you say that. “Yes. I will. Is something amiss?”

“Diavolo.... I am the enemy your elders want to burn.. PLEASE DON’T LET THEM! MY SKIN JUST ADJUSTED TO THIS TEMPERATURE!”

Diavolo looks at you and laughs like never before. It is cute, it is childlike. His laugh finally lights up the room.

He thinks you are joking.

He thinks you are joking and abruptly stops once he realizes that you did not join in on the laugh.

You were just trying to crack a joke and make him feel better, right? There is no way that is true, right? But judging from your reaction he knows it is.

So, he grows serious once more.

He runs to embrace you.

“Please tell me you are willing to make a compromise because the elders do not care about how your skin adjusts to the temperature.”

552 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 3 years

Text

Announcement

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x reader

Requested by: anon ‘Hello love! Would it be possible to request a prompt of Sherlock’s reaction to the reader’s pregnancy announcement? I think he would be a wonderful father, and his reaction would be priceless!’

Warnings: references to sex, pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms (including vomiting)

Gif creds to owner

‘Baker Street, urgently. It’s about YN

SH’

“Shit,” John muttered to himself, glaring at the self-service checkout machine to hurry up and give him the change. Snatching the note from the dispenser and grabbing the shopping, he practically ran to Baker Street, knowing it was quicker than trying to hail a cab during rush hour. Bursting through the door to the flat, panting, he called out. “Sherlock? YN, you alright?”

“Food poisoning, I suspect,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, having calmed down from his initial panic after you legged it to the bathroom to throw up the contents of your stomach (even though there was nothing there now but bile). “She insisted we try the new Chinese takeaway down the road. Just looked them up, food hygiene only 4 stars, not 5, so...”

“D’you want me to check on her to be on the safe side?” John asked quietly. Usually, Sherlock kept a level head in situations regarding illness, but when it came to you, he was a rather the hypochondriac. After receiving a firm nod from his friend, John went into the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door. “YN, can I come in?” He called.

Your only response was a hum of approval followed by more retching. He entered the bathroom to find you leaning back against the bath, your face ashen. “Sherlock reckons food poisoning,” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. “Told him 4 stars was basically perfect, but he’s having none of it,”

John smiled slightly. “Sounds about right,” he said, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “No fever. Here, have you had a drink? Sherlock said you’ve been throwing up all morning,”

“He made me a cup of tea but the thought of the m...” you pressed your hand to your mouth, willing the bile to stay down. “The m... milk... made my stomach turn,”

John frowned slightly and fixed you with an intense stare. “YN... this is a bit of a personal question,”

“You’re a doctor, John, go right ahead,” you said, smiling gently.

“When was your last period?”

Silence. You frowned slightly, counting back the days in your mind, clicking your phone on to check the date. Eyes wide, you looked back up. “Nearly two months ago...” you whispered. “You don’t think-?”

“I’m almost certain of it,” he said gently. You bit your lip, turning over the idea of pregnancy in your head. It did make sense when you thought about it. The throwing up, the aversion to most dairy products as they made you feel nauseous... come to think of it, even your bra was feeling a little uncomfortably tight...

You heaved yourself up, walking to the sink and swilling your mouth with mouthwash. “Right. Come on then,” you said, leading John out of the bathroom. Upon your arrival into the sitting room, Sherlock sat up straighter. “We think we’ve got a diagnosis. Sherlock, I don’t want you to freak out-“

“I’ve already drafted a letter of complaint to that establishment,” Sherlock said, turning the laptop around to show you the rather lengthy document.

“No, no, Sherlock listen to me. I’ve not got food poisoning,” you said quickly. The detectives eyes shot over to John briefly, who looked rather pleased with himself. “I’m... well, I might be pregnant,”

Instantly, you could see the cogs whirring in Sherlock’s mind as his eyes scanned over you. How he hadn’t seen it before... the growth of breast tissue, the sickness, the sudden dislike for anything that contained milk... just last night you had complained that you felt like you had put weight on...

“Say something,” you said softly. “Please,” your voice snapped him out of his rapid deductions and he jumped up, grabbing onto your hands.

“Pregnant... YN... I...” he said and you couldn’t help but grin as he pulled you into his chest. “I can’t believe it- I mean, obviously I can, it makes sense, we have been engaging in intercourse quite a lot recently-”

“Sherlock!” You said, laughing slightly as John’s cheeks tinted pink.

“Congratulations, the two of you,” John said, smiling at the pair of you. You smiled over your shoulder at him. “I’d recommend doing a proper pregnancy test just to be certain, then get yourself booked in with the midwives,” you nodded, smiling and mouthing ‘thank you’ to John as he slipped out of the flat, leaving you and Sherlock to sway in one another’s arms as the concept of a mini-Holmes toddling about the place settled in.

Tags: @pinkandblueblurbs @wholebigboxofyikes @imareallygrumpyme @lazyotakujen

#sherlock fluff #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #request #fluff #2021

453 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

New Romantics | Part Three

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, period mentions, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings,

Word Count: 4.7K

a/n: this chapter covers the whole week from Monday to Friday, thank you @awrfhi for making the gif I used here <3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Monday morning she’s in his arms still, and then again on Tuesday; he basically lives with her when he’s not on a case. They make dinner together at night and they drive in together every morning, and they have had sex all over her apartment… and he loves her but he was tired when he said it and in a post-orgasm haze and he’s her best friend.

But he loved her— just not the way she loved him. She was sure of it.

Tuesday morning at 10:53 am, she cracks her fake case. They’re apprehending the unsub by Noon and then she has the rest of the week off. So she heads to the main Quantico building, she gets a visitor's pass and she takes the elevator all the way up to the BAU.

She walks through the bullpen doors and Spencer is sitting at his little desk with his head buried in a book. Penelope sees her first, wrapping her up in a hug that gets everyone’s attention as she rocks her back and forth while telling her how much she likes her.

“You are so pretty, and nice and cute, and your hair smells so good?”

“Thank you, it’s Spencer's shampoo,” she laughs as she holds her back, “I just wanted to come and see him really quick?”

He’s standing beside her and she doesn’t even know until Penelope releases her from her grasp. He wraps her up next, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

She kisses him right on the mouth, holding his face in her hands she has missed him too much to wait till they are alone again, “I caught the unsub.”

“No way?”

She nods feverishly, “yeah remember I found that stray hair on the crime scene? Everyone was fighting over why there wasn’t a sexual aspect and I was trying to convince them she was a women unsub when the hair came back matching our victims best friend, who also knew victim number 1.”

He’s so happy, his smile is the biggest any of his teammates have ever seen, he lifts her and twirls her around and no one can believe the sight. Spencer Reid the uptight, overly smart, always following proper procedure, Doctor at the FBI; was spinning his girlfriend around as he kissed her cheek.

“You are a genius,” he compliments her as he sets her back down and places another kiss on her lips.

“I know,” she laughs, “I beat your score by one day.”

“I hate you,” he kisses her again and by now they don’t realize they have an audience. It’s incredibly convincing to everyone except each other.

“No, you love me,” she whispers, kissing him again before they hear someone clear their throat.

“Do you want to help with ours?” Derek asks, jumping into the moment and reminding them that they’re in public. “We’re just doing non-urgent consults today.”

“Am I allowed?” She lights up.

Derek nods, “I don’t see why not, as long as you just tell your ideas to us and don’t file anything then I think it’s legal?”

So she helps and it’s the most exhilarating thing since having sex with Spencer. She’s in her element, looking at small details and making connections that even leave Spencer humming and ha-ing. She has a younger insight than the rest of the team, she’s exactly why they hired Spencer in the first place and now she was shining brighter than him.

But he loved it.

Every time she made a connection or she had a suggestion that helped one of them on their own train of thought, Spencer would smile at her like she hung the stars in the night sky. He was proud of her in a way she hasn’t seen in many people before, filling her heart with warmth and hope that maybe he can love her for real one day.

—

She was possibly the love of his life and the more he saw her work and the more he knew her mind; the more he fell. She walked around his office and talked to his friends as if she was always meant to be there, and a part of him really wanted her to be.

He snuck away to go talk to Hotch, closing his office door as he sat down, “what’s wrong?”

“Y/N isn’t really my girlfriend,” he whispers. “She’s pretending so I could get everyone to stop bothering me about dating, and I understand it looks like she’s using me to get close to the team but I really do think she would be an excellent asset to the unit even if she was just in the office—“

“Reid,” Hotch cuts him off and a smile builds. “I already sent her an offer to take Anderson's job while he’s out on paternity leave.”

“Oh,” he smiles to himself. “Pretend I never said anything.”

“It stays in these 4 walls, don’t worry,” Hotch smiles back, “but you should tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not,” he lies, “really, I do love her but I’m not in love with her, there is a difference.”

“I know,” Hotch reminds him. “Did you know that I only joined the school musical to get close to Haley? I did whatever I could to get her to fall in love with me and didn’t even realize it when she did because I was so worried she didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Hotch nods with another smile, “you don’t have to tell her until you’re ready, obviously, but you should tell her before it’s too late.”

“I will,” he whispers. “Thanks, Aaron.”

“Why don’t you guys head out early?” He offers, “we could all use a day off with the people we love.”

When he walks back down from Aaron's office, Y/N is with Emily and JJ discussing how she caught her fake unsub at school that morning. She doesn’t brag, she loves to mention her classmates by name and verbatim explains how they helped her. She is a team player, a genius, beautiful, kind… she really is the love of his life.

“Hey,” he places his hand on her lower back as he slides into the conversation. “Hotch said we can all leave early if we wanted?”

“Sure,” she smiles, “actually, did you want to come with me to buy a dress for your thing?”

“That would be fun,” he agrees, wrapping his other arm around her so he can rest his chin on her shoulder and hold her. “Remember I’m buying it so don’t stress about the price.”

“You’re too nice to me,” she replies.

“I just love you,” his voice is as low as he can make it but everyone still hears.

She holds him back tighter, in a silent ‘I love you, too’ and they hear JJ and Emily swoon.

They’re quick to get their things and head out, she hands Spencer her keys and lets him drive to the mall so she can relax, she’s done a lot today.

She’s so quiet on the drive, she holds his hand like she always does and she just looks out the window, she’s peaceful and content with the nothingness of spending alone time with Spencer. They were always just quiet together, sometimes they laughed till they cried and sometimes he could make her scream but most of the time they were quiet.

“Have you checked your email?”

She smiles as she turns to him and her grip on his hand tightened, “what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just told hotch the truth so that he could offer you a job, but he already had before I went in there but he’s a good secret keeper, believe me.”

“Oh,” her smile disappears. “So he knows we’re not really dating?”

He nods, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess we’re going to have to find a convincing way to break up for them and still be able to hang out all the time,” she worries aloud. “Because I don’t want to stop this any time soon, I hope you know that. I really like spending time with you.”

“I feel the same way,” he agrees. “I promise, we can just tell them we work better as friends and they might believe us?”

“I don’t think they will,” she frowns again. “JJ told me not to break your heart today, but I feel like if we break up I’m going to break all of theirs.”

“We could have a fake ugly breakup, and not talk to each other publicly for a bit and then be friends again?” He suggests, “Penelope and Kevin did that.”

She nods, still frowning. She interlocks their fingers this time and she holds his hand instead of just anxiously fiddling with his fingers. She really doesn’t want to let go, and he’s almost convinced she feels the same way.

The banquet is on Saturday, she has one last week of school before her graduation and then they’re done. He thinks about asking her, about what would be the best time to tell her he was in love with her and ask her to be his real girlfriend.

Maybe he’ll do it after the banquet? Maybe he’ll do it after her graduation? He just really wants to do it before she meets his mom. He wants his mom to meet her as the love of his life and his best friend.

He hated many things, but as he kept glancing at her as he drove he realized he hated one thing most of all. He hated that he couldn’t love her as much as she deserved, at least not yet. He wanted to shower her in love, he wanted to protect her and care for her, he wanted to show her off and make love to her and never leave her side.

It hurts, his heart physically aches as he thinks about that. If he had to feel like this to know his love was real, then the pain was worth it. She was always worth it, and he would hurt as long as possible, forever even, if it meant he could be around her just as long.

He held her hand tighter in the silence which made her turn to him, he had no idea he had been crying until she leans over and wipes his cheeks, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he smiles but he can’t keep the conversation there, he’s feeling trapped and so he changes the topic. “What colour dress were you thinking?”

The quick-change makes her laugh, “probably black.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I don’t need to stand out beside you any more than I already do.”

“What does that mean?”

She bits her lip, “some of the people in my class are saying that I’m only doing so well because you’re helping me cheat and that I’m just fucking you to get a job… just like I thought they would.”

“At the end of the day, we have a friendship they will never understand, we have great sex because we want to, you’re smarter than me, and the BAU wants you… so who is the real winner?” He’s always going to be her number one cheerleader.

“You’re right,” she smiles again finally, “as always.”

—

He convinces her to get a red dress.

She hasn’t had a pretty dress like this one since her prom and that was 6 years ago. She hasn’t been to a party or mingled with people in just as long, she didn’t realize how lonely she had been while chasing her dreams until Spencer came along.

He was one of the dreams. She saw him talk once, years ago on a school trip, and she fell in love with him a little, even back then. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be him or be with him back then, doing everything in her power to get into the criminal psych degree at her local college, she just wanted to be like him.

Now she’s liked by him.

Every night he goes to his home across the hall and he does his own nightly routine before coming back to her apartment for the night. She’s too emotional to sleep with him today, she knows that if she has sex with him she’s going to say something stupid or cry after because being this close to him without being honest with him is killing her.

Something in him has changed too, he’s less scared to initiate contact, he doesn’t jump anymore when she hugs him or when she smacks his bum as she passes him. Now he’s wrapping his arms around her while she cooks dinner, and he kisses her cheek randomly when they’re in public.

He tells her that he loves her.

She’s confused and she has no one to talk to about it.

She lays back against her pillows and closes her eyes, she knows she’s going to cry soon, and she doesn’t know what to do because she doesn’t want to cry in front of him and he would be upset if she told him to not come back tonight.

The stress of the situation just makes her cry more as she stresses herself into another anxiety attack, much like the first night she talked to him. She just lets it happen, the anxiety in her stomach builds and the tears slip past her eyes and suddenly she’s sobbing into her pillow hard enough that she doesn’t hear him come back.

She jumps at the feeling of his hand on her back as he sits on the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong?”

She just sits up and hugs him, and he hugs her back and they stay there like that for a while. When she calms down, she pulls back from him and wipes her eyes, “my period is coming.” She’s not really lying, and he believes her.

“Does it normally make you this emotional?”

He’s never really experienced her mood swings, he has no idea what he’s in for, she nods. “Yeah, and I have really bad anxiety which just gets worse around this time.”

“And you’re not on anything?”

She shakes her head, “I’m waiting to get onto the good healthcare when I get a job with the bureau, I can’t afford to work and go to school, I’m glad I had enough scholarship money left to rent this place long enough to go to the academy.”

“Oh.”

She just nods, “I’ve never had much money like my parents have been saving for 2 years to buy plane tickets to Virginia so that they can see me graduate. They started saving before I even got in. I went to community college on a scholarship and I get a lot of money from applying for bursaries.”

“Are you going to take the CARD job or the BAU offer?”

She shrugs, “I’m not sure yet, but probably CARD.”

“Why?”

“I can’t work with you,” she whispers. “It makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be there like I’m using you and that all my work isn’t that great. I’m just Doctor Spencer Reids girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, imposter syndrome is a leading factor in depression among child prodigies, once you reach a certain age and you stop receiving awards for your work, it’s hard to believe that you’re still doing a good job.”

She knows he gets it, he has probably said the same fact to himself to calm down before. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She nods, pulling back the covers and moving over so he can snuggle in beside her. She holds him, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep inhale of his cologne, this was the love of her life and if this was as close as she was ever going to be to him, she was going to take it.

He kisses the top of her head and holds her in his arms at just the right pressure to calm her down. She feels so comfortable with him but she still feels like shit, she doesn’t stop crying, and he just holds her through it.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really wrong?” He whispers after a while, he sounds worried.

“No,” she whispers. “I can’t.”

“Is it about me?”

“Yeah,” she cries again, “and I don’t have any other friends to talk to about us and now you’ve told hotch and I have no one to talk to about how this is kinda stressing me out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his voice is still scared and she knows he’s going to panic regardless and just send them around in a circle of constant anxiety. But his tone is more apologetic than one fuck up.

“Who else did you tell?” She sits up, “I thought this was just between us?”

“I needed advice, the same reason you are reacting right now, you’re stressing me out,” Spencer finally talks back with passion and she knows they’re about to fight for no reason.

“I never said you were stressing me out. I said our situation was, but I think I need to sleep alone now, Spencer” she’s confident and stern even though she’s crying.

“We can’t go to bed mad at each other. You even said the mornings are the worst, we can’t hate each other for no reason tomorrow,” he starts to cry, not knowing where he went wrong and she can see it on his face.

“I just don’t have what you have, and I’ve always been trying to copy you…”

“What?”

She sighs and wipes her tears, “I have had a big fat, fan-girly, crush on you since I was 18, I came here with my class to watch you do a talk on philias and phobias and then I knew I wanted to get into the academy and I wanted to beat your record and join the BAU, and I just thought; one day I’m going to be friends with this guy and catch bad guys with him and now I am and I’m so alone.”

“You have me?”

“I know,” she tries to smile, “but I only have you and I can tell you almost everything. Like my biggest stressor right now is that if just looking at fake crime scenes for 3 weeks has made me this anxious; what if I’m not cut out for this? What if I get to a real crime scene and I pass out or—“

“That’s only human,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly, and very Spencerly. “If you didn’t feel like this job makes you hate the world and untrusting of everyone around you; then I would think you’re crazy.”

“How do you do it?”

“I open up and let people in, but I typically wait till I’m at my lowest; crying in my friend's arms because I don’t know what to do anymore,” he smiles again, wider and toothy as she smiles back.

“Thank you,” she can’t help but tilt her head and smile as her heart settles and her brain calms down a bit, “I love you.”

“Can I kiss you or is that too much right now?”

She gets in closer to him, laying back down on the pillow and looking at him. They’re closer enough to kiss, and she just takes a moment to look at him, resting her hand on his cheek as he wraps around her waist and pulls her in closer.

“We’re okay?” He asks with his lips right against her, his breath is hot and he smells like toothpaste.

“We’re okay, but no more talking tonight, okay?” She whispers.

He nods, leaning in and kissing her finally. She knows she shouldn’t be kissing him, she knows that she should be mad at herself, but she also knew that even just pretending that he loved her back was good enough.

—

He gets called away to a case on Wednesday morning, he’s too busy to really call her and he doesn’t text back. He feels bad about it but he knows she wanted space to think anyway, what he didn’t expect was for her to reach out to Penelope.

She’s in the office with her on Friday, tired of Spencer ignoring her so she went to the one place he couldn’t avoid her; Penelope’s office.

“How can I help you today, my fine furry friends?” Y/N answers the phone with a smirk, copying Penelope’s line perfectly, they can hear them high five through the line.

“Y/N?” Spencer is the first to catch it, “what are you doing there?”

“I came to meet Anderson and see if I’d like to take his job or not,” she teases, pretending she wasn’t there just to bother him.

Hotch cuts in, asking the question he needed to ask before hanging up, “not sure what’s going on at home but we’re too close to cracking this case for schoolyard games.”

“Yes sir,” he nods and looks away, retreating to the other side of the room to stare at the map and pretend to find connections.

“Crack this and you can go home to her,” Derek whispers with a smile, thinking he’s helping the situation.

“That’s not where I want to be right now.”

“Woah,” Derek catches it, “what happened?”

“Nothing,” he’s quick to get him to stop it but he really wants advice, “she’s stressed out and she took it out on me and I wasn’t very nice back.”

“You said sorry and you pretended you were over it, didn’t you?”

He turns away from Derek with a nod, he wants to come out with it and get it over with and he’s so mad and embarrassed he just starts to cry a little, “I don’t want to lose her.”

“How could you?”

“You have no idea,” he rolls his eyes lightly and scoffs, confusing Derek.

“And I won't unless you want to talk to someone about what’s really bothering you, but you’ve been happier since you met her and I like seeing you happy, and Savannah likes double dates,” he scolds him with a smile, patting his shoulder lightly. “now let's crack this and maybe on the plane you will tell me what’s up?”

“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t want to.

However, Derek Morgan is good at a lot of things, and one of those things is getting Spencer to calm down enough to tell him anything. Everyone is asleep on the plane, it’s just the two of them at the back together when Spencer finally feels confident enough to say it.

“I lied to you, a long time ago… and it’s just the first one.”

Derek doesn’t look angry, “okay, explain your thought process. I need to know how this pretty brain of yours works.”

He smiles a bit, “I slept with Elle the night before she shot that rapist in Ohio.”

“You did not?” Derek's voice gets a little too loud and they stop to make sure no one woke up.

“I did, but you still always made jokes about finally getting me some lovin’ and it bothered me for a while and I never told you, instead I offered to help my neighbour with her homework if she pretended to date me,” his voice lowers as the words continue and he only stares at the table between them.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” Derek apologizes first. “I didn’t know I was upsetting you, is there anything else I do that upsets you?”

He shakes his head in a silent no, still not looking at him, he can't.

“What happened between you and Y/N?” He jumps to the main issue, fine with what happened because he feels bad for causing the issue in the first place.

“We started sleeping together.”

Derek sighs, “you have such a big brain, you can remember everything she’s ever said to you and yet you can’t see that she’s in love with you.”

“She’s good at pretending,” he pushes it away.

“No she’s not, because she’s pretending she doesn’t love you right now; the same way you are and you’re both fucking it up for each other,” Derek gives it to him straight. “You have always been loveable, but you have a very hard time accepting it, Spencer.”

“Yeah,” he starts to cry a little more.

“Go home and talk to her and tell her the truth,” it’s the best advice he can give and Spencer knows it. “What’s the worst that can go wrong?”

“She does love me back but in a few years, she realizes I’m too much and she leaves me,” his voice is the saddest Derek has ever heard it.

He gets up from his seat and hugs Spencer, sliding into the seat beside him and wrapping his arms around him, “you have never been too much. You just surround yourself with people who aren’t good enough to love you for who you are.”

“She’s better than me.”

“Which is exactly what I mean, she’s not going to leave you, believe me, once you love Spencer Reid for who he really is, it’s hard to stop,” he speaks from experience, thinking of what could have been between them if either of them had tried harder in the past.

“She’s the love of my life,” he confirms, “I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love her.”

They get the word that they’re going to be landing soon, Spencer wipes his tears and buckles in for the descent, avoiding everyone’s stares and questions on the ride back to headquarters. He’s nervous to see her, he knows his face is puffy and she’ll be there waiting for him with Penelope, but he has to do it.

“Would you wait here, I need to tell her now and she might not give me a ride home if it doesn’t go well,” he asks Derek before heading to Penelope, “she was already mad at me for telling Hotch the truth.”

“Okay, sure,” Derek smiles, reaching out a hand for Spencer, “come to me when you need me next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees with a small smile, heading out to find his fake girlfriend.

She’s not with Penelope, no she’s in the filing room with Anderson and the other temps all talking and laughing, and it sounds far too interesting to interrupt. He waits outside the door and smiles at her laughter until he hears it.

“So be honest,” Agent Camden asks, “are you sleeping with Reid for this job?”

“If I was sleeping my way to the top, don’t you think I would have picked Morgan? Or Prentiss even?” She laughs and it’s like someone stabs a knife through his heart.

He turns around and heads back to Derek, “take me home.”

“Okay,” he doesn’t pry, he just grabs his coat and keys and follows Spencer to the garage.

—

He’s really ignoring her.

She finds out from Emily that Spencer left with Derek, and that he looked rather pissed off when he asked for a ride. It breaks her heart a little and she doesn’t know what to do next, she just drives home and finds herself knocking on his door.

“Let me in, please, Spencer!” She begs from behind his door.

He opens it and looks at her with a puffy red face, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips, he’s been crying for a while. “What?”

“What did I do?”

“You slept with me,” he whispers, “and I told you I wouldn’t react well.”

“Is it my fault you’re crying?” She asks softly and he nods, “do you want to tell me?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “are we still going to the banquet together tomorrow?”

“I really fucked up,” is all he can muster, crying again as he closes the door and goes to cry in his room.

She just opens the door again and follows him inside. Kicking off her shoes she crawls into bed beside him and wraps herself around him, “you don’t have to tell me but I am here for you, always.”

“I love you,” he says it like it’s the problem before he rests his head in the crook of her neck and holds her back for the first time in days.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she cries along with him. They cry until he’s asleep and she’s just there holding him in her jeans and she’s really uncomfortable but she loves him too much to let go.

“More than you will ever know.”

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382 notes · View notes

joviewinchester · 3 years

Text

“You’re absolutely positive you can’t come with me?” Y/N asked Matt.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I work that day. Maybe you can ask Ty or Stefan or something.”

“Yep. Been there done that. Stefan has plans to hang out with Caroline and Tyler has another wedding to go to by some stupid twisted chance of fate. I hate June.”

“You can…well, I’m not even going to suggest that torture.” Matt said cutting himself off.

“What? Anything is better than the torture of my family trying to set me up with someone.”

“You could ask Damon, but then again, he’s literally the worst. I guess pick your poison. Damon Salvatore or wedding set up. Personally I’d go with the latter.”

Y/N patted Matt on the shoulder and sighed. “You don’t know my family.” She exited The Grill and reluctantly drove to the Salvatore Boarding House.

She knocked, and Damon immediately opened the door. “You know, I was wondering when the tension would catch up to you.” He smirked.

“That is not why I’m here, Damon. I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

Y/N sighed and took a deep breath before starting her rant. “I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”

“And what do I get out of agreeing to this?”

“Um…I don’t know? The wedding is literally tomorrow and I have no other option so…I have no clue. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, huh? I’ll let you know when I figure out what that is. What time does this wedding start tomorrow?”

“Wedding’s from 5:00 to 6:00 and the reception’s from 6:30 to 10:00, unfortunately, I have to help with setup, so I have to be there three hours early, it was almost five luckily I got out of that, but I’m not going to make you deal with that, so I’ll leave from there early, come pick you up around 4:30. Dress nice…but not too nice. You’re already going to outshine the groom. My cousin does not know how to pick em.”

“That was a very trivial way of you saying you think I’m attractive. I’ll be ready, and don’t think I’ll forget that you owe me.”

“I wasn’t saying that! And I didn’t think you would forget. Not even for a second. And one more thing, please don’t eat any of my relatives.”

“Oh I’m not that bad. Why would I eat one of them when I could eat you?” He said eying her from head to toe.

“Stop making everything sexual! I’ll see you tomorrow!” She exclaimed as she brushed her hair to cover her red face.

He watched her as she walked back to her car, because let’s be honest with ourselves, he loved to see her walk away, then he shut the door and poured himself a glass of bourbon.

“Did Y/N just ask you to her cousin’s wedding?” Stefan asked walking downstairs.

“Why yes she did, brother.”

“Then you’re welcome. I don’t actually have plans with Caroline tomorrow. I told her that so she’d ask you. Don’t screw it up.”

“Really Stefan? I could’ve gotten the girl on my own. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Y/N is different. She likes you, but she doesn’t like you just because she wants to sleep with you. She likes you because she wants to be in a relationship with you. If you don’t want that, then don’t lead her on. Promise me you won’t lead her on.”

“Do you really think that low of me, Stef?” Damon asked placing his palm over his chest.

“I won’t hurt her. Believe it or not, I actually like her, and tomorrow I’m going to be a perfect angel around her family, and she’ll have no choice but to invite me to another family event. I will be the best fake boyfriend. Mark my words.”

The next day was absolute torture for Y/N to say the least. “Y/N, Mark and Angela have to be seated near the back. They have not earned the status of front and center. Move the cards.” Her cousin, Allison, was normally really sweet, but she was an extreme bridezilla.

Y/N rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She expected for Allison to follow her every order when her wedding came around.

“So, Auntie Bethany has invited a really cool guy to set you up with. His name is Reggie and he’s so much nicer than the last one.” Allison said taking a minute to rest, which did not bother Y/N one bit.

“First of all, I’m eighteen which is freshly out of high school, I don’t know why she thinks it’s so urgent for me to settle down. Second of all, mom is going to be real disappointed because I actually have a boyfriend now and I invited him. I mentioned him a few weeks ago to you.”

“Now that you say that, I remember you mentioning it.” Yeah, she didn’t say a word, but Allison bought it and that’s all that mattered. She’d been pushing her to get a date since the wedding was announced.

“Speaking of which, it’s 4:00 and I told him I’d be there to pick him up at 4:30. You don’t mind me leaving a bit early do you?”

“No. Of course not. Chloe, Lilly, and Amy will help me finish my makeup then I should be all ready! Can’t wait to meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

Y/N waved at the other bridesmaids, who all glared back at her for leaving them alone, and got in her car to get Damon. She knocked.

“Just a minute!” She heard him call. He opened the door a couple minutes later.

She smiled brightly. “You look great.” She said.

“Yeah, and you look…gorgeous. Your cousin was very generous with the bridesmaids dresses.” Damon commented.

https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/2847398

“Come on. If we’re late I will not hear the end of it.”

Once they arrived, there were literally like five minutes till the start of the wedding. “Shit.” She muttered. “Just sit down and avoid eye contact at all costs. I really wish she hadn’t made me a bridesmaid.” Y/N muttered the last part and got to her place.

The ceremony lasted forever. The only thing that made it tolerable was watching Damon mess with the dude sitting next to him.

“Oh my god. That was literally the longest wedding ever. Why the hell did she force us to wear heels?”

“On the bright side, you were definitely the hottest bridesmaid up there.”

She elbowed his side playfully. “Oh shut up. Now come on, we need to get going. If we’re late to the reception, my mom will kill me. I haven’t even got to talk to her yet.” Y/N to practically dragged Damon to the car.

Of course the reception was about as cliche as the ceremony. It was held in a big old barn decorated with fairy lights.

“There’s my mom. Come on, act coupley or whatever, and be on your best behavior would you?”

“Oh, Y/N I’m hurt. When am I not?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling slightly at his antics.

“Hey, mom.”

Her mother looked kind of upset. “Come on, Y/N. You should’ve told me you were bringing a date. Reggie is going to be disappointed.” Her mother motioned backwards towards a guy who was already making out with another bridesmaid.

“Yeah…that him? He doesn’t seem too upset. I wouldn’t worry about it. Mom, this is Damon, my boyfriend.”

They shook hands. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much, and can I just say, you look lovely this evening. Speaking of which, where’s the lucky man?”

“Oh, he’s just over there talking to the groom. I’m glad that Y/N has finally gotten a boyfriend. I was starting to think she was going to be single forever.”

“Mom, cool it, will you? I’m eighteen years old. I just enrolled in college. I’m not getting married anytime soon. I know that’s how people in our family usually do it, but I don’t want to be married and have three kids running around by the time I’m twenty five. Okay?”

“You may feel that way now, dear, but wait until the baby fever catches up to you.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I need a drink.” She mumbled with hostility.

“Y/N Y/M/N! You are not drinking any alcohol!” Her mother scolded after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble. You just have fun. Raising a girl with that attitude must have kept you away from fun quite a bit.” Bethany laughed.

“You have no idea.”

Damon followed Y/N to the open bar, and found her with a wine glass filled to the very top.

“Dude, first of all you aren’t even of age, and second of all, do you really want to get drunk at a relative’s wedding? Answer, no. No you don’t.”

“You don’t know what I want, Damon. Just go charm off the pants of another middle aged woman.”

“I’m trying to be a perfect fake boyfriend so your mom will get off your back. Did you already drink one of these?” He asked taking the glass from her hands and swirling it around.

“Yeah, duh. Did you meet my mom? She makes it her mission to control every aspect of her life. I love her, but some alchohol would really help me love her even more. Here gimme that.” She said grabbing the glass from his hand. She downed the whole thing in one go as if it was just a shot glass.

“Y/F/N! No! You are banned from this bar for the rest of the night. Come on.” He hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Damon...what are you doing? You’re supposed to be the least responsible one in this fake relationship.” She whined.

“No. I’m supposed to be like a real boyfriend which means I have to keep you out of trouble and do everything I can to make your parents like me which is what I’m doing.”

“Come on. Just let me walk. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”

“No.” Y/N huffed.

“Fine. If you want some douchebags looking up my dress then whatever.”

“Fine! Okay fine. I’ll put you down, but only because I’m your douchebag, and I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise.”

They ran back into Y/N’s parents.

“Did you get her away from the bar before she went psycho?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked.

“No. I took away the wine glass and she took it back and chugged it.” Damon said glaring at her.

“I’m fine. See?” She walked in a straight line.

“Oh come on Bethany. Lighten up. If you think she isn’t too young to get married then don’t you think in that mindset that she isn’t too young to drink alcohol.” Her father, Chris, said.

Y/N snapped and pointed at her dad. “Yeah. He’s totally right? Ready to admit that eighteen is too young for someone to get married?”

“Fine. It’s too young. Now no more drinks for the rest of the night, missy.”

She smiled triumphantly, but then she started sulking again. “Rest of the night? As in I have to stay here for the rest of the night and not drink anything?”

“Fine. You can leave like an hour early, but come talk to me before you leave. Have fun, but not too much fun.”

Y/N smirked. “I thought you wanted grandkids?” Her dad choked on his drink.

“Y/N!”

“Kidding. I’m obviously kidding…mostly. Bye!”

“You’re a lot of fun when you’re not avoiding being killed by some type of villain. I like you when you’re not in serious mode.”

“I’m so so sorry that I don’t have any witchy woo or an immortal life, but you do have to admit, I am amazing with a crossbow.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure you are. Even though you’ve almost hit me multiple times.”

“Exactly. I’m amazing with a crossbow. By the way, Allison wanted to meet you. We should get that over with.”

“Okay. That was uncalled for. You can’t just change the subject after admitting to trying to murder me multiple times.”

“You would have healed. What do you want me to do? Fall at your feet like Elena?” Y/N asked clearly passive aggressive.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Stop walking for a second. Are you jealous of Elena?”

“What?! No. Why would I be? I don’t…I don’t even like you!”

“This wedding has proved that statement otherwise. Come on. Admit it. You. Are. Jealous. You want to get with all of this! You want to go for a ride on the Salvatore train!”

“No! No! No! I don’t! I don’t like you! I don’t want you! You... you infuriate me to no end!”

“But you like that don’t you? You like it when I get you all flustered. And don’t think I didn’t catch you blushing earlier when I called myself yours, given I said I was your douchebag, but you still blushed. Not to mention the fact that you put my hand back on your waist when we were walking back from the bar. You like me.”

“No I don’t! Everything that happened here was for show! It was for show.” She defended.

“The only reason you didn’t want to invite me to this wedding is because you knew that I would get your heart racing. Yeah. I can hear that.”

Y/N ran her hands over her face in frustration. “Oh. Don’t mess up your makeup. I can do that for you later.” Damon smirked. So what? His plan to be perfect didn’t last very long, but this plan seemed to be working just fine.

“Stop. Stop saying stuff like that.” She whisper shouted.

Damon leaned in. His mouth was only inches away from her ear. “Why? Does it…frustrate you?”

Y/N gave him a glare and crossed her arms, huffing. Damon smirked. She grabbed his wrist and took him outside.

Damon still had a smug look on his face. “You wanna know how you really make me feel? Yes, Damon! Yes you fucking frustrate me! You make me question my existence on a daily basis and sometimes I even wonder why me?! Why does he like me?! I’m no Elena. I’m not the perfect annoying ass girl next door, and I still don’t know the answer, but you know what?! Since you’re deciding to push me and push me until I explode, I love you, Damon Salvatore! I fucking love you!”

After seconds of tension filled silence and staring at each other, Damon smashed his lips against hers. She immediately kissed him back. She felt his hands gradually slide further down her back, until they were groping her ass. She pushed him away out of spite. “No.” She stated crossing her arms defiantly.

“Really? You’re going to be like this? Now?”

“Yes. Yes I am. Say it back and maybe I’ll be more lenient.” She sassed.

“I thought it was a given. I’ve literally been flirting with you and pining after you for months, Y/N. Of course I love you.”

“Was that so hard?” She joked. She leaned in to kiss him again, this time resting his hands on her butt. He squeezed her ass making her gasp, and slipped his tongue in her mouth.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. This isn’t your honeymoon Y/N.” Allison had walked out of her own reception looking for her.

“Oh, shit. Sorry Alli. So what’s up?” Y/N asked slightly out of breath.

“Well, I was promised that I could meet your mystery man, but you were nowhere to be found. I decided to look for you myself. Aunt Bethany was complaining about your grandkids joke earlier. I didn’t think you were serious.” She joked.

“So, this is Damon. Damon this is my cousin, Allison.”

“Nice to finally meet you. By the way Y/N, I connected the dots, and I realized after getting out of the point where I was completely freaking out, sorry about that by the way, that this is the same Damon that you literally used to call me just to complain about on the daily.”

“Hey, now. Let’s not bring that up, especially the things that I said…” Allison cut her off.

“She used to call me and talk about how annoying you were. I believe one time she called you a flaming douche nozzle? That sounds about right. Every single call always ended with her saying he is so infuriatingly attractive. It’s not even fair.” She knew she was embarrassing her cousin, and to be honest she loved it.

“Hey! He doesn’t need an ego boost! Trust me. I would know.”

“Okay. Okay. All jokes aside, if you are leaving, your mom and dad wanted to talk to you. Oh, and I won’t tell them about this little encounter. I know how they can be.” Allison winked and walked back in the building.

“Was it just me, or did we just get permission from the bride to leave? Come on we have got to hurry up and talk to my parents so we can get out of here.”

“What’s got you in such a rush to leave?” Damon winked.

“None of that. Stop. No. No. Bad.” She said pointing her finger at him.

“Relax. I won’t be myself, but only for you.” They walked back into the reception making a bee line to her parents.

“Hey mom, we’re about to head out.”

“Y/N, your lipstick is a little smudged.” Her mom said. Damon had to look away to stop himself from laughing.

“Huh. Is it? Must’ve been from where I got a drink. Anywho I love you guys and we will see you later.”

“Wait a second. Damon would you like to come over for dinner this Friday?”

“Of course. I’d love to Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Great. We cannot wait to see you again. Alright. I won’t keep you. Have a nice night.” They both waved goodbye to her parents and headed back to the Salvatore house. They walked in, and Damon poured a couple of glasses of bourbon.

“I have been accepted by your family. I’d say this calls for celebration.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to drink, dad.”

“Oh shut up. You can do whatever the hell you want when your parents aren’t there to witness it.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and flopped on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep no matter what you say.”

“Come on then.”

“Where?”

“If you’re going to sleep then you’re coming with me to a comfy bed, not the couch.” Instead of waiting for her to reapond or get up, he slug her over his shoulder and took her upstairs.

“Goodnight, Damon.” She said sleepily.

“Goodnight, sleeping beauty.”

#damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #matt donovan #the vampire diares imagine #tvd imagine #tvd #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x reader

267 notes · View notes

animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years

Text

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?”

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.”

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side.

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.”

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly.

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.”

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly.

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.”

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss.

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again.

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door.

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.”

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin.

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen.

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall.

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time.

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth.

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.”

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot.

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again.

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing.

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.”

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke.

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up.

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.”

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed.

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred.

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.”

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup.

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.”

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep.

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair.

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room.

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed.

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.”

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too.

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams.

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted.

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie.

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom.

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.”

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch.

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #accidently married

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

Text

have a conversation

for @dadstielweek day 4: misunderstandings

So they defeat Chuck, and then Jack fucks off to do celestial entity shit, and then Sam goes on an urgent find-Eileen mission, and Dean is left alone in the bunker.

(Well, Sam is coming back. At some point.)

Dean contemplates drowning himself in whiskey, thinks about what Cas would say, and then decides to deep-clean the entire bunker instead. By the time Sam finally comes back, with Eileen in tow, Dean’s got this awful, jittery energy all the time, so he takes to praying to Jack in the mornings.

(He would do Cas, but, uh. Cas. Yeah.)

On day twenty-three of Dean’s ongoing pray-to-my-weird-godly-son-thing breakdown (that includes a lot of where the fuck is Cas? and please come back, Jack, we still have your room set up), the aforementioned cosmic entity, junior edition, shows up at breakfast.

Sam jumps and Dean spills half his coffee, but Jack just waves serenely. “Hello!” he says brightly. “I’m back.”

“I can see that,” Dean replies, trying to sop up his coffee with his napkin.

“And he’s not alone,” another voice says, and then Dean spills the rest of his coffee, because it’s Cas and Cas is in his kitchen and Cas is alive and--

“You dumb sonofabitch,” Dean practically growls after he’s been hugging Cas for an embarrassingly long time in front of everyone, “Never do that again.”

“Okay,” Cas says, and Dean believes him.

Breakfast after that is a joyous affair--Eileen and Cas sign rapidly across the table about something (Dean doesn’t catch all of it but from what he does understand he thinks Eileen is updating Cas on what happened to Chuck), and Sam produces a box of sugary cereal for Jack, and it’s all awesome.

Well.

Mostly.

Because Jack and Cas are supposed to be in each other’s orbits. Sure, all of them had a hand in raising the kid, but Cas is Jack’s honest-to-god (maybe a little too soon for that turn of phrase) family. Dean remembers vividly how bent up Cas was those times that Jack died--and how Jack took the news that Cas was gone, after that night in the dungeon. That’s a father-and-son duo right there if Dean has ever seen one.

But they won't look at each other.

Dean tries not to read too much into it, but the whole day, they’re never alone in the same room, and when Dean offers that maybe they could take Miracle on a walk, Cas backs out as soon as Jack volunteers.

Dean definitely has ulterior motives when it comes to dragging Cas to his room when Cas tries to slither off that night (namely: kiss him like it’s going out of style in an attempt to make up for the last decade and some change), but after the long-awaited make-out session, Dean can’t help but ask the question that’s been on his mind.

“What’s up with you and Jack?”

Beside him in the bed, Cas stiffens. “We, uh...had a disagreement.”

Dean cranes his head to look at Cas, who is currently using Dean as a pillow. “You’ve been back for fourteen hours! What did you disagree about?”

Cas sighs. “After resurrecting me, Jack took me first to Heaven to show me what he had done. It was impressive--he started redesigning the whole thing. But, uh, I don’t know how it came up...but he started asking about me dying.” Cas lifts his head, and Dean sees his eyes welling up with tears. “He’s angry with me, Dean. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay.” Dean attempts to gather all of the reassurance he can muster. “First of all, he’s not even four years old yet. When Sam was four, he would get mad about someone changing the TV channel. If someone in his family up and died, he would probably be even more upset.” Dean has to stop for a moment as his brain catches up to his analogy and he remembers that he was four when his mom died and he stopped fucking talking for a year.

“That’s true.”

“And maybe you two just need to get real about it, y’know? A good old fashioned conversation.”

“Ah, yes, something you have often.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, and then he kisses Cas again to make that command stick.

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

Despite the warmth and contentment that come from having someone in your bed, Dean still wakes up at the asscrack of dawn because he can’t sleep, and he finds himself in the kitchen, contemplating making something extravagant for everyone for breakfast since he has the time. French toast, maybe?

He goes on a journey to find suitable bread in the pantry and then drops said bread on the ground when he turns to see Jack standing in front of him.

“Gonna put a bell on you,” Dean mutters, bending to pick up the bread. “What’s up, kid?”

Jack looks nervous. “It’s Cas.”

“Go on.” Dean leads them back into the kitchen and starts rooting through the fridge for eggs and milk. “Spill.”

“I--” Jack sighs heavily, a twin to Cas’s sigh earlier, and Dean thinks that it really is uncanny how alike they are. He leans against the counter heavily. “We argued.”

“What about?” Dean asks. Nutmeg, that’s what he needs next. Sam was the one to use it last, so it’s probably somewhere really fucking weird.

“...I’m angry.” Jack sounds shattered, and Dean pauses. Jack looks up at him, eyelashes wet and voice small. “Why am I still mad at him, Dean? I brought him back! He’s here!”

Dean remembers being really pissed off when Cas pulled Sam out of the pit, upset that Sam even jumped in. So he thinks he knows what he wished someone would have said then, and he pulls Jack to the kitchen table.

“Sometimes,” Dean starts, “People we love do things that make us upset.”

“Like dying?” Jack asks.

Dean lets out a low laugh. “In this family, yes. But being upset with them doesn’t mean we don’t love them. In fact, it might even make us angrier, that we love them and they pissed us off.”

Jack nods.

“So,” Dean decides to give Jack the same advice he gave Cas. “Maybe you should just try to have a conversation with him about it. Tell him how it felt that he was gone.”

Jack slowly nods again. “I think I’ll do that.” He gets up and throws his arms around Dean’s neck. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean sits there, stunned, for at least a minute.

Maybe Cas’s paternal nature is rubbing off on him.

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

Cas announces after lunch that he’s going out, and then Jack says, “Me too,” and they fool absolutely no one.

Dean spends the afternoon making meatballs for dinner (in addition to becoming Mr. Clean since Cas died, he’s become Martha Stewart), and hopes, when he hears the bunker door slam, that it’s a good sign.

“You’ve got something on your face,” Dean says to Jack when he walks into the kitchen with a smear of chocolate across his cheek.

“We got ice cream!” Jack says.

“It was delicious,” Cas adds, following Jack in. His expression as he looks at Jack is warm and full, not the hard-edged sadness of yesterday, and Dean breathes an internal sigh of relief.

As it turns out, though, they did not bring ice cream for everyone else. Disappointing.

#dadstiel week #I struggled with today's prompt so I hope this is adequate?#offbeatwrites #TIME TO TAG SOME FOLKS #AHHHH #friendshapedcastiel #userstarry #chocolatecakecas #userdainty #kashmircastiel #userdorksinlove #anyways #:)

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Note

hello !! congrats on 4 years !! i love your writing sm! could i request a tbz haknyeon strangers-to-lovers royalty au plz ?

of course you can! thank you for this request and your support <3

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Title: Proposal

Pairing: Haknyeon x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Triggers: mentions of a war

"Your Majesty."

The voice of the guard settles the conversation in the throne room, letting silence fall once more. Haknyeon nods. "Yes?"

"The sovereign of Landis requests an audience."

Whispers fill the room. Haknyeon himself frowns. Landis is a small country down south, barely known for anything other than its waterway system used by traders. There has been contact before, but very limited - his tutors barely saw fit to even mention that to him when he was younger. What might they want with him?

"Landis?"

The guard looks about as confused as he is. "They said it's a matter of utmost urgency."

Haknyeon looks at Changmin. Changmin looks at him. They hold each other's gaze for a moment before Changmin nods once.

He turns back to the guard. "How many in the party?"

"Just two, Your Majesty. The sovereign and one advisor."

Is it so urgent that they could only dispatch a single person other than their ruler? "Have they been searched for weapons?"

"Thoroughly, sir."

He thinks for a moment. "Let the sovereign in," he finally decides, "but not the advisor. I want to know what they want from their ruler's own tongue."

The guard bows, then slips out the door. Just a few seconds later, the doors open again, revealing the ruler of Landis.

You don't look very impressive, not at first. Your clothes, though fine, don't really speak of high royalty, and exhaustion seems to weigh your every step as you traverse the room. But when you come to the center, you look up and meet Haknyeon's gaze...

He's never seen a fire burn so bright in a pair of eyes.

"Your Majesty." You settle on your knees, head bowed forward.

"You may rise," Haknyeon says, then waits for you to stand. "What brings you here, sovereign of Landis?"

Your eyes flicker from wall to wall. "Would it be possible to clear the room before I speak?"

Changmin's shoulders tense. Haknyeon himself almost puts a hand on the sword at his side. "For what reason?"

"I have a proposal to make." You meet his eyes calmly. "I'd simply rather not everyone speak about it if it does not go through. If this is not possible, however, I understand."

Haknyeon narrows his eyes. "My advisors and guards will stay," he says. "The rest of the court is dismissed."

Whispers fill the room, looks thrown his way as the crowds of nobility exit through the doors. Haknyeon acknowledges none of them, but even so, he has to stifle a sigh of relief when the doors finally close. "You said you had a proposal?"

You nod. "Will you allow me to speak?"

"Yes."

You don't waste a minute. "I don't know if you have heard, Your Majesty, but there is a war coming in your direction and mine."

He has heard. The dictator of a larger country, known for its wealth and power, has been rampaging for conquest. However, his country, though wealthy, never seemed to be a target, and none of his allies have fallen thus far...

"I received a letter from the man who leads them." You spit the word man out of your mouth like it burns on your tongue. "He asked for my surrender, for he knows a country as small as mine could never hope to fight off his army."

"Will you surrender, then?"

A sardonic smile plays slightly on your lips. "I don't plan to," you reply. "But I will need resources."

Of course. This is the reason you came. "You ask for my resources, then?" Haknyeon asks. "Why choose my country? Why not one that is larger, more bountiful in wealth?"

"You are closer. We share a common enemy." You swallow slightly. "If he decimates my country, he will no doubt set his eyes on yours. And..."

Haknyeon almost leans forward, so as not to miss a single word you say.

"I hear you are looking for someone's hand in marriage." You meet his eyes. "I am here to offer mine."

Even his advisors don't manage to suppress their surprise at that. Haknyeon can't blame them - how could you, the ruler of a small country known for almost nothing, expect him to accept your hand when you have very little to offer other than your waterways?

You stand among the whispers, unbothered, unflinching. Your stance speaks of confidence, but your eyes speak of intelligence - there's no way you could truly expect him to even consider this proposal, not when you're as smart as Haknyeon believes you are -

Ah.

That's it.

You don't expect him to accept at all.

His voices silences the whispers. "You don't expect me to accept."

You raise your chin, meeting his eyes defiantly. "No, I don't," you admit baldly. "My advisors told me it was useless to try. Why do you think I came alone?"

"Why, indeed." Haknyeon tilts his head. "So let me ask. What was the reason you did come, if you truly have no expectations for your offer?"

Silence falls. Your eyes narrow. For not the first time today, Haknyeon feels almost like the lesser under your gaze, piercing, sharp, determination brewing behind your pupils. But he holds it, because for some reason, even though you are of a smaller nation, a smaller people...

You command attention. You command respect.

And a part of Haknyeon wants you to respect him, too.

"How far would you go for your people, Your Majesty?" you finally ask. "To save them from a war that would decimate you all, crush you under the iron fist of a dictator known for his cruelty?"

The question is rhetorical. Still, though, you pause a moment, those piercing eyes boring deep into his soul.

When you continue, your voice seems to have dropped an octave. "I would do anything, Your Majesty." Your eyes burn with steel. "Even if it meant offering myself to someone whom I have never met."

The silence in the room feels thick enough that Haknyeon almost thinks even his sword couldn't cut through all of it. Out of the corner of his vision, he can see all of his few trusted advisors staring at him, all trying to communicate something different through their eyes.

But Haknyeon thinks he already has an answer.

"How many troops do you expect to need?" he asks.

You don't hesitate. "As many as you can spare."

"What will you be willing to give in return for my aid?"

"We can negotiate use of our extensive waterways," you reply.

"And lastly..." Haknyeon narrows his gaze. "Why do you offer marriage? Is an alliance not sufficient?"

You set your jaw. "Marriage is binding," you say. "More binding than any alliance could be."

Binding. Binding for both you and him. Whatever you offer him in return for his help will be set in stone, essentially, just the same as whatever he offers you.

You're smart. Very smart. Despite having known you for all of less than an hour, Haknyeon feels his respect growing for you by the minute. "Very well," he says. "I have considered your proposal. And..."

The tension heightens. Every one of his advisors leans forward in anticipation. Even you look slightly nervous, the look in your eyes no longer as steady as it was before.

"I will enter an engagement with you," he says, ignoring all of the looks being thrown his way across the room. "It will be in effect as long as you are alive and your kingdom still stands. In return for my troops, you will offer unhindered access to your waterways, for both commercial and military use."

Your jaw tightens. Clearly some of this is not what you wanted, but Haknyeon needs the respect of his advisors. He can't enter this deal without gaining something from it. "If you make it through this with your kingdom intact..."

Anyone could hear a pin drop in the room.

"Then we will marry."

Several people audibly gasp or whisper. Haknyeon lets Changmin issue them a glare. "If you agree, I will have a contract drawn, to be signed within two days. It will be immediately binding." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this to your satisfaction?"

For several long moments, you scrutinize him through those eyes burning with intelligence and determination. They rake over his face, searching, probing, scouring for any hint of dishonesty, any double meaning behind his words.

But Haknyeon has never had anything to hide.

At long last, your sharp gaze softens, still cautious, still guarded, but slightly less so than before. The tiniest hint of relief emanates from your face, from the slightly loosened set of your jaw and the barest hint of a smile on your lips.

Haknyeon wonders what that smile would look like if it were true, genuine, unhampered by the weight of the war on your shoulders.

You nod once, sharply.

"We have a deal, Your Majesty."

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rainydayotomes · 3 years

Text

Reddened Love (Tsukuyomi x Reader)

This story was requested by anon a couple days ago, and I accidentally wrote waaaay too much for this so it became it's own fic ;P

I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope it was to your liking anon! <3

The request can be found here.

Notes: This story takes place after the events of Akaza's good ending. And- you are not Olympia! There are next to no story spoilers, except for a non-important scene featuring Tsukuyomi at the end of the game. -------------

"(Y/N), are you going down to Yomi today?" "Lord Jigen! Yes, I am. I am in need of more... supplies." You fidgeted with your somewhat darkened red hair to imply what you meant. You sighed when you saw the colour come off on your fingers, and hid your hands within your long sleeves once more. Jigen gave you a kind smile, knowing what you meant. "Of course. Enjoy your walk." Every 3 months, the colour that had been painted into your (h/c) hair started to fade and come out, much to your dismay. It had already been 4 months since you last got the dye needed for your hair, so today you needed to make your annual trip to visit the lone man that lived deep underneath Yomi. (Why am I the only one who has to do this...? Jigen, Douma, and Tokisada don't have to go through the same thing....) You heaved out another sigh at your predicament. As usual, Tsukuyomi had never told you why you had to do this- why you had to hide your real identity- that you were an outsider. None of the other outsiders had to hide. So why did you? The scarf you had gently and elegantly wrapped around your deep red locks swayed in harmony with the cold autumn breeze. You shivered as the wind pierced your sweater, the cold seeping deep into your bones. "A-Ah, good afternoon Riku." "May I see your pass?" You gave a hurt smile at the blue haired soldier. "Always the perfect soldier, huh? You always act like you don't know me even though everyone knows we've been friends for a long time." "......" Riku averted his eyes. "Well, whatever. Here's the pass, soldier boy." "...Go ahead." And with those words, your feet carried you down the steps and into the depths of the underground world. You rubbed the tips of your hair to shed the old dye that clung to you, as to not appear quite as.... red, to the residents with no "good" colour. You pulled the scarf around your hair closer to you, and kept your reddened eyes cast downward. Another 'gift' from Tsukuyomi to help you blend in with the red. You hurried down the main street, thankfully blending into the crowd of various colours easily enough on your way to the spa. "Oh! (Y/N)! Here to see Tsu again?" Camellia cried out to you from the front steps. You nodded, smiling at the doll. "Yep. I know I'm a month late, but I was being invited to date after date.... so many suitors that I can't take." "I'm sure one of them wouldn't mind your colour! Hey, what colour do you even think you-" "That's enough, Camellia. Let her see him; he's worried." Yosuga's voice interrupted the doll, and it was then that you had noticed he was standing with the doors open. "Oh! That's right! (Y/N)- Tsu was worried about you!" Your brows furrowed in confusion, unable to picture the always calm and serene Tsukuyomi actually worried about you. "Really? Tsukuyomi?" Yosuga laughed at your reaction. "Yes, I know it's hard to believe so you better hurry down." "Uhh... right. Excuse me then..." You said, walking past both friends and towards the back rooms. The cold, stagnant air of the deepest part of Yomi hit you like a brick- it always did when you came to see him. But today, it seemed so much colder then usual. You never understood how the things down here could grow like they do- the grass, the trees... even the spring that sat in the center of this weird cave-like area shone like it reflected the brilliance of the moon. You walked up to the lone house that sat far from the entrance to the lonely cave, and moved the curtains to the side to enter the home. "Tsukuyomi?" You called out, placing your bag down beside the door. Whenever you came for the hair dye, Tsukuyomi asked you to stay for tea- but he had never not been present when you arrived. What was he doing? "Ah- (Y/N)!" A smile erupted on his face the moment he saw you, as he stood in the doorway to the rest of the building. "It has been a while. I am very glad to see you are alright." He held his arms out, and you already knew what he wanted. You nodded, giving him a smile as you walked up to his embrace. "It has been. Sorry I couldn't come sooner,

there was never a good time to step away from the red for a day.... everyone wants me for some reason, and apparently this month it was all of the bachelors in the district..." His arms were wrapped around you protectively, and upon finishing your sentance you swore you could feel them tighten ever so slightly around your form. The mysterious man didn't say a word in response. Instead, after a few more moments in his warm embrace he pulled away, looking down at you. His hand, hidden by his sleeve, came up to push away the scarf from your hair. He looked troubled. "I was worried about you. I feared that you had been discovered." You shook your head, pulling the scarf from your head and folding it up neatly in your hands. "No no, nothing like that. I'm sorry to make you worry." His troubled look didn't disappear, however. His white sleeve stroked your sideswept hair, seeing the colour powder leave it's traces on the bright cloth. You felt him hover my your cheek, before he lowered his hand once more. "Come. You must remove the colour immediately." "Huh?" Suddenly, he turned and vanished deeper into the building- which you could only presume was his house. You had never been inside it before- and you doubted anyone else had either. Your heartbeat quickened as you followed his fleeting figure down a hallway before watching him dart into a room. You took in a deep breath, before following him into the only room who's door was open. .......... "...Huh?" Tsukuyomi was bent over something that reflected the candles that surrounded it. A container of water? But upon hearing your shock, he stood up straight and turned to you with his usual gentle smile. You could see his sleeve was wet- where he had watched the powder stain the pristine white cloth beforehand. "The water is comfortable. I assume this will be sufficent for you to cleanse yourself?" You blinked. Once. Twice. "Huh???" "I will find you spare clothes. You may leave your current clothes next to the water." And with that, he walked right past you and left before you could say a word, shutting the door swiftly behind him. .....Did he really want you to bathe? Here??? Why so suddenly???? The container of water- a deep brown coloured circular bathtub- sat in the center of a large room lit with lanterns. Candles adorned the perimeter, giving a beautifully peaceful atmosphere to the scene. Potted plants lined the area, making it almost seem like the bath was instead a beautiful spring in the middle of a forest. Perhaps that was what it was meant to look like. You stepped up to the... bath, seeing the beautifully clear and shining water rest still within the tub. You met your reflection in the liquid, ....... (.......HE WANTS ME TO GET NAKED!?) The revelation hit you like a stray dodgeball- and your face erupted into a deep scarlet. The thin wooden door shifted to the side behind you, and you turned to see Tsukuyomi carrying neatly folded clothing, placing them on a nearby bush that stood out from the rest of the greenery- almost like it was meant to hold things. "Do not worry, my (Y/N). The water is taken from the spring on Tennyo island, and is blessed by Amatersau herself." "T-Tennyo island?! I-I really don't think I s-should be... uh..." You stared at the beautiful reflection of the room in the water, trying to figure out what this ever-mysterious man was thinking. "You must cleanse yourself, my dear. This water is safe for you. As is this place." "U-Uh...." You stiffened immediately as you felt Tsukuyomi's sleeved hands on your shoulders, slipping your sweater off your shoulders. "....." You seriously couldn't understand what was going on in his head. Why did you have to 'cleanse' yourself? Why do you need to remove the dye from your hair so urgently? Usually you just did it once you got back home and then reapplying the fresh dye he gave you.... You had let him take the sweater from your cold body, but upon feeling the soft cloth of his sleeves on your waist, you instantly pulled yourself away from him, turning to him with a

blush. "I-I can do it myself!" He looked downward, a smile on his face. "So be it." The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, as you waited for him to leave. Clearly, he wasn't about to let you get out of this. "U-Uh...? Tsukyomi? Aren't you going to.. uh... leave?" "Ah, that is what you are worried about." He looked upwards with a smile, and you still couldn't tell what was going on behind that deep golden eye of his. "I will not do anything you are uncomfortable with." "But I'm not comfortable taking off my clothes here....!" "That, I am afraid, is not a choice." He looked downward again, a troubled look crossing his features for a moment before he looked back up at you. "Would you prefer me to help-" "-NO!" Your voice reverberated around the room, your resounding decline of his offer coming out a bit louder then intended. "...No." You reaffirmed, but calmer this time. "I-I'm ok." You took in a deep breath, your hands going to the hem of your shirt as you turned away from his gaze. ...Was he seriously going to stay here??? Why????? You turned around again, intending to voice your questions to the man who insisted on your bath. "Why do I have to-" His sleeve suddenly came to your lips, and you narrowed your eyes on his outstretched arm before looking back up at him. All he did was give you his usual, beautiful smile.... and that's when you felt it. Gentle, but cold fingers on your hip. They curled under the hem of your shirt and lifted it up slowly, his other hand pulling away from your lips and revealing itself to meet the other side of your shirt. Your breath felt caught in your throat, as all you could do was stand there and blush as Tsukuyomi disrobed you. (....ok. There's no use fighting this. He's always been... a little weird like this. He probably... doesn't mean anything.... by this... right?) You steeled yourself, and allowed him to do as he wished. You gave in, and lifted your arms above your head. The hair on your neck raised at the feeling of his cold, pale fingers grazing the sensitive flesh of the top of your breast. Finally, your shirt was discarded, and Tsukuyomi took the fabric and folded it neatly, placing it on another bush close to the bath. As he did so, you moved to turn your back to him, swiftly taking off your pants and panties in one motion, but the man turned back to you before you could fold the denim. You could feel his gaze pierce your back, and you couldn't help but shudder. You went to move your hands to your back, standing awkwardly, but instead you felt Tsukuyomi's cold fingers graze against the top part of your back, right underneath your neck. You froze. "You haven't taken the proper precautions to prevent staining of your skin." His voice was soft, but there was a hint of something almost.... sinister, angry- in the way he said it. "I-I uh.... I tried. But it's difficult to-" Before you even realized it, your bra fell away from your chest, and you could feel the intense heat burning away at your cheeks. "Get in." Was he... angry? You assumed that you had accidentally gotten dye on your neck when you had last used it, but shouldn't it have washed out by now? And why would he be mad over that? He sounded like he always did when he spoke, but you couldn't help but feel something buried beneath the calm of his voice. You moved swiftly into the water, sinking your cold flesh deeper and deeper into the clear bath. The water was surprisingly warm and comforting. Tsukuyomi watched as you submersed yourself, his piercing gaze eyeing your every move. You sat down on the rounded protuding edge at the bottom of the bath, your body tense under Tsukuyomi's stare. (.....he's still here.) You turned to meet his gaze, finding him taking off his robe. ....WAIT WHAT!? "U-Uh- wait a second-!" You cried. What the hell was he doing!? He wasn't seriously going to get in with you was he!? Your face burned with heat, as you realized just what you got yourself into. But.... the pale man stayed quiet, and the only thing he took off were his

robes.... underneath, he wore a simple tank top. His skin was unbelievably pale. You averted your gaze quickly- realizing you were staring right at him. Your cheeks maintained their reddened state. Your thoughts raced, trying to figure out what was going on and if this was really the Tsukuyomi you knew. He... definitely wasn't acting like it. The man walked up to the edge of the bath, bending over slightly to dip his hands into the warm water. "Did you think I was going to join you?" He spoke huskily into your ear. You felt a shiver go down your spine as you felt his breath on your skin. You were sure the look on your face said it all, and you knew that your eyes were as big as saucers. "Tsu... this isn't funny..." You felt water run down your shoulders, your neck, your back.... and realized that Tsukuyomi was moving to cover the areas of your skin that had yet to touch the water. 'Tsu' remained silent, even after your objection. You tried to break the awkward silence. "I-I.... uh... can do it myself..." You said, but he made no movement to stop. He was gentle, and all you could hear was the steady pouring of water as it fell from his hands and onto your skin. You could see the water slowly turning red, no doubt from the dye that had apparently stained your skin. You felt his hands rub into the muscles of your shoulders, his fingers nimble and experienced. His hands slowly moved up your neck, and you felt your hair shift from his presence. With his other hand, he poured water over your head, and stroked your hair to pull out the remaining red powder that clung to your locks. Finally, your natural hair colour was revealed once again- something that nobody but you and him had ever seen. "This red does not suit you." "Huh?" "No colour of this island would suit you." "Uh...." He seemed to pick up the pace a little bit, working swiftly yet ever gentle to remove the dye. "I much prefer your natural appearance." Ah... that's what he was getting at. Maybe... now you could ask him why you had to dye your hair? You voiced your question to him, and for a moment he stopped. His hands remained on your head and in your hair, and suddenly he removed himself from you. But- soon after your face was covered in water that had been poured over your head. Tsukuyomi had been careful to not get water in your face before... until now, that is. "Hey!" You swiftly turned around and shot him a glare, water dripping from the hair that now covered your face. But he simply gave you a playful smile. "Your natural beauty had to be hidden." The glare that painted your expression swiftly disappeared, and was replaced with shock and a little bit of embaressment. "What?" Tsukuyomi continued to smile. "You needed to be protected from the people of this island. And in order to do so, you had to become one of them." Your brows furrowed. "Wait... why? Why did I need to be protected? The other outsiders were fine...." Your question was simply left unanswered- but Tsukuyomi's smile seemed to widen just a little bit. The water around you glimmered with a dull shade of deep pink from the dye that you had been freed from. Orange flickered on the surface from the candles that surrounded you... and infront of you, the only thing you could see in the pale man's deep golden eye was your reflection. "Recent events have made me realize that you are no longer safe from the people of this land. So I shall be taking you into my care permanently." He said with a look of concerned thought, his eye lowering to the ground for a moment. "Huh!?" Water splashed around you at your sudden movement, as you turned your entire body towards the man; making sure to keep your chest below the edge of the bath. Tsukuyomi turned his eye back to you, and it seemed to almost shine in the candlelight. "I do not wish for others to defile you. Here, I can protect you, and ensure that you are treated with love." "...love!?" That damned ever-present smile. The one that never betrayed his thoughts. That damned, beautiful smile. His hand came up to your

cheek, still wet from the water. "I do not wish for anyone else to touch you... I shall be the only one to do so. And I shall be the only one to know your true beauty." His hand was still cold, but.... it felt warmer then it did before. Your heart pounded away in your chest- it felt like it could burst out at any moment. Too soon however, Tsukuyomi pulled his hand away, and he looked down once more with a look of deep thought, his hand now on his chin. "I know I am being selfish..." He mumbled so quietly you almost didn't catch it. And you almost missed the flicker of sadness within his eye as well, but it lingered for just a moment too long. He looked back up at you, his smile returned. "Camellia informed me that I had to find something to live for." And there it was- his hand back upon your cool cheek. It didn't feel cold anymore. His hand was warm and comforting; and you could feel the gentle care behind his touch. "At first, I had resigned myself to looking after a sapling that had sprouted. But... then you appeared." Ah... that day that you had washed ashore. Tsukuyomi had found you, and brought you back to his home to nurse you back to health. You barely remembered that time- but you know it was soon after that that he decided you needed to hide your identity. "I do not wish to lose you.... I want to protect you from those who would do only harm to you." The blush returned to your cheeks, and you averted your eyes from his. You... had no idea he felt this way. Was this why you had to hide your true identity from everyone? Surely some people could be trusted, but.... Tsukuyomi didn't think so. "Tsu..." You mumbled; a start to a thought unfinished. Before you could process what was happening, Tsukuyomi leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was light- a true ghost of a touch. And as swiftly as he had kissed you, it ended. He pulled himself away from you, and turned away to do something. You looked down at the dull reddish-pink water around you, and your hand came up to your lips. It was as if you could still feel his cold touch. Your hand reached up into your hair, running through your wet head before bringing it back down to look at your palm. Sure enough, not a trace of the powdered dye was left. And from the looks of it, the dye was dissolving rapidly in the water around you. When you looked back up at Tsukuyomi, he had returned to wearing his robes, and was holding out the spare clothing he had brought for you earlier. Your eyes came to rest on the cloth in his hands, and.... it seemed to be similar to his. Red on white, with bits of yellow here and there. The smile he gave you felt different then before. Like.... it was filled with love. His eye was gentle as well, looking at you with affection. "Dry yourself, and I shall help you into your clothing." Again with the whole 'being naked infront of him' thing... You took a deep breath, giving in to him as you pulled your body up on shaky legs. You swiftly stepped out of the bath, and grabbed a nearby towel that the man before you had laid out for you. The white towel was quickly stained red from the remaining water and dye on your skin, but Tsukuyomi didn't seem to mind. You took a portion of the towel that hadn't been stained quite as much and ran it through your hair, trying to put it into it's usual place as much as you could. All the while Tsukuyomi watched you with that loving, affectionate smile. When you finished drying your body, you continued to hold the towel close to you, covering your naked form. Tsukuyomi moved to unfold the cloth he had prepared for you, placing it over your shoulders. It was warm, and... smelled like him. His face was suddenly next to yours, his breath hot on your ear. "I will take care of you. Whatever you desire, I will provide." His lips, warmer then they were before- pressed against your cool, damp cheek.

#tsukuyomi #olympia soiree #tsukuyomi x reader #reader insert #otome games #request

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irishseeeker · 3 years

Link

the story of us

summary: Five times Kate Sheffield and Anthony Bridgeton were just friends and one time they were more.

find chapter 1 here or here

find chapter 2 here or here

find chapter 3 here or here

find chapter 4 here or here

find chapter 5 part 1 here or here

----

chapter 5 part 2: all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

Anthony Bridgerton was an idiot.

He wasn’t just an idiot. You see, usually idiots are not aware of their idiocy. They live carefree and blissfully unaware of their idiocy.

Anthony knew he was being an idiot.

It was eating him alive.

He didn’t stop it, though. He didn’t know what else to do. He kept his distance from Kate as much as he could. It was the only thing he could think to do.

It was just so difficult.

He would screw it up. He would break them. It’s what he did. He screwed things up. He had nearly screwed things up with Daphne and Simon, he had screwed things up with Siena and he would screw things up with Kate.

Kate had been a constant in his life since he was nineteen years old.

Kate was his lifeline.

Anthony knew he shouldn’t put that all on her but he didn’t have a choice. There was nothing he could control when it came to Kate Sheffield. He had been completely hers since the moment they sat down in that lecture hall and she announced that he was wrong to their entire lecture.

Then proceeded to argue with him for the next thirty minutes.

He never stood a chance.

Kate deserved everything. She didn’t need someone who had an irrational fear of dropping dead from a bee sting and couldn’t manage a healthy relationship.

It’s not like he tried.

What was the point? They weren’t Kate.

Anthony needed time.

He needed time to figure it out. He could manage it. He had to get his head straight and learn to just erase his feelings and the constant pain. He had to learn to adapt and inevitably watch her be happy with someone else.

If they got too close, they would implode. The fine line between them had grown thinner and thinner and they were in the danger zone. They had been since their kiss.

It couldn’t happen again.

The thing about Kate was she still had that magic.

Kate believed in love. Kate wanted that struck by lightning, unconditional and inconceivable type of love. She deserved that type of love.

Kate deserved to feel the way Anthony felt every time he looked at her.

Anthony wasn’t a complete pessimist, he knew love existed. He had grown up watching his parents madly in love until his dad died. His mother had barely recovered from it. Anthony still hadn’t recovered from it. Violet Bridgerton still had bad days, days where she forgot to pick up Hyacinth or Gregory from school or lay in bed all day, barely moving. How could he do that to Kate? How could he let himself go through that?

That type of love wasn’t something he could give her.

That’s why he couldn't try with Kate. If there was a chance something could happen between them, he wouldn’t take it.

He wouldn't ruin that kind of love for her.

He would always love her, he would just have to let someone else do it.

He just had to figure out how to.

His only plan so far was avoiding her.

That plan was pretty flawed so far.

Anthony didn’t want to hurt Kate. He knew he was hurting her anyway, he didn’t miss her hurt expressions or uncharacteristic silences when he made an excuse that he had to go out for a while or that he would be late coming home. He was trying to fix things before something bad happened.

It’s just incredibly difficult to avoid the one person you spend all your time with and you happen to live with.

He wasn’t necessarily avoiding her, he was just distancing himself temporarily from her while he sorted things out. which is something he liked to convince himself of to try not feel like a complete and utter asshole.

He had even booked hotel rooms to try to get some sleep. How could he sleep when Kate was a few metres away from him? How could he concentrate on anything but Kate when she was close to him?

He needed to protect them.

He needed boundaries.

He also needed Kate.

“Anthony!” Hyacinth shouted cheerfully, grinning widely at her brother as she ran towards him from the school’s front door. Anthony had been leaning against the railing of the gate, waiting for Hyacinth and Gregory to finish school.

His afternoon meetings had been cancelled so he called their nanny, Pippa and told her to take the rest of the day off. His mother had been down at Aubrey Hall for the week with builders planning some reconstruction and she was due back this evening. She hadn’t said anything yet but he suspected it had something to do with preparations for Daphne’s wedding. Anthony wanted to see his siblings and he needed a distraction from the million thoughts running through his head.

“Hi titch,” Anthony said, grinning back at her as he leaned down and picked her up, resting her on his hip. She was too old at seven to be carried around, but he didn’t really care. He needed Hyacinth to stay little for as long as possible. “How was school? Have you seen Greg?”

“It was fun,” She murmured, resting her cheek on his shoulder and letting out a small yawn. “We had to draw our favourite animal, so I obviously drew Newton.”

Anthony couldn’t stop the smirk breaking out on his face. “Obviously. Can I see?”

Hyacinth nodded slowly, wiggling out of his arms so she could open up her Jurassic Park backpack. She pulled out a piece of paper with her drawing, which had a crayon version of what Anthony guessed was Hyacinth, Gregory, Kate, Anthony and the ginger blob in the middle that was Newton.

Something inside of Anthony’s chest clenched.

“Be careful,” Hyacinth scolded, prying the paper out of Anthony’s hands. “I’m going to give it to Kate.”

Anthony bent down to Hyacinth’s eye level, smiling at her as he held open her back and put the picture back inside. “Kate will love it.”

Kate would love it. She was so incredible with Hyacinth and Gregory and they adored her. Kate kept everything they had given her over the years, it had been pinned up on Anthony’s fridge along with the drawings and pictures he’d received from them since Kate had moved in.

They also adored her demon corgi, who had taken over Anthony’s flat for weeks. The little shit climbed into his bed every single night and he knew Anthony wouldn’t kick him out. He had given up a long time ago.

He also started walking him whenever Kate couldn’t, she usually brought him in the evenings and Anthony in the morning when he went for his daily jog.

It made Kate insanely happy when he did it, so obviously Anthony was going to do it.

He had quickly snapped a sly picture when Hyacinth wasn’t looking, he had to send it to Kate. There was no harm in it. Right?

It was just a picture.

Anthony: [sent an image]

Anthony: Your demon inspired Hyacinth’s picture for animal day. She’s excited to show you this later.

Kate: omg. I want to cry that is so bloody cute. Can’t wait to pin it up on the fridge. You look like you’ve put on a few pounds though x

Kate: please do not talk about your godson like that

Anthony: Please, I’m still the best looking guy you’ll ever know.

Kate: sorry, it’s spelled p-a-t-h-e-t-i-c*

Anthony: Sorry, it’s spelled I-am-letting-you-live-in-my-flat*

Kate: My presence is a gift.

Anthony: Also-We’re not getting into this again. I have no familial relation to Newton.

Kate: He has your middle name!

Anthony: Dogs don’t have middle names!

Kate: Do you want to see his birth certificate?

Anthony: Do you mean the certificate you made yourself and framed on your wall? Unfortunately, I’ve seen it more than once. That’s enough for a lifetime.

Kate: [sent an image]

Anthony: Your middle finger is a bit wonky.

Kate: [sent an image]

Anthony: I hope your boss saw you take that.

Anthony chuckled under his breath as he looked up from his phone, spotting Gregory talking to a few of his friends across the playground before waving at Anthony, jogging towards them. He glanced back at the text chain, internally cursing at himself. Why did he always have to flirt with her? He couldn’t help it.

“Hey mate!” Anthony grinned as Gregory reached them, wearing his football kit. They were heading straight to Gregory’s football training in a nearby park, where Anthony and Hyacinth would go for a walk and wait for training to finish. Anthony ruffled his hair, taking his bag and sports bag. “Good day?”

“Hey!” Gregory said, grunting at Hyacinth before beaming up at Anthony. Anthony knew it wouldn’t last forever but he’d pay every cent he had to keep Greg looking at him like he was his hero. “Are you coming to watch me play football?”

“Of course I am,” Anthony said, nudging at Hyacinth to start walking towards the car. “I can’t wait. Are you excited? Come on, we better get going.”

“Anthony! Hello!” A blonde woman Anthony had definitely seen before was standing around a group of women, with their kids running around them and screaming. She practically pushed another woman out of the way to get to him. “How are you?”

He couldn’t for the life of him remember who she was. “Hello,” He said lamely, glancing at Gregory and Hyacinth who looked bored and were absolutely no help. “I’m great, thank you. How are you? Nice to see you again. I’m sorry, we’re just in a bit of a rush.”

It was slightly rude of him but once one of these parents cornered you, you’d be stuck there for hours. He wasn’t going to get stuck talking about a bake sale for the next half an hour.

“I’m lovely thank you-Oh! Yes, of course. You’re such a good brother. Have a good day!” The blonde woman called after Anthony as he hastily nudged Hyacinth and Gregory along. “If you need any help or are interested in the bake sale next week, I can give you my number-”

“Get in,” Anthony practically hissed urgently, waving his hand in the direction of the women but quickly flicking open his boot and car.

“One of them is Sasha’s mum,” Hyacinth grumbled, glancing back at the herd of women whose eyes had followed them towards Anthony’s car. “They think you’re good looking.”

Anthony threw their bags in the boot and opened the back door, winking at Hyacinth as she climbed into the car. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Anthony laughed as Hyacinth and Gregory both made disgusted faces.

Gregory frowned at his passenger side. “I’m too old for a car seat.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “The law would argue otherwise. In.”

Gregory took one look at his brother’s face and didn’t argue, grumbling as he moved into the car seat. Anthony checked their seatbelts and once everything was set, he climbed in himself and drove off to the park.

“When are you and Kate getting married?”

“What?” Anthony’s eyes snapped towards the rearview mirror, widening as he looked at Hyacinth.

Hyacinth didn’t seem phased whatsoever by her question. “When are you and Kate getting married?”

“We’re not,” Anthony said with a steady voice, glancing towards Greg who was too consumed with his Nintendo to care about the conversation. Is that what they both taught? “Why would you ask that?”

Hyacinth shrugged. “Daph and Simon are getting married.”

“That’s because they’re engaged.”

“Oh,” Hyacinth said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she processed the conversation. “Why aren’t you and Kate engaged?”

“Kate and I are friends,” Anthony explained, feeling the dampness of his palms against the steering wheel. “We’re not like Daphne and Simon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Anthony said, a slight edge of irritation in his voice as he focused back on the road. He didn’t need to be mean, Hyacinth didn’t understand what she was talking about. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Well, people in love get married right?”

“Yes.”

“Daphne and Simon love each other?”

“They do.”

“Did Mum and Dad love each other?”

Anthony felt himself soften. “Very much.”

“Don’t you love Kate?”

“I do,” Anthony said hesitantly because he did in the exact way Hyacinth was asking but he didn’t really feel like getting into that. “People can love each other and not get married. It’s different for Kate and I-”

“No it’s not,” Hyacinth interrupted, a finality to the tone of her voice. It was the tone she used before she had a complete fit or meltdown. “I better be a flower girl.”

Anthony knew he was fighting a losing battle, and the irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him in relation to his current predicament. “At our non-existent wedding? Of course you can.”

Hyacinth stuck his tongue out at her and it reminded him so much of Kate, he nearly laughed out of relief and pain.

There it was again.

Kate.

Kate was constantly on his mind.

This was the problem. It was hit fault. This wasn’t the first time a family member, well, not just his family-anyone-had suggested there was something going on between him and Kate. They weren’t just friends. Kate was his best friend, she was everything but she had always been something a little bit more.

He had found her eight years ago and he didn’t know what to do.

Now, it felt like it was too late.

What the hell was he going to do?

Anthony couldn’t get Kate’s hurt look out of his head as he charged out of the house. It even momentarily distracted him from the blind fury he was feeling while he drove to the police station.

Benedict and Simon were right behind him, Benedict climbing into the front and Simon into the back. Anthony put the car in gear, speeding out of the driveway. The police station Colin was detained in wasn’t far and Anthony had already sorted out everything.

“Why did you do that?” Benedict asked, breaking the silent and tense atmosphere in the car as Anthony danced along the speeding limit, his foot pressing onto the accelerator to get to Colin.

He was relieved his brother was okay because Anthony was going to kill him himself.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you let Kate come? Over Simon?” Benedict asked, staring flatly at Anthony. “No offence Simon.”

Simon shook his head, pursing his lips. “None taken. I’m happy-well, not happy-happy to help.”

“I didn’t let Kate do anything.” Anthony said, in complete disbelief Benedict was bringing this up. There was a reason he didn’t let Kate come, he was trying to distance her from all of his shit. She didn’t need to be involved in this.

“Oh right,” Benedict said, sarcasm dripping in his tone which pissed off Anthony even further. “That makes sense. As if Kate isn’t involved in everything to do with you and our family. Kate is a part of our family. Why haven’t you done something about it?”

“She doesn’t need to be involved in this.” What the hell was Benedict doing? Why did it feel like everyone was against him? Anthony was trying, he was bloody trying and everything still went to complete shit.

Benedict didn’t buy a word of it. “Are you ever going to tell her?”

“Don’t start this shit tonight Ben,” Anthony said, his tense voice a warning, not a request. “Our brother is in jail.”

“I’m just saying-”

“I didn’t ask,” Anthony interrupted swiftly, his grip on the wheel tightening significantly. He could practically feel the vein in his forehead bulging. “Drop it.”

Anthony could see Benedict glance back at Simon, making some sort of gesture but Simon just shrugged, shaking his head.

Smart move, Hastings.

“Let’s go,” Anthony said once they arrived at the station, getting out of the car and walking into the empty police station. He paid Colin’s bail, filling out a form as he waited for an officer to bring Colin out.

Colin eventually appeared, looking worse for wear. He didn’t look in any way hurt, which made Anthony relax slightly. The blue shirt he was wearing was rumpled and the mop of brown hair on the top of his head was sticking up in various directions, but he was okay.

“Anthony-”

“Not a fucking word,” Anthony snapped, his voice deadly low as he looked at Colin who shut his mouth quickly. “Follow Ben to the car. Now.”

Benedict lightly squeezed Colin on the shoulder as Colin walked towards him, opening and closing his mouth before deciding to do what Anthony said.

Anthony had to take a few deep breaths before he walked out towards the car. He needed to keep his cool. Whatever happened, Colin was his brother and it didn’t need to result in a huge argument. As long as Colin took responsibility for his actions, it would be relatively okay.

Colin was twenty-two years old and still acting like a complete child. He traveled whenever he wasn’t at university and didn’t show any responsibility when it came to their family and his own life. Anthony was trying to not get too involved, getting Colin to even go to university had taken ten years off his life but sometimes Colin really tested his patience.

Anthony’s cool temperament lasted about twenty seconds once he got into the car.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Anthony snorted while Benedict sighed deeply. “It never is, is it Colin?” “I was drunk,” Colin said, slumping in his seat like Gregory did when he was annoyed about something. “Marina dumped me. I met up with my mates and got drunk. It was a mistake. How was I supposed to know you’re not meant to piss on statues?”

Anthony hesitated for a moment, glancing back at his brother’s face. Colin was in pain. He had really liked Marina, the whirlwind he had met while skiing in France over Christmas. Anthony had never seen his brother fall so hard. “I’m sorry about Marina, Colin. I am. That’s not an excuse to act like a complete and utter idiot and break the law.”

“It was an accident!” Colin snapped back, his voice rising in line with Anthony's. “What do you want me to do, Ant?”

“I just bailed you out of jail,” Anthony snapped, the anger he had been holding in finally coming out. He was racing home within the speed limit, the confinement of the car making him claustrophobic. “I made sure that that stayed off your permanent record so you didn’t get thrown out of university or asked about in job interviews. Instead of acting like a spoiled little brat you could be a little more grateful and shut up.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re right,” Anthony snapped, really focusing on not losing his head. “Yet I did it anyway.”

“I’m so fucking sorry I’m not perfect like you, Anthony,” Colin said, his voice full of venom as Anthony pulled up into the driveway. “That I’m not perfect like Ben, Daph, El, Franny or fuck it, Dad! I’m so sorry I don’t live up to your perfect expectations.”

“Oh shut up Colin,” Anthony snapped, his voice just as angry as Colin's. “You fucked up. I’m not interested in listening to your sob story to make yourself into a victim. Take some responsibility for once in your life.”

Anthony felt the guilt flood his body as he spoke to his brother. He knew he would be ashamed of himself later, he already was as the words sunk in. He was just so angry. Colin never took responsibility for anything and this was just another time he had gone too far and expected no consequences and Anthony to pick up the pieces.

“Fine,” Colin said, shaking his head as he flung the door open. “Here’s some responsibility for you. I’m dropping out of university.”

Then he slammed Anthony’s car door shut and all hell broke loose.

Anthony didn’t have anything left to say.

His fight with Colin, every insult and dagger he had thrown at him, circled around in his head and rang in his ears. He couldn’t find the words to speak as Kate drove them home. He wanted to say something, to put Kate at ease as she anxiously glanced at him the entire way home.

He just didn’t have anything left in him.

Colin’s words were on repeat in his head like a broken record.

“I don’t need to try to be a carbon copy of Dad to figure out my life. I’m not you, Anthony. Desperately trying to be someone he’ll never be.”

Colin was right.

Anthony sat down on the couch in his flat, his limbs heavy and deflated as the reality of his brother’s words hit him like a tonne of bricks.

He then did something that he hadn’t done since the day his father died, in his mother’s bedroom, away from his family.

He cried.

The sobs hit him like a wave and moved throughout his body, flooding out of him and everything he had been holding in for years. He cried for his dad, who he missed so much it killed him a little bit inside every single day. He cried for the man he desperately was trying to be but knew he never would. He cried for his family who had a gaping hole in it he could never fill. He cried for his family, who he tried so hard for but somehow always managed to fuck it up.

Anthony cried for everything that he had lost, everything that he was selfish enough to be angry about. Everyone he didn’t go, everything he didn’t do and everyone he didn’t meet because he had to step up.

He cried for Kate, the person who made him feel like he was worth something and that he was doing something right sometimes. He could never allow himself to let her know how he felt. He couldn’t do that to her.

Kate held him against her chest, her head resting on top of his as she moved her hand up and down his back, murmuring soothing words as he cried until nothing else could come out.

Anthony was surprised when Colin showed up at his flat the next morning. Kate had made him a cup of tea before putting Newton on his lead, throwing one final glare at Colin and a reassuring smile at Anthony before leaving their flat.

His flat.

It was incredibly awkward, as both the Bridgerton men sat on Anthony’s couch in complete silence. Colin was tapping his foot against the ground, looking up at Anthony and back at the floor as his mouth opened and closed as he decided what to say.

“I’ve always liked Kate.”

That took Anthony by surprise. “Who wouldn’t?”

“For a second there,” Colin said, a half chuckle coming out of his mouth that was muffled by his pained expression. “I didn’t think she’d let me in.”

“As someone who has been on the wrong side of Kate many times,” Anthony said, smiling slightly as leaned back into the couch. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“She’s terrifying.”

“Absolutely petrifying,” Anthony said, nodding in agreement. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Do you hate me?”

Anthony’s head snapped up, the strange lightness of their conversation fading completely. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

“I’d hate me.”

Despite everything that had happened, Anthony was reminded of who was sitting right in front of him. Colin was so like their dad it hurt Anthony sometimes. He was fun, happy, irrational, spontaneous and he cared so passionately about the people in his life. He was also young and still trying to figure things out. He made mistakes. He had his heartbroken. He was just trying.

They were all just trying.

“I love you, Colin,” Anthony said firmly, because it was true and there wasn’t anything his brother could say to ever make Anthony think or feel otherwise. “There’s nothing that could ever happen to make me not love you. Okay? I only want what is best for you. I know how unreasonable I can be sometimes. Maybe I was wrong for thinking what was best for me is what is best for you. I just want you to be okay if something ever happened to me.”

Colin visibly gulped. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Ant. I’ll never be more sorry for what I said about Dad. I didn’t mean it. I am a horrible person for saying that to you. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I do mean this, though. You’re not Dad, Ant. You’re you. You don’t need to be Dad. You don’t need to be anyone else but you. Everyone needs you to be you. We all have gotten this far because you’re you, Ant. Not Dad. Not anyone. You.”

Anthony was absolutely speechless as he listened to Colin. Colin and him had clashed over the years but they were so alike in so many ways.

“I know I haven’t always made things easy on you. I think about him a lot. If he would be proud of me. I don’t think he would.”

“Of course he would,” Anthony said firmly, finally finding his voice. “There’s so much to be proud of. You’re a fantastic person, Colin. You annoy the shit out of me sometimes but you’re an incredible person.”

“I want you to be proud of me.” Colin’s voice was shaky as he spoke, the emotion of the situation finally coming to the surface.

“Colin,” Anthony said seriously, looking at his brother. “There’s no world where I’m not proud of you. You shouldn’t worry about what I think-”

“Anthony,” Colin said seriously, looking his brother in the eye for the first time that morning. “All I think about is what you think. You’re the voice inside of my head. Even if you sometimes annoy the shit out of me, I need you there. I know we all wouldn’t be okay if it wasn’t for you. I’m so sorry I haven’t shown you how much I appreciate that. I’m so sorry. I’ll never be more sorry for that.”

The large lump in Anthony’s throat was becoming extremely painful. “You don’t need to apologize-”

“I do and I am,” Colin said, standing up and moving towards Anthony. “I love you. You’re the type of person all of us can only hope we can be. You’re my big brother. I’m going to hug you now. It’s going to be awkward but I feel like it’s necessary.”

They wrapped their arms around each other, slapping each other’s backs and holding onto each other tightly.

They eventually pulled back, both turning their heads slightly to compose themselves and wipe their eyes with the back of their sleeves.

“That’s enough emotion for a lifetime,” Colin murmured, moving back to his original seat and letting out a sigh. “Beer?”

“Beer.”

Of all the places Anthony Bridgerton imagined himself to be at this point in his life, it wasn’t at his sisters and best friend’s engagement party.

Simon had surprised Anthony by showing up to his flat after him and Colin had sorted things out. Simon had kept a respectful distance since Anthony had found out about Daphne and him, not pushing Anthony into anything and forcing their friendship back to the place it was.

Instead, something else had happened. They were in a new place. They were starting off a clean slate. They were back to hanging out, playing golf, grabbing dinner and drinks. Anthony was his best man. He didn’t want to hold grudges anymore. He wanted his best friend back.

The past week had surprisingly been great. He had decided to put everything on hold with Kate and he had spent an unbelievable amount of time with her this week, going against every part of his initial plan. The only bad part of his week was moving Kate into her new flat. The flat felt so empty and lifeless without her.

He even missed Newton, which is something he’d keep to himself until his deathbed.

Simon joined him at the bar, smacking his back. “Good speech, mate.”

“Mm,” Anthony said, giving him a sarcastic grin as he finished off his whiskey. “I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

“It really came from the heart.”

“Let’s not get soppy,” Anthony said, nodding in thanks to the bartender as he topped up his whiskey glass. “I have just decided I can tolerate you again.”

“Please, I was your favourite person until Miss Kate Sheffield came along,” Simon teased, grinning at Anthony’s side-eye. “Not that I blame you. She’s really something.”

“Back to that speech though,” Simon said, his back to the bar as he surveyed the buzzing dance floor. “I don’t think it was us you were entirely talking about.”

Kate.

Anthony’s heart stopped in his chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Simon said, downing the rest of the contents of his glass with a gleeful smirk. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go dance with my fiance.”

Bastard.

His family really needed to learn to mind their own bloody business.

“Anthony.”

Anthony’s vision was fuzzy. He could hear a light buzzing in his ear. Kate’s words were still playing in his ears.

“Forget me. I don’t want to speak to you ever again.”

He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t let this happen. He had tried so hard to protect them and it only ended with him fucking everything up so royally.

He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body, his eyes were stinging and his limbs were moving out of his own accord. He was bustling through the crowd, trying to find Kate who had disappeared into it.

“Anthony!”

Anthony barely heard his own name until someone grabbed his arm. Francesca.

“Did you know Michael was here?”

Anthony was still moving across the room, Francesca still beside him. “What?”

“Can you believe it?” Francesca said, her bottom lip sticking out as she shook her head in disbelief. More emotions were running across Francesca’s face than Anthony had ever seen in his life. “Ben invited him. John didn’t even know! Apparently he’s Ben's new protégé.”

“Fran, can you hold on a second?” Anthony said, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair, pulling at it. “I’m sorry. I-I need to find Kate. I have to find Kate.”

“Anthony,” Francesca said, her face flooding with concern as she steadied Anthony’s balance with her two hands on his arms. “What is going on? What happened?”

“Anthony.” Benedict had arrived, with Sophie beside him, an anxious look across his face.

“Piss off Ben,” Francesca snapped, her anger at her brother not fading in the slightest as she turned back to Anthony. “Anthony? What happened?”

“He’s asked to intern with me this summer! What was I meant to say Fran? I didn’t realize there was something going on between you-“

“There is nothing going on between us! I’m with John!” Francesca hissed, her anger momentarily shocking the two Bridgertons and Sophie. Francesca had always been calm, cool and collected. That wasn’t what was happening tonight. “I don’t need any relationship advice from someone who snuck around for over a year. Get off your pedestal.”

“It seems like Benedict can’t keep his nose out of anything.” Anthony spat out his brother’s name and didn’t care for Ben’s slight flinch. He needed someone else to blame.

He needed to find Kate.

“Someone had to do something!” Sophie snapped, her eyes completely on Anthony. “We’ve all watched this go on for years and it’s exhausting. Where’s Kate, Anthony?”

“What happened with Kate?” Francesca asked again, her eyes solely on Anthony.

“I was going to find her-“ Anthony said helplessly, his chest tightening which was making it hard to breathe. He had messed it up phenomenally. She was never going to forgive him. “It’s bad. We had a fight. A bad one.”

The meaning of his words seemed to translate as Sophie’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open slightly as she hastily turned to look around the room.

“I think you’ve done enough.” Sophie snapped, Anthony, Francesca and Benedict’s eyes were wide as they watched Sophie storm away in search of Kate.

“Ant-“

“It’s fine, Ben. I’m sorry I ruined your night. I have to go,” Anthony said, “This is my mess. I’ll fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix it alone.”

“I have to fix it with Kate.” Anthony said, charging through the rest of the crowd and searching everywhere for Kate. Benedict, Colin and Francesca were on his tail, trying to convince him to come inside and sit down and talk to them. He couldn’t. He tried her phone a million times that night but she didn’t pick up. He had to fix this.

Eventually, it was confirmed by Sophie that Kate had left the gallery. She had refused to let Sophie into her flat and that was as much as Anthony was told.

Kate was gone.

Anthony woke up with an excruciating headache and aching limbs. He grumbled as he sat up, feeling a hard exterior under him. He was sleeping in his old childhood bed.

The last time he had slept in this bed was the day before he had left university. The day before he met Kate and his life changed forever. He hated saying it, but it was true. His life had completely changed the minute he met and argued with Kate Sheffield and now-

Now he could have lost her forever.

“You’re up.”

Anthony jumped slightly as he saw Benedict and Colin standing at the foot of his bed, “Were you two watching me sleep? That’s creepy.”

“We were making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit,” Benedict said carefully, a stern expression on his face but he cowered slightly as Anthony looked at him. Benedict had certainly meddled last night. “You drank a lot after Kate left.” “I’d be impressed with how much you drank if it wasn’t because of such tragic circumstances,” Colin joked, failing to lighten the mood with a joke. “I made you some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Anthony said sourly, nodding at Colin but not appreciating the reminder of what a terrible person Anthony was. Kate had gone and he couldn’t cope, so he drank until he passed out.

Why did he open his stupid mouth and tell her about the kiss? Why didn’t he tell her he loved her back? Why did he try to explain to her why they would never work? It was the everything he had been telling himself again and again and when he had said the words out last night, they were meaningless and stupid. The only thing they had achieved was destroying them both.

What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t get the look of anguish on her face out of his head.

He had done the one thing he had sworn he would never do.

He had hurt her.

“I’m sorry about the gallery, Ben.” Anthony said, shaking his head in shame.

“I’m not,” Benedict said, shrugging as he leaned against the wall. “We sold all of my pieces. I knew what I was doing when I put that piece up there. I’m sorry, Anthony. I really am. I never wanted it to cause all this.”

“You didn’t cause any of this,” Anthony said, shaking his head and letting out a deep sigh. “I did.”

“No, he definitely caused this,” Colin said, completely ignoring Benedict’s glare. “That was a dick move. Ant and Kate were always going to come to blows and have it out but you just threw the toaster into the bathtub with that stunt.”

“Anthony got involved with my love life!” Benedict exclaimed, turning around to glare at his younger brother. “I wanted to help-”

“That’s because Ant is relatively okay at sorting out everyone else’s love life and is absolutely shocking at sorting out his own,” Colin said, shooting Anthony a cheeky grin who just glared back. “Tell us what happened.”

“I was furious about the picture.” Anthony said slowly, not wanting to relive the events of last night ever again. He would have to, everytime he told this story and when he saw Kate again. If he saw her again. She had never responded to any of his calls or messages last night and he hadn’t tried again this morning.

He didn’t want to hurt her further by harassing her.

Anthony needed to see her and speak to her.

“I was acting really unfairly. We started arguing. I said some things. Kate said some things. I said something really stupid,” Anthony said, letting out a deep breath before he continued. “Kate told me she was in love with me. I didn’t say it back. I told her I remembered that kiss I had pretended to forget on my birthday last year. She told me she never wanted to speak to me again.”

“That,” Colin was the first one to speak, “That is a lot worse than I imagined.”

“Helpful Colin,” Benedict said dryly, sitting down on the bed beside Anthony and patting his shoulder. “You messed up. Yes. Kate is hurt. She’ll forgive you. You’re Kate and Anthony. You can fix this.”

“I don’t know, Ben. I’ve never seen that look on her face before. She won’t speak to me,” Anthony said, falling back onto the bed and feeling utterly hopeless. “She’s never going to forgive me. I don’t know what to say.”

Benedict bit his lip, nodding his head. “Ant, you’ve never been able to talk to us the way you’ve been able to talk to Kate.”

“The one person you can talk to won’t talk to you.” Colin said slowly, as if he was putting something together in his head.

Anthony and Benedict both turned towards Colin and raised an eyebrow.

Colin’s face lit up, as if he had just won the lottery. He grinned widely at his two brothers, who looked at him suspiciously. “I have an idea.”

Colin’s brilliant idea was therapy.

Apparently, Colin had a heart to heart with Penelope Fetherington the morning after their argument. Penelope and Eloise were studying together for the day at their house and Eloise had left Penelope in the kitchen with Colin whilst she went off for a shower.

Eloise had not been talking to Colin after the argument, which led to his and Penelope’s strange but heartfelt conversation.

Penelope recommended Colin go to therapy.

That’s how Anthony ended up taking Colin’s therapy appointment at 10am that Saturday morning.

“Why are you here today, Anthony?”

Anthony hadn’t been to therapy since university. It wasn’t for this reason. He had been stressed, having bad panic attacks and feeling overwhelmed by everything. He was back again, for similar but different reasons.

“My brothers thought it would be good if I spoke to someone.” Anthony answered honestly, not feeling entirely comfortable to open up to a complete stranger whose office he had walked into two minutes ago.

“Do you think you need to be here?” His therapist asked, scribbling something down in her notebook.

“I suppose so. No. Yes, I do. I do think so,” Anthony said, scrambling over his words before he sat up straighter in his seat. “I do. It’s what Kate would tell me to do.”

“Who is Kate?”

“Kate is my best friend,” Anthony said instinctively, the meaning of the words hitting him a few seconds later. “Well.”

“Well?”

“It’s complicated.”

His therapist looked straight at him, giving him a friendly but stern smile. “I’m trained in complicated.”

“We’re not currently speaking,” Anthony said slowly, deciding to just let it all out. This is what therapy was for, right? He could be honest for once in my life. “It’s all my fault.”

“How long has it been?” His therapist asked, glancing at the round clock on her wall.

“About 12 hours?”

“Okay.”

“That’s really strange for us,” Anthony hastily explained, quickly feeling embarrassed about the situation and if he was appearing overdramatic. “We talk all the time. We lived together up until last week.

His therapist continued to write down a few sentences, the scraping of the pen against her paper making Anthony’s skin itch. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was a bad argument,” Anthony began, the memories of last night filling him with a heavy dread. “My brother had put a picture of us, multiple pictures of us, on display in a gallery. I panicked and I reacted badly. We both said hurtful things. The worst we’ve ever had. She told me she was in love with me. I told her I remembered our kiss I pretended to forget over a year ago. It ended with her telling me she never wanted to see me again.”

“Do you love her back?”

The question caught Anthony completely off guard. This was the most honest he had been in a very long time and his therapist was brushing over a lot of details, focusing on particular ones. “No, I do.”

“But you didn’t tell her that?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” His therapist said, nodding her head as she continued to scribble down a few sentences. “That is complicated. Could you tell me about your parents?”

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t face that today. When he had gone to therapy previously, they had sometimes spoken about his parents, mainly his father. Anthony didn’t have the strength. “I don’t want to talk about my father. I need to know what to say to Kate.”

“That’s okay,” She said, nodding her head slowly. “You have every right to not answer this question and I will drop it. Why do you not want to talk about your father?”

“He died when I was eighteen.” Anthony explained, figuring it would come out sooner or later.

“That must have been difficult.”

“It was.” Anthony’s words were caught between his teeth.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have seven,” Anthony answered, cracking his knuckles in his lap. “I’m the eldest.”

“I can imagine that’s a lot of responsibility at the age of eighteen,” She said slowly, as if she was trying to figure something out. “Especially when suffering from such a loss.”

“It is,” Anthony said, avoiding her eyes completely as he looked around the room. He didn’t want to talk about his family. That’s not why he came. “It’s my family. I’d do anything for them.”

“Why do you think you don’t deserve love?”

Anthony gaped at her. “I don’t think that.”

“If you were willing to step up and take responsibility for your family and ensure their happiness,” She said, leaning forward in her chair. “Why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Anthony said, his voice coming out a lot shakier and lower than it had in a long time. “She’s everything to me. Everything. I screw things up. I’ve never been good with relationships. I desperately tried to not screw things up and I did it anyway. I really tried to stop feeling like this. I even went to America to stop feeling like this and try to find someone new. It just always comes back to this and now-now it’s too late.”

“This is terribly cliche, but it’s the truth. It’s never too late and you will never know until you try. Why are you so sure you and Kate will fail? I say you and Kate as there are two of you in this. It seems like you put a lot of pressure on yourself. When it comes to your family and your relationships.” Her words were hitting Anthony forcefully, completely overwhelming him. “You should try giving yourself a chance.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You are standing in your own way. Why is that?”

He was getting really sick of all these questions.

“Kate deserves better.”

His therapist raised her eyebrow slightly, “Isn’t that for Kate to decide?”

Anthony had no response to that.

“Anthony, we have absolutely no control over what could happen in the future. Our fears will still exist in the past, present and future. What we can try to control is now. Good and bad things happen everyday. Nothing also happens everyday. Nothing sounds quite exhausting, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes it is easier to do nothing. Sometimes, we have to take a chance on the good or bad things happening,” She told him, smiling softly at him. “Sometimes, we just need to take that chance.”

Something just clicked.

He had to take that chance.

“I have to go,” Anthony jumped up, running a hand through his hair and slightly waving the other one around. “I have to talk to Kate. If she’ll talk to me, I’ll take that chance. Right? Right. Yes. Wow. Okay. Thank you, doctor. Thank you-”

“I’ll have my assistant book you in for an appointment next week,” His therapist responded, a slight smile on her face as she stood up to open the door for him. “Good luck, Anthony.”

Colin and Benedict stood up as Anthony walked into the waiting room, curious expressions on their faces.

“I have to tell Kate I’m in love with her.”

Anthony glanced down at his phone, which began buzzing his hand. Edwina’s name flashed on his screen.

Anthony answered the call, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Maybe it was Kate. Maybe she had lost her phone and that’s why she hadn’t been in contact with him last night. “Edwina?”

“Anthony,” Edwina’s shaky voice spoke through the phone, sending cold shivers down Anthony’s spine. “It’s Kate.”

Anthony had burst through the hospital doors, running up stairs and through doors until he found the room Kate was in after multiple directions from nurses, Colin and Benedict hot on his heels.

Edwina had reassured him that Kate was fine. Her brain scans and other injuries had come back completely clear, the worst thing that had happened was her leg had been broken.

He had to see her. He had to see her alive and breathing. He had to make sure she was okay.

“Kate.”

Anthony had never felt so nauseous and anxious in his entire life.

“Are you okay?”

Kate was there, sitting up in her hospital bed with her casted leg elevated in the air. She didn’t appear to have any other injuries, her dark hair was in a bun on the top of her head and she did have some scrapes and bruises along her arms, and a tiny scratch on her cheek.

“That's none of your business.”

That was the response he expected and it hurt just as he expected. He did deserve it.

“Kate was skating in Hyde Park when a cyclist ran into her, and she landed on her leg," Edwina explained carefully, anxiously glancing between Anthony and Kate. Benedict and Colin were behind Anthony, smiling awkwardly at everyone in the room and shooting a relieved expression at Kate. She smiled back at them, at least she wasn't icing them out.

Kate just refused to look at Anthony. “Get out.”

“We’re going to get some coffee in the canteen.” said Mary, beginning to drag an anxious looking Edwina out of the hospital room.

“Don’t you dare,” Kate snapped, raising her voice at her mother and sister. She pointed at the chairs they just vacated. “Anthony is the only one who will be leaving this hospital room.”

What did he expect? She had every right to be furious with him. It wasn't going to be easy and he would do whatever it took to fix this. To fix them. “I’ll wait in the waiting room until you want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

He nodded, making his way towards the doorway he had only come through. He knew Kate and pushing her wasn’t going to achieve anything. He had fucked up and he had to fix it in the way she wanted him to. “I’ll just be waiting then.”

And waited, he did.

He waited for two weeks until Kate was released from the hospital.

He tried everything. He had taken the time off work to be there during visiting hours, waiting for her to finally let him speak to her. He had drafted about fifty different speeches before she was released, thinking about everything he had spoken about with his therapist. He went to two more sessions during Kate’s stay and he felt something was really changing.

Except for Kate’s willingness to speak to him.

When he knocked on her door, she told him to get lost. When he brought her flowers, she threw them at him. When he brought her food, she wouldn’t touch it. She ignored his texts and calls.

She had every right to make him suffer and she was doing a superb job at it.

He spent his time on business calls or chatting with whoever was visiting Kate. Every Bridgerton but Anthony had been allowed in. He got to know her nurses and doctors, getting updates on Kate’s progress and asking them questions about her leg and the healing process.

Mary sat beside Anthony in the waiting room one afternoon, handing him a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“I started worrying less, you know.”

Anthony turns to look at Mary, frowning in confusion.

“Kate is a very good person. She takes care of people. She took care of Edwina and I more than she should have, especially after my husband died.” A sad expression appeared on her face. “My husband always said Kate tried to take care of him when her mother passed away. She was four years old.”

He smiled sadly, taking a small sip of his coffee. “That sounds like Kate.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mary nodded her head, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. “I always wanted that for her. Someone who would take care of her and she would let them. I wasn’t so sure it would ever happen until she brought you home.”

Anthony blinked at Mary, completely taken aback. He had known Mary for eight years now and they had spent a good bit of time together, but he couldn’t remember ever speaking to her alone. Especially like this.

“I knew she finally had someone to take care of her. You’ve been so good to her.”

“I don’t know if she’ll forgive me this time Mary,” Anthony said, his voice croaky as he hung his head low. “I don’t know if I deserve to be forgiven.”

“Kate didn’t talk to her father and I for two weeks because we didn’t let her go to an Eminem concert when she was twelve years old,” Mary said, chuckling softly at the fond memory. “She will come around.”

“We all make mistakes, Anthony. I don’t know what happened between you two,” Mary said softly, reaching over to squeeze his hands. “I do know you’ll be able to fix yours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Kate,” Edwina said, exhaustion flooding her voice as she pushed Kate’s wheelchair to a stop in front of the exit of the hospital. “Anthony’s car is the only car big enough to bring you home! You’re meant to lie across the back seat.”

Kate was glaring at Anthony with such an intensity, he was genuinely terrified. She was absolutely furious at the prospect of Anthony driving her home. “I’d rather walk.”

“I suppose you should have thought about that before you went skating on those death traps,” Anthony said, deciding that if she wouldn’t talk to him, he might be able to at least get an insult if he winded her up. Then, she would technically have spoken to him. “Hop on in.”

Kate’s mouth dropped open as she watched Anthony open up his back door, which had been filled with blankets and pillows to help Kate get comfortable. She knew she had no choice. The two nurses helped Kate into the backseat, buckling her in as Edwina got into Anthony’s car. Mary was following them home.

Kate, furious about recent events, was sulking in the back seat.

Edwina and Sophie hadn’t been overly kind to Anthony the first week after Kate’s accident. He didn’t blame them, he deserved every single bit of slack he got for what he’d done. They had eased up on him the last week, probably out of pure pity as he desperately tried to fix things with Kate who so far wanted nothing to do with him.

They finished their awkward car ride once Anthony parked in Kate’s flat’s underground car park. Now the fun really began. He would make himself useful in any way he could to help Kate, so Edwina and Mary had asked him to drive her home once he had offered.

“Kate,” Edwina said slowly, clearly nervous about what she was about to say as she opened her sister’s door. “Mum and I aren’t strong enough to get you out of the car.”

“Whose side are you on?” Kate snapped, realizing exactly what was going on. “There’s not a chance in hell-”

“I am on your leg’s side!” Edwina snapped, everyone’s eyes widening as Edwina’s temper flared. It was a rare sight. “I am losing the will to live here, Kate. Just let Anthony carry you upstairs and you can do whatever you want. Throw anything you want at him for all I care. Just get upstairs.”

Anthony leaned into the back seat, carefully moving Kate and her leg towards the edge of the seat. They were so close, his arms wrapped around her. If he looked at her, he could count the freckles sprawled across her nose and cheek and how many eyelashes she had. He had done it a million times before.

Except he couldn’t.

Kate refused to look at him.

He got her out of the car until she could support herself on her crutches, making her way towards the lifts. Anthony, Edwina and Mary brought all of her bags upstairs to her flat. Anthony had stocked her fridge and cupboards with all her favourite things and had gotten it professionally cleaned yesterday. He also had about five bouquets of tulips in each room.

“Simon dropped in some food from his restaurant,” Edwina said, smiling softly as she began to unpack the bag. “Thank god. I’m starving. Anthony?”

“I’ll go.” Anthony said, shaking his head as he headed towards the door after dropping the last bag on the floor. The hope he had of fixing things with Kate was really starting to diminish. She really despised him.

She wouldn’t even look at him.

Kate waved a crutch in his direction. It was the first time she had spoken to only him directly in over two weeks. “Stop getting me tulips!”

Anthony turned around to look at her, shaking his head simply. “No.”

“We are going to go out for a walk,” Mary suggested loudly, tugging at Edwina who gaped at her mother in disbelief and then glanced back down at the food. The two Sheffields practically ran out of Kate’s flat, bag of food in their hand, and surprisingly weren’t stopped by Kate.

This was his chance.

“How are you?”

Kate’s hard glare hadn’t faded. “Why do you care?”

He visibly softened. “Of course I care.”

“I don’t think you do, actually,” Kate snapped, aggressively fluffing the pillows behind her back where she sat on her grey couch. “I thought you cared until I realized what you had done. I thought you cared until I stood there telling you I loved you and all you did was tell me that you had lied to me and how we would never work. I never expected you to love me back, what did I expect was some-”

“Are you on drugs?”

“Excuse me?” Kate’s voice was almost a shriek.

Anthony had to really stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I can’t say this if you’re in any way inebriated.”

“No,” Kate muttered, crossing her arms across her chest, “I still despise you, so I’m of sound mind.”

“I should have kissed you. That night. When we were at Aubrey Hall. Seven years ago. I should have kissed you in the lake. I should have kissed you at the Law Ball in college. I should have kissed you when we were in Spain. When we were in my dorm. Your dorm. In the morning. In the afternoon. In the evening. There were so many times where I should have kissed you, Kate.”

“You did kiss me,” Kate spat out, tears flooding her eyes that made Anthony’s chest clench. “You kissed me and you pretended that you didn’t remember.”

“I’m an idiot. I’m a fool. There’s no rational explanation for why I did it. I was so scared of losing you, Kate. But I lost you anyway. I’ll never be more sorry for that, Kate.” Anthony took a few tentative steps towards her, crouching down so he was at her eye level. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. Please, just listen to me. I’ll leave you alone afterwards if that’s what you want.”

“I was on my way to yours when Edwina rang me,” Anthony said, trying to remember everything he had wanted to say and had written down so many times. “I was on my way to tell you I was in love with you. I was an asshole, the night of the gallery. A complete asshole. I panicked. I saw everything on that bloody picture that I have wanted and dreamed of for years, and I panicked. I was so scared of losing what we had that I was too scared to take the chance on having something more.”

Kate stared at him with her wide brown eyes, the ones he had missed so bloody much. He had missed everything about her and now he was here and he was trying. He was desperately trying and he had no idea if it would be enough. “What are you trying to say, Anthony?”

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old. I’ve denied it and denied it, because I’m screwed up, and I know you deserve better than me, but it's always been you Kate. It will always be you. I was terrified of screwing things up and losing you because I can’t live without you Kate. I don’t ever want to. You’re my best friend. You’re my person.”

“When I heard you were hurt and there was a chance that I could lose you-I can’t fathom life without you, Kate.” Anthony’s voice broke off as he spoke, his voice choking on air. “I can’t. I don’t want to. All I want is you, Kate. I’ll do anything to prove that to you. I’m all in. If you’ll have me.”

“Why do you get to decide?”

Anthony blinked at her through his watery eyes, hastily wiping them. He had finally said everything he wanted to say and the biggest weight had been taken off his chest. The anxiety of waiting on Kate’s response still clawed at him. “What?”

“Why do you get to decide that I deserve better than you?” Kate asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him.

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly, shaking his head as he leaned against the couch. “It wasn’t that I decided. It was just so obvious to me. You deserve everything, Kate. Everything. That isn’t me. All I can do is try-”

“No.”

His heart stopped in his chest, a rigid stance completely taken over. Was this it? Was Kate ending things forever? Has he lost for her good?

“You should have asked me.”

Anthony couldn’t help the sigh of relief that came out of him. “I know.”

“I’ve always been smarter than you.”

He smiled softly, nodding his head. “That’s debatable.”

“Do you always have to have an answer for everything?” She asked, completely exasperated, but there wasn’t any annoyance detected in her tone. It was almost teasing.

“I suppose,” He said slowly, his eyes never moving off hers. “Some things never changed.”

“No,” She said softly, her eyes moving around his face. “They really don’t.”

“I should have asked you too,” Kate added a few seconds later, visibly gulping as she pushed some of the loose strands of hair in front of her face behind her ears.

“I’m still so mad at you,” She murmured, blinking away a few tears that rolled down her red cheeks. “I’m so mad. I’m not going to suddenly stop being mad because you’re in love with me and I’m in love with you. We’re going to have to work at this. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“I deserve it.” He nodded in agreement, not being able to stop the small smile breaking out on his face as she said she loved him. “I know. I’ll do anything, Kate. Anything.”

She loved him.

Kate was in love with him.

“Hold my hand.” She murmured, extending her fingers towards him. Their fingers interlock smoothly, her soft, petite palm and his large, rougher hand against each other.

“If you had asked me,” Kate said, her voice coming out wobbly as she spoke. “I would have told you that you’re it for me. It’s always been you. From the moment I met you, it was always going to be you. I didn’t stand a chance. It’s not about deserving, Anthony. It’s about being there for someone no matter what. You’ve always been there for me. And I always want you to be.”

Their faces were extremely close now. He could smell her again, that soft scene of lilies and soap that he had missed so much. He could count the freckles on her cheek and her long, delicate eyelashes. His lips are “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Us,” Kate corrected him, her breathing small and shallow. “It only took us eight years.”

“This isn’t how I imagined it.”

“I’m so tired of imagining, aren’t you?”

He kisses her.

It’s better than he’s ever imagined it.

Why?

Because it’s real.

#the story of us #bridgerton #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #kate x anthony #ao3 #fanfiction #the end is finally here!#benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #edwina sheffield #hyacinth bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 122

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,000ish

Summary: A rollercoaster.... yep, that’s all I got.

Tony immediately called Happy to pick them up. The streets were busier now, so there was no way that Y/N and Tony walking wouldn’t be noticed. Happy was surprised and relieved to see Y/N. He knew not to ask questions, but Y/N could feel them turning in his mind. Thankfully, Tony had a private elevator from the building’s garage to his penthouse.

The penthouse was beautiful, not like Y/N expected it to not be. Tony was a billionaire after all. As Tony made a phone call to Pepper about not making his meetings today, Y/N walked around. Along the walls, there were pictures of Tony throughout his life. His young inventor years, him and Rhodey in college, him and Happy, him and Pepper. There was a picture of Tony and Maria, even one with Howard and Tony. As she continued she saw photos of her and Tony and the team. There was one of Harley and Tony, which looked to be fairly recent, and another one with Tony and a teenage boy.

“See you’ve found the wall,” Tony commented, walking up behind her. “Or, as Happy and Rhodey call it, the story of my life.”

“I’m surprised you have all these out,” Y/N said, motioning to the wall. “Especially—“

“The ones with the Team?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded.

Tony sighed, looking at the photos. “I like to remember the good ole days. The days before…”

“Before it all went to hell.” She turned at smiled softly at the man beside her. “I get it.” She turned back to the wall and pointed to the picture of Tony and the unknown teenager. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Peter Parker. Otherwise known as Spider-Man.”

“There’s a Spider-Man?”

“I forgot that I didn’t get the chance to introduce you to him. Parker helped me at the… well, it doesn’t matter. He’d really fan over you,” Tony chuckled. “Maybe I’ll see if he can stop by after school.”

“That would be nice.”

“He’s smart like Harley. I’ve been trying to introduce the two, but they’ve both been crazy busy.” Tony started walking to the kitchen. “Harley got early acceptance to MIT.”

“Really?” Y/N asked, excitedly, as she followed Tony. “That’s so good.”

“Full ride. And I’ve offered to help with any extra expenses.” He reached into a cupboard, grabbing two glasses.

“That’s really kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do. After all, without him, I wouldn’t have been able to save you from Killian all those years ago.” Tony got out some orange juice and started pouring it into the glasses.

“All those years ago?” Y/N giggled. “You make it sound so long ago. It was barely 4 years ago.”

“Well…” He pushed a glass over to Y/N. “A lot has happened since then.”

“That’s true.” Y/N slowly nodded, taking a sip. “How’s Rhodey?”

“He’s almost done with physical therapy. I have him in, like the, uh… mark 6 or something, of his braces. They’re really helping.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m planning on developing them so that more people like him can walk again.”

“You’re too good for this world, Tony…”

Tony laughed. “No, I’m not.”

“You hide it under a facade, but you are Tony.”

“I think—“

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted. “Secretary Ross is on the line. He says it’s urgent.”

“Doesn’t he always?” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes. He pointed at Y/N. “Stay silent. We can’t let him know that you’re here.” With a nod, Y/N responded. “Alright, patch him through FRI.”

“Stark,” Ross barked over the intercom system. “Y/N has been spotted in New York City.” Both Y/N and Tony froze, looking at each other with wide eyes. “A camera caught her face in Central Park.”

“Don’t run,” Tony told Y/N through his thoughts. “Please.”

“I’m working with local authorities as well as my own team to see if she’s still in town. I need you on it as well.”

“Can’t today. Busy.”

“This is an order, Stark.”

“Still, can’t. It’s my day off. I’m planning on putting some time in the lab. And spending some time with myself, if you know what I—“

“Stark! This is serious. I don’t care if she was your girlfriend. She needs to be found and brought in.”

Y/N took a step back, opening a portal behind her. Her and Tony’s eyes never left each other’s.

“Fine,” Tony conceded. “I’ll get on it right away.”

“Keep me updated,” Ross ordered before hanging up.

“So…” Y/N whispered. “You gonna turn me in?”

“Never.” He shook his head. “I’m going to go out and take them off your scent. You need to stay here.”

“Tony, I can’t—“

He rushed to her, grabbing her arms. “Yes, you can. Because you promised me one night. And I can’t bear to see you go without a goodbye again.”

“Then let me say goodbye. I promise it won’t be forever. I was so stupid for walking through the city like that.”

“Would you have sought me out if I hadn’t found you?”

“… I don’t know… I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry, Tony. For everything.”

He gripped tighter, but not enough to hurt. “Don’t go. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

Tony quickly responded with his lips on hers. He poured everything he had wanted to say in the past year into that kiss. Y/N willingly reciprocated the kiss. As the kiss deepened, Tony carefully moved his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a thin bracelet. As he held onto Y/N’s wrist, he slipped it on. Y/n felt it as is tightened around her wrist.

“What did you just do?!” She exclaimed as she pushed herself away. She looked down, holding her wrist. “What is this?!”

“I’m protecting you!” Tony defended.

“By what?! Tracking me?!”

“It’s not a tracker! It’s to keep you here!”

“You think this can stop me from leaving?! You don’t even know if it works!”

“I DON’T CARE! YOU AREN’T LEAVING ME AGAIN! I can’t… I can’t take it.”

Y/N took a step back, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “And you think this—“ She help up her wrist, “—will make me want to stay with you?”

“I just want to keep you safe…. You have to understand that. I’ve already lost so much.”

“Everything’s not about you, Tony…” She shook her head slightly. “I can’t believe you. Trying to keep me stuck here… Like, some sort of prisoner.”

“Do you even know what it’s like? I’ve watched you almost die, multiple times. You disappeared on me after losing our baby!”

“I do know what it’s like! I’ve watched you be put in harms too! If you remember, I’m the one who had to close the portal! You almost died because of the arc reactor! You wanted to sacrifice yourself in Sokovia! So don’t even. We’ve both done enough stupid shit for multiple lifetimes.”

“Y/N—“ He stepped towards her.

“No. I’ve got to go. And you can’t stop me.” Focusing, she pointed at the bracelet. A purple stream came out of her finger and hit the bracelet, shattering it.

“How did you…?” The shock left as quick as it came when he noticed a portal opening. “No! Please! Don’t go.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“I love you… please, remember that…”

“…I love you, too.”

~~~

Honestly, Bucky was worried. It had been a few hours since Y/N had left. And yes, she promised she’d return. He just didn’t know when or where she even went. So the former Winter Soldier kept himself busy with work about his small house. He was just finishing up with his bedroom, when he heard footsteps in his kitchen.

“Y/N?” He called. “Is that you?”

A small whimper was heard coming from the other room. Bucky rushed through his curtain clad doorway to see Y/N. She had a hand clasped over her mouth while her other arm was wrapped around her waist. Tears were running down her cheeks.

“What is it?” He hurried over, examining her body for any injuries. “What’s wrong?”

“I— He— I don’t know what to do….” She broke down into sobs.

“Sshh…” Bucky pulled Y/N into his chest. “It’s okay… it’s okay.” He rested his head on top of hers. It was times like this that Bucky wished for his arm, even his metal arm. “What happened?"

“I was almost caught.”

“What?” He pushed away to look at her face. “What do you mean?”

“I was stupid. I just went to visit Ma and Pa and I was almost caught. And then… then… I need to think.”

She turned away, rushing out the door of the house. Bucky followed after her.

“Wait!” He called. “What happened?”

“I was stupid. That’s what happened. Stupid for falling in love with the most caring, protective men in this whole damn universe! I was even more stupid to not have just tried to move on from at least one of them!”

“Y-you love me?” Bucky whispered, surprised.

He had told her twice now since Siberia. But she had never responded. Y/N halted and spun around.

“Yes, you idiot!” She yelled, more frustrated with herself than anything else. “I never stopped! But here’s the problem, I love Tony too. Just as much.”

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Y/N looked away as Bucky step forward. “Was he the reason why you were almost caught?”

“No. It was my stupid mistake of walking through the city that almost got me put in Raft… I just…” She buried her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do… Who ever I choose, hearts will break. And one of them will be mine.”

“Then don’t choose.”

“What?” Y/N snapped her head up to look at him. “What do you mean don’t choose?”

“I mean…” Bucky stepped closer and took one of her hands. “You don’t have to make a decision right now. Honestly, it wouldn’t be wise to. Give us both time, give us both a chance. You and Tony need to patch things up and we haven’t official been together since the 40’s. You need a chance to explore both relationships, so that you make the right choice for you.”

“But what would I tell Tony? He hates you and I don’t think—“

“Then don’t tell him. But you do owe it to both of us and yourself to give us both a chance. And to show you that I mean what I’m telling you, I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Bucky, you really don’t—“

“Oh but I really do. I need to show you that I’m serious about letting you choose but that I’m not going down without a fight. So you’re going to go back to the palace, get all dolled up and I’ll swing by around 7 to pick you up.”

“I really don’t know about this… I’m scared.”

“And that’s okay. Just, trust me. Can you do that?” Y/N nodded. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Now go. And don’t worry about the date, I’ll plan everything.”

~~~

Y/N spent most of the day, pacing. She was nervous. Should she really be going out on a date with Bucky? And should she even be considering the option of dating both men? Maybe she should just take a break, tell them both that she can’t focus on romance. Y/N knew her powers weren’t strong enough for what was to come. Maybe she should just focus on that.

“Oh gosh…” she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples. “What am I doing? How could I be so stupid?”

The gentle knock at the door broke her trance of spiraling self talk. Answering it, she found T’Challa on the other side.

“I heard you have a date tonight,” T’Challa said with a smug smile.

“Ugh!” Y/N rested her head on the door. “Is he telling everyone?”

“Oh, no.” T’Challa shook his head, entering the room. “He just needed a suit fitted to him, so he had to tell me.”

“A suit?” Y/N repeated, shutting the door. “How fancy is this?”

“And that is the reason I stopped by, to warn you that your outfit right now might not be… well, might not be the most impressive.”

“Thanks, Your Majesty,” she mocked. “And, technically, he’s trying to impress me.”

“Yes, he did explain to me the offer he gave you. Have you talked to Stark about it?”

“I saw him this morning, that didn’t go well and it wasn’t even about dating both men. So, no, I haven’t and I don’t know if or when I will.”

“That’s not fair to Tony.”

“Life’s not fair.” Y/N huffed at looked out the large window. “I’ll talk to him. Eventually. Just not tonight. Tonight can be about me and Bucky, then tomorrow can be about him.”

~~~

Evening came, and Y/N was finally dressed up. T’Challa had a dress brought in for her to use. She was nervously sitting in her room, waiting for Bucky. She didn’t know what to expect. Even back in the 40’s, they never really had the chance to go on a real date because of the war. Y/N could tell Bucky was getting closer as his nervous thoughts became louder and louder to her.

“Don’t screw this up, punk,” he told himself. “You’re fine. You’ve been on plenty of dates before. Granted, it was before you became a murder and none of them were actually with the love of your life…. Ugh…. I guess, what do I have to lose?” He paused. “Actually, a lot. I have a lot to lose.”

Y/N could hear his feet stop outside her door and the thoughts continue.

“Just knock. Lift your arm and knock. Crap, maybe I should have taken up Shuri’s offer to put my new arm on. Maybe she won’t find me as good looking. Should I run to the lab? Also, I don’t like holding her with one arm and what if—“

Y/N ripped open the door, fully surprising Bucky.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one over thinking,” she teased.

“What— how did you— can you…” Bucky stammered. “Can you read minds?”

“I can. Sorry, have I never mentioned that before?”

“No. You haven’t. Do you, uh, do you do it a lot?”

“I’ve learned how not to because yours were so loud out there, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay.” He gave one nod. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “You look really good as well, even without the arm.”

Bucky winced. “You heard that?”

“And more.” She shut the door and wrapped her arm around Bucky’s. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Bucky began leading the way.

“Really? Nothing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I think I’ve had enough surprises from you for a lifetime.”

“Too bad.”

Bucky led Y/N into a small room. There was a table in the center with candles and covered food on it. Most of the walls were windows, giving away a view of a spectacular sunset.

“Wow,” Y/N gasped, leaving Bucky to go look out the window. “It’s… it’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded with a small smile. “It is.” He watched Y/N watch the sunset. “After being held up in the lab for awhile, once I was finally let out, this was the first part of Wakanda I saw. I fell in love almost immediately.”

“I can see why.”

“It reminded me that somethings never change.” Y/N looked at Bucky with a curious, quirked brow. “No matter what happens, the sun will always rise and set. No matter what you’ve done that day or what’s been done to you. It’s something that’s steady. Always there when you need it.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

“Come on, doll, I’m right most of the time.”

Y/N laughed. “You wish!”

They went on about old times as they moved to the table and began eating. They laughed and reminisced about old times well until after dinner was gone. It was nice, refreshing for both of them after such a long time of continually fighting or on the run. When the laughing grew quiet, Bucky watched as Y/N observed the stars from her seat.

“You know,” he started quietly, “you’ve changed. But you haven’t changed at all.”

Y/N looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you have these powers, which I’m totally going to ask you more about later, but… you’re still you. Y/N Rogers, the girl I fell in love with.”

“And you’re still you, Buck. Even after everything HYDRA made you do, you’re still you.”

Bucky got up from his seat and walked around to the side Y/N was sitting. Grabbing her hand, he quickly pulled her up to her feet. His arm circled her waist to pull her into him as his lips found their way to hers. Y/N welcomed it, moving her hands so that they were holding Bucky’s face close. When they finally pulled apart, they were panting slightly.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered. “For tonight, for understanding.”

“Of course,” Bucky replied. “You mean the world to me. Anything to make you happy.”

Y/N kissed him again. “Do you want to get out of here? Maybe some place more private?”

“Just led the way, doll. I’m all yours.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #iron man x reader #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader #tony stark imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #Tony Stark fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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kyle-valenti · 3 years

Text

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives.

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

“Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

“I—what’s wrong?”

“Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

“Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

“No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

No response.

“I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

“I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house.

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

#so yeah this was the lighter version #i had to stop before things got to dark for my own mind #also genuinely feel like the mentions he gives to rosa about feeling lost #should stem from this if the writers aren't cowards #kyle valenti #rnm fic #kyle valenti fic #roswell new mexico #tw covid #tw depression #my fic #my post

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