#literally thought about stroking junes hair and almost died

[jamesashtonisbae]

The Cardinal Rules of Basketball . . . with Bryce Lahela

Word Count: 2172

Pairing: Bryce x MC (Bentley Rogers)

Rating: Mature 

Warnings: Language, allusions to sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry studios. 

Author’s Note: Yo, does anyone else miss Bryce Lahela? Yeah same.We all know Bryce is a goddamn king, so it comes as no surprise that he loves Women’s Basketball like a real man should. Can guarantee no one was happier than our guy when the Stanford Cardinal got the W in March Madness. Tagging @mrskvall because of the photo of Bryce in the championship shirt!

Bentley Rogers sauntered over to Bryce with a flirtatious smile on her lips. She hadn’t seen him outside of work for a few weeks, and she missed him. As much as she wanted to say she missed Bryce the person, today she was mainly missing Bryce the sex god. She hadn’t enjoyed his “company” outside of work in a long time. And god, was she horny.

 So she leaned against the nurses station, batting her eyelashes, “Hey there stud, got any plans for tonight?” she let her hand fall on his forearm, gently stroking it with her long nails.

 He laughed, looking down at her trying her best to seduce him, “Ah, actually I do.”

“Well maybe you should take a raincheck . . . because I promise you, it’s guaranteed to be wet. Well, I am.”

 “Hmm, you’re doing a good job flirting today, B, but there’s no way to raincheck this one.”

 “How can you have plans you can’t raincheck? Do you really not want to spend time with me? I’ve been practicing my breathing in yoga lately, so I can give a blowjob way better than I used to. And if your reactions are anything to go by, I was pretty good before . . . .”

 “Bentley Rogers, nice try, but I can’t raincheck it because it’s the most important basketball game of the year.”

 “It’s April, basketball doesn’t get important until like June.”

 “Bentley, as a strong woman yourself, I would think what you consider “basketball” would be a bit broader than the NBA.”

 Bentley hadn’t watched a basketball game in ages, but she did recall the Stanford Cardinal had made the National Championship.

 “Ah,” she said. “College basketball.”

 “You can join if you want, but I have to warn you, I’m worse about watching basketball than I am at playing it. I’m not a nice guy.”

 “Oh, would you say you’re a bit . . . aggressive?”

 “Mmm, you don’t know the half of it,” he leaned down and nipped her lip quickly, so quick no one watching would notice. “But if you want, you and your friends can come watch it at my place.”

 “No offense, but your place is super small. What about if you come to my place and we all watch it together, and then after we can have some victory sex?”

 “Not an Arizona fan?”

 “Not that, just a happy Bryce fan.”

 “You’re a good woman, Bentley Rogers.”

 “Well, Bryce Lahela, what food can I get for tonight? Anything you want, after all, Bloom doesn’t pay me the big bucks to get you cheap pizza.”

 “Mmm, wings, nachos, those types of things. Even bad pizza.”

 “Well consider yourself treated. It’s at five, right?”

 He nodded, “You don’t have to do this, Bentley. That’s so nice of you.”

 “If I’m honest, I’m doing this because I’m horny as fuck and I need you, really bad.”

 “So I am just a piece of meat to you, Rogers, aren’t I?”

 She laughed, then turned serious, squeezing his forearm, “Not even close.”

 ...

 Later that night, Bentley had changed into a pair of leggings and a plain red sweatshirt. Every time she had tried to steal Bryce’s Stanford hoodie, he stole it back the next time they slept together. This was one of those times when he had taken it back. She smiled at the thought of getting it back eventually, and then eventually just living in the same place as both Bryce and the hoodie.

 But they weren’t official. She had no idea why, he hadn’t brought it up in three years, so maybe he didn’t want it. Even after she almost died, he didn’t make a move to lock it down, but god did she want to. If she was honest, she was in love with him. She had been since the night she met Keiki and he opened up about his life. And maybe, just maybe, after his team won the national championship, it would be a good time to tell him.

 She took a seat next to Bryce, who was watching the pregame festivities. Everyone else was in the kitchen, gabbing and eating.

 “Nervous?” she asked, taking his hand in hers.

 “Yeah. We haven’t won one since 92, and I wasn’t even a fan yet.”

 “Were you even alive yet?”

 “No.”

 “Who is your favorite player?”

 Bryce smiled over at her, rambling on about Anna Wilson and Kiana Williams. She listened to him happily. His face was lit up, and she thought it was really cute that he was so excited about this women’s basketball game. And about his team in general. She thought he was adorable all the time, but right now he was at his most adorable.

 As he was talking, hands waving around animatedly, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He stopped abruptly, “What was that for?”

 “You’re just so cute.”

 He blushed and returned the kiss on her cheek.

 “Well that was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sienna said coming over and taking a seat by Bentley. Raf sat down next to Sienna, balancing a plate filled with food.

 Bentley stood up, “Quack quack. Bryce you want anything?”

 He nodded and she went over to fill up two plates, then dropped them off with Bryce before grabbing a couple of beers for them. She sat down, cheersed him, and then dug into the wings she had piled high on her plate. Bryce set his down and didn’t touch it for the entire first quarter. He just leaned forward with his head in his hands and didn’t pay attention to anything else. After the game was at the first quarter break, he leaned back and started eating finally. Bentley wrapped her arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

 “They got this, baby. Don’t worry.”

 “Oh I’m worried. Very worried.”

 “Well, I’ll let you be worried. But if you ever don’t want to hold your own hand and need mine, I’m here. I can’t fix it for you, but I can be right here beside you.”

 “I appreciate it, but it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

 “Okay, I’m here. You sat by my side when I was literally dying, I can sit beside you now.”

 “You’re nice, but I’m going to be really mean if it stays close.”

 “I can take it, Bryce. Also I don’t believe you’ll ever be mean to me, you lo-like me too much.”

 “Hmm, I guess I probably won’t. But it’s not going to be pretty,” he leaned over and kissed her lip gently. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

 “Do whatever you need to do, Bry. I’m here with you, even if you get mad. Even if you get mad at me. Maybe not if you get mad at Elijah, but otherwise I’m here for you.”

 “I could never be mad at Elijah, that kid is way too nice.”

 Elijah wasn’t paying attention, he had his laptop out on his lap, going over some of his research. Everyone else looked over at him and he finally noticed what was happening and joined back in for a few minutes, at least until halftime.

 Bryce was a bit calmer at halftime, taking a few more bites of his food, then putting his arm around Bentley as they watched the halftime show. She smiled softly, leaning into Bryce and letting him hold her. Even this she had missed. He was the guy she wanted to be with all the time. Just being next to him watching tv was preferable to going out and being hit on by other guys, who may be hot, but just weren’t Bryce. He was her best friend.

 She looked up at him watching the analysts intently. He was hanging on Carolyn Peck’s every word and she let out a giggle, drawing his attention.

 “What?”

 “I like this side of you.”

 “You do?”

 “Yeah. It’s cute to see you nerding out over women’s sports. I think it’s the mark of a good man to care about women’s sports if you say you like men’s sports too.”

 “It’s a lot of fun to watch. I went to more women’s sporting games at Stanford than men’s. What were we even good at? Maybe we pretended to be good at football, but I don’t think we really were.”

 “Well it’s cute regardless of why.”

 “You’re cute,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss. “I appreciate you watching this with me. I’ll get worse before I get better.”

 He was right. With five seconds left, Bryce was at his worst. He was standing up and pacing between the couch and the windows. Bentley knew the ball was going to be in Aari McDonald’s hands, it was just going to come down to if she made the shot or not. And in the end, she didn’t.

 Before Bentley could even process what had happened, Bryce had picked her up and swung her around. She was laughing, he was cheering, and everyone else was smiling. Bentley did like McDonald, but she liked Bryce more, so she was happy.

 Bryce cheered and celebrated, then calmed down to watch all the interviews and post-game coverage, but everyone else who didn’t have work the next day started making plans to go out.  Bentley glanced over at Bryce, who was engrossed in the television.

 “I think we’ll maybe catch up later,” Bentley said, Bryce having no clue what was going on at all. He kept watching attentively after everyone left and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Eventually he realized she was there and settled back into the corner, tugging her closer so she was cuddled up with him. She slung her legs over his knees and let him pull her up so she was almost on his lap.

 The tv moved on and started talking about other things, and Bryce’s attention turned solely to her, “Do you want to catch up with everyone else?”

 She shook her head, “No. I just want to be with you.”

 He grinned, then reached under her knees and picked her up. They headed over to her room and he deposited her onto the bed, then jumped in and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

 “Today all I wanted to do was sleep with you, but now all I want to do is talk to you. I’ve missed you loads Bryce.”

 He smiled softly, tenderly running his hand over her hair, “I’ve missed you too. I don’t like only seeing you for a few minutes at work. I need you to be in my life more than that.”

 “I need to be in your life more than that, too. I hate this.”

 “So what do we do to fix it?”

 She sighed, “We can pick days where I come over or where you come over, but that will get annoying really quickly.”

 “Well, no one lives with me. I wouldn’t need any approval for you to just, move in with me?”

 She grinned up at him, “You want me to move in with you?”

 He nodded, “You wouldn’t have to pay rent until your lease is up here. My parents send me more money than I need for Keiki and I know it’s because they want to pay for me and get me back in their lives. So I use that to pay for rent, so you not doing it wouldn’t be an issue.”

 “Bryce, are you really wanting me to move in with you?”

 He nodded, “Yeah, I am. Bentley, you’ve been my life saver since I came here. I’ve never had a relationship like the one I have with you. You’re such a good friend to me, and I can tell you have some sort of affection for me. I haven’t had these feelings before, Bentley. I love you.”

 “Bryce!” she exclaimed, tugging him closer to press her lips to his. They kissed passionately, letting each other get reacquainted with the other in this way. They hadn’t had a kiss like this anywhere but a supply closet for a really long time. And finally, she pulled away and said it back.

 “I love you, too, Bryce Lahela.”

 His grin was so wide as he met her lips again, “This is the best night of my life.”

 “I think it’s going to get better,” she said with a smile. “Although I just want to be with you, that victory sex does sound pretty good.”

 “Before we jump to that, think we should make you my girlfriend?”

 “Why not? Let’s go for the big three!”

 “Happy to. Bentley will you be my girlfriend?”

 She nodded, “Yes! Oh Bryce, I love you so much.”

 “I love you too.”

 “Now let me show you just how much,” she said, reaching for the waistband of Bryce’s sweats. He met her eyes with a mischievous grin and let her move down to where she most wanted to be.

#bryce lahela #open heart #open heart choices #open heart bryce #bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices open heart

[kstewdeux]

InuKag Week 2020: June 10th (Confession)

@inukag-week

Eh I’ve been early on all of them. YOLO

Tiptoe

A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye while mouth formed a rigid grimace. With arms folded tightly across his broad chest, sitting crosslegged against the base of a rather ordinary tree, Inuyasha tried to fall asleep like everyone else but didn’t trust himself to do so. Last time he passed out, he literally killed a whole lotta people. Bad people, sure, and people trying to kill him but that was probably just pure dumb luck. It could have been Sango or Miroku or Shippo. It could have been Kagome. Probably would’ve been Kagome if Sesshomaru hadn’t shown up.

A shuddering breath escaped him at the thought as he bounced his knee and weighed his options. He could try running. That was an idea. That usually calmed him down. Or eat something. He hadn’t really eaten. Maybe that was the problem?

Raising a hand to rub at his unusually tense neck, Inuyasha sighed heavily and glanced over at the one other thing that typically helped his nerves. That made him feel normal and not like a dangerous wild card who might kill them all without warning. Kagome was his fail-safe. The only one who had the power to talk him down no matter how far gone he was. Which was probably not the most healthy thing in the world but it was what it was.

Bouncing his knee at a slight faster pace, he bit his lip and stared up into the branches. She’d get mad at him. Probably think it was something perverted if she knew.

His knee stopped bouncing as his nostrils flared.

If she knew.

Glancing around at the others, he gauged each of his companions in turn before feeling securing enough to move. Everyone was asleep. All he had to do was be quiet.

He could do that. That was a thing he could do.

Swallowing thickly, he gracefully and silently got to his feet and began slowly moving towards Kagome’s sleeping bag. He’d just lay down next to her for a little bit. A few minutes. That’s all. That was a perfectly normal thing to want to do, right? They sat next to each other all the time. What was so different about laying next to her?

Unwanted images flooded his mind shortly thereafter and he paused to roll his eyes. Of course his frazzled mind had to go there. Of course it did. Because that was helpful. The last thing he needed today was to get horny on top of nerves and do something impulsive or crazy. More impulsive and crazy than, ya know, laying next to a girl in her sleep to lessen anxiety.

Letting out a slow steady breath, Inuyasha continued stalking towards the sleeping bag - every so often glancing at the others to make sure he wasn’t about to get caught. How was it that he could sneak around unseen for decades without getting caught and feel invincible but cross a field and suddenly he felt like a lost child.

Maybe because he did feel like a child desperately wanting reassurance. Wrinkling his nose, he had to consciously stop the disgusted groan that wanted to escape. That was a gross thought. Kagome was not his mother. In no way did he see her as a maternal figure in his life. Unless....unless, ya know, one day, maybe, they...they...and then...a kid might...

Stopping less than a foot from the sleeping bag, the wind played lazily with his hair as he stared down at the young woman who’d stolen his heart. That was such a stupid dream. An impossible dream. A painful dream he couldn’t afford.

And yet....would it hurt to allow himself a moment? Just to lay next to her? Not just to calm his nerves, although he did need that, but...ya know...to...to...pretend he was laying next to her for a different reason?

Closing his eyes, Inuyasha clenched his fists and tried to dismiss that image through sheer force alone. All he was doing was calming himself down so he’d have a clear head tomorrow. That’s all this was. That was all this could be.

Shippo snored loudly and Inuyasha slowly opened his eyes only to find Kagome looking up at him. Amber eyes widened in horror as she continued watching him curiously before he whirled in the spot and marched back to the base of the tree without so much as a glance back.

Inuyasha heard her following him but he wasn’t about to stop and explain why he was standing over her like an insane stalker. Kagome would want answers like the prodding noisy bitch she was and he was not about to give them. For so many reasons.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome hissed quietly as she continued behind him, “Inuyasha, is something wrong? Did you hear something?”

“No,” he huffed as he hopped into the tree branches and Kagome stared up at him in confusion.

“What do you mean no?” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, “Then why were you standing over me like a gargoyle then?”

“Like a what?” Inuyasha snorted as lolled his head to glare down at her.

“Just come down here,” Kagome hissed, “It’s okay to use your words Inuyasha. Is this about earlier? About the bandits?”

Inuyasha sighed heavily but didn’t budge or answer.

“Is your wound not healing?” Kagome asked softly as she searched his face, “Do you need me to change out the bandages?”

“It’s fine,” Inuyasha hissed angrily, “Go to sleep.”

“I wasn’t really sleeping anyway,” Kagome admitted with a soft laugh, “I was worried about school.”

Inuyasha furrowed his brow and his mouth parted slightly. That couldn’t be right. Her heart rate and breathing was steady. She’d been asleep. He was sure of it. But...he’d also been pretty distracted.

“Well come down here or let me up,” Kagome sighed barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, “Or just stay there and let me freeze to death because I’m not leaving until you talk to me. That works too.”

That was playing dirty. She knew he couldn’t ignore that. Groaning, Inuyasha rolled out of the tree scooped her up and jumped back. In a way this did solve one of his problems. More than solved it. Breathing deeply, he let her scent wash over him, let her presence calm him like it always did and he literally felt all the pent up tension melt right out of him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kagome hummed as she snuggled into him and his heart damn near melted at the token of affection.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he sighed as he absently stroked her arm and smiled secretly, “Thought I heard something was all.”

“Uh huh. So...why did you say no then?”

“You calling me a liar?”

“Not if you tell me in excruciating detail what you thought you heard,” Kagome teased and Inuyasha let out a sigh of defeat.

“Fine. Fine. I didn’t hear nothing,” he admitted with a huff of frustration, “Let a man have his secrets.”

“Those secrets have something to do standing over young defenseless girls and little kits?” Kagome teased good-naturedly and Inuyasha tensed.

“I...” he sighed heavily as he struggled with himself and held her a little tighter, “Earlier was just...a lot. Felt stressed I guess.“

“And so...” Kagome began and he cringed as he realized where she was going, “You came to find me.”

The miko preened while Inuyasha fidgeted slightly and didn’t answer.

“Because you just love...”

Inuyasha legitimately forgot to breathe as she so blatantly called him out. Well if he was going to hell anyway...

“You’re right,” he blurted shakily as his heart raced, “That’s...that’s why I...”

“To bother me,” Kagome finished lamely - their voices overlapping in an awkward dance - and Inuyasha instantly wished for death.

“Yeah....that...”Inuyasha cleared his throat as his heart withered up and died before shaking his head and effortlessly dropping to the ground, “You should get some sleep.”

“Inuyasha wait...”

But he was running at top speed before she could finish. Sighing heavily, Kagome was torn between wanting to kiss him senseless and strangling him to death. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond and would probably avoid her at all costs. Why did he have to always assume the worst?

“Sure. Go ahead. Run away,” Kagome scoffed sarcastically with a roll of the eyes, “Why stay to hear me say I love you too dummy?”

Turning back towards her sleeping bag, the miko honestly didn’t get far. A few steps at most before she found herself scooped up and back in the tree. Completely startled, Kagome held her hand over her chest as she tried to overcome the sudden shock.

“Warn me next time,”she laughed breathlessly, “You can’t just...”

Her words trailed off into a happy hum when he pressed his lips against hers . His hands quickly adjusting her body so she straddled him before pulling her closer.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything before?” he laughed shakily when he finally pulled back before instantly dipping back in with almost feral desperation. Completely love drunk, his hands vacated their place on her back to cup her face - angling her to deepen the kiss as a needy whimper escaped him. Every moment was better than the last and it was almost painful when the moments stopped.

“Didn’t know I’d get this reaction,” Kagome laughed softly when they broke for air, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” he hummed as he gave her the brightest smile she’d ever seen on his face, “Maybe today didn’t suck so much after all.”

“Only maybe?” Kagome teased and somehow his grin widened.

“I mean, I did kinda lose my mind. That sucked a lot,” Inuyasha pointed out as he kissed her temple for the hell of it, “But this doesn’t suck so much.”

“Technically true,” Kagome giggled, “So you were coming to find me because you loved me?”

“Was gunna lay down next to you,” Inuyasha admitted sheepishly, “To calm down.”

“Because you love me,” Kagome pressed and Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Because you calm me down,” Inuyasha sighed as he rested his forehead against hers, “Because I love you.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“Well there’s that rumor so we’ll probably go east,” he teased as he nuzzled her nose, “And then you have a test so we’ll probably go to your time and then...”

“I meant us.”

“Well tonight we’ll sleep here and then tomorrow we’ll sleep somewhere else and then the night after that...”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Because it’s fun,” he admitted happily, “And because I don’t understand the question. We’re together now. Seems pretty cut and dry.”

Kagome blinked at him a few times before sighing.

“I guess it is,” she cooed as she rested her head on his shoulder, “So....I’m sleeping in trees from now on I take it?”

“You bet your fine ass you are,” Inuyasha snickered before burying his nose and kissing the nape of her neck.

“Even if we’re staying at an inn?”

“Okay maybe not ...”

“Or in my...”

“And you say I’m difficult.”

#inukag #inukag fanfic #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag-week #kstewdeux #kagome

[alleycat97]

Hang In There

Notes: Chapter 10/11 Open Heart. THATS RIGHT OPEN HEART. I’ve never wrote anything for this book and I’m kinda nervous but I wanna take an extra spin on these last two chapter. I changed a few things plus I added alittle backstory to my Mc. I hope this isn’t too terrible...

Pairing: Bryce x MC(Carson Kennedy)

I started out romancing Jackie but my god Bryce in this book...the chemistry is uncanny.

...

You never thought being a doctor would come to this. Saving lives was one thing, but in a hostage situation, an assassanation attempt? This was next level stuff.

But you regret nothing, your life choices and career decisions have led you here and if by miracle you pull out of this, you can save a few more.

You stare blankly ahead trying to calm Travis down who’s about to unleash some unknown substance. You explain that it’s over, whatever happened to his brother is done and killing the Senator won’t change that. Bobby the security guard backs you up and demands the fugitive place the canister on the ground.

But as Bobby steps forward, Travis has no sympathy as he releases the substance wildly hitting Bobby directly in the face sending him to the ground choking.

You notice Rafael charging after Travis and his mystery can dousing the entire room and all in it. Danny and Rafael getting the blunt of it. You manage to get a dose on you and notice the Senator fleeing before he got a lethal dose. Your only thought later would be, ‘I wish it was just gun’ because you had no idea what pain was in store.

Bobby went into cardiac arrest immediately and Danny was soon following him. You and Rafael locked down the room and vent to keep the toxin from spreading.

It didn’t take long to stir up commotion, everyone was rushing to find out what was happening.

After explaining to the group and Ethan, you check back on Bobby who’s pulse has slowed way down, there was no way he was going to make it. The feds showed up and the CDC who locked down the room and took Bobby, Danny and Travis away.

Whatever was in that can, it was very potent. Bobby had passed and Danny was close. The FBI took Travis to a special room where they could interrogate him and observe him.

It was very tight lipped and everyone was worried. Rafael took a turn for the worst and you could feel it inside you to.

You love your friends because although they are extremely worried, they kept working to find a solution. The diagnostics team would have to earn their pay on this one. Countless test and blood samples had to be taken and they were against the clock.

Night fell and you couldn’t sleep. The diagnostics team kept you hooked up to monitors to track progress on you and Rafael. His heart rate slowed dangerously and he listed endless symptoms he had that you would keep in mind as you only got worse.

You thanked him for being a good friend and had a true heart to heart before his heart rate stopped completely and he faded away. Doctors rushed him away and it was then you learned that Danny and Travis both passed and now for the moment, Raf had too. It was just a matter of time now.

You catch Bryce looking on helpless. Once he had heard about the attack you were his priority. He left Kyra in good hands to come be by your side. Everyone was there for you, but all they could do was watch.

“Rafael said his iced drink felt hot, by the way.” Carson spoke laying back in her bed.

“Sensitivity reversal? Metallic taste, itching and loose feeling teeth?” June questioned out loud.

“You have something doctor?” Ethan asked.

“It’s just a hunch. Carson? I’ll need one more blood sample.”

...

Some time passed and the diagnostics team entered into the quarantined room.

“My hunch was right. The chemical expelled from the canister was a Maitotoxin.”

That was an excellent hunch but the only issue was,

“There is no known antidote for Maitotoxin.” Carson spoke realizing this was truely it.

“Danny’s body still had remnants on his skin, I’m afraid Carson, that it’s going to get worse.” Ethan said looking dim.

Her conditions had accelerated, she felt dizzy, her vision was blurry and the cramps, her abdomen was going to explode. She was literally dying from within.

“We will find an antidote Carson.” Ethan spoke up walking away with Tobias who pledged himself to help her.

“Well If this is my last night....so be it.” Carson spoke.

“Wow? Just like that? You’re ready to just give up?” Jackie spoke through the glass.

“I lived a good life. I did what I loved and I have no regrets.” She spoke softly, crawling into bed with her back to the window so the others couldn’t see her cry.

In truth, Carson was afraid. She wasn’t ready to die but it was excruciating knowing that she had to suffer until the reaper came, who by the looks of her. Wasn’t long.

Bryce couldn’t let her suffer, not if he could help it. Once everyone went away he slipped on one of the suits and rushed to Carson’s side.

“Bryce!? What are you doing in here?”

“I just couldn’t stay out there and not do anything.”

“Well I’m not sure there’s much you can do in here...”

Bryce placed his hand on Carson’s cheek and gently stroked it, “Maybe not, but I’m here regardless.”

And for the first time all day, Carson smiled that megawatt smile that only Bryce could get her to do.

“Hold me?” Carson spoke softly.

Bryce climbed onto the tiny bed for one and wrapped a strong arm over Carson.

“I want to kiss you.” Carson revealed embracing the warmth Bryce provided.

“Yeah that’s kinda hard to do Kennedy.”

“I know. But I still want to. I want to feel your skin on mine, I want to run my hands through you hair, I want to be with you.”

“I’m here Carson. I’m not going anywhere and the guys are gonna get that antidote and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Bryce I’m glad you came in here. I didn’t want to be alone especially if this is my last night on Earth. I just wanted to say I love you, and I have for awhile now.”

Bryce couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. Carson couldn’t die, not now. “I love you too. You’re a fighter, just hang in there.”

Bryce squeezed harder trying to savor this moment for what it was worth. He could feel how soft Carson was and how cold she was. It wasn’t looking good. Bryce managed to fall asleep but Carson wouldn’t let herself. She had to fight it. Anytime she closed her eyes she saw nothing but evil images, death was near but she wouldn’t succumb to it.

All she could do is savor and reflect on her time at Edenbrook, the friends she’s made, the people she’s met and the lives she saved. It was ironic in the end, no matter how many lives she could save, she couldn’t save her own and that’s what was getting her the most. She blamed it on her family curse. The longline of Kennedy’s who died tragically at an early age.

Yes she was apart of those Kennedy’s. JFK was her grandfather and we know the story about his tragic death. It just started with him and now, death had found Carson. The thought kept her up all night.

The next morning came slowly and no antidote was found yet. Her vision turned to near blindness and her abdomen was tearing her apart. Bryce woke up and cradled Carson too help soothe her as her time approached. The sound of her heart monitor slowed almost to a stop and it was time. Both couldn’t stop crying at the fact, and began to kiss eachother goodbye.

Carson’s efforts slowed to a stop and her body paled and shook violently before falling limp. The heart monitor verified the moment and Carson was appeared to be gone. Her friends and coworkers looked on shedding tears and sympathy. No one could believe THE Carson Kennedy was gone. She was the glue, the rock. She was the it girl. She was the doctor everyone wanted to be and yet, she was just like everyone else, death showed no mercy.

Ethan and June busted down the door seconds later, both looking exhausted but holding a syringe with the antidote. Bryce steadied Carson’s arm while Ethan administered the vile,

“Please work.” Bryce cried desperately.

#playchoices #pixelberry #open heart #open heart bryce #bryce lahela #ethan ramsey #bryce x mc #ethan x mc #jackie varma #open heart 2 #open heart mc

[cptn-stvngrntrgrs]

A Post-Avenger Nick Fury accidentally goes to the future and sees his two best agents (Steve and Nat) are married. Natasha notices Nick isn't from their timeline (she just knows lol black widow tingle) and Steve gets a smug grin and just says "Best matchmaker ever" Nicky Fury returns to the past and calls Steve and Nat to his office to offically "partner then up" and said to himself, "this two motherfuckers don't know what's in store for them" NICK FURY IS THE OG MATCHMAKER 🤪🤪🤪🤪

hi anon! i know this took me a while to finish but i hope you like it! thanks for the prompt!

Title: when push comes to shove

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Summary:

These two motherfuckers don’t know what’s in store for them.

so the future part of this place takes place after Endgame.

modifications: Steve and Natasha has been married before IW. They had kids in those five years between IW and Endgame. And of as per my usual, no one dies XD enjoy!

Also on AO3!

“Motherfu-”

–

Nick Fury woke up in his room, his head pounding. He couldn’t remember much except for an explosion at the SHIELD facility the day before. Has it been a day? He only remembers getting hit with a ray of light. And suddenly, he woke up. He propped himself up on his headboard gently, his vision swimming.

After steadying himself, he squinted and looked around his room. It looks different from how he left it from. He remained sitting that way, analyzing his surroundings. It’s most definitely his room, yes, but also, it doesn’t feel like it. He heard a beep and looked down at his phone.

Frowning, he took the device and examined it. It’s most likely his personal phone because it’s not SHIELD issued but why does it look so… advanced? He patted the jeans he was wearing - Why is he wearing jeans to bed? - and took out a phone. His phone. It’s an iPhone 5. The one that is currently beeping looks way too modern. What is this, an iPhone 12?!

Nick checked the newer phone in his hand. It immediately unlocked when he brought it up to his face level. What in the SHIELD tech power is this?Opening the messages app, he saw an unread text from Natasha R. Hm, Romanoff.

“ Hey Nick, let me know when you get there! Have a safe flight! The kids miss you already.”

“What the-”

There was a photo underneath the text - of two young kids pouting at the camera. The boy has reddish-blond hair while the little girl has long blonde curls.

“Why is Romanoff sending me pictures of kids all of a sudden…” he muttered to himself, feeling his headache come back - this time, from stress. What is happening to him? Last time he saw Natasha was two days ago, giving him an update on the Chitauri clean-up happening in New York.

Gathering himself, he walked to his living room to turn the TV on. He almost did a double take; his living room is vastly different from how he remembered it. What felt like a bachelor’s pad before - bare walls, sleek black leather sofa and a matching glass table - is now replaced with a leather sectional and picture frames all over the place.

He sauntered over to the shelf that holds what looks like awards and photos. One of the framed photographs looks like a wedding, looking closer, he almost dropped it when he realized who were getting married.

It was Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. And it looked like he officiated the wedding, based on how he was at the head of the altar looking at the two happily. Next to that is a photo of two kids smiling brightly, the same kids he saw on his phone earlier, sitting on his lap on what looks like Christmas morning - And is he wearing a Santa costume??!! The frame’s border has an engraved “World’s Best Grandpa” on it.

Well, he’ll be damned.

–

Okay, Nick Fury pieced it all together. After a while of brooding and confusion, he figured that he’s not in 2012 anymore. How he got there, he has no idea. So far his theories are severe memory loss or time travel. He’s witnessed the cutest, cuddliest cat eat a person and just a month ago, aliens were on New York City. So, really, the possibilities are endless.

After figuring out how to get to Natasha’s house, he stopped on the sidewalk to take it all in first. Who would’ve thought - his best agent and master spy, living in a house with a literal white picket fence. And has two children. Married to the American Icon. Oh, the number of Cold War jokes he could think of right now.

His reverie was broken by screams of “Grandpa Nick!” and he turned just in time to see two bouncing children run to him and latch themselves on each of his leg. He looked down and smiled at them, awkwardly patting their head.

“Grampa Nick, you’re back!” the little girl basically screamed, tugging on the sleeve of his pants.

“Mommy said we won’t see you until next week!” the boy told him, giggling, and failing to notice the strange look he had on his face. He was thinking of something to say until a voice cut him off his thoughts.

“Nick? What are you doing here?” Natasha asked, leaning on the doorframe and looking at them. By her legs is a golden retriever watching him. Dang, they even have a golden retriever. Nick smiled and shook his head at the thought.

“I, uh, decided to stay…?” he answered her, well, more of asked, really. The kids let go of his legs and took each one of his hand, pulling him to get inside the house.

Natasha arched a brow and stepped aside to let them in. “Steve is grilling on the backyard, we’re still waiting for some of the guests to arrive,” she informed him, watching him sit on the couch.

Nick nodded absent-mindedly as he looked around the living room; the house just feels so warm and so… not Natasha. Not that he doesn’t think she’s a warm person, no, but she’s just not one to settle for domesticity. That’s why she’s one of his best agents - she’s not one to get attached or dwell on herself for too long. She’s cold and closed off - he knows that the only ones to get through her barrier are himself, Clint, and occasionally, Maria Hill. So to see this Natasha - wearing a casual tee and shorts, with her hair long and up in a messy bun - is a nice change.

She also looks younger and happier . Nick isn’t one for using cheesy words or anything, but there’s nothing else to describe it - Natasha is positively glowing. Natasha caught Nick looking at her and narrowed her eyes and tilted her head while he gave her the look . It’s the look he usually gives her when she questions him during meetings and she laughed.

“You know, I missed that look,” she said, moving to sit next to him, the little boy on his lap. “I haven’t seen that since your last meeting,” she said fondly, stroking the boy’s hair.

“My last meeting?” he asked incredulously. Surely she’s not implying that-

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him once again. “Yes. You know, the last meeting you had before retiring?” Nick’s eyes widened fractionally - never the one to openly display his reactions, but Natasha noticed it nonetheless - and he stayed silent. Natasha sighed, leaning back on the couch. “You’re not Nick Fury, are you?”

Nick frowned. “The he-” he was going to say ‘hell’ until Natasha widened her eyes and looked down at the boy on her lap. Nick cleared his throat. “What do you mean, I’m not Nick Fury? You know me better than that, Romanoff.”

Natasha chuckled and poked the child. “Hey James, go get daddy and play with Sarah for a little bit please?” the boy - James, it seems - beamed up at her and kissed her cheek before jumping down and running out. Natasha looked back up at Nick, who was watching the two intently. “See, that’s how I knew you’re not Nick.”

Nick opened his mouth to defend himself but Natasha held up a hand to continue. “Yes, you’re Nick Fury - I don’t think you’re a Skrull,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that you’re not from this timeline, aren’t you?” she asked, as if a person not in the same ‘timeline’ is a very normal occurrence. Since when did she know about Skrulls? Is Carol back?

He was about to answer when Steve Rogers walked in, an apron fastened around his waist. Nick tried not to laugh as he got closer and leaned down to kiss the top of Natasha’s head as if he hadn’t seen her in a while. “Nick? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Mexico with Phil and May by this time?”

Natasha waited until Steve was sitting next to her before speaking. “I don’t think this is our Nick.”

Steve frowned and stared at Nick. “Is Talos playing a prank on us again?”

“How do you know Talos?” Nick spoke up and sat up straighter.

Natasha grinned. “See, you’re not our Nick, but I think you’re still actually Nick Fury.”

Nick Fury just looked at her passively, obviously asking for an explanation.

“Nick, what was the date yesterday?” Steve asked.

“June 17, 2012.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look - in sync, Nick noticed with fascination - before turning back to him.

“Nick,” Natasha began softly. Uh oh. He does not like where this is going. “I’m sorry to tell you but the date today is September 28, 2025; you’re 13 years into the future…” she trailed off, laying a hand on his knee and squeezing it.

“The Nick Fury in this timeline is currently on vacation in Mexico with Phil Coulson and Melinda May as well as other SHIELD agents. He must have left his backup phone at home.” Steve added.

Nick stayed silent, trying to process what he just heard. “Do you know how to get me home? Or back to 13 years ago, at least?” he asked after a while.

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look. Again. Nick fought the urge to roll his eyes. Really, they’re cute, but they’re going to make someone feel left out if they continue to do their silent communication thing.

“Well, we do have a way to travel through time… but it’s complicated. Do you think anyone from your time can bring you back?” Steve asked.

Natasha snorted, making both men turn to look at her. “He’s from June 2012. That’s a month after the Battle of New York. Time travel won’t even be on our minds back then. I highly doubt it.”

Steve cast her a sheepish smile before raking his fingers through his hair. “Well, I guess we gotta do a part three of the Time Heist, then.”

Nick raised an eyebrow at them. “Time Heist?”

“A lot of things happened in those 13 years, Nick.” Natasha answered with a smirk.

“I can tell,” Nick retorted, looking pointedly at the two. “Last time I saw you, a helicarrier blew your mind and you were crying about the 21st century. But now you’re talking about time travel like you do it everyday and both of you have two children and house with a white picket fence.” Nick tipped his chin at Steve. Natasha’s smirk grew wider while Steve blushed an angry scarlet and looked down, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“So spare me the gory details and tell me about you two,” Nick continued. “How did this-” he waved around them, “- happen?”

“Well, all I can say about that is you’re the best matchmaker ever,” Steve answered, squeezing Natasha’s hand, his eyes twinkling.

—

After a whole afternoon-long conversation, Scott was ready to take Nick home. They all went to the Compound to set everything up and explain the mechanics of it to Nick.

“You ready?” Natasha asked Nick as she and Steve approached him.

“As I’ll ever be,” he answered with a smile.

“Here, keep this,” Steve took out a picture of James and Sarah from his wallet and handed it to Nick, who was hesitant to take it at first. “Really, it’s okay. We have thousands of pictures at home,” Steve reassured with a chuckle. “Besides, you’re the reason we happened. Or should I say, the catalyst that made us happen. I know Nat and I’s partnership were rocky at the beginning so whenever you feel like screaming your head off at us, just look at this photo. I swear, it’ll help.”

“Maybe all that yelling I did was what made your sexual tension snap,” Nick joked, making Natasha blink and look at Steve. Nick noticed the action. “Don’t tell me-”

He was cut off by Scott calling him to get in position. He shook both Steve’s and Natasha’s hands as he made his way to Scott. After a wave at everyone, he was gone.

“You know, he’s not wrong. It was after that one mission where he yelled at us after we fucked up in Ireland that we first…” Steve cocked his head down at Natasha, who was smirking up at him.

“Tested the durability of Irish-made headboards?” Natasha asked, licking his lips as they both reminisced their first “casual sex” night together. Steve let out a throaty chuckle and leaned down to clash their lips together.

“My god, go home you two!” Tony yelled, rolling his eyes fondly as he brought Scott back.

Steve and Natasha were pulling away from each other just as Scott materialized. “Aw, I want a kiss from Captain America too.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a kiss,” Sam piped up, waggling his eyebrows at Scott, who walked over to him and gave him a hi-five.

—

“Nick! You’re alive!” Maria Hill all but shouted in surprise as he walked in his office in the Triskellion. She was at his desk furiously flipping through reports.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked, approaching his desk. Maria stood up from his chair and made way for him.

Maria gave him a weird look as he sat down. “What do you mean? Nick, part of that building exploded , we have 10 SHIELD agents casualties. Well, I guess it’s just 9 since you’re here…” she muttered the last part to herself. “But you were the only one missing - we figured you were vaporized on the spot. The others died from the explosion itself. These are their files,” she pointed at the stack of folders on his desk.

“You thought I was vaporized ?” Ouch. That sounded like a harsh way to die, even for Nick. Maria just nodded grimly. “I was just… transported somewhere else.”

Maria perked up at that. “Oh? Dr. Selvig had that theory but we all thought it was nuts… he said based on the energy, you must have been brought in another time.”

Fury scoffed. “Well, he’s not wrong.” Maria tilted her head, fishing for more information, but Nick waved his hand. “Another time. Are Romanoff and Rogers here?”

Maria nodded. “Yes, sir. They were both in town because the facility in New York had to be renovated. Most of our active agents are here save for Agent Barton who’s still out on his mission.”

“Can you call Romanoff and Rogers in, please?”

“Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?” Maria asked and Fury shook his head. She gave him a nod and exited the room.

Once he was alone again, Nick pulled the picture Steve gave him. James looks just like Steve except he got his mother’s eyes and most of her hair color. Sarah, however, was all Natasha, except for her father’s bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He smiled fondly at the picture and put it back in his wallet just as he heard his agents approach his door.

“You called us in, sir?” Steve’s head popped up from the door. Nick nodded and Steve and Natasha walked in, standing in front of him.

“I never thought you’re dead, you know, for the record. I believed Dr. Selvig,” Natasha told him smugly, making Nick chuckle.

“Well. I’m back and I have a mission for the two of you.” he took one of the folders from his desk and slid it forward to them. “This will be your first solo mission as official partners.”

Silence followed his statement as the words hung in the air. He raised an eyebrow at them, waiting for the blow up that’s about to happen. He almost thought they’d go down without a fight until:

“NICK!”

“Sir, I’m not-”

“He’s not a spy-”

“I’m really more of a sold-”

“Clint is my part-”

Ah, there it is. Nick leaned back in his chair and let the two of them scream it out, their words drowning the other out. This is fascinating to watch, really. After a few more moments, the two eventually stopped, huffing, when they noticed that their director was silent.

“So there’s that. The folder has everything you need to know. Take what you need and report back when you’re done. Good luck!” Nick said with a fake cheerful voice and a big smile. The voice might be fake but the smile was real. He really was excited.

He saw Natasha glare at Steve, who looked just as pissed, if not a little horrified. She grabbed the folder from his desk like a snake would snap at its prey, and promptly turned on her heels to exit the room, Steve following with his head hanging down.

Nick has to admit, he thought there would be more fight. But he also knows that Natasha knows that once he puts his mind onto something, it’s not going to change. Once they were fully gone from his office, he leaned back on his chair and pulled out his wallet to look at James and Sarah again. Oh, these two motherfuckers don’t know what’s in store for them, he mumbled to himself and grinned mischievously.

#romanogers #stevenat #fanfic #fanfic prompt #anon ask #anon fic prompt #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #black widow #captain america #the avengers #nick fury #stevetasha #capwidow #captasha #fic #avengers fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic #noncanon #canon compliant #endgame #catws

[faresramettas]

prima di sorridere un po’ (eng trans, repost)

i decided to take my translation of this italian fic of mine off ao3 because i never really liked the idea of translating it in the first place, and when i see it between my works it doesn’t make me happy. i’m sorry! i definitely have a love/hate relationship with this fic and its translation, however i don’t want it to be completely gone because it’s over 3k too and it took time and effort, so i’ll be posting it here. 

a couple of notes before reading: this is set in june next year, when marti is about to take maturità. maturità is the exam italian students take at the end of the 5 years of high school. notte prima degli esami (the night before exams) is a song about maturità and peak italian culture. there’s even a movie about it. the night before exams is supposed to be a big deal.

read below!

Martino was screwed. The day before maturità, when all he wanted to do was drown his sorrows in liters of beer, the truth was that he was behind on his history program, he hadn’t even touched his literature book and if he had to translate another text from Greek he’d throw up on the dictionary. His days were split between study groups, Eva and the girls for history and philosophy, Giovanni, Elia and Luchino for maths, only to go back home and keep revising, head bent over his desk or lying on his bed surrounded by books. Martino was good at school, he’d finished his essay a month ago, he had nothing to worry about, his mom kept telling him to reassure him. But anxiety was the issue, that fear of disappointing his and other people’s expectations that twisted his stomach and wouldn’t make him sleep. On top of that, he hadn’t seen Niccolò in almost a week. Martino had been the one to reluctantly force this distance, after the umpteenth study afternoon turned make-out session, turned fucking on his bed. “I can help you study, you know.” “You know perfectly well that when we’re together we never end up doing shit,” Marti had replied, running his fingers through Nico’s sweaty curls sticking to his forehead. “Case in point.” “But we barely see each other,” Nico had whined, rolling to lie on top of him. Marti had chuckled and wrapped his arms around his waist. It was almost the end of June and Rome was already too hot. Nico, naked and glued to him from chest to ankles, definitely wasn’t helping him fight the heat but Marti would have never complained. “I know, Ni. Just for a few days. I need to focus on terza prova. Then you can help me prepare for the oral exam.” “Okay,” Nico had sighed, a slow smirk making its way on his face. “Nerd.” “Fuck off. In case you forgot, you have exams, too,” Marti had teased him. Nico had rolled his eyes and mocked him. Marti had pinched his sides in retaliation and flipped their position in one swift move, earning himself a surprised gasp from Nico, who’d looked at him and pulled him down by his hair for a kiss. Schopenhauer can wait, Marti had thought. He missed Nico. They talked on the phone every day but it wasn’t the same. He was right, they’d been seeing each other less since he’d started university. It was an inevitable change that they’d made up for in advance, spending the previous summer always glued to each other. But they’d adapted to it, more or less, at least until January. Nico hadn’t been able to take all the exams he'd planned on his first winter session because his head had had other plans. Martino had been by his side every day, from the moment Anna had called him on Wednesday to tell him Niccolò hadn’t shown up to his first exam and was refusing to get out of bed. He had rushed to his house after school and all he’d needed was one good look at him to understand how bad it was and that Nico wouldn’t say a word. So he’d just laid down next to him, hugged him and stroked his hair, whispering in his ear that he was there, that he’d have to go home tonight because he hadn’t warned his mom but tomorrow he’d be back and sleep with him. The next day he’d brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes and his toothbrush at school and had asked his mom if he could sleep over at Niccolò’s for a couple of days, that had eventually turned into four. Finally, on the third day, Nico had gotten everything that was torturing him out, an avalanche of self-pitying and distorted opinions on his worth that Martino wanted to pull like weeds. “I should have never enrolled in uni. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing there. I don’t even know if I like sociology. I’m just wasting my time and flushing my parents’ money down the toilet. As if I wasn’t causing them enough problems already. I can’t do anything, I’m just a burden to everyone I know.” Marti had let him vent because he’d learned it was the best thing to do, even when listening to those words filled him with anguish. Marti’s heart broke every time Nico’s head didn’t allow him to see just how wonderful he was. In those moments, Marti wished he could lend Nico his eyes so he could see himself through them. “And you, Marti? I don’t even know where you find the patience to bother with me. You don’t deserve to have a noose around your neck at eighte—” He had interrupted him, then. He’d taken Nico’s face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes, and one by one he’d tore down every single unfounded word that had come out of his mouth until Nico had stopped crying and had given him a small smile full of gratitude. Marti had spent the next two days on a mission to make him feel better. Cuddling him, taking a bath together, changing his sheets, making Nico eat and smile in front of his parents too, following the minute by minute motto that had become a pillar of their lives, a philosophy they’d both embraced outside of their relationship too. Three weeks later, they had celebrated Nico acing his first exam. Nico hadn’t had episodes as bad as that one in months and Martino hoped that the summer session wouldn’t bring a relapse. Although Nico still talked about his doubts on his choice of university every once in a while, he’d managed to settle in and make some friends. He still preferred the company of Martino and his friends, though, who scolded him all the time, because instead of helping them sneak into university parties full of hot girls, he was still spending his Friday nights drinking Peccio’s artisanal beer with them and listening to Giovanni’s relationship woes. Two years after their breakup and despite the short Argentina chapter, Giovanni still hadn't gotten over Eva and had decided he would try one last time before the end of their exams. Nico had been offended by their comments. He knew he was welcome. Martino had met his new acquaintances and, as nice as they were, his friends were better. Giovanni, Elia and Luchino had complained, yesterday, about Niccolò’s absence, because he’d always helped them study in the previous weeks and most importantly, as a survivor of the worst maturità in history, he had helped them not panic. “The last days are crucial, bro. Nico could’ve helped us,” Luchino had said. “Well, I can’t focus when he’s around. If you miss him so much, you can always text him, okay?” Martino had snapped. “Okay, calm down,” Elia had commented. Marti had swallowed and apologized. “Sorry, bro. I’m freaking out.” Gio had squeezed his shoulder and stared at him with that searching look he always had when he understood that something was wrong. Martino had sighed and complained about the derivatives exercises he couldn’t solve to change the topic, asking Elia for help. Because, yes, Elia was the best at maths out of all of them, although no one would have guessed. They had started seeing each other less and less sometime around April. Because Marti’s study load had tripled in an attempt to raise his grades in the last months of school and write his final essay in advance, so as not to worry about it in June. Because Nico, maybe suddenly nostalgic of Radio Osvaldo, had joined the university radio as a volunteer and had started giving piano lessons to earn some money, something that would give him a sense of independence. Those weekends spent in bed that used to be their routine were almost a miracle now. They barely managed to see each other twice a week, and never for two days in a row. It was hard, but Marti knew that it wasn’t forever. He cheered himself up thinking that soon they’d have entire weeks of sweet nothing and that they’d take a trip to Berlin together to celebrate Martino’s maturità on the first week of August. Niccolò wouldn’t stop talking about it, how he couldn’t wait to be there, to see the East Side Gallery and the Museum Island, to go to bars, to have Martino alone to himself in a hotel room for five days, and Martino had started counting down the days in his head, because Niccolò was Olympic champion of contagious enthusiasm. But today was the day before maturità and Martino was screwed. Because of all the stress and anxiety, he had slept six hours in total over three nights and he was on edge. Maybe that’s why when Niccolò showed up at his front door unannounced in the late afternoon, he didn’t react the way he would have expected too. “Ni, what are you doing here?” “I missed you,” Niccolò said, kissing him on the lips and making his way into the living room. “Don’t you want to spend the night before exams with me?” he added, chuckling. “Yes,” Martino replied, hesitating. He immediately recognized the signs of Niccolò’s impulsive behavior in his jerky head movements and the way his hands were shaking, and he furrowed his brows, worried. “But I have to study.” “For what? It’s just an essay.” “For everything else…” Martino mumbled. There was a small part of him that was almost flattered that Niccolò couldn't resist more than six days before knocking on his door, but something about his teasing was ticking him off. Maybe Niccolò got it from the tone of his voice and he stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his neck and searching his eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “Of course, I am,” Marti smiled at him, trying to relax. “I can leave if you want, huh,” Niccolò said, raising his brows and tilting his head. Marti shook his head. “Stay. But I really have to study. At least another couple of hours. Then we can do whatever you want.” He didn’t want to kick Niccolò out but he hoped he’d been clear: no distractions allowed. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry,” Niccolò said, taking his hand and leading them to Martino’s room. “How are you? What are you studying?” “Greek. I wanna die.” “Shut up and be grateful you didn’t have last year’s fucking latin-greek combo,” Niccolò said, throwing himself on Martino’s bed while Martino resumed his place at his desk. He smiled, remembering the desperation on the fifth-year boys’ faces when the new seconda prova with both languages was announced. The worst maturità in history. And luckily, the only one. Marti picked up his copies of old translations, scribbled with pencil on the margins and heavily underlined. He wasn’t bad at it, obviously Latin was easier than Greek, but he couldn’t wait to abandon these shitty dead languages, like Giovanni always called them. Niccolò managed to stay put on his bed for about 10 minutes before he came behind Martino and bent down to hug his shoulders. Martino had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes. He didn’t know why having Niccolò around was bothering him. He didn’t like feeling like this. It’d never happened before, and Martino knew it was his problem. “Ni,” he warned him. “Marti,” Nico replied, sing-songy. That unpleasant feeling twisting Marti’s stomach just kept building up. “I’m in deep shit, Ni. I mean it.” “Just spend ten minutes with me, what difference does it make? You barely said hi to me,” he said, with a sweet whiny voice. Martino was sure he was pouting too. “Can you wait until I finish this? Please, please, please," he begged too, looking up. If Nico could pout, he could use his puppy eyes. “Okay, okay,” Nico sighed, “got it. I’ll be good. I won’t move.” He lied on the bed again, pretending to be very still like a robot. Marti smiled at him, mumbling an apologetic “thank you” and turning in his chair to stick his nose back in the dictionary. “Don’t you have to study too? Why didn’t you bring your books?” Marti commented offhandedly. Niccolò sighed. “Fuck, Marti, you sound like my mom.” “Why? What did I say?” “You think I don’t know when I’m supposed to study or not?” Martino was taken aback by Nico’s snappy reply. And that was it, that pushed him over the edge. If there was anything that Martino had learned in the year and a half with Niccolò, it was that his patience went way over the limits he’d always thought he had. Being with him had brought out a better version of himself, a Martino who knew how to listen, how to think before he spoke, who always put Nico before himself, and this selflessness had never felt like an obligation, Martino had never felt forced to do it. The bitterness, pettiness and smallness that he had held before Nico only resurfaced after conversations with his dad or in moments of psychological and physical weakness caused by stress and insomnia, two things he hadn’t learned how to cope with yet. They made him lash out, even with his mom when she didn’t deserve it, and apparently, even with the boy he loved more than anything in the world. There were days when Martino couldn't handle his own emotions, let alone Niccolò’s unpredictable ones, and the pedestal he sometimes felt he was on crumbled. This is how Martino was feeling today: small, petty, irascible, and Niccolò had come here thinking it would make him happy, but instead he’d become the catalyst of all the anxiety and nervousness Martino had accumulated over the last few weeks. “I was just saying. Chill.” He realized how much he sounded like an asshole as soon as the words left his mouth and he regretted them immediately. A few moments of awful silence passed and then Nico stood from the bed. “Okay, I get it. I’m leaving.” Marti shot up from his chair to grab his wrist. “Ni…” “I don’t wanna be here if I’m just a pain in the ass,” he said, looking everywhere but at Marti’s face, avoiding his gaze. “You’re not a pain in the ass. I’m sorry. I’m stressed, you know I can’t handle it,” he tried to apologize. “It’s not your fault.” “Sorry if I thought you’d be happy to see me. Call me after the written exams, or the oral. Or whenever the fuck you want,” Nico said, his voice low and full of bitterness. He turned towards the door and Marti pulled him back. “Stop it, please.” “We never see each other anyway,” Niccolò mumbled, finally tugging his arm out of Marti’s grip. “And that's my fucking fault, Ni?”, he snapped. He swallowed harshly. He’d raised his voice with Niccolò. He never thought he could be so stupid. Neither of them had ever yelled at the other, in a year and a half. They’d had hard moments, moments of tension, disagreements, but they’d never had a real fight. And why had he yelled at him? Because he was in a bad mood? I'm a piece of shit, he thought. “It's no one's fault if I have to study and you’re busy with uni,” Marti said, lowering his voice and his gaze. His head was pulsing and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Niccolò, standing three feet between him and the door, bit his trembling lower lip and said nothing. His hands were clenched by his sides. Martino sighed and continued. “Of course I miss you, and it pisses me off that we don’t see each other often… but I just needed you to do me this favor, today.” “I see,” Niccolò nodded. “And I’m so useless and needy that I couldn’t even do this one thing?” Marti closed his eyes and sighed, again. “I never said that, why do you have to do this? Ni, please,” he stepped closer to touch his face but Nico moved away like his palm was scalding. Marti looked at him and lowered his arm, waiting for him to talk. Nico kept biting his lip and nervously bouncing his leg. “You know uni isn't going well. That my parents are badgering me about it. You know it. There’s no need for you to always remind me about it too,” Niccolò said, finally looking at him. His shoulders were shaking, and his green eyes were full of hurt. All the hurt Martino had caused. “If you hate seeing me, just say it.” I don’t understand why you hate spending time with me so much, his mom had told him, so long ago that Martino didn’t even remember when. He only remembered it was before he made up with Nico, before the terrace, because Martino had become such a different person ever since things had started working out with him that he would have never expected to hear almost the same exact words coming from his boyfriend. They hit him like a ton of bricks and Marti physically felt the fight drain out of him. Every cell In his body abandoned the fight and, this time, he thought carefully before he spoke, while Niccolò looked at him like he was waiting for the next blow. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I swear. When I’m like this… I act out, I can't stand myself. I can’t explain how sorry I am, Ni,” he whispered. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.” “I know. It’s not your fault. I’m just an asshole.” There’s always a turning point in an argument, when according to the words you choose the fight can go on or die out. Marti had given Niccolò the chance to choose an out. He hoped he would take it. “Hm. Yeah, a little bit.” Marti smiled at him, grateful, and closed the distance between them to hug him tight. He hugged him for minutes and Nico held him back, hiding his face in his shoulder. Marti kissed him and whispered apologies on his lips that Nico returned with a soft smile. “You know what we’re gonna do? We’re gonna close the books, jump in bed and--” “You don’t have to fuck up your study session because of me. Go on. But let me help,” Nico interrupted him. He took Martino’s notebooks and dictionary and put them on the floor, in the little corner under the window with the pillows and carpet, where they loved to spend hours cuddled up under a blanket next to the radiator in winter. He sat down and looked up at Marti, patting the floor next to him like you would do to invite a shy cat. “You sure?” Marti asked, sitting down by Nico’s side and hugging his knees to his chest. Niccolò nodded. Marti thought about it and then grabbed his notebooks, photocopies and dictionary and threw them by the foot of his bed, ignoring Niccolò’s amused protests. “No, fuck it. I want to be with you. Talk to me. How are you?” Nico smiled at him. He leaned his head against the wall and turned to look him in the eyes. “I miss you,” he whispered, fragile, shaken by a fight that had had no reason to exist, that should have never happened. Marti felt the raw honesty of those words hit him in the chest. “I miss you, too.” They kissed, and Marti kept muttering apologies until Nico forced him to stop, fondly exasperated. They talked while Marti’s hands played with Nico’s, twirled his curls, stroked his cheeks. They talked, but for the most part they just held each other, because sometimes silence healed better than words. The vibration of Marti’s phone startled him. It was a voice message from Gio. “Oi, Marti, we’re all meeting up at Baretto later. The girls are coming too. It’s the night before exams and you’re coming, don’t even bother with an excuse. And bring Nico cause we all miss him. Okay, bro?” Marti laughed and looked at Nico with a complicit smile. “Feel up to spending your night surrounded by a bunch of high-schoolers singing Venditti?” Niccolò laughed too, that whole-body laugh, chin lowered and eyes crinkling. That laugh that Martino had fallen in love with on that mid-October day on Nico's couch. Then Nico looked up and scooted closer to give him a kiss. “I’d be offended if I missed it.”

#skam italia #martino rametta #niccolò fares #nicotino #rames #fic #text

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 9

Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for beta’ing.  @doctorroseprompts​

The final chapter will be posted on June 16th.

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.

Masterlist

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

Rose ran for her life.

The moment she landed she knew, deep in her soul, two things.  One – this was, finally, the right universe.  She was home.  The second was that something was terribly wrong.

Some instinct, some knowing sense that she got sometimes in moments of great danger, tugged her towards the river, and with every step she ran faster until she saw a barricade of UNIT vehicles, and a single woman walking slowly away.

“What happened?” she begged, skidding to a halt, a terrible knot in her gut, two words running through her mind.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.  “What did they find?”  Spinning on her heel she confronted the red-headed woman.  “Sorry, did they find someone?”

Something’s wrong.

“I dunno,” the woman shook her head, looking a bit bewildered as Rose glanced over her shoulder.

Something’s wrong.

“Um, bloke called the Doctor, or something,” she continued.

Rose glanced at her, naïve hope fighting through the fear.  “Where is he?”

“They took him away,” the redhead said, completely flat and unsympathetic as she delivered what, to Rose, was a crushing blow.  “He’s dead.”

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

The Doctor is dead.

Something.  Is.  WRONG.

“No,” Rose cried, bolting upright, her gasps for breath quickly turning to deep, shuddering sobs.  “No, no, no!”  Her hand fumbled at the other side of the bed, reaching for him but finding only cool sheets.  “No!”

“Rose?  Rose!”  The Doctor appeared in her line of vision then, throwing himself on the bed in front of her and gathering her in his arms.  “It was a dream, it was just a dream,” he tried to soothe her, holding her close, but it didn’t help.

“You were dead,” she cried, leaning into him and clutching tightly at his tee, “you were dead and I couldn’t do anything.”

“It was just a dream,” he repeated, making soft sounds and stroking her hair, keeping her against his chest as she wailed.

Finally, after far too long, she was reduced to sniffling, clutching him tightly and trying to burrow into his very skin.  He took one arm away from around her, and it reappeared a moment later with a handful of tissue.  “Here, sweetheart.”

Accepting them one-handed, afraid if she let go he’d vanish, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.  “Thanks.”

He tsked dismissively, taking advantage of her loosened grasp to shift her onto his lap more comfortably.  “D’you want to talk about it?”

Rose shook her head, cuddling into him and letting his single heartbeat remind her that that universe didn’t exist, that she’d fixed it.  She’d had to kill that forced-parallel-universe Donna to do it, and while that grieved her… as much as she’d liked Donna, it was a choice she’d been willing to make.  

Ironically, it had made her feel closer to the Doctor than she had in awhile, to recognize all over again the kinds of terrible compromises he’d had to make in his lives to keep everyone else safe.

“It was just a dream,” he repeated, kissing her head, and she stiffened.

“It wasn’t.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a dream.  It was a memory.”

The Doctor pulled back enough to see her face, frowning.  “I don’t understand.”

“Donna got pulled into that bubble universe, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Did she have time to tell you anything about it?”

He tilted his head in thought, pursing his lips.  “She said… the stars were going out.  That it was bleak.  That you told her to say ‘Bad Wolf’.  After that… well.  I was a bit too focused on you, so not really.”

Rose took a steadying breath, forcing her fists to unclench his shirt and rest open-palmed where his hearts had been.  “Basically, it was based around the day she started at… whatever the locksmith company was.  Instead of taking that job she took a different one, closer to home.  She never met you, and everything that happened during your travels didn’t – it was like an apocalyptic wasteland.  No,” she corrected, “it was.  It was horrible.”

“What, because I didn’t meet Donna?”  He wrinkled his nose.  “I mean, that seems a bit extreme.”

“You died.”  Though her exhale was shaky, her voice held.  “Under the Thames, something about a spider and Christmas – you drowned, and didn’t regenerate.”

He stiffened, and she bit her lip.

“I… can believe that.  It would’ve been right after- right after I… ran out of time saying goodbye.  To you.”

Rose rubbed lightly at his chest.  “I got there too late – UNIT was already taking you away – but that was how I met Donna.  It pretty soon became clear that something was terribly wrong, and I started a plan to fix it.”

“And you did.”  He shook his head when she scoffed.  “You did.  Rose, you saved all of us.  Every universe – practically on your own.  But I’m sorry you had to see… whatever it was that made you a little bit more like me.”

“I’m not,” Rose argued quietly, steel in her voice.  “I’m sorry those things happened, and I’m sorry I had to see them, but I’m not sorry to be a little more like you.  I knew what I was signing up for, long ago.  I knew it every time I got back on that ship after a visit to Mum’s.  I have no regrets, other than for those I couldn’t save.  But you already know that.”

The Doctor nodded sharply, and they sat in somewhat comfortable silence as her heart calmed and her tears dried.

When the clock said they’d been up for more than an hour she finally shifted in his arms, meeting his eye.  “Will you make love to me, please?”

“Of course.”  He laid her down gently, taking his time with her.  It was tender, and sweet, and by the time he entered her she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known, everything in the universe except for him and the pleasure he brought her.

She slept dreamlessly after that.

When she woke the next morning, it was to find herself draped across the Doctor’s chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, fingers combing through her hair, and she sighed into the touch.

“Hi.”  Stretching her neck she kissed him, and they snogged leisurely until they were both on their sides, touches growing bolder.

“Wait,” he panted, pulling away, and she laid her hand flat on his hip.

“What is it?”

Brushing hair away from her face, he caressed her cheek as he gazed steadily at her.  “I had terrible nightmares for months after Canary Wharf.”

Rose exhaled sharply; it was such a tender wound at the beginning that no one had dared say the name after the first time she collapsed in agonizing grief, that she hadn’t heard it in years.  “Me too.”

“No- I mean, I’m sure you did, but- just let me- What I mean is, the dreams… most of the time, they ended differently.  You crashing into the wall and breaking your neck.  You getting sucked into the Void.  Every time was devastating, a far more horrible way to lose you – all things considered, what did happen was one of the better potential outcomes.  And I told you about my time senses, that I can see every possibility – and they were all in high definition in my dreams whenever I tried to sleep.”

He paused, and Rose pressed kisses to his chin.  “I’m sorry.”

“When my psyche got tired of those, it dredged up old favorites I’d managed to pack tightly away – the bunker in Utah, with the dalek, or the Coronation when the Wire took your face.  Every time I almost lost you, crystal clear whenever I closed my eyes. My point being, I’m intimately familiar with the kind of dream you had last night.  But it was just a dream.  That universe is gone, and you saved the day.  We’re here, now, and that’s ancient history – literally, in some cases.  So try not to dwell on it.”

Rose sniffled, tears leaking out of her eyes as her heart ached for the lonely, heartbroken Time Lord left on his own.  In her darker moments she’d hoped he was suffering as she was, that he hadn’t just moved on without looking back like he had with Sarah Jane.  To find out she was right, that he’d been just as miserable, only made her feel worse.  “I love you so much, and I always have.”

“I love you too,” he promised softly.  “And I’m so happy for the future we get to have, together.  The scars of our past will always be there, but it’s up to us in the here and now to… to tattoo over them.  To turn something ugly into something beautiful.”

She smiled, snuggling closer and throwing her leg over his hip.  “You did a good job at that last night,” Rose winked suggestively, pleased when he laughed.

“Why thank you.  I think I could use some practice, though.”

“It that so?”  She shrieked with laughter when he rolled her onto her back.  “Well, practice does make perfect.”

Holding himself above her, he smirked.  “And I am perfect.”

“I hardly think so,” Rose giggled, tugging him down, “but you’re perfect for me, and that’s all that matters.”

Hands on her hips, Rose surveyed their setup.  After an emotional morning they’d decided on a beach day, hauling down sand toys, floats, and a variety of other things to do – provided they could keep their hands to themselves.  “Looks good.”

“I’ll say,” the Doctor winked, giving her a thorough look over before moving in front of her, grasping her hips firmly to haul her against him in a bruising kiss.

She moaned, surrendering completely until he tried to lower her to the blanket.  “No, no, no,” Rose panted, struggling away.  “We are not having sex on the beach in broad daylight.  Again.  I want to go for a walk.”

“But shagging is so much more fun,” he pouted, trying to tug her back to him.

“A romantic walk on the beach,” she said sternly, grabbing her hat and settling it on her head.  “Then some innocent fun on the beach.  You can shag me when we go up for lunch.”

“Fine.”  He found his sunglasses, scowl already perched on his face.  “Shall we?”  Extending his elbow to her, she took it gladly as they struck out heading north along the sand.

Walking in silence for a few minutes, Rose just enjoyed the sand between her toes, the occasional lapping of the waves, the warm sun, and the Doctor’s lean body next to her.  In the daylight she felt a little silly about her extreme reaction to her nightmare, but she was determined to put it behind her.

“Yes,” the Doctor said abruptly, apropos of nothing.

“What?”

“If you want kids, I want kids.”

Rose stopped dead to gape at him.  “Where did that come from?!”

He couldn’t quite meet her eye, but his voice was dead serious.  “I was thinking, after I thought you hit your head yesterday, about what I wanted- really- out of this incredible, impossible future the universe has gifted me- us- with.  A life on the slow path.  And I’m not saying we don’t grow the TARDIS and have adventures, I’m just saying… I’m open to a third, permanent member of our team.  Preferably one that understands to stay when told to.”

“Sounds more like you want a dog,” Rose said shakily, starting to walk again.  “Cause no way is a kid of ours going to be able to stay out of trouble.”

“Very true,” he considered, taking her hand.  “Maybe both?”

She nodded.  “Let’s maybe start with the dog, but… okay.  We’ll have kids.”

“If you want.”

A family was playing far up ahead, two small children running around and shrieking with laughter as their father chased them, bringing an involuntary smile to Rose’s lips as she pictured the Doctor chasing spiky-haired toddlers.

“Only if they’re just like you.”

Fifteen minutes into their supposedly romantic sunset cruise with a crying baby, Rose’s last nerve was fraying quickly.  Rationally she understood that children cry and that she shouldn’t be judging, especially with helping raise Tony, but it just seemed like a sign given their decision that afternoon.

“Erm, let’s maybe put the baby idea off for a year or ten,” the Doctor muttered in her ear, returning from the bar with two glasses of wine.

“Deal.”  They toasted, taking a sip before moving to another section of the railing and staring out at the darkening sky.  The sun was still high, but it would be setting soon and she didn’t want to miss a moment.

Leaning on the rail, the Doctor gazed contemplatively out to sea.

“Penny for them?”

“Hmm?”

Rose laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder.  “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m wondering what the hell I ever did so right in my life to get you,” he sighed, turning dark eyes on her.  “Everything I touch turns to dust, yet you’re still here.”

“Blimey, you’re not Thanos,” she teased, winking at him.

“Rose!  That’s still in the future,” he hissed, looking around wildly to see who might be listening.  “Don’t spoil it!”

Shaking her head, she smiled fondly at him.  “My point is, stop being so melodramatic.  I’ve seen the very heart of you, true, and there’s dark spots, but they’re bruises – it’s not rotten.  I love you for you, you daft alien, but I think you need to just enjoy the moment.”

“I can’t just ‘enjoy the moment’ forever!”

“Of course you can.  You focus on being happen in the moment you’re in, then the one after that, and the one after that, and suddenly you’re old and gray and have a lifetime of happy memories.”

The Doctor grimaced self-consciously, ruffling his hair.  “Gray?  I don’t know…”

“I’ll still love you then,” she promised, “long as you still love me when I’m old and gray and fat from having too many babies.”

A soft, happy smile crossed his face, his eyes lightening.  “Oh, Rose Tyler, I’ll love you forever.”

He kissed her then, and she could feel the truth of it there, the weight of his promise.

Forever.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenTooxRose #TenToo #Rose Tyler #prompted #Barcelona is for Lovers #lemons

[everyonesawhoregrace]

Tough Love   (2) Michael Gray Fanfic

I try to maintain my emotions, I try to stand there and not looked shocked or disappointed, it even remotely upset. For heaven sake, I have no clue of what I feel. But I think I fail tremendously, because Mary looks over at me and her jaw literally drops to the floor once Henry says my name out loud. 

“Oh fuck!” She gasps, putting her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen, which only makes me more nervous. 

I look away, feeling his glare. I look away and my eyes circle the room, feeling my body heat up. Christ. I feel like my hearts about to fucking explode. My face might just burn off too. Fuck.

“Leave. Now.” His voice booms with power.

I look up, fearful that he might be talking to me, but his eyes fall on the guards, who get up and walk away. He mentions Mary who nods various times like some sort of puppet, she exits too. And shuts the door. I almost lose my cool with her, she’s absolutely ridiculous. Leaving me here with him.

I flush, glancing down at my fingers. I take a deep breath, telling myself to speak. 

“You work here?” He asks, and when I fix my eyes on his, Michael’s eyes blaze into my skin. 

“Yes.” I whisper, “I’m a nurse.” 

“Nurse.” He nods, but frowns, pouting. “Like when we were kids, and you’d insist on checking our temperatures when we were sick.” He chuckles, “You remember?” 

How could I not? I was always a little excited when the others fell ill, it meant the nurses would come by and check on them, I would try to learn alongside. Shadowing and doing things to help as best I could. Henry picks up his smokes, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. 

I watch in dismay, “You smoke now?” 

He sucks on it , pulling it back and looking down at the stick and nodding, “I guess so.”

I pale, and Henry runs a hand thorough his hair, putting it back between his lips. He studies me, drinking me up, as I turn away, wondering how he ended up with the Blinders. His green eyes fill with darkness, as I remember the last time we saw each other was when he left with Mr and Mrs. Johnson.

There is no way in hell such a holy pair would let their foster child end up with a gang. That day he was picked up and saved by the Johnsons, I remember being left with Father John Hughes. Crying my eyes out as he was whisked away with that family, and I was left with Father. 

That was almost a decade ago. We were only 12 when he was taken from me.

“I wrote you.” He croaks, shutting his book before helping himself up to stand. My instinct is to help him, but he’s got a cane to help him rise. “You never wrote me back, June. Why?” He accuses me of something I did not know of until now.

“When did you ever write me?” I seize, my gaze narrowing. 

Henry is no longer a little boy, no, that part of him has expired. I see a man of staggering difference than the person I knew growing up. Everything about Henry has changed, and that boy filled with life has morphed into a man of height and healthy weight. 

He stands there, and I can’t help but wither under his stare. “I wrote you every weekend, made sure to be careful. I-I made sure to address formally to make it seem like it was a foster family or something. I wrote you every weekend and for months I sat by the post office waiting for your letter to me back.” 

His words tug at my heart, knowing how much we once meant to each other. There was no words ever exchanged about our feelings, but there was no need for it to be expressed. We were children who had hope of seeing each other again! The love we had was innocent and shy, just like us. All of these picture perfect memories that I had locked up and forgotten about come rushing in. I missed you so much, Henry. The world stills as I reach for those memories and allow myself to feel again. I needed you, and you weren’t there, God. I needed you.

“Father Hughes, he-” I swallow, biting down. “He must’ve read them and threw it out, I had no clue, Henry.” 

He leans into his cane, “It’s Michael now.” He emphasizes on the name, and it sounds weird coming out of his mouth. Michael.

Ah yes. Michael Gray. “That your real name?” 

There is a pause, before he nods. “Yeah, I-I ah, I met my mum, June.” 

Like a flame that dies, I look at this man and try to erase the awful things I thought of him. He had promised to write me and didn’t, promised he’d get me out of that fucking awful place and didn’t. Promised to save me, but the only saving he did was saving himself. The second Henry was in the care of a good family, he never dared look back at the church. 

“Who is she? Your mum.” 

“Polly Gray,” He grumbles, sitting down on the bed in a sigh. “Of Small Heath, Birmingham.” 

“Gypsy?” 

He nods. 

“She’s the one who got you in?” 

“In what?” 

“The Peaky Blinders.” I say the words as if they taste bad.

He scoffs, “What do you know about the Peaky Blinders?” 

“Enough.” I reply, mentioning the men who stand outside. “You must be high up in the branches of the gang if you have men twice your age lookin’ after yous.” 

Again, a pause. His mind is probably trying to get out of the truth, something he hasn’t left behind from his childhood. Henry-Michael always had a way with words, he could get out of murdering someone if he liked. It was almost like something he could switch on and off, his cheeky, smart self. Suddenly, the thought of Henry-Michael mortifies me, had he ever claimed a life? Perhaps cut a smile.

His mouth presses into a hard line, but then, almost as if to change the subject, his lips lips lift and he tries to stiffen out a smile. “I missed you..really. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

I swallow, a lump in my throat as I smile too. “It’s nice isn’t it? Seeing the family you were kind of forced into.” 

“Yea.” His tone changes, less formal, more boyish. More Henry like. “How did you get out of The Hell Hole?” He continues to smoke, nearly finishing the thing off. 

The Hell Hole, what we used to call the orphanage. I move to the table, pulling back a chair to sit down. I cross my legs, knowing it’ll only heighten my dress. But I do it unconsciously, and when Henry-Michael stares at the new found skin. 

I pull down the dress and clear my throat. “When I turned sixteen, they let me go to public school in Glennrich. I had a little bit more freedom. I packed up my bags, and in the morning of the third week of school, I left.” My voice goes low, as the memory of running away comes back, “And I never looked back.” 

“Sixteen.” He whispers. “You tolerated another four years there without me...” 

Henry was my guardian angel in the orphanages. He had gotten me out of at least a dozen beatens and rapes with his smart mouth. Granted, he received beatings for protecting me but he always came back to the rooms with a smile on his face. Don’t worry, he would tell me, they’re not going to hurt you anymore Juney. When I get outta here, I’ll make sure these bastards get what they deserve.

I look down at the bit of dried blood on my dress, I didn’t mean to hash up stuff from the past, but my mouth opens and I speak without considering it. “You said you were going to tell the police of what they do to the kids at the orphanage.” 

“I tried!” He’s curt, and the way he raises his voice strains him. He flashes a pain, which only makes me wince. “I promise,” He huffs, “I tried.” 

He closes his eyes and I get on my feet, approaching him, “Okay, okay. Are you alright?” 

“Yea,” He pushes out a breath, “The doctor said I had some internal bleeding.” 

Without thinking, I grab the stick from between his lips and put it out into the ashtray. “Internal bleeding is no joke, Henr-Michael.” I sigh, turning around. “Have you been taking your medication?”

We’re close, and he only takes advantage of the moment and really examines me. As if his life depends on it, he studies me, shifting to get a better look of my face. He blinks, and when he’s ready, he murmurs. “It, ah, it makes me drowsy,” 

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t doing the same. I lick my lips, he looks so vulnerable. And the way his eyes scan my face only makes me blush, and my stomach gets all knotted. He doesn’t shy away, like I had imagined. But he lifts his hand ever so slightly, and touches the back of his fingers against the side of my face. 

He grits his teeth, as his fingers stroke my skin. “Do you know how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking of you?” 

“Henry,” I turn my head, pulling myself away, I press my lips together, eyebrows pulling together. I wrap my hands around myself, a way to shut myself out and exit this conversation. “I mean, Michael. I-” My mouth goes dry. 

The doors push open and we both jump, staring at the woman who looks at us like we’re ghosts. I don’t know her face, and I’ve never met this woman. But she seems to be entitled enough to barge her way past the guards and looks Michael with these wide worried eyes.

This woman before me is his biological mother. Standing tall, just oozing with power.

She is Polly Gray.

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