#you gotta go through the Return / Exchange Hell and both options are shit

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

#mha #bnha #mha smut #denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari smut #denki kaminari smut #mha fluff #denki fluff #denki smut #denki x you #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader

[hockeyboysiguess]

Year One

a/n: coming up with this idea completely threw me off working the other day and i have no regrets. this has a little bit of everything in it. you like friends to lover? it’s in here. you like very large hockey players with tiny children? it’s in here. you like very soft smuttiness? it’s in here. you like cutesy dates? they’re in here. there’s a little bit of something for everyone in this one, so I hope you find a part you like!

warnings: swearing, mild smutty-sort of action, drinking, and a ton of cavity causing sweetness.

January

This party was definitely going to require another drink. It’s not that you weren’t having fun; it’s that all of your friends were having quite a lot of fun. You snuck away from your drunkest friend and headed to the kitchen to refill your cup. You sighed when you glanced over the counter holding your variously terrible options.

“Okay, what combination looks like it would taste the least like paint thinner,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Definitely the Strawberry Lemonade Svedka and the grape Fanta. It sounds weird but it turned out pretty good honestly.”

You turned toward the voice and you smiled a little to yourself. He was positively gorgeous. Strong shoulders, muscled tattooed arms, sharp jawline covered in stubble, and a smile that drew you in. He came over towards you and you noticed how much he dwarfed you and it made your mind wander.

“Is it?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Look, your other possible combinations are objectively terrible. Like who buys birthday cake vodka?” he asked, his face scrunching at the idea. “I know it’s a birthday party but, yeah, no.”

You laughed and he smiled softly at you.

“I’m Pierre-Luc,” he told you.

“That’s kind of long,” you added after telling him your name. “Got any nicknames available?”

He laughed and scrunched his nose up as he looked at you, “I play hockey actually so I’ve got lots of things for you to chose from if you want.”

You grabbed the flavored vodka and the grape soda per his recommendations and poured them into your cup. You tried it and nodded softly. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as you had imagined it would be. You grabbed the edge of the counter and hauled yourself up, letting your feet dangle against the cabinets.

“Hit me with ‘em and I’ll pick the best one you should exclusively use from here on out,” you said confidently, not sure if that confidence was you or the alcohol talking. 

“Pretty sure one nickname picked out by a girl is going to get me chirped to no end,” Pierre-Luc sighed, but it was playful. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of the tattoos on the underside of his arm. 

“But I’m a hot girl,” you took a sip of your drink as he raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk forming on his face. “Oh don’t even. You’ve stared at my boobs at least six times since I met you three minutes ago. You’re averaging at least two looks a minute.”

A wide smile broke out across his face as he raised his hands in the air, feigning innocence. You took a sip of your drink as you watched him, as clearly as he could manage, rake his eyes up and down your body, pausing as various points that particularly interested him. You were relishing in the attention and he certainly didn’t mind giving it.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, his smile shifting from humorous to cocky. “So, I think you were about to judge the shit out of my name some more?”

It would have made for a fun night if not for someone running into the kitchen as soon as he finished his sentence. 

“Hey, you’re came here with that Kelsey right?” the guy said, pointing at you. “Because she just threw up like, everywhere in the bathroom and-”

“And gotta go handle that,” you mumbled, sliding off the counter begrudgingly. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

It came out more like a question than you’d meant it to, and Pierre-Luc nodded as he stepped aside and cleared the way for you. 

“Yeah, no, definitely. I’ll see you around.” 

February

Pierre-Luc had been easy to find on Instagram after the party. It was nice to confirm that your drunk mind was not remembering him hotter than he was, but you didn’t want to make the first move so you stopped yourself short of hitting the follow button on his page. If he wanted to talk to you, he’d come to you, you decided. However, that was almost four weeks ago. It was February now and you let it go, chalking it another temporary drunk connection and moving on. This is until you agreed to go ice skating a the local outdoor rink with Kelsey and a few other friends. He was already there when you arrived. 

Everyone exchanged pleasantries and names. Kelsey was introducing you to the people you didn’t know yet, but you barely remembered anyone because you were anxious to talk to Pierre-Luc again. You tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He spun around to face you. A soft smile pulled up the corners of his mouth when he saw you and you instantly realized you hadn’t practicing saying anything beyond hello. 

“Hey.”

Well, now you were flying unplanned and anxious, a dangerous combination that put the threat level of saying something that was way too much extremely high. 

“Hi there,” he replied, his smile growing as he spoke. “How are you?”

Thank god he’d apparently thought at least one step further than you because it gave you something to respond to and something to ask him in return. He answered that he was busy since it was hockey season and all. 

“And yet, you’re here to skate on your day off?” you asked him. 

He shrugged and laughed a little, “Can’t get away from it, I guess. I don’t mind. I love skating.” 

“Might have to hit you up for a few pointers because I’m definitely super rusty and let’s be honest, there really isn’t much skill under the rust,” you joked with him.

“I can help,” Pierre-Luc cut in instantly, just a tad too eagerly, so he tried to smooth it over with a classic, “I mean, if you want me to.” 

“I need all the help I can get,” you huffed as you sat down on the bench to start lacing up your skates. 

You struggled to tighten the laces, giving them a pull with all your might as Pierre-Luc laced up both of his skates with practiced ease. You watched him tie off his second skate before you’d managed to get halfway through your first. Whatever he was doing was not at all applicable to you.

“That’s definitely half of your problem right there,” he teased you as he sat down next to you. “Your skates are way too loose.” 

“Well, strong hockey man, then fix it,” you sighed, letting the laces fall from your hands. 

“Not sure we’re gonna stick with that nickname,” he laughed. 

He stood up only to kneel down in front of you. Your mind practically ran to the imagine of his head between your legs for something else and you had to shove the thought aside as he picked up the laces to properly tie your skates. Where you struggled, he had no issues at all. Did you pretend your left skate was looser than your right after he asked you if it did? Yes. Was the left skate looser? You didn’t even have enough experience to really answer the question, but you really liked watching his muscles tense as he pulled the laces tighter. 

“Thanks, Luc,” you said as he stood up, finally satisfied with his workmanship.

“We’re going with Luc, eh? Pretty bland nickname choice.” He offered you his hand to help pull you to your feet. “You gonna be able to walk to the rink there, shaky?” 

“Sometimes the most obvious choice is the best choice,” you replied, “and yes, I’m fine. Thanks for your abundant concern.” 

You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Luc’s hand hovering near the small of your back in case you did fall even though you were sure you wouldn’t. You stepped out on the ice, your feet sliding a bit out from under you with the transition, but you managed to stay on your feet. You heard Luc slide onto the ice after you. He pivoted until he was in front of you, skating backwards in order to get face to face with you. You weren’t exactly looking at him though. Your eyes were trained on your skates.

“If you cut me off, I will fall over,” you warned him. You were entirely too focused on staying upright to pay much attention to him. “I learned how to go forward and sort of turn. Stopping was never in my skill set.”

“Sounds like you need a lesson from a master,” Luc joked, earning a glare from you. “Come on. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you. Trust me?”

March

“Jesus,” you muttered to yourself as some of your beer spilled on your hand. Luc had slammed some guy from the other team into the boards in front of you. “Are hockey games always this violent?”

“Have you really never been to a game before this?” Kelsey asked. “Well, free tickets right against the glass from your hot hockey player boyfriend is a hell of a way to be introduced to a live hockey game.

You shook your now beer-covered hand off and scrunched your nose up at Kelsey before telling her, “He’s not my boyfriend and you know that. We just talk.”

“Oh come on, the way he looks at you!” 

She practically shouted that sentence. One of her biggest flaws as a friend after her inability to keep down more than four drinks was that she could not control the volume of her voice under any circumstance. At least this time, the venue meant she wasn’t entirely too loud for the crowd.

“You know he’s not, Kels,” you told her after taking a sip of your beer. “I don’t even know if he would want that. Literally all we do is talk and Snapchat.”

“Shirtless snaps post-practice?” she asked you, a hopeful look in her eyes. You shook your head, so she tried again, “Lots of red heart and or red heart eyes emojis?” 

“Kels, stop,” you laughed. “I think it was just a thing at the party when we were drunk. It’s fine. Not everything has to be a thing. We can just be friends. I’m good with that.”

“Whatever.”

She waved you off, but at least the conversation was over. You weren’t trying to get your hopes up with Luc. You saw the way every girl in every room he went into looked at him and he was a really great guy to top it all off, but you’d been in this sort of situation before. You knew better than to try to wear your heart on your sleeve here. 

That didn’t stop your heart from pounding in your chest when you saw him post-game. The Blue Jackets had won 4-3, so Luc’s smile was on full display as he found you after the post-game interviews. His suit fit him so well, darting in perfectly at his waist, making him look impossibly broader somehow. The first few buttons on his white dress shirt were undone and his tie was loosely hanging around his neck.

Kelsey had gotten in your head. Now the only thing you could think about as you looked at him was how badly you wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and pull his mouth down to meet yours. 

“Ready to head out?” he asked you. He motioned down the hallway and you followed his lead, heading towards the blue double doors ahead. “I believe you promised me that I could pick the movie tonight if we won?” 

“A promise is a promise,” you sighed, “even though you’re going to pick something god awful.”

He smiled wider at you before asking, “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, actually. I had a great time. Kelsey ditched five minutes before the end. That guy she met at the bar last weekend wanted to grab drinks or something. i try not to ask too many questions I don’t want to know the answers to,” you told him. “Thanks for inviting me, Luc.”

“Thanks for coming,” he replied as you stepped through the doors and into the cool air on your way to his car. 

It was cold for March. Not all that cold for Columbus in March, but cold for most people’s definition of March. You still had your coat on, but thankfully it wasn’t quite gloves and hat and scarf weather anymore. You could see Luc’s breath faintly as you walked toward his car, but at least he world wasn’t quite as frosty as it had been last month on the outdoor rink with him. Something told you that your feelings for him were soon going to be inevitable, but for now his friendship was what you needed.

April

Luc’s empty beer glass slammed down on the bar next to you. He’d emptied it faster than you thought he even could.

“Fuck, I hate losing,” he hissed through his teeth. “Fucking game seven.”

You almost opened your mouth to say that at least they’d made it to the playoffs unlike sixteen other teams, but the first round exit was clearly hitting him hard. Instead, you made eye contact with the bartender, bringing him over towards you and Luc. Luckily, this particular bartender had been eyeing you since you walked in and it was definitely possible you were using it to get faster service. At least you were tipping him well.

“Yeah, can you just keep those coming for my friend here?” you asked nicely, putting on your best smile for him as you patted Luc on the back.

“Sure,” he said, smiling back you brightly. “And what would you like next?”

“Can I try the new sour you guys just made?” you asked, still keeping that smile dialed up as he poured Luc’s next beer and then handed it to him.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that.”

The bartender slid past you a few moments layer, dropping your drink off with a thousand-watt smile, before moving on to the next customer. Luc looked at you with a soft smirk on his face and a slightly judgmental look in his eyes. He shook his head at you and clicked his tongue at you a few times as he brought his fresh beer to his lips for a few massive gulps from the glass.

“That’s not nice what you’d doing to that man,” he told you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink to try and hide the shameful look on your face. “Just drink your beer and be happy.”

Luc laughed, the first time you’d heard a genuine laugh since the loss the other night before telling you, “It’s really not fair when you do that since you have zero intention of giving him your number.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” you retorted, even though Luc was correct.

“Oh, please. I know I’m right.” Luc set down his beer as he leaned in close to you. “He’s not your type.”

“And how do you know what my type is?”

You cocked a brow at him as you took a sip of your drink. Luc nodded softly as one of his large hands fidgeted with his glass. His cheeks, forever your indicator of his nerves, turned a light shade of pink.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m your type.” His voice was steady and strong but, his hand was sliding against the slick glass between his palms and his cheeks were pink verging on red. “Something at the party was telling me if Kelsey hadn’t puked everywhere maybe the night might have ended differently?”

It was a question, but he already knew the answer to it. You tilted your head to the side though, deciding to play along.

“What do you mean, Luc?”

Your voice was soft and just a little curious, trying to force him into telling you exactly what he meant by that. Your heart was pounding as all you could think was maybe he was feeling what you had started to feel. Luc’s eyes turned to you. He was studying your face, trying to find some sign of what you were feeling. His eyes landed on your lips and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Fuck it.”

Luc leaned in quickly and you titled you head up so he could kiss you easily. He smiled down at you as one of his hands cupped one side of your face. He knew you wanted this too. His lips were inches from yours now and you could only smell his cologne and hear your heart beating in your ears as you were being enveloped by him.

“PL!”

Someone shouting made him yank away from you before his lips could meet yours. He dropped his hand from your face and his jaw tensed as he turned to look at Jonesy who you discovered was the culprit who ruined this moment

“Oh shit,” Jonesy said between closed teeth. “Uh, my bad, man. But Boone is super fucked up and I need some help getting him home and you’re the only one still here.”

Luc sighed and ran a hand over his face as he pull himself back to reality. He knocked back the last dregs of beer in this glass before he leaned back and grabbed his wallet out of his pocket. He thumbed through until he pulled out cash and handed it to you.

“Can you close my tab? Also, can you text me when you and Kelsey get home safe?” He dropped some cash on the bar next to you. “That should cover my tab and yours and a ride home.

Normally, you would’ve pushed the cash back into his hands, but the look in his eyes was telling you should take it because he wasn’t going to take no for an answer tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Luc slid off the stool to his feet and went to head in Jonesy’s direction. He paused and turned on his heels to come back to you.

“Would you like go out with me sometime? Like a real date?”

May

“I did not think I’d be as bad at this as I am,” you sighed as you tried again to putt the ball into the hole on the course. 

Luc managed to get two under par on the same hole and you were about ready to throw your stick in the pond with frustration. You didn’t know you could be as bad at something as you apparently were at mini golf.

“Relax,” Luc’s large hands gripped your shoulders, applying pressure in an effort to make you calm down that only made you more tense. “Maybe this just isn’t your thing?”

“It’s very clear this isn’t my thing, Luc,” you informed him as you hit your club against the toe of your sneaker. “I hate things I’m not good at.” 

“Oh, competitive are we?” He took the first stroke on this hole, getting dangerously close to a hole-in-one and you knew you were about to, like every other hole, get absolutely destroyed. The score card had been accidentally dropped into the pong by hole seven and you clearly didn’t know how it happened. “Too bad I’m more competitive than you.” 

“Did you just try to start an argument over which one of us was more competitive?” You tried to verbally snipe back at him as you hit the ball, but you nearly hit it clean out the source and settle for losing this round entirely. “Must be a low moment for you to have to brag about being more competitive than a girl half your size while playing mini golf.” 

He reached for you, one of his large hands finding one of your hips and pulling you into him. You felt so comfortable against his chest that he reminded you of a certain feeling you couldn’t quite place, kind of like being at home. Luc kissed the top of your head, bring you back to reality. 

“You missed,” you told him as you looked up at him, meeting his soft eyes with yours.

He gave you a confused look before it was replaced with a look of understanding and he verbally added, “Oh, I owe you from the bar a few weeks ago. I see.” 

“You were about to do something, I think anyway, and then you had. totake Boone home and then you shipped your own ass off to Quebec,” you fake whined, pressing your palms against his chest, which somehow felt better under your hands than you could have imagined. 

“Hey, hey, I apologize,” he smiled down at you, “and I came back for you, right? That’s gotta count for something. Even if I’m destroying you at mini golf.”

“Couldn’t have just taken me to dinner?” you joked, your smile coating each word you spoke with a playful edge. 

“Too boring for a girl this far out of my league,” Luc replied. He reached a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear, letting the strands tangle in his fingers before he spoke again, “I’m going to try and kiss you again now, just so you’re aware. And no one is going to interrupt me this time.” 

The entire world disappeared the moment his lips found yours for the first time. This moment was created and inhabited solely by the two of you. No one else could break in even if they tried. His mouth moved against yours and you felt like you were on fire. Everywhere his hands ghosted over felt like he lit it ablaze, leaving a trail of need and destruction in his wake. You were putty in his hands and he loved it so much. You wanted him and he was more than happy to meet you in the middle on a surprising cool May afternoon on a mini golf course just outside of Columbus, Ohio. You never thought that’s where the rest of your life would begin, but you couldn’t deny that it had. 

June

How Luc already had sunburn tingeing the tops of his ears and the tip of his nose less than twenty minutes into being outside was beyond your understanding and you had to tease him for being one of the palest people you’d ever seen. Maybe asking him to come the an outdoor arts festival and not bringing sunscreen for him was a mistake.

“How?” you asked, gesturing to his nose.

“This is me,” he smiled at you. “Take me or leave me, sunburn and all.”

“I think I’ll keep you?”

You said it like a question, but a smile broke out across your face before you’d even finished your sentence. A matching one formed on Luc’s face and he reached for you. His large hands set on your waist, pulling you into him as his mouth captured yours.

“Hey, get a room!”

You weren’t sure which one of his teammates shouted it at you, but neither of your cared. Luc smiled against your lips and you couldn’t help but smile back, ruining the kiss but not the moment.

“Why do we go places with them?” you fake whined a little, your hands pressing softly on his chest as your spoke.

“Because they don’t get out without us,” Luc muttered softly to you. “It’s charity.”

You leaned your head back and laughed. Luc’s hands moved to the small of your back, his long fingers lacing together to support you as his laughter joined yours. You leaned forward again so your eyes could meet his.

“We should probably catch up to them,” Luc told you before his lips found yours again. “They’ll wander into some booth and a little old lady is going to convince them to buy all of her arts and crafts or something.”

Luc knew he teammates well because that’s exactly the situation you found the other boys in. This particular little old lady was apparently into making three-dimensional crotched cats. She was showing Zach a particular one she’d made that apparently resembled her calico cat she had as a small child and how she only offered it to customers who reminded her of her long lost childhood love. You took a deep breath and headed into the booth to begin a very painful rescue mission.

You didn’t realize until you managed to escape, after buying eight of her creations, that Luc had disappeared. You grabbed your phone out of your purse to see if he’d texted you where he’d gone.

“Hey, did you see where PL went?” you asked Jonesy. He took a sip of his wine slushee he’d picked up half a block ago that was already mostly empty and shook his head no. You turned toward Josh and raised an eyebrow. “Josh?”

“Nope. He’s your responsibility anyway,” Josh replied.

You looked around on your tip-toes, trying to see if you could spot his tall frame anywhere, but you were definitely too short for the task at hand. You let out a frustrated sigh and rocked back on your heels. Seconds later, a strong arm wrapped around your mid-section, pulling you into a familiar broad chest.

“Hey,” Luc whisper in your ear. “Sorry, I thought I’d be back before you managed to break them out of jail.”

“I work fast,” you replied as you rubbed along his muscled forearm currently positioned across your stomach.

You heard something  rustling behind you and Luc’s other arm wrapped around you to present you with why he’d gone missing.

“Flowers!” you practically squealed, drawing a soft laugh from Luc and some chuckles from the other boys as you grabbed the flowers with both hands and pulled them into your chest. “Thank you.”

“Hey, hey.” Luc’s hands grabbed your hips and tugged, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t even let me finish before you took them so I hope your answer is yes or I’m going to have to take those back.”

You gripped the flowers protectively against your chest carefully so you didn’t crush any of the delicate petals. No guy you were seeing had ever actually bought you flowers before and Luc had remembered you telling him that on your first date, trying to figure out the right moment to fulfill your fantasy.

“Mine,” you pouted, trying to look as cute as possible so he felt bad about threatening to take them away. “What’s the question?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

He bit the side of his lip, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, as he waiting for your answer. It was one of the easiest yeses of your life.

July

“Cannonball!”

You weren’t sure who had jumped into the pool, just that they’d created a big enough splash that had caused water to spray up on you and Luc. Luc’s arms were wrapped around your bare stomach. His hands had been on you the entire afternoon so far and he was showing no signs of stopping soon. Some girl nearby was freaking out about how her swimsuit had gotten wet from the splash as apparently it wasn’t designed to actually get wet.

“Thank god I’ve got you,” Luc mumbled in your ear, one arm lifting off you to bring his beer to his mouth for a quick swig. “Who the hell buys a swimsuit that can’t get wet and wears it to a pool party?”

You threw your head back against his shoulder as you laughed, the drink he’d mixed for you sloshing in your cup at your movements. Luc kissed the side of your head and gave your stomach a little squeeze.

“God, you two are so cute it’s disgusting,” Jonesy told you.

“You wish you had this hot-”

Water splashing on the two of you again cut Luc off before he could finish his drunk, loose lipped sentence. You squealed a little since this splash had pretty much soaked you both.

“Wanna go inside and dry off?” Luc whispered in your ear.

You smiled, your tongue darting between your teeth as he chuckled in your ear. You quickly started to dowm the rest of your drink, nodding in response to him as you drank. You barely had a chance to finish before Luc was grabbing one of your hands and pulling you towards the house. He was trying to be subtle about it and sneak away, but he was 6’3” and still incredibly pale despite summer being in full swing, so you know several people took notice. Neither of you cared.

Luc found an empty guest bedroom and pulled you in quickly, his eagerness guiding his movements. He shut the door by pushing you up against it as his mouth met yours. Your hands grabbed at his broad shoulders as his mouth pressed hungrily against yours. He grabbed right onto your waist and lifted you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist for support as his tongue worked against yours.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good,” Luc mumbled as he moved from your mouth to your neck.

You let yourself drop just a little deeper into his arms so you could find the friction you both desperately wanted. Your core ground against the hardness in his shorts and he groaned against your skin.

“Shit,” he breathed out against your skin. “Trying to kill me already?”

“We do not have time for your slow and steady teasing shit right now,” you replied breathless as one of his hands slowly started tugging at the tie of your bikini top around the back of your neck.

“You’re normally,” he took the edge of one of the cups of your bikini top in between his teeth and pulled it aside to reveal your hard nipple, “much more into it.”

His mouth was on your stiff nipple before you could respond and a moan left your open mouth instead of the words you tried to say.

“Fuck, Luc,” you said breathlessly. “Stop fucking around and fuck me already.”

August

You were fiddling with the strap of your purse across your lap. Your right foot was tapping nervously against the floorboard of Luc’s car. 

“What if they don’t like me?” you finally asked him. He’d been trying to get you to tell him how you felt the entire drive over to his parents’ house outside of Montreal. “I mean, I know you’re gonna tell me they will-”

“Because they will,” he cut in. “I know they will.” 

“But,” you continued firmly, “what if they don’t?”

“Baby, I promise you that they’re going to love you.” Luc reached across the console and grabbed on to your hands folded around your purse strap. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, okay? You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’ve told them all about you and they are really excited to meet this girl who has completely swept me off my feet.”

You smiled with closed lips at his words. Your nerves were still more prominent than any comfort he tried to offer you. You let out a long breath as you tried to pull yourself together a bit. Luc had been itching to get you up to Montreal since the summer started so you could meet his family before the first game of the season and with camp on the horizon next month, August was the only time that made sense. However, two months of preparation was nowhere near long enough to calm your nerves, but you weren’t sure if there was an amount that would have gotten the job done. 

“It’s just,” you sighed again, “I know how important they are to you and if I fuck this up, what’s going to happen?” 

“You’re pretty much physically incapable of fucking this up,” Luc laughed, giving you a sweet smile. “Look, if they don’t like you, you can punch me in the face for lying to you, okay?” 

You shook your head and tried to fight the wide smile he was pulling from you, but you couldn’t. Luc leaned in and placed a quick kiss on your lips. 

“Alright, get out of the car while you’re still smiling,” he ordered you. “Let’s go.” 

Four hours later as you sat back in Luc’s passenger seat on the way back to his apartment, you couldn’t remember why you’d been so nervous in the first place. His dad had decided you were good five minutes in and within the first hour, he’d moved you up to great status. His mom was harder to read, but you knew you’d cracked her when Luc prompted a conversation about baking and she took an interest in your family apple pie recipe which involved not one but two kinds of liquor in it. 

“You know they love you, right?” Luc told you. “They made sure to tell me when you went to the bathroom.”

You smiled and reached over to pat his knee. You weren’t going to tell him you’d heard every word his parents had said to him. 

“Luc, she’s great,” his mom had said to him. “Really, she’s welcome here anytime. She’s wonderful.”

“Looks like you learned a think or two from me about getting a women very far out of your league to date you,” his dad had joked.

“And she was worried you guys wouldn’t like her,” Luc laughed to them. 

“We could never dislike someone who made you this happy,” his mom replied. 

“She really does,” Luc sighed. You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke about you. “She’s just, she’s everything, you know? Including so many things I didn’t realize I wanted. She’s beyond anything I’d ever thought about. I’ve just never met someone that makes me want to be a better person that she does and that’s way too much information. Mom, are you crying?” 

“You just, god, you’re so grown up. Look at you!”

When the moment shifted, you had  headed back to the bathroom just to give them a little more time. Luc’s voice when he spoke about you was on a loop in your head and it played like a broken record the entire car ride back to his apartment. He was so genuinely happy when he talked about you. It was the kind of joy that infected the people around you, pulling them in even though they didn’t quite understand it. Your mom had told you that you sounded the same way the first time you told her about him. You let your mind linger on what they could mean as you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms that night. You couldn’t quite figure it out, but you knew it meant he was important to you and you were important to him.

September 

The stress of camp and the approaching season had made you both crack at the same time on a cool September evening. You’d both said things you didn’t mean, hurling words designed specifically to hit each other’s weak spots. You’d walked out after a particularly sensitive verbal jab from him and he didn’t come after you, two major issues stacked together. He’d picked you up after you finished work today, so you didn’t have your car, a series of events you were currently regretting as you wandered aimlessly around his neighborhood. You’d passed the point of clearing your head and now you were just painfully aware of the fact that you left your jacket on Luc’s couch and it was colder than you’d thought it was.

You pulled out your phone and opened up Uber. Unfortunately, the nearest ride to you was over fifteen minutes away. Stupid Thursdays in the middle of the night in Columbus. You kicked a nearby rock with the toe of your sneaker as you sighed. Naturally, you had to fuck you the best thing in your life. It’s what you’d always done. 

“Oh thank fucking god.”

You looked up in time to see Luc running up to you, arms outstretched. He wrapped you up in his arms and you stiffened. He pressed his face into your hair to envelop you in him, ignoring how you were unsure what to do in the moment.

“Fuck, you just left. I was so worried,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You hadn’t even thought through your anger enough to realize that going out in the middle of the night by yourself might not have been the smartest idea. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I know I was a shit head, but please promise me you won’t just walk out like that again.” Concern coating each word as it left his lips. “I was so fucking worried. I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl.” 

"I’m sorry, Luc,” you mumbled against his chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered back. “We’re both just stressed right now and I know I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me taking the stress of the season coming out on you.”

“No, no.” You pulled back from him a bit so he could hear you clearly and you continued, “It’s okay to be stressed about the season starting. I took my stress about it out on you. I just, this sounds so stupid, I know, but I just worry that when we can’t spend as much time together that you’re not going to like me as much and something is going to happen because we won’t be together as much and I just really, really, really don’t want that to happen.” 

You knew you were rambling, letting your nervousness come out all at once. You were losing track of what was actually coming out of your mouth and what was just flying through your head at this point. You noticed Luc’s brows furrow as he listened to you. He was shaking his head softly from left to right as you spoke. He must have had enough of listening to your rambling nonsense because his lips crashed into yours as his hands cupped your face in an attempt to get you to focus your energy somewhere else. 

He pulled back from you an inch, “That,” then brought his lips back to your briefly, “is,” kiss, “not,” another kiss, “going,” another, “to,” again, “happen.” He kept his mouth on yours this time, his tongue sliding against yours for a few moments before he pulled back again. “What else could I possibly want when what I’ve already got is so much better than I ever imagined anyone could be?” 

You pushed him back against a nearby fence as you crushed your lips to his. Your mouth moved against his as his hands grabbed any part of you he could, moving from your face to your waist, grabbing your ass briefly, palming your breasts, anywhere he could think to touch. 

“We should go home,” you breathed out as he moved his mouth to your neck. 

“Oh yeah? Taking me home now, are you?” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your neck.

His words with dripping in innuendo. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes at him and shoved him away jokingly, but there was a look in his eyes when they met yours again that went straight to your core and made your skin feel like it was on fire. So, you let him take you home. 

October 

"Luc!” you screamed. Your hands flew to his hair to try and get some stability as he started to lose his balance. “Luc!”

“I’m going to drop you if you don’t stop fucking wiggling,” he told you.

You glared down at him, not that he could see from your position on his shoulders. You squeezed your thighs in a little, applying gentle pressure on his neck to showcase your displeasure at how difficult he was making this process. 

“Choking is my job and not where there’s all these little kids around,” Luc sang softly at you. “Did you get it yet?”

You stretched your arm out as far as you could and still needed to lean forward just a tad to get your hand to rap around the perfect apple you’d spotted from the ground. 

“I got it!” you told him excitedly. 

Luc laughed at your excitement. It was just an apple, but it was an apple that could’ve sat proudly on a kindergarten teacher’s desk and now it was your apple. He gently sank to his knees so you could get off his shoulder without causing too much risk of injury to either of you. It was a pretty high fall from his shoulders after all.

“You’re so useful.” You pat Luc’s cheek as a thank you with your eyes never leaving your apple. 

“I feel like I’ve been replaced by a goddamn apple,” he said, annoyance permeating his voice. One of his heavy arms slung around your shoulders to pull you into his side. You sort of fell into him since there were already so many apples littering the ground of the orchard that you tripped a little, but he easily supported you. “Do you want to put your apple in the bucket or are you going to hold it the entire time?” 

You glared up at him, drawing a laugh from him. You knew he thought you were too cute to ever succeed at looking threatening. You still maintained your glare as you gently placed the apple in the bucket with all of the others you’d already grabbed. Having a tall man to go apple picking with was giving you far more apple options than you normally had. 

“These apples are indirectly for your mother, so consider the effort for your mother rather than for me,” you told him. 

She was coming to town to watch the game this weekend and Luc had a day off prior to her arrival, so you decided that getting some fresh apples and making her your family apple pie recipe would be a nice gesture since she was so interested when you visited her back in August. 

“You know she’d still like you even if you didn’t bake this pie and you’d just let me have my way with you all day.” Luc had whispered the last part in your ear, being careful that all of the children running through the orchard didn’t hear that. 

You rolled your eyes at him, but let him pull you into his chest more as he kissed the top of your head.

“Um, excuse me, mister?” 

You and Luke both turned to see a young girl, maybe five or six, standing a few feet away from you. Her mom was right behind her, watching the interaction carefully. Luc took his arm from around you so he could sink down, getting as close to eye level with her as he could. 

“Hi,” he smiled softly at her. “My name’s Pierre-Luc. What’s your name?”

“Annie,” she said, a bright, toothy smile breaking out across her face. “You’re really tall, Mister Luc. Could you help me get an apple?”

“You know, I actually just did that for my girlfriend,” he informed her, gesturing to you as he spoke. “I think I got one more lift in me though, if that’s okay with your mom.” He looked over to the girl’s mom, who enthusiastically nodded at him.

“Honey, can you show the nice boy which apple you want?” 

She pushed the little girl towards Luc and she immediately grabbed one of his hands and took off running, pulling him with her down the orchard. Her mom came to stand next to you as they came to a stop shortly, just a few trees over from where they started.

“Seems like you’ve got yourself a good one there,” the mom said softly to you. “I don’t know any guy close to his age that good with kids.”

You watched as Luc carefully placed his hands on his waist and lifted her up towards the apple of her dreams and you couldn’t help but smile. You’d seen him with the Savard children before and how good he was with them, but this one felt a little more real, a little more like this was something you could see in your future. 

“He’s a good egg,” you told the mom. “I’m really lucky.” 

“He’s cute too,” she said with a playful nudge of your arm. “Don’t let that one get away from you.” 

“Mommy! Mommy!” little Annie screamed as she ran back to her mom, a bright red apple in her hands. “Look what I got!”

“You did? Look at that beauty!” she replied.

“Thank you so much,” she told Luc. “You absolutely made her day. Thank you again.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” Luc assured her. “If she finds another one you can’t reach, come find me and I’m happy to help.”

You were pretty sure the mother thanked him at least seven more times before they headed off into a deeper part of the orchard. You looked over at Luc with a wide smile on your face and shook your head softly. 

“What?” he asked you as he titled his head to the side as he tried to figure out how you were feeling. 

“Just debating if you’re a Disney prince or something in your spare time is all,” you replied. 

He blushed in response and smiling impossibly wider and you were a goner. Relationship were always terrifying to you, having to put that much of yourself into someone and trust they’ll treat like like you deserve to be treated. The potential directions relationships could go were vast like the ocean. You’d typically gone out to sea in the past with looming storm and had never stayed to far from the shore. With Luc, you’d slowly paddled out to sea, trusting a storm wouldn’t come and overturn your boat. Now, you were in so deep you couldn’t see shore anywhere around you anymore and for some reason, it didn’t scare you in the slightest.

November 

“Baby, can you pass me the salt, please?” Luc asked you, hand outstretched toward you.

“Salt!” you shouted as you put it in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you. The pepper too?” he asked. You knew the ask was coming, so you were already prepared and slapped it into his waiting hand. 

“You two are so precious.” 

You hadn’t realized your mom had entered the kitchen until she spoke, making you and Luc jump a little. Luc had just enough time off right round Thanksgiving and your family was close enough to Columbus that you were able to make the day trip to spend it with them. Your mom had insisted you bring Luc along. She said she was going to make your good Canadian boy “American fat” for his first American family Thanksgiving. You knew better so by the transitive property Luc knew better than to try and resist your mom’s will, so you were both in the kitchen early on Thanksgiving morning helping make dinner. 

“Uh, thanks, mom,” you told her. 

Your eyes locked with Luc’s before you returned to chopping the celery for the stuffing you were making. He gave you a sweet smile before going back to stirring his pot. Your mom, the forever hoverer, headed over to observe Luc’s cooking, meaning she grabbed a spoon on her way there to taste his work in progress. When you’d first told her about him, you mentioned he knew how to cook and she didn’t believe a guy that young, that attractive, who plays that heteronormative-enforcing of a sport could cook. Based on her expression when she tasted the gravy, she realized how wrong she’d been. 

“Oh my god, that’s incredible, sweetie,” she told him, a look of pure shock still present on her face. 

“Thank you,” he replied as his cheeks tinging with pink in mild embarrassment.

Your mom patted him on the shoulder and threw her spoon in the dishwasher, knowing you’d get on her case if she’d come in and just left something for you to clean later, before she headed back into the living room where the football game was on. 

“Thanks for coming.” You were pretty sure you’d said it to Luc at least a hundred times since you drove down last night. You couldn’t express how much it meant for him to take some of the very little rest time he had during the season and spend it with your family, one of the least restful things you could think of. “I mean it, PL. I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he told you, his eyes never leaving the recipe book in his hands. “You know I’ll do anything for you because I lo- really care about you.” 

You paused for a second and your breath caught in your chest. Had he almost just told you he loved you? Did you feel the same way? Did you just hear what you wanted to hear? Did you even want to hear him say that to you? 

You shoved the thoughts aside, deciding that rambling thought process was better saved for another time, and walked over to him. He must have heard your feet as you shuffled over to him because his arm closest to you was already up and outstretched and he’d shifted to holding the recipe book with one hand. You accepted the invitation and wrapped both of your arms around his waist, sighed contently when you were pressed against his warm body.

“I really care about you too, Luc,” you told him, “and I really appreciate you coming with me. Can’t thank you enough for coming.” 

“If you thank me one more time, I’m going to return a Christmas gift,” Luc sang softly to you, his eyes transfixed on the recipe. “Do you think it matters if I- oh fuck it, I’m just gonna throw it all in and see what happens.” 

December 

“Okay, you have to do this.” Luc threw the icing bag down on the kitchen table causing white icing to squirt everywhere. You were grateful you’d picked up a cheap table cloth just to do this like your mom always had. “My hands are too big for this.” 

You laughed and grabbed the gummy wreath and the icing bag from in front of him. You carefully coated the back in icing and put a little extra on the door of your gingerbread house to make sure it would stick before placing it gently on the door. 

“See, big man hands can’t do that,” Luc told you knowingly, making you laugh. 

“Think you can handle putting the Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the roof like shingles?” you asked him, offering up the box of cereal in his direction. 

“You are a creative genius with gingerbread, you know.” Luc took the cereal box from you. “You should quit your day job and become a gingerbread house designer.” 

“Are you going to financially support me in the off-season? Seems like a very seasonal job without a ton of revenue opportunities,” you popped a candy Christmas light in your mouth, “but a lot of free goodies seem to be included.” 

“Of course,” Luc replied without missing a beat. 

His concentration was mostly on gently placing each individual cereal piece on the roof in careful, slightly overlapping lines to create a decorative roof. His tongue poked out between his teeth as he lined up a piece right on the edge of the roof and you snorted a little at the sight. 

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m trying to support your vision here,” Luc told you in a jokingly serious tone. 

“Your support is incredibly valuable to me.” You rolled an icing covered ice cream cone in green sprinkles to create a green tree for by the front door of the house before continuing, “This project wouldn’t be where it is without your endless support.” 

“Mm,” was all he could say as he was back to the opposite edge of the roof again.

He cursed under his breath as his phone started to ring on the counter. He was covering in royal icing of various shades and sprinkles. 

“Baby, could you get that? It’s probably my mom,” Luc asked you. 

You got up and grabbed his phone off the counter. He was right. It was his mom. They’d just gotten to the airport they were connecting through to get to Columbus and just wanted to give Luc an update. You relayed the message and told her you were looking forward to dinner later with them, but you have an important construction project you needed to finish first so she wouldn’t launch into a conversation the length of their layover. 

“She’s mad she doesn’t get you Christmas,” Luc told you as you sat back down. “My mom,” he added when he saw your confused face before elaborating further, “She understands why, but she says you’re part of the family, so she’s mad you’re not actually going to be here for Christmas.” 

“My mom feels the same way,” you replied. “Not sure it’s you or your cooking she’s really missing though. Maybe next year we’ll bring everyone together here in Columbus? We’re going to need a bigger place though if we’re going to host that many people.”

“We’re going to need a bigger place for next year, eh?”

Luc emphasized the words “we” and “next year.” You hadn’t even realized you’d said that and now you realized that you’d suggested you were going to be together a year from now and that you would be okay with your parents meeting his at that point. You just jumped from casual banter to an incredibly serious future conversation.

“Well, I just- I don’t know. Forget it,” was all you could come up with as a response and you started fidgeting with the container of sprinkles in front of you as a distraction. 

“I’d love all of that.”

You turned your head to face him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort at the idea his part. All you could see was him looking at you the way he always had, since the first day you met him almost a year ago now. 

“I want you out of your shitty ass apartment with Kelsey. I want to see you on Christmas next year. I want to watch our dads try and interact.” You both laughed at that thought and then Luc continued, “I want you here with me all the time because I love you.” 

Your mind had been racing last month when he’d almost said those words, not sure exactly how you felt. In this moment where the words had actually come out, a wave of calm came over you. This didn’t scare you at all like you had thought it would. This feeling had been building since the first time you met him and you hadn’t been able to place it until he said those words out loud for the first time. You knew you loved him. 

“I love you too, Luc.” 

#pierre luc dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #pierre-luc dubois #pierre luc dubois imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction

[ot5ismyhome]

22. I’ll make this feel like home

To read from beginning click here.

*****

Wanda was astonished by the memory of Steve that she had seen. It was something he had never talked about. He had shared with her many memories of him during the war but not this one. Sometimes she noticed that he would look sad while remembering the past but she had brushed it off as missing his old life.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Wanda said softly, gently gripping his shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing” he said trying to brush off. Wanda noticed the small tear drop at the corner of his eyes. Steve blinked back to avoid crying. Bucky had also noticed the change in Steve’s mood but he was lost on what had happened. When he moved closer to console him, Steve excused himself and left.

“I’m going after him,” Wanda said looking at Bucky.

Bucky nodded.

Wanda went out of the lab to check up on Steve. She found him in a small room. He had his head buried in his hands. Wanda sat close to him and enveloped her hands around his shoulders. He rested his head on her shoulder. After some time passed, he started talking.

“What you saw back there…”

“Hmm”

“That’s before the Council was formed. After the war, a group of mercenaries were the sole power across America. Every one of us regretted fighting the war but some were enraged that they were made to fight. Due to the war many new vampires were created. The older ones despised the newcomers. They decided to kill off the newcomers and establish their own set of rules. Foreigners were allowed to escape.”

“Well, Peggy asked me to save Sousa. She was free to return to Britain while Sousa was taken to be executed. That memory… uh… the one you saw was…”

“When you saved him.”

Steve nodded.

“You did the right thing”.

Steve sighed and looked away. “If it were only that simple” he said more to himself than to Wanda.

After moments of silence, he started talking again. “During the war, I lost Bucky in a mission. Or I thought I lost him. The loneliness was maddening. When the mercenaries came afterwards, I stood against them. I went for days without sleeping or feeding properly. I roamed the streets like a mad man.” New tears streamed down his face. His voice was barely a whisper, “I hoped that one of the fights would be my last.”

Wanda held on to him tightly and let him cry into her shoulders. It hurt her to see him in this state. She consoled him and tried her best to encourage him.

“Jiaying found me one day. Knowing about the state in America she had come here. She saved me. She gave me a purpose. I’m glad I met her.”

“I'm glad that you met her too. Or else I wouldn’t have gotten you as my family.” Wanda kissed his forehead wiping his tears away.

“I’m also glad to have you, kid. And I don’t want to lose you” The words ‘too’ hanged on the air without being uttered.

“You won’t.”

…..

Wanda roamed around the Zephyr in search of Bucky. She wanted to talk to him. She found him assembling the necessary equipment.

“Hey”

“Could I just stay with you?”

“Sure. I didn’t know you liked my company” he teased her.

“Well. Daisy is getting advised by Coulson and Steve and Natasha are busy.”

“I’m the last option? That hurts” he chuckled. Bucky closed the bag containing the field kit. He kept it aside and hopped on the table.

“Spit it out.”

“What?” Wanda looked surprised.

“You want to speak something.” It was more of a sentence than a question.

Wanda had wanted to talk with him. She decided to get it out. “It’s just whenever I look into someone’s mind, I end up bringing bad memories.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not something you are able to control”

“I can’t keep provoking everyone around me.”

“Then learn to control it. Whenever you had used your powers, the other person was emotionally vulnerable.”

“I think I’m done with this. The training was a bad idea”

“Two important things. First, I’m not going to allow you to give up on yourself. And second, the training was my idea. So, don’t blame it” Bucky said the second line with a mock insult making Wanda smile a bit.

“Give it another try, now” he continued.

“You mean?”

“Yeah”

“You are fine with it?”

Bucky nodded with a gentle smile. Wanda hesitantly took his hand in hers. She controlled her mind and tried to enter Bucky’s mind. This time it was easier for her. Wanda’s mind was filled with a similar sensation of cloudiness as she entered his mind. She found herself in an old apartment. She saw Bucky getting ready to go out somewhere. He was checking his appearance in the mirror.

“Come on, Buck. We are getting late” a voice called out to him. Wanda recognised that it was Steve. By Bucky’s clothes and hairstyle, she knew they were in the 40s.

Bucky and Steve shared a hasty kiss before they exited the apartment.

“Where are we going?”

“The future.”

They got into Bucky’s car and Wanda followed them. She had been to 40s memories before but only she was able to observe the things around her. She noticed that the street was filled with war propaganda pamphlets. The posters were stuck in every building. The street was filled with pedestrians rushing through their lives.

Wanda was intrigued by the board reading, ‘World Exhibition of Tomorrow.’ She was delighted when Bucky parked the car and the duo walked out to the expo. She excitedly followed to find that it was Stark Expo. She kept close to the couple not wanting to lose Bucky. They stopped in front of a large stage hosting a shining red car.

From the buzz, Wanda understood that they were waiting for Howard Stark. The crowd burst into cheers when the man of the hour walked onto the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” Howard continued, “With Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology, you’ll be able to do just that.” He smiled at the crowd as he pressed the button and pulled up a small level.

The car buzzed and lifted above ground. It hovered in the air making everyone gasp at the marvel in front of them. There was a fizzle followed by a small explosion and the car crashed down.

“I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Howard gave a charismatic smile.

The crowd erupted applauding the genius in front of them. Wanda hollered to show her friend.

“Imagine really living in the future where there are flying cars,” Bucky said looking at Steve.

“Wishful thinking, Buck”

“It’s time. I got to leave.”

“Yeah, I know”

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back” Bucky said his face serious. He walked away slowly.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky shook his head looking at his lover. He walked back and hugged Steve.

“You’re a punk”

“Jerk” Steve called out hugging him back.

The scene dissolved. Wanda felt herself being pulled out of the memory. She looked up at Bucky and gave a smile.

“That is a beautiful memory.”

“Yeah, it is” Bucky grinned like a fool reminiscing the past.

They noticed Steve leaning against the door, his arm folded in the front.

“Hey”

“Hey”

“Still standing here”

Both the men chuckled. Steve ruffled Wanda’s hair and slung his hand around her shoulders.

“Got stuck with her, uh?”

“Hey!” Wanda cried pushing him away. “It was him who convinced me.”

Steve laughed. He asked, “I was thinking of something. Instead of just looking into our memories, you can try showing one’s memory to the other.”

“Is that possible?” Wanda wondered.

“I get where he is going. Like Loki did.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he saw other’s memories with your aid. Then we could also do that”

“Okay” Wanda smiled with excitation. “So, who’s the scapegoat?” she asked, looking between the two men.

Steve and Wanda exchanged a knowing glance and turned their attention to Bucky.

“You have gotta be kidding me.”

“You agreed to help me.”

Wanda interlinked her hands with the two vampires. She first singled her thoughts and stopped her mind from wandering randomly. She slowly prodded it to enter Bucky’s memories. The Zephyr dissociated and the surrounding started getting clouded. She felt the familiar sensation. Wanda found herself in the back of a small van.

The place was crumpled and barely a place to stand. Various electronic gadgets were scattered around. Bucky and Sam were looking intently at a screen. Wanda noticed it was security footage of Scott going through a building. In the nearby screen, a static image was displayed. The realisation suddenly hit her. She looked back at the screen Scott was seeing. She recognised the place. She tugged on Steve’s sleeve and was surprised when she was able to make contact.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can hear me?”

“I did reply. So yeah.”

Wanda playfully nudged him with her elbow. She motioned to the screen and both of them turned their attention to the video of Scott. Steve’s eyes widened as he looked at the all too familiar corridor.

“What is he doing in my company?” Steve cried.

The duo followed Scott’s movements. He expertly disabled the alarms and set out to his destination. He came to halt at the back of the building. He accessed the secret panel in the wall which revealed a hidden door. Scott disabled the lock of the door and went in. He started working on the vault having the Draught.

“Draught of Frost Blood, here I come” Scott commented as he opened the vault.

“Wait! Isn’t it Draught of First Blood” Bucky intervened.

“What? No man.”

“I read it somewhere” Bucky shrugged.

“It doesn’t make sense”

“How does frost make sense?”

“Loki. Winter. Frost.”

“I agree with Bucky in this one” Scott spoke over the comms.

“Enough of chit-chat folks. Scott, take the vial and get your ass back here.”

“Got it.”

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and looked at the screen monitoring Scott’s moves.

“I knew Pym got lucky was just a bunch of bullshit” Steve swore.

Wanda chuckled. After we get out, it's going to be one hell of shit show she thought to herself. She watched Scott open the locker and take out two vials of Draught and pocket it. 

“You never noticed the missing vials?” Wanda smirked.

“Shut up.”

Wanda laughed.

Scott proceeded to close the lock and reset the alarm. He made his way out without any disturbances. Bucky and Sam high fived each other as Scott walked out of the building.

“Now everything is set,” Sam said, pressing some buttons. The original security video started playing and the loop was cut off.

Bucky climbed to the front of the van. Scott took the wheel.

“Where to?” Sam asked from the back.

“Let’s deliver it to Pym, then hit the bar,” Bucky said.

“I’m going to kill him once we get back,” Steve muttered, making Wanda laugh.

“What about our deal?” Scott asked eagerly.

“I will change you once Pym duplicates it” Bucky promised.

“Cool.”

Wanda exited Bucky’s memory taking Steve along with her. They were back in the Zephyr sitting with Bucky.

“Steve, I can explain”

“You jerk,” Steve shouted, chasing Bucky around the lab. Wanda laughed at the playful fight between the two.

*****

 Chapter 23

#wanda maximoff #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve x bucky #stucky #natasha ramanoff #Bobbi Morse #Lance Hunter #Phil Coulson #grant ward #agents of shield #marvel #peggy carter #daniel sousa #deke shaw #howling commandos #Daisy Johnson #dottie underwood #xmen #loki #thor #god of mischief #vampires #Magic #clint barton #fitzsimmons #scott lang #sam wilson #lincoln campbell #hope van dyne

[ihearthes]

Farmers’ Market

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff Word Count: 2.8k

Summer Feeling Challenge sponsored by @helladirections

Vibrant yellows, pinks, greens, and red catch my eye as I take in the variety of fruits and veg in front of me. Wow. How is it possible to have this much beautiful fresh produce in one spot? Placing the essential ingredients for my favorite salad in a basket, I approach the counter. Having ridden a bicycle to the market, I’m fairly confident it will all fit in my knapsack for the return to my flat. 

Hearing his voice causes my entire body to freeze. Well, not completely because my heart is like a wild animal trying to break free from captivity. Regular beats, steady, but louder than my friend Steph had been at his concert in Philly. 

“Hi, I’m looking for some kale, and you don’t seem to have any,” His voice is as deep as the grooves in one of the gravel roads back home in Springfield, and the shiver that travels up my spine is a violent and silent storm. 

Shit. Had I taken the last of the kale? Maybe I can surreptitiously put it back so he doesn’t notice? Wait just a doggone minute! Why the fuck should I give up my kale? Just because he’s my favorite musician in the whole world and he’s somehow standing at the very same green-grocer’s as I am? That makes zero sense. 

A statue, I debate my options. 

Buy my produce and leave before he notices me. But then he might realize that I’ve taken the last of the kale. 

Put the kale back and choose spinach instead? My strawberry salad will taste lovely with spinach. But it truly is best with kale. 

Wait until he leaves and hope he doesn’t spy the kale in my basket? Suddenly, I’ve got the urge to pee. What if he’s here for a long time? 

Put on my sexy voice and offer to share my kale salad with him? This option causes me to smirk while my tummy resembles a popcorn popper with kernels scattering in every direction. Stepping to the counter, I quickly throw my items at the woman while he’s engaged in conversation with a different clerk. 

“That’ll be £14.35,” the woman says, and I withdraw a £20 note, quickly passing it to her, holding my breath that I can escape before he approaches. Not daring to look backwards, I squeeze my change in my fist as I rush to fit in with the crowd strolling the Parliament Hill Farmers’ Market. It’s not until I’m at the end of the stalls and near my chained bicycle that I slow down, breathe, and risk a glance behind me. 

“What did you think? He was going to chase you down and tackle you for the kale?” Steph screams at me through the phone. Naturally she had been my first call as soon as I arrived back at the flat my company had rented for the duration of this London business trip. 

“I didn’t know, Steph! It’s like sixty degrees out there, and I’m sweating like I’ve just run a marathon in ninety-degree heat.” Removing the items from my knapsack, I wash them, laying them out to dry on a towel. Using my fingers, I pull my shirt away from my chest and shake it to allow air to flow better. 

“You’re the only person I know who can meet Harry fucking Styles on her first trip to the farmers’ market! And you’re deffo the only one who would turn and run away! How did he look? What was he wearing?” Her words are BB pellets like my brothers used to shoot at cans back home. 

My words are quiet and stutter as they emerge like a new butterfly from a cocoon. “I didn’t look.”

“WAIT JUST ONE GODDAMNED MINUTE! What do you mean? How could you not look?” Her volume has increased to the level that I might need to remove my Airpods so as to not damage my ears. Then her voice lowers. “What if it wasn’t him?”

Shit. I hadn’t considered that. “No. It was definitely him. Come on. How many times have I listened to his voice?”

“Maybe it was just the British accent.”

“Steph, I’m in London. Everyone has a British accent. I’m telling you. It was him.”

My best friend sighs. “Okay. I believe you. The fact that he was right there, though, and you didn’t say or do anything…” 

“I got the hell out of there. What do you mean I didn’t do anything?”

“Maybe you’ll see him next week. Will you talk to him?”

A soft smile crosses my lips. “Nope. Come on, Steph. You and I have always had a pact that we wouldn’t bother him if we saw him in the wild, and I’m sticking with that.”

----------

“My boss and his wife are coming by tonight, so I want to put together a fruit and cheese plate.” I tell the vendor at Bath Soft Cheese. “Can you give me some suggestions?”

“Oh. I can!” A voice next to me says, and I’m a rigid piece of lumber. What are the fucking odds? Shit. 

“Thanks, Harry,” the gentleman at the table says. “I’m going to help this couple.” With that, I’m left alone. 

Carefully, I swivel my neck to make sure I’ve not lost my mind -- or the plot as my colleagues might say. But no. It’s him. Definitely him. 

I drink him in. Wearing a hoodie with his own name over the heart and a pair of shorts that are more for walking than jogging, Harry (fucking Styles!) points towards one of the cheeses sitting on the bed of ice. 

“This one is a vegetarian cheese, and it’s my sister’s favorite. Best paired with thin apple slices because they make the cheese with apple cider. So delicious.” He glances at me, and I feel faint from the deep green of his eyes. Fuck. Up close and in person, they’re brilliant. They shine (Shine! Step into the light! Shine! So bright sometimes!), and I have to blink so that I can nod. 

“Awesome. Thanks,” I move to take the cheese. 

“Oh, but this one,” he points to the next one over, “is their Bath Soft, and it’s best served with grapes.” Harry Styles, explaining cheeses like he’s an expert cheesemonger, makes me smile. “Personally, I wouldn’t serve a blue cheese to guests unless you know they like it. So many people take offense to blue cheese.”

“Right? I love blue cheese. Especially in a salad. It’s got that bite to it,” I blurt out, and then clamp my mouth shut as I realize I’ve started to relax in his presence. Which is downright stupid as I might inadvertantly disclose something incriminating. Like how many of his concerts I’ve witnessed live.

“Yes! I’ve got this great kale salad recipe with blue cheese and walnuts!” His excitement is the same as that of a puppy spotting a treat; tail practically wagging the whole backside. 

From deep in my belly I feel the giggle build up, and I fasten both hands solidly over my mouth in a pathetic (and useless) attempt to contain it. 

His joy is contagious, though, and I can’t help myself. “Does it have a balsamic vinegarette? Because I have one that’s so good I can eat it every night for a week. Oh. Never mind. That’s the recipe I have with candied pecans. Not walnuts.”

Holy shit. I’m actually standing in a farmers’ market in London discussing recipes with Harry Styles. Perhaps I’m going to pass out? Or maybe I’m hallucinating? Or dreaming? 

“Candied pecans? Sounds yummy. There’s my friend. Gotta go! You can’t go wrong with those two cheeses I mentioned! And maybe treat yourself to some blue cheese too. Just for you.” He winks with his right eye and flashes the dimple my way before he disappears.

----------

My third week in London, and I climb onto my bicycle a full two hours before the usual time I had traveled to the farmers’ market the last two weeks. My license plate should read “Determined to Dodge” because it’s freaking me out a bit that I’ve seen Harry twice in the same place. And they say lightning doesn’t strike twice. Ha! I’m making sure it doesn’t strike thrice. 

“I’ll take the plain goat’s cheese,” I instruct the vendor, and after money is exchanged, she hands it to me and I move to place it directly into my backpack. After nearly a month, I’ve got the hang of this farmers’ market shopping, it seems, and I’m pleased to have arrived with a set shopping list for the first time. 

“Yum.” Harry’s voice comes over my shoulder, and I’m startled enough to nearly drop the damn cheese. HOW IS HE HERE? “What’s your plan for that?”

“Um,” I bite my lip. “Goat cheese, honey, and fruit crostini.” Feeling emboldened, my lips continue speaking as though this superstar and I are friends, “I’ve been debating the two beekeepers, but I don’t know which has the better honey.”

Today he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit wide on his hips along with a peach button-down shirt and a newsboy cap. “Oh, then I think we should definitely go have a taste at each. My lady?” He holds out his crooked arm, ready for me to take it like we’re in a 1940’s movie. 

What’s even crazier is that I follow his lead and add, “Lead the way, sir.” It’s ridiculously silly. And so much fun. His playful side makes me feel charmed, less like a fan and more like an acquaintance. At the first beekeeper, we each taste the regular blossom honey. 

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” I whisper as I slide the wooden stick across my tongue. 

“Hey, you can’t give in yet. We’ve not tried the other one. We’ll be back,” he says over his shoulder to the vendor as he escorts me away. “Maybe,” he adds once we’re out of hearing, drawing a giggle from me. 

Holy shit. I’m relaxed around Harry Styles. What is happening to me? Boundaries! I need boundaries. 

“Oh, my!” I breathe as we arrive at the Local Honey Man’s booth. “There’s too many options.”

Knowingly, Harry nods. “Indeed there are. So maybe we need to back up. You’re doing plain goat cheese on what kind of crostini?”

“You mean what bread am I using? Oh, I was thinking either a thinly sliced sourdough or a baguette.”

“Mmmm...excellent choice. I can recommend some bread next. What fruit are you planning to use?”

His question makes me laugh involuntarily. The great performer and entertainer Harry Styles is asking me what fruit I want on my crostini? Why?

“Well, I’m thinking it’s that time of year for peaches or nectarines. Either of which would be amazing.” Placing a finger to my chin, I survey him. Fuck. He looks so wonderful. Fresh. Friendly. Not at all like a celebrity. Just a normal Joe -- or Harry -- that one might meet at a farmers’ market on a Saturday morning. As I observe him, I feel myself starting to shed some of the barriers between us. He’s just like me, I think. A food connoisseur. Someone who enjoys the local atmosphere. 

“Oh yes,” he pauses, smacking his lips. “I can taste that now. Okay, so with that combination, I would recommend either the lemon zest infused honey or the British Borage Honey. Personally, I think the cinnamon honey might overpower the flavor of the goat cheese.”

“You know what? I think you’re right. My goal is for all of the local flavors to come through, so perhaps going with a non-flavored honey is the best decision. Thanks, Harry.” And then I freeze again because I know I’ve let my tongue get away with a horrible slip by saying his name. Wanting to cry, I bite my lip and turn to the vendor. With tears in my throat, I ask, “I’ll take a jar of the British Borage please.” 

The merchant wraps it quickly, handing it over in exchange for my money, and I nervously twist towards Harry, expecting his glare over my rudeness. It’s almost like he’s oblivious. As I place the jar of honey in my bag, he grabs my hand. 

“Let’s check out breads!” 

Running behind him, I’m puzzled by what had just occurred. Shouldn’t he be upset? Freaking out? Wondering if I’m a stalker?

“Here’s my recommendation,” he says as we stop at a stall with a sign reading ‘The Flour Station’. They’ve got a wonderfully tangy sourdough baguette. If you slice it thin, then layer on the goat cheese, honey, and finally the peaches, it will be a perfect meal.”

When I request the baguette, the owner nods and wraps it for me. As he hands it over, I turn to Harry and extend my hand. “Thank you for your help, kind sir. I’m confident this will be the most amazing meal.”

Staring at my hand suspiciously, he ignores it. “Nearly lunchtime,” he announces. “Any chance you’ll join me for some Indian food?” With his head, Harry gestures towards the Mumbai Mix stand. 

As I consider the implications, my head starts to move from side to side. Never meet your idols. That’s what the voice in my head whispers. 

“Please?” His eyes take on a look that is as close to begging as I’ve ever seen in any human. “Look. I’ll be honest. These days I don’t meet many fans who would go out of their way to avoid me like you do. Most want to move into my house immediately. It would be nice to extend our time a bit. After all, it’s just a meal in the middle of a crowded London farmers’ market. How scary can it be?”

Blinking, I carefully think about my response, but instead the words that escape are “You knew I was a fan? For how long? And how did you know I was avoiding you?”

“Fair questions. Place your order, and we can talk about the answers over lunch.”

Now my curiosity has been peaked. At the vendor, Harry requests the Dosa Wrap while I order the samosas, and we step to the side while they’re being prepared. 

“That first time.”

“Last week you mean?”

“No, the first time. You remember. At the green-grocer’s.”

My face likely flames red. “You saw me? You noticed me? I didn’t even so much as look at you.”

His hearty laugh makes me tingle. “Noticed you? Of course. You’re gorgeous and golden and stunning. And your American accent grabbed my attention. Why did you run?”

The giggle starts at my toes and bursts forth like a bird flying from a cage. “Um...because I’d taken the last of the kale.”

Resting his hands on his knees, Harry chuckles loudly, drawing the attention of other patrons. As the restauranteur hands over our plates, Harry carries both to a nearby table. 

“And last time? You jumped a mile when I suggested helping you with the cheeses.”

Burying my face in my hands, I groan. “Harrrrrrrryyyyy. Before I came to London for work, I made a promise to my best friend that if I saw you in the wild, I’d leave you alone. So it was quite awkward that you were the one who approached me. And holy hell! How did you know I would be here today at this time? I came early so I could shop before you arrived!”

He picks up his wrap and takes a bite, chewing carefully. Taking guidance from him, I gingerly grasp a samosa and tear into the dough, immediately savoring the potatoes and spices inside. 

“Mmmmm,” I murmur, and my tongue flicks out to rescue a bit of flavor still on my lips. 

“‘In the wild’?” he inquires, and I’m confident the blush now covers my entire body. 

“You know. Like if I saw you at a show or a public event, it would be different. Then I could fangirl and ask for an autograph or a photo or whatever. But at the market, you’re not working. You’re just like everyone else -- shopping.” 

Knowingly, he nods. “I appreciate that. Truly. Not everyone respects my private time. So thank you. But the truth is…” There’s a pause, and I nervously nibble at the samosa in my hand, worried about what he will say next. “...once I noticed you, I couldn’t ignore you.” Clearing his throat, he smiles in a friendly manner. “How did your boss enjoy the cheese and fruit plate?”

“Wonderfully,” I respond, “But not as much as I enjoyed my kale salad with blue cheese, blueberries, strawberries, and candied pecans.” A smile tilts my lips upwards, possibly exposing my own dimple. 

“I’m sure,” he murmurs, “I’d love to taste it sometime. Care to make it for me?”

“Hmmm,” I playfully consider his request. “Are you confident you’d prefer that to goat cheese, honey, and fruit crostini on sourdough baguette? It’s all local.”

A/N:  Thanks for reading. Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this. 

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles meet cute #my writing #summer feeling challenge #sfc #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry fic #harry fan fiction #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry imagine #harry styles imagine #1d imagine #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn

[even-after-a-millennia]

my home from long ago

I finally wrote a fic with Lykon in it!  Well, sort of.  (Trigger warning for nonconsensual drug use)

Summary: When The Old Guard tries to apprehend a group who stole hallucinogens, Andy and Quynh are exposed and see part of their family who has been long lost to them.

The fic is below or over on my ao3 here.

“I want it put down for the record what a bad idea I think it is that you guys take this job,” Copley Two said the moment that the video call started.  His real name was Callum, but as he had taken over for Copley after his retirement, he bore the nickname with grace.

“Noted,” Andy said drily.  “What are the details?”

Callum sighed, but began reading his notes.  “According to a friend of mine over at MI6, there is a scientist that is working on an interactive, virtual reality experience that allows the user to interact with people they have lost, in order to be able to start the healing process and move on.  It pairs VR with a cocktail of aerosol hallucinogens to allow the user to be truly immersed.”  He looked up at the screen for a moment.  “Anyone else wondering how the hell they even got cleared to do this?”

“We can focus on that later.  C’mon, CT, where do we come in?” Nile asked.

“Right.  Well, last Thursday, the lab was broken into and most of the hallucinogens were stolen.  The scientist is worried that the people who stole it are planning to use it as a torture device, manipulating the hallucinogenic effects to induce mental torture.  We need you to retrieve the hallucinogens and destroy any replications that have been created.  If you can capture rather than kill those responsible, it would be appreciated.”

He paused and set down his notebook.  “Given your backgrounds, I feel the need to caution you before you agree to take this job.  Should you get into a situation where the hallucinogens are released and you are caught up in the simulation, you all have more than enough trauma between you to devastate your minds.  Please think carefully before making your decision.”

Andy reached out and took Quynh’s hand.  They exchanged a look, then nodded.

“We can do it.”

Nicky and Joe nodded.

They turned to Booker and Nile, the only two that hadn’t spoken up.

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I really don’t want to be exposed to that gas,” Nile said.  She was still reeling from the death of her mother, only three years prior.

“Myself as well,” Booker said.  “I feel it could trigger old wounds.”

“However,” Nile said, straightening her shoulders, “there are other people out there who have also been who hell, who need to be saved from being exposed to that.  So.  I’m in.”

Booker sighed, then nodded.

Andy turned to Copley Two.  “Where do we need to go?”

____________________________________

Once Callum found where the thieves were hiding, it was easy to come up with a plan.  Nicky would be at the ready with his rifle, Joe as his spotter.  Nile, Booker, Andy, and Quynh would infiltrate the building and destroy any samples they came across.  If possible, they would go with nonlethal options for capture, unless that was no longer an option.

“Any signs of life from your end, Nicky?” Nile asked as they made their way through the warehouse.  Her voice was muffled behind the gas mask Callum had forced them all to wear.  He wasn’t sure if it would do anything against the hallucinogen, given that they knew very little about it, but it “helped calm his heart, which you all put through too much already,” according to him.

“There’s activity on the west side of the building, third floor,” came the response through their comms.

“Alright, Quynh with me to the third floor.  Booker, Nile, scan the bottom floors for any sign of the hallucinogen or a lab.  Nicky, Joe, watch our backs,” Andy ordered.

They split up.

Andy kept scanning their surroundings as they ascended, but there was no sign that people were in the building.  They kept going, Quynh a step behind her, her favorite handgun at the ready.  She was proficient with a gun as she was with a bow and arrow.  Andy gave her a small smile during her next scan, one that Quynh quickly returned.

They walked down the walkway towards the room Nicky had seen movement.  They each took a side of the closed door.  Quynh nodded, and Andy took a step back, then kicked the door in.  They rushed inside.

Only to see four people clearly out of their minds on the hallucinogens.  It was thick in the air and blurred Andy’s vision through her protective goggles.  Again, Copley Two’s idea.

“Arianna!  You’re here!” one of the people said, looking at Andy.

She raised an eyebrow.  Given she hadn’t ever been called Arianna, even throughout the course of her very long life, it was safe to assume that whoever the man was seeing wasn’t actually Andy.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, coming closer.

Andy went on alert, especially as another person turned to them.

“Adam, oh my god, it’s you!” the woman sobbed.  She ran up to Quynh and threw her arms around her.

She looked at Andy, who shrugged.

“We’ve got four people, all high as fuck.  Shouldn’t be too difficult to-”

“I’ve missed you so much,” the man said, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Andy’s.  He pulled back, and for a moment, Andy saw his eyes clear.  Then they narrowed and, before Andy could stop him, reached up and pulled on the gas mask.  It didn’t move much, but the break in the seal let the gas in.

It sat heavily on Andy’s tongue.

“Motherfu-” Andy managed before she felt the tug on her subconscious.  She elbowed the guy in the nose, knocking him unconscious.  She turned, ready to push Quynh out of the door.  It might be too late for Andy to not feel the effects, but Quynh hadn’t been exposed yet, she hadn’t-

Shit.

The woman in front of Quynh had gone in to kiss her, pulling her head in with grasping hands.  Her head hit against the mask as she pulled Quynh in and the combination of gestures broke the seal on Quynh’s mask too.

Andy knocked the woman back and grabbed Quynh’s arm, trying to ignore the things she was starting to see out of the corner of her eyes.

“C’mon we’ve gotta go, Quynh, come on!”

But Quynh wasn’t looking at Andy.  She was staring at something in front of her, someone who made her look full of joy and loss all at once.

Andy knew, before she even turned to look, who would be standing there.  But she couldn’t resist.

“Lykon…” Quynh said, rushing forward and jumping into the arms of her old friend.

“Hello, my beautiful sister,” Lykon said, hugging her back.  Quynh was sobbing into his shoulder as he looked up and gave Andromache the brilliant smile that she hadn’t seen in over a thousand years.

“Andromache.  I’ve missed you.”

“Andy, Quynh, come in!  Can you hear me?”

“Lykon,” Andy said, her voice choked.  “I am so sorry.  I didn’t have your back.”

“Andromache.”  The look he gave her was gentle but chiding.  “How could you have known?  You, the oldest of us, had no idea our immortality was finite.”

“But why you?!” she burst out.  It was the question that had haunted her since she had tried to hold Lykon’s stomach together as he bled out.  “You said, I am the oldest, I should have been the one to die, not you, Lykon.  Never you!”

Lykon whispered something into Quynh’s ear and she nodded, easing her hold on him.  She wiped her tears and held an arm open to her wife as Lykon did the same.

“Come, Andromache.  It has been far too long since I’ve held you,” Lykon said.

“I can’t,” Andy cried.  

“Why?”

Andy let out a shuddering breath.  “Because I don’t deserve it.”

“Andy! Quynh!  Nile, you have to get up there, I think-”

“Deserve what, Andromache?”

Andy couldn’t look at him as she said.  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Lykon.  I don’t forgive myself.”

Quynh turned to Lykon.  “Much has happened since we lost you.  But we never forgot you.”

“I know.  Of course I know.”

Quynh swallowed.  “I would be lying if the loss of you didn’t feel like an unhealing wound.”

“I understand.  But I don’t want you to mistake grief with guilt.  They do not have to both exist.  Not in this,” Lykon said.  “It was my time.  The only grief I felt in that was to be parted from you.”

“I lost it,” Andy said suddenly, not looking at Lykon.  “My immortality.  And suddenly, all I wanted was to live.  I had my family, and we just added Nile, and then we got Quynh back.  But I also felt relief.  That finally, the universe was correcting the wrong.  Letting me be with you.  And then it came back.  And now I am more lost from you than ever.”

Lykon kissed Quynh’s forehead then let her go.  He walked up to Andy.  “Do I look lost to you?”

Andy finally let herself fully look at him.  He glowed with vitality and love and joy, all the things he exemplified in life, pouring out of him.  

“You look perfect.”

Lykon held out his arms.  “Please, Andromache?”

She let out a sob, then made her feet move forward.

Andromache the Scythian had had many homes throughout the years.  So many places, all blurred together.  It was only after she met Quynh that she let her home be found in people.  In Quynh.  In Lykon.  She hadn’t known how dangerous that was, until Lykon’s death.

Stepping into Lykon’s arms, Andy felt like she had come back to a long lost home for the first time in a millennium.

But there was something missing.

“Quynh,” she called.  “We need you.”

Her wife squeezed into the space between Andy’s right arm and Lykon’s left and they all pressed together, holding each other so tightly that it hurt.

And something that had been piercing Andy’s heart for so long that she hardly noticed it anymore unsheathed itself.

She felt relief.

Crash! Crash! Crash!

Andy took a breath and her head cleared a bit.  Another and she realized she was only holding Quynh in her arms.  Another and she pulled her wife closer as she started to sob.

“Andy?  Quynh?  Do you copy?” Nile’s voice rang through the comms.

“Copy,” Andy said, her voice hoarse.  “Quynh’s a bit overwhelmed.  Nicky shot out the windows?”

“He did.  You alright, boss?” Joe asked.

“Give it a few minutes to clear, then come in with the restraints.  I think they wanted to use the hallucinogen for its intended purpose, not maliciously, but we still need to bring them in.  They hotboxed the room and are still pretty out of it.  I think we were only influenced a little,” Andy said, not answering the question.

“Will do.”

Andy turned back to her wife.

“We’re going to be alright, trái tim của em,” Andy whispered, running a hand gently up and down her back.  

Quynh nodded into her shoulder, then finally raised her head and wiped her eyes.  “It was just so nice to see him again,” she said tearfully.

Andy looked around the room and the people who were still in the midst of their hallucinations.  She saw all the different emotions possible, from devastation to happiness.  Then she buried her face into Quynh’s hair.

“I miss him, Quynh,” she admitted quietly.

“Of course you do, Andromache.  But missing him doesn’t have to be contingent on staying guilty.  He wouldn’t want that,” Quynh said.

“Yeah,” Andy said, remembering that relief she felt.  “I’m starting to get that.”

She leaned back, kissing Quynh on the forehead just like Lykon had done.  “Are you alright?”

She shrugged.  “I will be.  It was a beautiful dream, and now I must wake.”

For now, that would have to be enough.  Later, Andy would take care of Quynh, help her through the emotional upheaval of seeing their long dead brother in arms.  Later, Andy would tell Nile and the others stories of Lykon, his kindness, his light, his talent for storytelling.  Later, she might even forgive herself.

But for now, Andy held Quynh until the air had cleared and their family came for them.

Translations: trái tim của em - my heart

#andromache the scythian #andy #quynh #lykon #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #aka booker #yusuf al kaysani #aka joe #nicolò di genova #aka nicky #copley two #the old guard #the old guard fanfic #fanfic #my fic

[oikawasass]

I’m in the mood for some really sad angst so take this.

final goodbyes.

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : after a messy and unexpected fight during a training mission, katsuki finds himself forced to say one last goodbye.

‣ wordcount : 2.3k+

‣ warnings : pure angst, swearing, character death, minor gore.

It was supposed to be an easy mission on that cold winter day, one that was simply for training purposes so the students would be able to begin learning what to do in tough situations from experience, rather than a lecture. A quick sweep of a few thugs in the area assigned to the pair and approved by Aizawa himself. 

The two were confident in the mission given to them, knowing that with their combined strengths It would be a breeze, taking them a few minutes tops. Neither Y/n nor Bakugo had expected things to take such a turn the way they did. The simple thugs they were sent to deal with had brought much more of a punch than either of them had expected. A simple battle with a couple of wannabe villain lowlifes, ( in Katsuki’s words, ) had turned into a 2 vs 16, one of those sixteen people being an extremely dangerous and wanted villain in the area who was called “Pressure.” Despite the rather incredible amount of power the teens had combined, the odds weren’t in their favour from the start.

They were outnumbered, and the sheer strength of not only one of the most wanted criminals in the city, but all of his goons backing him up, it was too much for Bakugo and his girlfriend to handle alone as much as they both hated to admit. The two heroes in training held their ground as best as they could, hoping to buy themselves enough time to call for help, or some sort of backup. Even Katsuki knew that their chances of making it out of there on their own weren’t very high at all. 

It was when Pressure had set off an ear ringing, blinding explosion that things really took a turn for the worst. Y/n and Bakugo had been violently thrown away from each other due to the amount force the blast had administered. The last thing they saw before their vision went white, was the couple’s red and scarred hands desperately reaching out for each other. But they were too late. The villains had fleed before the explosion went off, leaving the couple to presumably die. 

Bakugo’s eyes slowly blinked open, a light fog of dust and rubble from the debris of the explosion clouding his vision. His body tried so desperately to pull him back into the sweet lull of sleep as the pain of his injuries and aching body slowly spread throughout his limbs and joints, but the blonde refused to lose consciousness another time. His injuries were nothing severe or fatal, so there was no excuse for him to stay down any longer. How was he supposed to become number one if he allowed a simple blast to knock him down, after all?

With a sharp inhale and a loud groan, Katsuki pushed himself up off the shredded concrete and into a sitting position, allowing himself to come to his senses a bit more before he forced himself to his feet. The boy leaned back on one of his palms, catching his breath for a moment before a single thought overtook his mind, sending him into a panic.

“Y/n.”


He shot up to his feet, not caring to try and balance himself before frantically running to all the large piles of rubble that littered the snow-covered ground around him. He was throwing metal scraps, large rocks, tree branches, anything and everything in his way while he searched for her.

“Y/N!! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Bakugo shouted, in hopes of hearing some kind of response from her in the distance. His heartbeat only grew quicker, hearing the fast pulsating ring through his ears as his panic grew. His determination and will to stay calm in situations like these were long out the window by now. All he cared about was finding his girlfriend.

“Y/N!!” Another heart-wrenching scream of her name left Bakugo’s dry throat. She had to be here somewhere, it's not like she just went and vanished into thin air. 


Bakugo rose his forearm to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the blinding light the setting sun was reflecting off the snow in hopes he would be able to see more clearly. That was when he spotted a shadowed human figure lying dead centre in all the rubble surrounding them, there she was.

He bolted over to the frail-looking girl as quick as his legs would carry him, crashing down onto his knees beside her. She looked absolutely horrible, Bakugo felt himself cringe at the sight of her blood-covered face. She had large scratches covering each of her limbs, as well as a small bump that seemed to be poking out of the inside of her chest, showing she had definitely broken a few ribs. And to top everything off, there was a large metal rod piercing through the lower right of her abdomen, and it was in deep.

“Dumbass, you look like shit.” Bakugo said to her, supporting her head with one hand while using his other to mess around with the small intercom jammed in his ear, attempting to get some kind of reception so he would be able to call for help.

Y/n slowly lifted her gaze to look up at him, a pained chuckle falling from her bloodied lips. “J-just. . cause I-I can't move d-doesn’t mean I w. . won't kick y-your ass f-for that.” She choked out through her raw throat. Bakugo tsked quietly and shook his head, amazed at how she was able to crack a joke despite being so wounded.


“Like you could ever kick my ass anyway, shitty girl. Now stop talking, save your breath.” Bakugo continued to mess with his earpiece, finally hearing some static and the voice of his teacher on the other side.


“Ground zero reporting in, (hero name) severely injured. We need help.” His tone was panicked while his words were rushed out of his mouth. The blonde was willing to waste no time in having help arrive, not with his girlfriend's current state of suffering and deformation. 


“Yeah- I'm at location 23AZ, just hurry up and fucking find me, we don't have time to sit here waiting.” Once Aizawa disconnected, he returned his full attention back to the girl who was practically withering away beneath him.


Taking a strong grip on the sleeve of his costume, he tore off the fabric, ripping it into something similar of a cloth to push against her stomach wound, a desperate attempt to stop the crimson blood spilling out of it. A small cry of pain escaped Y/n’s throat at the pressure to the gash, and Katsuki felt himself flinch at the sound. It pained his ears to hear such an anguished sound come from the h/c haired girl he called his, but her bleeding out was absolutely not an option, he wouldn’t allow it. Not now, not ever. It appears the amount of stress Bakugo was under was evident on his face, his furrowed brows and bottom lip caught between his teeth not able to slip past the observant gaze of Y/n.

“W-worried. . .isnt a g-good look o-n you. . .” She smiled sadly, weakly reaching up an unstable and jittery hand to softly cup his right cheek, using her thumb to try and pull the edge of his mouth into a small smile. Y/n knew her time was running short, and she wanted to see him smile in her final moments, not upset. Though she knew her reaction would be the same, if not worse if their roles were switched, so she understood his concerns.


“What the hell else am I supposed to do, idiot? You’re-You-re bleeding out in front of me goddammit.” Bakugo’s words caught in his throat, a small crack in his voice accompanying the evergrowing agony and worry he felt in the pit of his stomach.

“I-its ok-okay, Katsu. . .It hardly. . .e-even hurts anymore.” She was slipping away quickly, her dazed and tired state of mind disabled her from feeling as much pain as she was actually in. It wasn’t good, she would lose consciousness soon, and that couldn’t happen. Bakugo could see her eyelids struggling to stay open, fluttering open and shut every so often as she tried to stay awake.


Bakugo felt his heart sting in pure fear. Katsuki Bakugo never got scared. He was always confident in his ways and knew that losing would never be an option for him. But right now, he was completely and utterly terrified. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. “Hey, keep your eyes on me, okay? You-You’ve gotta stay awake princess.” That was a pet name she always loved so much. He felt himself leaning into her touch against his ash-covered cheek. The frigid, bitter winter air and lack of blood flowing through her system caused her to be cold to the touch, her normally warm, comforting hands were practically frozen.

“I kn-know. . .but. . .s-so. .tired. . .” Y/n’s lids fell halfway shut, failing to flutter back open like they had been before.

“No. No, you need to keep your f-fucking eyes open, you hear me? Don’t go to sleep. Just-Just a little longer okay?” Bakugo was surprised at his own stuttering and cracks in his voice, but he was even more surprised to feel a drop of blood trickle down his chin. When he raised his hand to wipe it away, he saw no colour on the skin of his hand. It was a clear, shiny liquid.


Bakugo was crying.

Y/n weakly moved her thumb to wipe away another drop that fell from his tear duct. “d-don’t. . please don't cr-cry. . “ her voice was nothing above a whisper now, the little bit of strength she had left to speak leaving her body. “I-I lo. . love you, ‘kay?” she felt a tear roll down her own cheek. “I love y-you so m. . uch.” She was being forced to say goodbye to someone she knew was her first and only love. Her heart was breaking during the exchange. Katsuki and her had planned to spend so many more years together, make so many more sweet and beautiful memories with each other, cross so many more milestones and hurdles life would throw at them, all while they were one. 

Now the harsh reality was, they would never get to experience those years, memories, nor milestones together.

This was their final goodbye.

“I love you more, stop talking like that.” Katsuki’s jaw was clenched tightly shut, his words slipping out of his mouth through gritted teeth. “You’re not gonna fucking die here, goddammit! You can’t fucking leave me behind!” 


Katsuki’s choice of words was important. Y/n was the only one besides Kirishima he allowed to get close to him, it was true. But Y/n was the one who Bakugo was truly able to open up to, without fear of seeming weak or being judged. She was the only one he allowed to really see his true feelings and emotions every moment of every day, even at his weakest points. She was helping him to grow into the great hero he strived to become, she couldn’t leave him. 

“I-I need you, you idiot! How am I supposed to be satisfied with being number one if you aren’t there being a close number two?! You’re supposed to do this with me!” Bakugo was shouting now, trying to get through to her weakening body as he felt her slowly fade away in his arms.


“I-I I know. . you can do-do it. . without me. . .” her eyes fell closed a final time, the hand she held up against his cheek slowly sliding down his skin as her body went limp. Katsuki quickly removed his hand from her abdomen to hold her it up and keep it from falling. No. She couldn’t die here, not like this, not when she deserved to live such an amazing and fulfilled life as a pro hero, not when he had never taken every moment he got to express just how much he did care about her, not when he couldn’t apologize for things like all the fights he’s caused in the past. 

All the lighthearted bickering they shared, all the secret sleepovers they had in Bakugo’s dorm, Y/n hiding from Aizawa in Katsuki’s closet when he had shown up unexpectedly, the sweet words of encouragement she would speak to him ever so softly when he was feeling low, he wasn’t ready for that to end. Katsuki would never be ready for that to end.


“Y/n. . .” Katsuki’s strained voice choked out, waiting for a response. He didn’t receive one.


“Y/n. Answer me.” He spoke more stern this time with a shake to her body, hoping this was some sick joke and a serious tone of voice would force her into an answer.


It didn’t work.

Katsuki’s body fell on top of her, head resting atop her chest as he felt like he was about to be sick to his stomach. There was a sharp, yet empty feeling in his gut, it felt like someone had just stabbed him.

No more calls of her name left his lips, no more shaking her body while trying to wake her up, it all stopped. Now he was left alone, shattered into what he felt was a million pieces. She was gone. And here he was, laying on top of the near mangled body of his first love, still holding her cold and limp hand to his cheek while he felt something build up and sting deep in his throat.

As his hearing went fuzzy, and all he could hear was his own racing heartbeat in his ears, Katsuki screamed.

Katsuki screamed out of the sheer ache and torment his body felt as she lay lifeless in his arms.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo headcanons #bakugo oneshot #bakugo imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo angst #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha oneshots #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugo fanfiction

[bluedemon1995]

I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart. Happy Valentines Day my dear friends!! (Yeah I’m late but whatever)

What’s going on on? I hope you all are good!

Pidge has been quiet for a few weeks, months if she is being completely honest. Analyzing her options carefully and trying to figure out what she should do. She wants to be happy for him. In fact, she is. He deserves to be happy after all. He deserves to be with someone who eases his load and appreciates him. And while she didn’t realize what she really felt for him before she does now. Fuck. There’s no putting that element back into the table now.

Typical. Sometimes the timing in life just sucked. Maybe some distance… maybe she just needs some space to get a little perspective. So with Keith and the Blades scheduled to be back home for at least a few months for negotiations and humanitarian talks Pidge had decided she needed to leave before Keith even got on the planet.

After careful consideration of her options, Pidge ultimately decided to sign up with the MFE pilots for their upcoming space mission. They felt like they needed some in depth experience in space and with the upgrades her and Matt finished on their crafts, it was time to test them out. Pidge secretly talked to a few people and requested to be reassigned as their point person to make adjustments… on their ships… in space.

Pidge knew she had to talk to her parents about her decision but in typical fashion she put it off to the last minute. But with Keith’s eminent arrival, time was up. She sat them both down to let them know why she needed some space. While her mom was not happy, she understood thank goodness. Unfortunately, this time it was her dad who was more…unhappy. Her mom gave her a hug and whispered, “I can handle dad. Just, please be careful and come back safe. Love you.”

With tears in her eyes, Pidge promised.

A few short weeks later, Pidge knows she isn’t going to be able to run away from these feelings but she also knows, she can get through them. She just has to be focused and busy. Which she embraced. So late nights, projects and lack of eating led her to her current problem.

She was currently hanging over James’ shoulder while he stalked through the halls of the ship. She should’ve known he’d enforce the ‘rules’ he placed on her. He was a little more like Shiro than she felt comfortable with. Making her eat, sleep and just be with the team was not what she imagined he’d be like on a mission. Get the job done. So she ignored his requests, then orders. But here they were. He finally gets to her room and throws her down on the bed.

“Stay. Sleep.”

“Um, gee, James I didn’t know I was your pet? What the fuck?” She sits up frowning, pushing her hair back out of her angry eyes.

Pointing at her, he returns, “You’re here until you sleep, at least ten hours! You’re lucky I don’t tie you up! That’s an order.”

“Gee James, kinda kinky, don’tcha think? I didn’t know you ran that way.” She bats his finger away.

“Argh!!! Please tell me you are worse now than before! How did you manage to save the flipping universe?!? You don’t listen, you don’t sleep and I swear I don’t know if you even eat! Take care of your damn self! I’m definitely not trying to be your parent but hell if you don’t need someone looking after you! Look, I don’t care if you have some secret issues that you won’t share with your team leader - “

Suddenly Pidge has lunged for James, hitting him square in the gut followed by a leg sweep. “SHUT UP!! I don’t need another mom or dad, I have two already!” Panting and red faced she stares down at him.

“You wanna fight? Let’s go then! Maybe you will wear yourself out and get some damn sleep!”

He lunges upward and Pidge feints left only to move right, jumping onto the bed and slamming back into him. He falls but quickly grabs Pidge so suddenly she is on top of him, twisting to make sure he falls on the bed.

They end up wresting, each one trying to get the upper hand. Once again James is surprised at her strength and quickness, especially when he knows she must be exhausted. But, James won’t let up. So when Pidge punches him again he grabs her wrists in his hands and holds her down using his weight as leverage. No matter what she doesn’t outweigh him and she’s using too much energy. Finally, after she’s exhausted her little reserves of energy she has she stops moving. Then he hears her sobs.

James eyes widen, instantly letting go of her wrists quietly murmuring, “No, no, no, no crying! For God’s sake are they right? You, um shit. Whoever HE is, he isn’t worth it.” More softly, he adds emphatically, “He isn’t worth your tears.”

With that he pulls her close and lets her cry on his chest. After some time, he looks down and sees she’s basically cried herself to sleep. In his arms. For another guy. Shit. He moves her from his arms to the bed, making sure to take her shoes off and cover her. He starts to leave but when she whimpers he stops. Feeling more tired than ever he debates with himself. Frozen he doesn’t know what to do.

He finally decides to leave when he again hears her whimpering. He groans, pushing off his shoes and laying down in bed beside her-over the covers. He hesitates but when he hears a groan he ultimately pulls her close and holds her, rubbing her back. Laying next to her small form, he can’t help but wonder, who is she hiding from? What idiot wouldn’t thank the stars that this little spitfire wanted him? Sighing, he figured it really wasn’t his business and he just let sleep claim him.

Meanwhile, Keith has finally cornered Matt and Shiro. “Where’s Pidge? And don’t give me that crap - top secret mission stuff either.” It’s been two weeks. And no sign of her. And no one is talking. It stopped being annoying a week ago. Now he’s torn between being mad and nervous. She’s not answering his calls and she KNEW he’d be here on Earth. Why would she leave?

Matt avoids eye contact and mutters, “Why do you care? Aren’t you busy with your team?”

Keith frowns, breathing out of his nose, trying like hell to hold onto his patience. “What. Is. Going. On?”

Matt pushes past Keith muttering, “I can’t tell you a goddamn thing. I promised.” Then yanked the door open and slammed it shut.

Keith looked to Shiro. His heart was racing, and he felt jittery with a bad feeling in his stomach. “Shiro. Please, tell me Shiro. Please. Is she mad at me? Did she leave BECAUSE of me? What the hell??? What’s going on?”

Shiro sighs, “Keith, I can’t give away Pidge’s reasoning. All I can say is she is helping the MFE pilots with their training. In space. It’s a legit mission. You know she worked really hard to”

Keith freezes, “The MFE pilots? Griffin’s team?”

“Um, yeah well he’s there. Why does that matter? Everyone is there and ”

Keith frowns, “Why didn’t Matt go then? This isn’t right. I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later Shiro.”

As he walks away, his thoughts are focused on a past briefing about drills being run, by the MFE pilots. He can get out there with Cosmo. Would that be weird? Frowning he bumps into Kolivan and his mom. Krolia grabs Keith’s arm and pulls him into an empty room.

Kolivan begins, “Keith, the Green Paladin is on a mission. With another team. She is not slated to return until well after our trip is finished. This appears like a strategic move.”

Krolia nods, “Yes, Colleen offered congratulations on your engagement. She said they had been told that you were marrying a fellow Blade. When I discounted this she seemed concerned. I was able to piece a timeline that indicates Pidge took this mission last minute. Why would they think you were mated?”

Keith frowned, “What?Who the heck would say that? Maybe someone on controls sent a wrong message? Shit. They are still really bad at English. But that still doesn’t explain why would she leave?”

Krolia and Kolivan exchanged a long look. Keith growled, “If you know something spit it out. I don’t have time for this. I need to corner Pidge and figure out what’s going on. This isn’t like her.”

Kolivan slowly stared at Keith, “What would you do if you got word that your little green paladin was marrying some other male?”

Keith’s eyes flashed, “What? Who?”

Krolia took his fist carefully in her hand. “Exactly, you’d fight. But I do not think your mate’s first instinct is to fight. Especially in love. She’s young and inexperienced. And if she thinks this is what you want.”

Kolivan returns, “I’m actually surprised myself, I did not picture her running.”

Krolia frowns, “It is a strategic retreat. NOT running.”

Keith froze. After a few doobashes he looks up, “Do you think she ran? Because…”

Krolia shook her head. “Keith, we do not know. This is something you need to ask her. In person. Soon. Where is Cosmo?”

Back on the ship, things have returned to normal. Pidge is working hard and staying focused but has deigned to eat and sleep. When the pilots invited her to the bar for drinks and dinner to celebrate a successful one month in space, she declines.

Back in her room, she was sitting on the bed, wondering what her next steps could be. Should she stay in space? Take another mission? Get back into active duty?? Get some perspective? Travel?

She saw from her phone that Lance was calling but she declined the call and crawled in bed. She still wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about this. Not even a friend. Maybe a movie night was in order. As she was scrolling through her laptop, she decided she needed a comedy. Maybe a series? Then she heard a knock.

Frowning she ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop, who ever it was they were persistent. Finally getting up, she whips door opened to find James, holding a two bottles of scotch?!?

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?”

“Um sure.”

A few hours later, both are laying in her bed, watching the Office reruns and swapping swigs from the same bottle, which is almost empty at this point. Pidge is giggling and keeps saying lines from future episodes, which James has no clue of. Which annoyed him because it wasn’t fair but it just made her laugh more. Then she kept saying, “That’s what she said!”

After James said something, which was clearly irritating him. But for her, it just made it more fun for Pidge. After another season, Griffin was really getting comfy, taking off his shoes and jacket. Pidge teased him, “You know you could take off your uniform shirt and just stay in your t-shirt? Be a rebel.”

James grinned, “That’s what she said!”

Pidge laughed, “Doofus, I literally DID just say that, that’s not how it works!”

As they calmed down and starting watching another season of Jim dance around Pam. James quietly asked, “So, you don’t have to tell me, but who is the guy? … Lance?”

Pidge looks up, “What?!? No! God, there’s too much gossiping on this ship.”

James nods, “Yeah, I agree… but it’s true, right?”

Pidge quietly replies, “Look it doesn’t matter in the end. Lance, Shiro, whoever, the bottom line is he’s with someone and I want him to be happy. So I’ll step back and when I can get my shit together, I’ll be able to be around him again. I just can’t watch him with someone else.”

James stares at her silent for a minute, then turns off the light and removes his uniform shirt, pushing her gently, he says, “Move over.”

Pidge complies and once James gets situated, she snuggles into his side. He continues, “So, definitely not Lance. If, it’s not him, it’s well, it must be Keith. I saw how you two interacted, always eating together on the Atlas, his eyes watching you when you weren’t looking and just being comfortable in each other’s space. So I don’t like him but I’m sorry. For you, because he must be stupid to…” his voice trails when he looks down at her. Her eyes are shiny and he mutters, “Please don’t cry. It, well, it just fucking breaks my heart.”

Pidge tries to laugh, “Look, you and Keith are more alike than not. He’s not perfect but he’s a great guy and well, he should be happy. So. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Now watch this because Pam and Jim will finally get their shot. It, it’s super sweet.” Her voice trails off at the end.

James nods, “Yeah okay. But honestly, this is it, I swear, but, if he doesn’t see how amazing you are. Well, that’s on him. Because, any guy would jump at being yours. Now, I still don’t get how this is romantic. He liked her forever, and she liked him but they won’t take their shot?”

Pidge smiles, “It’s only romantic because the audience wants them together and know how great they’d be. If they don’t get together it would have just been sad but since they do…it’s amazing.”

Pidge awakens to a crack?!?, yelling and the covers suddenly being ripped off of her. Blinking in the surprise, she rubs her eyes to see Keith and Cosmo, in the room?!?

“Keith!! What the hell???” Standing on the bed, she feels Cosmo jump over and rub against her legs. Instinctively holding on to him, she sees Keith punch James and James return the favor. The room is too small and they are bumping and knocking around her already crowded room.

Keith roars, “Why are you in here?!?”

James grins, “C’mon I’m sure you have an idea. Whatever you’re thinking, that’s it.”

Keith’s vision suddenly turns hazy and he launches himself forward. Only to see Pidge jump between them. Instinctively he changes course so he doesn’t hurt her his fist slams into the wall. Breathing heavy, he stares at Pidge, who is hanging on his arm, lowly asking her, “Tell me what’s going on?”

Pidge sighs and turns to James. “James, I think I need some time to talk to Keith. Thanks for, um,” Pidge isn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence so she just waves a hand, “everything.”

James frowns, “Are you sure?”

“Mmmhmmmm.”

As James very slowly gets his stuff to leave, Keith growls noticing he has to pick up his shirt and coat from the floor. Then he takes note that there’s an empty bottle(s) of scotch and her laptop is on the bed. Were they Netflixing and chilling. Did she? Did he? Not Griffin. Please. He closes his eyes to try and focus. This situation somehow just got worse. Worse than he already thought. When he hears the door finally closing he opens his eyes focusing totally on Pidge. He looks at her and realizes, thankfully, she’s in a t-shirt and pajama pants.Okay that’s a good sign. Right? He doesn’t think one would get dressed after having sex so that’s a plus. And Griffin had pants on too come to think of it. He stalks towards her and stops right in front of her. She’s got her arms crossed and is looking at the floor. “Pidge.”

She doesn’t look up. He frowns. He needs. Fuck too much at this point. “One-I’m not engaged or getting married or whatever you thought.”

Pidge’s eyes snap up. “What?!?”

“My mom said your mom thought I was engaged. I am not. Two-if you had questions why the hell would you not call me and ask?!? Instead what-you left? When you knew I was coming back. Three-you, um, didn’t answer my call…calls. What did I do? Why are you mad at me? I fucking left you messages. A lot.” At this point his hands are gripping her upper arms and he has pulled her close. Staring at her, trying to figure out what is eve going on.

Blank. Pidge’s mind is in flux, all she can think is…I can’t think. Shit. “Um, sorry. I um, am helping the, uh-“

“No, that doesn’t explain the silence. You didn’t pick up. Worse, you didn’t call me back. Hell, you left me unreadable, why?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry!!!”

“You’re forgiven, if you tell me WHY?” He pulls her close, and now she’s on her tip toes.

Pidge sighs, “Fuck. Keith, I just can’t watch you with someone else. It would tear me apart, seeing you are with someone else. But I, I want you to be happy and, I, I”

“What?” Keith closes the space, taking the last step closer, both of there chests are now brushing each other and Pidge can feel Keith’s body heat. She blinks. She’s gotta think. How can she think when he’s so close and staring at her?

But then Keith’s hand reacher for her chin, and his thumb brushes her lower lip.

Her mind short circuits and she blurts out, “I have feelings for you. And I “

Keith’s eyes flash, and suddenly his arms are around her. His mouth is on hers before she can formulate any thought and after his mouth was on hers, thought was freaking impossible. Keith was holding her, kissing her and she was responding, moaning and her knees literally buckled.

After some time, Keith has maneuvered her to the bed and is holding her close. His hand is lightly tracing patterns on her lower back, as they snuggle into each other. Keith whispers, “So, moment of truth- my whole reason for coming back to Earth, was to put myself in a strategic position so I could date you. I finally figured it out, that what I felt for you was not simple friendship. It was so much more, so much. I needed to talk to you, needed to ask your opinion and bounce ideas off you. And that was new for me, so I tried to ignore what it could mean. But, I couldn’t not talk to you. Then you went radio silent. And it freaked me out. Really. I can’t, just, don’t EVER do that again.” He gripped her face in his hand, voice dropped, “please.”

“What?”

“Katie, I… can you feel what I am writing on your back?”

“I…L..O..V..E..U. Keith?!? Really?”

“Yeah, I do. Um how do you feel?”

“I love you too.”

“Babe.”

[heyitsani]

Feel the Adrenaline Moving

Keep on Truckin’ AU Part 1

Word Count: 2494

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Robincest (obviously even if they’re not siblings in this au), mentions of gunshot wound, mentions of past child abuse by a bad parent

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: Food Truck Owner!Jason and Police Officer!Dick have spent the last couple of months flirting with each other the few times a week Dick orders food from Jason's food truck. When they finally decide to go on a date and Dick stands him up, Jason is left wondering if he had been wrong about the other man all along.

Notes: This idea stemmed from the idea of a no capes AU where Jason owns a food truck with Artemis and Dick is a GPD officer who is obsessed with his food.  Dick and Tim were both adopted by Bruce and Damian is still his son through Talia, a failed relationship years prior where she never told him she was pregnant.  I have not introduced the other members of the batfam (though Babs is an exception because she’s mentioned as an ex and still friend in the current installment I’m working on), but have their introductions to the story already planned out.  

Jason is softer in this AU because while he has some childhood trauma, it’s not nearly as bad as his canonical trauma.  So I’ve been exploring the side of him that could have been, if you get what I mean.

Also, if you do not like the pairing then just move along.  Or block me.  I can and will block any rude or hateful comments.  I have both traditional and nontraditional siblings and don’t need to hear about how I don’t support adoptive families.  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.  Just because I write murder doesn’t mean I support murder.  Capisce?  Good.

You can also read this on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is stupid.  How do we even know this is the right truck?”

“Don’t play stupid, Harper.  He was extremely specific.  Egg rolls made with things like bacon mac or Reubens.  Hot guy, dark hair, white streak in front, and arms to die for.  This is obviously him.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at the two arguing redheads, curious why they were looking for him and his truck.  Thankfully, the rush had passed and now it would just be the stragglers until they closed up shop for the day.

The pair turned to face the order window to find Jason there, arms folded on the counter and an amused smirk on his face.

“Jason?”

“So it would appear.  That was an oddly specific description.  Can I help you guys?”  He watched the pair exchange a look before the more rugged looking of the two stepped forward.

“We’re here because of Dick.”  And of all the scenarios running through his head, Dick had not been involved in any of them.

“I see,” Jason said sharply, smirk fading to a scowl.  “He has made his point perfectly clear without sending his harem of redheads to clarify.”

“What point?”

“Harem of redheads?”  But Jason just raised an eyebrow.

“Ah fuck, Wally.  Dick was right.”  The man looked to Wally and then back to Jason.  “Look, I’m Roy Harper and this is Wally West.  Dickie is our best friend and whatever point you think he’s making, he’s not.  Trust me.”

“He’s in the hospital.  Got shot in the chest on the job two weeks ago and just regained consciousness yesterday,” Wally relayed, and Jason had to grip the counter to keep upright.

“He…Is he going to be okay?”  And wow did he feel like an ass.

“Yeah.  Doctors said maybe two more days before he can go home.  It was bad there for a while but they kept him in the medically induced coma so he could heal without his usual bullshit of getting up too early.  But look,” Roy crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Jason, “You need to come to Gotham General.  Once he was fully awake, he started freaking out about you.  Something about a date, missed calls and texts, and you hating him.”

“Jesus, Roy.  Dickie said to just tell him what happened.  Not to guilt the guy into a visit.”  Wally smacked Roy’s upper arm with the back of his hand.  “Though, yeah,” he turned back to Jason, “Dick would probably weep tears of joy if you showed up.  He was pretty wrecked.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure what to say, still working the fact that Dick had been shot and hadn’t just ditched him.  He had spent the last two weeks wondering what it was he had done.  He had gone over that last in-person interaction and the text message thread, wracking his brain for any kind of hint.  And the first week had tried to text and call but had been met with silence.  So, the past week he had convinced himself that Dick had just been fucking with him all along and never meant any of it.  Now he was hearing the other man had nearly died and Jason had been the ass who had thought the man was just ghosting him.

“Did we break him?”

“Shut it, West.  Look man, he’s in room 212 at GG.  Give us a last name to go with Jason and we’ll put you on the visitor’s list.”

“Visitor’s list?”

“Comes with being Bruce Wayne’s son.”  Jason gave Wally a weird look.

“His last name is Grayson…?”

“Yeah, but Bruce adopted him.  Took him in after-“ Roy covered Wally’s mouth with his hand and glared at the other man.

“Shut the fuck up, West,” Roy growled and hell if that didn’t just pique Jason’s interest.  “Now give us an order of whatever is Dickhead’s favorite so we can get a smile on his pathetic face.”  Jason stood frozen for a moment before waving away Roy’s credit card and hanging the closed sign.  He quickly whipped up an order of the bacon mac ‘n cheese rolls and an order of churros before bagging it all up.

“My last name is Todd.  Get me on the list,” Jason said as he stepped out of the truck and handed the bag of food over.  “I gotta clean this shit up because hazard and all that, but I’ll come by after I’m done.”

“Good,” was all Roy said as he grabbed the bag and turned to leave.

“Nice to meet you man!  See you around, hopefully,” Wally called out as Roy grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

Jason wasn’t sure what he had been expecting once he finally got to Dick’s room at the hospital, but a fancy and very private suite was not it.  And even less than that, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old kid fussing over Dick while Dick just smiled at the kid fondly. 

“Dames, stop,” Dick laughed softly, reaching out to stop the kid from messing with the pillows again.  “I’m good.  Just go meet Jon already.”

“Tt,” the kid responded before turning to grab his bag from the chair next to Dick’s bag.  When he tensed all over, Jason knew he had been spotted.  “Who the hell are you?  This is supposed to be a private room, not some free for all.”  Wow. 

“Jason,” Dick’s surprised voice cut in.  Jason looked from the kid to Dick and practically melted at the look on his face.  Surprised, yes, but the warmth was there and god if Jason didn’t want to just cross the room and press his lips to the other mans.

“Dick, I’m so glad you’re okay.”  He took two steps into the room before the kid was standing in front of him, almost the same height as him but much leaner compared to Jason’s bulk.  Raising a brow, Jason stared the kid down and waited. 

“Dami, stop.  This is Jason, my friend who owns the food truck.”  The kid didn’t move or acknowledge Dick’s words.  “Damian, knock it off.”  Authority slipped into Dick’s tone and Jason wanted to smirk in victory when Damian tensed but backed off.  “Jon is waiting,” Dick reminded him gently and with a grunt and one last glare sent to Jason, Damian was storming out of the room.

“Fun kid,” Jason commented, looking back toward the door before closing the rest of the space between him and Dick’s bedside.  “Jesus, Dick.  I almost dropped when Roy and Wally told me what happened.  I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

“They didn’t guilt you into coming here, did they?  They can be a bit much at the same time when you don’t know them.”  Shaking his head, Jason tugged the chair closer to the bed and sat down.  Without allowing himself to overthink it, he grabbed Dick’s hand in his and held it with both of his.  The smile he got in return was well worth it.

“Nah, they just told me what happened.  Said you’d like it if I stopped by and asked for my last name.”  Dick nodded and sunk a little deeper into the pillows piled up behind him.  “So, Damian is your…?”

“Oh.  Brother.  I know those idiots let slip that Bruce Wayne is my adoptive father, but Damian is Bruce’s only actual blood son.  Tim and I were both adopted after our parents died.”  Jason wanted to know more about that, but the look on Dick’s face told him he wasn’t quite ready to let him in on that darkness.

“He’s a very intense kid.  How old is he?”

“Sixteen going on sixty,” Dick laughed.  “He’s a good kid, despite the glare and protectiveness.  He didn’t have the easiest beginning.  B didn’t even know about him until he was eight.  Lesson learned: protection is never a guarantee.”  Jason laughed at that and shook his head.

“So, his mom was not a good parent?”

“The only person worse than her was her father.”  Dick’s face turned from amused to angry faster than Jason realized he could and he was surprised at the fire there.  “When LA Social Services called and told Bruce about Damian, he was…it was bad.”  Jason squeezed Dick’s hand and the other man gave him a thankful smile.  “Tim and I came from homes that knew love.  Damian, I don’t think he had ever known love of any kind until he came to Gotham.”

“Poor kid.”  Dick nodded sadly.  “But he seemed pretty fond of you in the few seconds before he noticed me.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, and the smile was back on his face.  “Bruce is a great man and a good father, but he’s not the most emotionally available man.  He struggled with Damian when he came to live with him.  Tim was a teenager already and I had moved out on my own, so B was pretty much on his own.  But then he called me one night and begged me to help because he didn’t know if he was just screwing up Damian more than he already was.”

Well, fuck.  How shitty was it that a man could tell he was not the best option for his own child’s mental and emotional health but that his older son was?  Jason couldn’t imagine feeling so poorly about himself and that said something because he didn’t like himself most days.

“I moved back home and took a sabbatical from work in order to help.  It was hard and there were plenty of times I would shut myself in my room and ask what the hell I was trying to accomplish, but Damian eventually improved.”  Letting out a sigh, Dick looked down at Jason with a hint of sadness.  “I think sometimes B wishes he hadn’t called me in.  He and Dami…they’re not close.  They respect each other, and B loves him like he loves Tim and me, but when Dami does something to be proud of it’s me who he comes to.”

“He views you as a father more than his actual father.”  Dick hummed and looked over toward the window, avoiding commenting on it.  “Is that a point of contention between you and Bruce?”

“Not really, at least not that he allows it to be.  But like I said, he’s not good with the emotions.  Its just, sometimes I can see regret so plainly written on his face when I’m talking to Dami.  It’s hard to miss sometimes.”

“And that makes you feel guilty.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah…”  Dick’s voice is quiet, but Jason knows him well enough now to hear the regret.

“Have you talked to Damian about it before?”  Dick shook his head and looked back to Jason with a curious look.  “I was just wondering what he thought of it all.”

Jason can tell Dick is mulling over the idea of asking Damian about the fact that he viewed Dick as his dad and not Bruce, but he can also see the moment when Dick rejects the idea for now.  Not that Jason blames him.  The kid had been intense, and he had come across as smart, so part of him probably knew.  If it had been Jason in Damian’s place, he probably would have some resentment toward his actual father for basically pawning him off to his brother when it got to be too much.

“This was so not the conversation I thought we would have when I came,” Jason offered as an out of the current topic.  He could see the appreciation in Dick’s smile and the slight shift of his shoulders as he relaxed.

“What did you expect?”

“Profuse apologies because your redheads had made it seem like you were pretty worried that I hated you.”  Dick laughed hard, holding his middle where Jason assumed were some of the wounds that had caused this whole mess.

“They made it clear that you weren’t mad.  I figured I could save the apologies for when I wasn’t laid up in the hospital.”

“Fair enough.  Though,” Jason leaned forward and looked at Dick closely, “you don’t owe me any apologies.  This situation isn’t anywhere near being your fault.”

“Still upset I missed our date.  I had the whole thing planned.”

“Well, you can go through with that plan when you are back to full mobility.  Until then, I’d be happy to accommodate to your situation.”  Dick’s smile was practically blinding, and Jason squeezed his hand.  The intense desire to kiss the other man hit him suddenly but not too surprisingly.  “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”  The words came out before he could stop them.

“I’d really like you to kiss me,” Dick responded, smile growing even brighter.  And Jason wished he could figure out how he managed to be so beautiful.  But he would have to try and figure that out later.  For now, he just focused on releasing Dick’s hand and pressing a palm to his cheek as he leaned forward and pressed their mouths together.

And god if it didn’t feel like coming home after being gone for years.

Dick’s lips were slightly chapped from the dry, hospital air and his breath was a little stale but the whole thing was so utterly perfect that Jason could feel his chest tighten with the emotion.  Keeping in mind his still healing chest, Jason ended the kiss sooner than he would have liked.  Pulling back, he pressed one quick kiss to the corner of Dick’s mouth before pulling back even further to look at the other man.  What he found made him want to ignore the chest wound Dick had and just dive right back in.

Dark lashes fluttering against golden cheek bones and lips parted just slightly.  He hoped he never forgot this image.

“I can’t wait until this heart rate monitor won’t alert everyone to just how much you affect me,” Dick muttered, opening his eyes to reveal sapphire rings around black pupils blown wide with lust.

“Just focus on healing that chest wound.  Then I’ll happily let you figure out just how much of me you can and can’t handle.”

“Deal,” Dick whispered, pushing up to press their mouths together one last time before falling back into the pillows again. 

Jason chuckled and ran his fingers along Dick’s cheek bone before dropping back down into the chair he had previously been sitting in and letting his hands fall into his lap.

“So, Wally and Roy aren’t my only redhead friends and the fact that you called just the two of them a harem was so accurate I thought I had pulled my stitches from laughing so hard when they told me.”  Jason looked at him for a moment before laughing loudly and shaking his head.

“Well then the name is definitely sticking around.”

“I’ll be sure to warn the others.”

And Jason couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached for Dick’s hand again.

#dick grayson #jason todd #jaydick #fanfic #ao3 #nightwing #red hood #roy harper #wally west #dick's harem of redheads #au: keep on truckin' #food truck owner jason todd #officer grayson #damian wayne #dick is damian's real dad #don't @ me #batman au #batfam

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 3

I think I might be uploading this daily until I catch up with the chapters I have up on Ao3, so I hope this updates don’t annoy anybody! xD

If you haven’t read the previous chapters, here they are!

Chapter 1 - Returning to the living

Chapter 2 - Infiltrating the 24th floor

CHAPTER 3

A hell of an entrance

Sam Cortland was early to school on the second day of classes, as he wanted to get a feel of what people were thinking, what the mood was and what people’s patterns were. He knew Celaena had been around the premises multiple times before the term had started, but he hadn’t expected to be joining her until only a few days ago. Arobynn had approached him a week before and threatened him in a way that made him comply with being his spy. He hated it, but he didn’t really have any other viable options.

He was sitting on a bench by the entrance waiting for the bell to ring and watching people come and go. A few of the girls had approached him and said hello, some had even asked which classes he was attending and tried to flirt a bit. Reality was that he wasn’t interested in any of them, and he didn’t have time for romance anyway, he was technically at work. He had been polite and nice to each of them regardless, because he had an image he wanted to portrait. He wanted to be the good guy that everybody could count on, the one they’d trust with their secrets.

The loud rumble of an engine and the sound of squealing tires took him out of his daydream, and he looked up, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“So much for being one more in the crowd,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Right in front of the entrance’s stairs he saw a black motorcycle that had just parked up. The bike’s sinuous and seductive lines were perfectly in harmony with the curves of the girl that was getting off it. It was a sight he was used to, at least under different circumstances. The whole crowd had turned their heads around, and everybody was already whispering, watching the girl jumping off the bike. 

Sam had to give her credit, Celaena did look fantastic as she jumped down, lifting her flexible and long leg high up and giving the whole school a pretty decent view of her inner thighs. She stood next to the bike for a second, probably making sure that there were enough eyes on her before she took the black helmet off, shaking her blond hair around and then brushing it back with a hand. 

“Wow, who’s that?” A girl whispered next to him. 

“What a slut,” another one murmured under her breath, Sam barely heard her as she walked past him.

“You gotta be shitting me,” he heard Dorian Havilliard say as he elbowed the guy next to him, which Sam was pretty sure was the president of the student’s council.

“What is it?” The brunette guy asked.

“That girl, she’s staying at my family's hotel,” he replied.

“Celaena, the new exchange student?” The president asked, furrowing his brows.

“Yes, I ran into her in the lobby yesterday, I can’t believe I didn’t notice her at school!” Dorian said, and then the pair started slowly walking towards Celaena, as if wanting to watch her from closer.

Sam hid his smile behind a hand, pretending that he was coughing. He wasn’t surprised at all that Celaena had managed to run into him on her first night at the hotel; she was amazing at what she did. Cunning came to her almost as second nature.

Almost, because it hadn’t always been like that and Sam could still remember the broken girl that had shown up lying limp on Arobynn’s arms all those years ago.

“Who’s that?” Sam had asked, standing on his tiptoes to look at the girl’s face.

Her coat had been dripping water over in the foyer as Arobynn walked towards the staircase.

“Her?” He had asked disparagingly, “She’s my lottery ticket,” he had said as he quickly walked up the stairs.

Sam could still remember the hushed whispers around the mansion on those first days, the planning and plotting. Arobynn had wanted to get a ransom for the girl, but had finally concluded that it was most likely that she was wanted dead, so it would be a safer bet to use the girl until things were certain; until he came up with a better plan.

Weeks had led into months, and months into years, and the girl had stayed. Arobynn had trained her, and she had slowly come out of her shell, proving to be strong, ferocious and sassy. Damn, she could be so sassy, Sam thought. Him and Celaena had clashed so much during the years, and had gone from being strangers, to almost friends, to enemies, and all the way to lovers for the one quick peck that had been both of their first kiss. 

Sam chuckled at the memory, Celaena had been so annoying that day. They were probably around 12 years old, and Sam had wanted for her to shut up so badly, that he had kissed her once, pressing his lips hard against hers. 

He had ended up with a black eye for it.

“What happened with being inconspicuous?” he asked his female counterpart as she walked past him. He joined her pace, quickly walking by her side.

“That was never my plan,” she hissed under her breath. “Now piss off, I don’t want anybody to see us talking,” she said as she sped up and walked through the front doors, letting them slam closed behind her back.

“Noted,” he murmured, slowing down and taking a peaceful pace while nodding happily at all the girls that grinned at him. 

He made his way to his locker and grabbed a few books, slowly stacking them in his arms as he tried to catch anything from the few conversations around him. It looked like the whole school was talking about Celaena’s entrance. The girls were a bit upset about the new competition, and every single guy sounded like he wanted to get under her skirt.

He shook his head, and made his way to homeroom. 

The day went by without any more major events. He went from class to class, only running into Celaena in one of them. The talk about her dramatic entrance had subdued by then, but he could still hear whispers about it here and there, most of the guys were focusing on her ride now, instead of dribbling over the image of her. 

There was one reaction that he was eager to hear about, and it was the one from the only student he thought he hadn't run into that day. He had tried to join as many advanced classes as he could, but he wasn’t as literate and smart as Celaena was, hence why he had had to join the school as a junior and only had a few advanced lessons. 

He found the guy he was looking for during the lunch hour, and he made sure to sit at a table close enough to eavesdrop. Aedion was sitting with all the jocks, as it was to expect. It must have been practice day, because instead of wearing his classic uniform, he was wearing a black polo, the number 15 written on big yellow letters on his back. He hadn’t even taken off his captain band, which gripped his bicep tightly as his arm flexed when he rested his head on a fist.

Aedion was talking with a few other players, a huge grin on his face showing all his perfectly white teeth. Sam watched as his eyes shot up when someone called his name, and a tall curvy girl with dark brown hair cascading up to her waist walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around the captain’s neck, gave him a quick peck on the lips and then sat on his lap. Sam wasn’t surprised to see that she was wearing the cheerleader’s outfit. There was an elegant look in the way her bare pale legs were crossed at the ankles in a careful manner.

He was close enough to hear most of their conversation, so he leaned closer not to miss any words.

“Hi honey, how was cheerleading practice?” Aedion asked as he played with a strand of the girl’s hair.

“Not bad, the squad was a bit distracted though,” she said, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Why was that?” Aedion asked, his bright turquoise eyes looking up at her, seeming genuinely confused.

“That new girl, she has them all a bit crazy. Apparently she made a big entrance this morning, but I missed it because I was talking with the coach, did you catch her?” the girl asked, sounding curious to see her boyfriend’s reaction.

“Oh, I was a bit far, but I did see her. Her ride is actually a piece of art,” he said.

Sam had to cover his mouth to hide his chuckle for the second time that day. The guy was good, he knew how to deflect the conversation not to make his girlfriend jealous. Sam was genuinely impressed.

“Lysandra!” A blond girl called as she rushed over to Aedion’s girlfriend.

“What’s the matter?” She asked, turning around and letting Sam get a full view of her big and beautiful emerald green eyes. 

“Sorry hun, coach needs a word with you, would you mind going back to the gymnasium?” The two girls left in a hurry and Sam’s eyes trailing after them.

“She’s so taken, mate,” a skinny guy sitting next to Sam said as he elbowed him playfully. “I recommend you to be careful, Aedion won’t like it if he catches you staring,” he said in a low voice, as if to make sure that the next table over wouldn’t hear them.

Sam thanked him for the advice, and kept on eating his lunch. He spotted Celaena on the opposite side of the cafeteria then, and followed her gaze to see what she was looking at so intently. Her eyes were fixed on a table not far away from him, and Sam noticed Dorian Havillard sitting there with the same brunette guy from before. So far, those two seemed to go together everywhere. They were talking and elbowing each other, their eyes on the blond girl that was eyeing them shamelessly.

It looked to him like Celaena wasn’t wasting any time; she was hunting, and only for a second, he felt sorry for her prey. 

----

Hope you enjoyed this! You know you can always read more on Ao3, read some of my originals on Wattpad, or even find me on Instagram for some bookstagram galore and random texts/poems/updates on my writing! :D

Here’s my take on stunning, gorgeous, love of my life... Aedion Ashryver xD 

#throne of glass #fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fanart #tog fandom #fireheart #chapter three

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 13 of it’s always ourselves we find is here!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12

[kristanna / m / modern au / coworkers & enemies to lovers ;) ]

“Kristoff.”

No reply.

“Kris.”

This time, a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Kris, honey…”

She’d had a feeling that would work. He shifted against her, nuzzling his nose against the top of her head. “What?”

“You gotta let me go.”

His arms only tightened around her waist. “Why?”

“Because I have to get up and shower.”

A heavy sigh escaped him; he pressed a soft, stubbly kiss to her temple and lifted his arm from where it had been draped over her. “Have fun,” he mumbled, turning over and burying his face in the pillow.

Fighting the urge to giggle, Anna tiptoed into the bathroom, not wanting him to miss out on any precious minutes of sleep he could get after he’d been up so late the night before. It was strange, she reflected, as she stepped into the shower, how one conversation had suddenly made so much of the last fourteen months make sense; why he always said no to going to any sort of after-work cocktail hour, even on his own birthday, and why he had been the only person not to sign up for the white elephant gift exchange-- and more than that, why he was so quiet, so reluctant to open up at all.

Except with me , she thought, a shiver rolling down her spine that had nothing to do with the pounding water; even before this week, she’d been the only one he talked to, and even if it was usually just bickering, that was a hell of a lot more than anyone else in the office got. And sometimes they had talked about real things; he knew about her parents and the car crash, and he knew about how much she’d worried over her cat when she’d first adopted him, and he’d listened and offered comfort, gruff though it was, every time she’d thought she’d finally fucked up enough to get fired.

And the M&Ms-- god, it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her, by far. How many packets had she gotten over the last year and a bit? And she’d shared them with him every time, and he’d never even let on that he’d liked her enough to do such a thing, let alone that he’d actually done it.

By the time she was done in the shower, she was itching to wrap her arms around him and kiss him as thoroughly as she could. She yanked on her underwear and dress as quickly as possible and, without even bothering to finish towel drying her hair, burst back into the main part of the room, only to come face to face with Kristoff sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his sweatpants and stretching his bare arms skyward. Her pace only stuttered for a moment at the sight, and then she was on him, laughing and climbing onto his lap as he let out a surprised cry and fell back against the bed.

“Good morning,” she said in between pressing sloppy kisses all over his face, still creased slightly from the pillowcase.

“You, too,” he said breathlessly, trying and failing to catch her lips with his own. “What’s this for?”

He set his hands on her waist, and the feel of his broad fingers pressing against her was finally enough to give her pause, long enough that he finally managed to lean up and steal a kiss. “Just because,” she said with a grin.

“Because what?” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

“Because I have a crush on you.”

That earned her another kiss, but one that came to an untimely end when he instinctively reached to slide a hand into her hair, and they both were reminded that it was still sopping wet. “Sorry,” Anna giggled, giving him one more peck on the cheek as he wrinkled his nose and shook his hand exaggeratedly. “Let me go take care of that.”

She blow-dried her hair quickly in the bathroom and swiped on a minimal layer of makeup before returning. She spared only a glance at her lipstick before smirking and setting it back down; she’d just wait and put that on after breakfast.

Kristoff was standing now, just shrugging into a gray and white striped button down. “Let me help,” Anna said as she crossed over to him.

“Believe it or not, I can dress myself,” he said drily, but when she took hold of his collar and tugged him down to kiss his cheek, a dazed smile appeared on his face.

“Think you’re ready for today?” Anna asked as she began working her way down the line of buttons, her hands lingering for a moment when they brushed against his broad chest.

“Not at all.”

“Why not?” He shrugged, and she playfully swatted at him. “Hold still!”

“Sorry. Just-- you know. Me. Talking. Other people. Bad combination.”

She had just reached the tail of his shirt; she paused for a moment before choosing the boldest of the options laid before her and unzipping his pants to tuck it in. A huff of surprise escaped him, but he made no move to stop her.

“Well,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm as she fastened his pants back and kept her eyes trained on his chest, making a show of brushing away invisible flaws, “I’m other people, and I like talking to you just fine, so see? Nothing to worry about.”

He caught her chin with a finger and tilted her face upwards until he could meet her gaze. Though his forehead was furrowed, his eyes were soft when he said, “It’s different when it’s you. You know that.”

“Hurry up and kiss me again so we can put our shoes on,” she breathed.

He didn’t, instead shifting his hand to press against her cheek, letting his thumb slide slowly back and forth over her freckled cheekbone. “You’re bossy as hell, you know that?”

“And you’re a tease,” she said, pouting, and he laughed before conceding to her wishes.

“It’ll be okay, Kris,” she murmured between soft, languid kisses. “Like I said last night, I’m gonna make sure this is the best presentation ever. You just stand there and look pretty.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“Fine. Stand there and say the stuff we practiced yesterday with Harry and look all ruggedly handsome.”

“ Ruggedly handsome ?”

She nipped playfully at his bottom lip. “Here I am, trying to be sweet to you for once, and you’re--”

He cut her off with another kiss, and this time when they pulled away, they were both too breathless for words.

---

The reassurances Anna had whispered to him that morning worked pretty well until the room started filling up enough that people were standing along the walls. Kristoff turned then to face her as she set up her laptop on the podium. “Anna,” he said as quietly as possible, “this is a fuckton of people.”

“Mhm. This is the only bit with mandatory attendance for everyone,” she said, not looking up from the screen.

“ Shit .”

“It’ll be fine, Kris. You did this yesterday for Harry, remember? And his opinion is the only one that really matters.”

“But if I fuck this up, then someone’ll tell him, and--”

She glanced up at him, her eyes soft. “You won’t fuck up. It’ll be fine, really. What was it that made yesterday so much easier? Can’t you just try that again?”

“Um,” he stammered, his face reddening. “Not exactly.”

“Why not?”

“It-- ah-- it was better yesterday because-- because it was just a video call. So I could...you know.”

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

He sighed and went to run a hand through his hair before remembering how long they’d spent that morning on slicking it back. “It helped that I could...touch you. Just if I needed to steady myself and stuff, but today everyone will see.”

“Kristoff Bjorgman, you are the absolute sweetest man alive, you know that?” Anna said, and by the look in her eyes he knew she was wishing they could touch each other now, too.

“Yeah, well, don’t go around telling everybody. I’ve worked too hard on building my reputation around here.”

“Reputation as what? A grumpy bastard? Letting people know you have a softer side might have some benefits, you know,” she pointed out.

“I think those benefits are invalidated if I fuck up so bad today I get fired and never see them again,” he replied as the man introducing them tapped on the microphone.

In response, she darted a hand out and brushed her fingers over his where they rested against the podium, out of view of the crowd. “I’ve got you, Kris,” she promised. “I won’t let you down.”

And damn, if that didn’t make him feel a hell of a lot better.

He turned around to face the audience, not even trying to mimic Anna’s showstopper of a smile as she accepted the microphone and introduced their presentation to the crowd. Within moments, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand, laughing at her warm-up jokes about all the buzzwords the company had been introducing at the conference and hanging on to her every word even when she got into the statistics. She did such a good job that even when Kristoff stumbled over his explanation of how the new networking systems he’d put in place over the last year they still paid attention; he even saw Greg, sitting in the back row, raise his digital camera to take a picture of the screen-- flash on, of course.

And then, before he knew it, Anna was asking if there were any questions, and she answered most of them and gave him the rest, and then she was thanking the crowd and he was giving a terse nod and people were actually fucking clapping as if this was something they hadn’t been forced to sit through.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, and beside him, Anna stifled a laugh.

She gave him a quick wink. “Told you.”

---

quick note: i miscounted earlier in this fic and wrote that this was a 5 night thing, it is not it's 4 nights and so the coming night is the last and they come home tomorrow

also, two more chapters to go after this and we're done :)

#iaowf #my fics #kristanna

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

A/N: This chapter is shorter, but we'll be okay.

Part 16: Conversation

"Why the hell are you standing in the doorway staring at me like that," Y/N squinted from her position on the bed. She was supposed to be changing for the night out. Apparently, she couldn't strip with the door open. Little did she know, she was staring at him just as hard.. or else she wouldn't know just how hard he was staring.

"Hello? Nigga?" She was baiting him with a doe-eyed face of stone trying to force his reaction. He could pinch those chubby cheeks. She was at her best when she didn't try.

"Like what," he teased. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you crazy!"

"You think I'm crazy?" Hands hitched in the pockets of his black Ralph Lauren Purple Label slacks, he watched the micromovements of her eyes, mouth, and body. They always helped him to decipher her mood and what she truly meant. She was an open book and judging by the small up and down movement of her eyeballs, the answer to the question was yes.

"No," she lied suddenly uneasy. He watched her scoot around it. She didn't want to offend him and was treading carefully, something she didn't need to do. "You're not crazy per se.. just a little.. intense." Another lie, but not one worth calling out. Didn't matter either way. He knew he wasn't crazy. The world, however, was batshit and he had to keep up. Eyes focused on her, his mind began to drift to his true purpose for being in Texas, racing through various possible scenarios and combatting them.. logically thinking in terms of steps he'd take to accomplish his ultimate goal. All in a matter of seconds complex plans crossed his mind, reworking themselves past dead ends and around blind spots. If he couldn't predict an outcome, he wouldn't have the advantage he needed to launch a highly successful attack. Slow down. What am I missing? He had to plug in the gaps. How would he proceed with the current target since he'd fucked things up so badly? Because of his one-track mind, he had the tendency to become irrational when there was a clear goal in mind to achieve. He'd do it by any means necessary and he realized he'd done just that. However justified, he'd been pushed to make an impulsive executive decision that he'd have to bounce back from. The colonizer he was up against currently had the upper hand in regard to anticipation and territory advantage. Striking quickly wouldn't be an option at this point. He needed unpredictability in his side. Besides. If the target knew Erik was close and hunting him, he might take the offensive position and all Erik had to do was wait. That was the introduction to the issue. If he were on his own, this would be a perfect situation, but Y/N was with him and completely oblivious to the situation he'd selfishly and inadvertently involved her in.

Aside from that, both Jaliyah and Swift were hitting up his phones.. Jaliyah obviously drunk as fuck and begging him to do some wild shit to her in public again.. and Swift demanding answers like she was running shit. He'd brushed them both off to deal with when he got back to Cali.

"Aight... now you look like a complete psycho.. Blink!" He fluttered his lashes, happy to see her lip curl in irritation. "Smartass," she responded to his rapid blinking. He was tickled by her response. Riling her up was so easy and stress-reducing. "Now close the door," she directed in a soft sing-song voice. He decided to humor her. "Now bring your spiky pineapple headass over here," she pointed to the space ahead of her. His brow raised to check her. He didn't need to say a word, she backed down subtly with a sneaky smirk falling back on her elbows, one foot propped on the bed, her knee in the air.

"Aight now.. You acting up."

The red dress rose and slid exposing clear brown skin on mountainous thighs.. thicker than any girl whose company he'd ever had the pleasure of keeping. He could still remember exactly how tightly those thighs had squeezed him just this morning. As he approached, the phone in his pocket buzzed yet again.

"What's that?"

Shit. Could she hear that?

"What's what?"

"That face. This isn't the first time you've made that face today," she pointed, "Your eyes go dead and it's like your soul just dies at random times. Something must really be pissing you off because you're overthinking and I'm not so ignorant and self absorbed that I wouldn't notice when something's been bothering you. It's written all over your face so tell me what it is."

The fuck?

"Whatchu' mean? Ain't nothing wrong."

Her dark sarcasm shot daggers through him. She ain't believe him.

"I'm not so stupid that I'd believe that either. Besides, I'm your best friend and if I don't notice then who will?"

"You back to that best friend shit again, I see."

"Well if we're not friends then what ar--," she chuckled humorlessly, "Wow. Don't distract me. No, it's that far away look in your eye like you're not truly present and your mind's somewhere else. You go quiet...," she paused, her dark brown orbs focused and delving carefully into his. "Tell me what's wrong."

Gotdamn.. She'd certainly gotten more perceptive. Somehow she was able to read what many people missed. People tended to see what they wanted see and if they couldn't see it, they'd make up their own narrative. Somehow this girl was able to hit on something real. If he wasn't careful, she'd be the one to figure out his secrets. Then where would that leave him?

Alone again. Numb.

"HEY," her fingers snapped bringing his focus quickly back to the moment at hand. "Talk to me. You're always the one there for me, it gets old being the damsel. Let me help you for once."

Time spent together had her learning him bit by bit and while he liked the feeling of being cared for, it made it that much harder to hide.

I shouldn't still have you here. I'm putting you at risk just to stay a little longer in a fantasy.

"Erik."

"Chill. I'm aight ma just admiring my property. Can I look at you?" He parted her thighs and pushed the red material back over her stomach looking at the junction of her thighs. She was getting a bit too close to him in a way he wasn't used to. It made him uncomfortable.

If he made her horny enough, the conversation would turn to sex, they'd fuck, and eventually she wouldn't remember her own name much less care about this conversation. She kissed her teeth, obviously getting frustrated the more he stared.

"I feel like that's 60% lie but okay, keep your little secrets since you don't wanna trust nobody." She closed her legs and flipped over aggressively facing the window as if she were going to sleep. This was her mad pose, but it wasn't a bad view. Her ass was poked out. Not on purpose, but because it was fat. She pulled the dress down to cover it. Her level of perceptiveness had grown to an impressive level.

"Y/N," he tested, waiting for any type of response. He touched her kneecap and shook her knee gently. "Y/N..," he waited.

The silent treatment. Mature.

"You serious right now? I told you what it was. Why you mad?" No response. This is stupid. He waited a minute watching her in the silence, the only sounds being the TV and the voices of loud laughing guests carrying from the other side of the floor. "Aight, get up," he said grabbing her leg. She kicked at him, returning back to her position once he took a step back.

Definitely a brat. He'd give her another minute and then he'd end it. Watching her, he counted down mentally.

"You actin bogus.. Get up," he commanded at the end of the countdown. She didn't move from her spot, kicking when he came nearer again. "You really wanna do this?" He contemplated dragging her from the bed, but decided to be patient. She responded best to warmth rather than rough manhandling so he had to use techniques she'd respond to. Securing his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't grab her, he tried a softer approach.

"Daddy don't like babies, angel. He like big girls... Don't you wanna please Daddy? Ain't that yo responsibility?"

"What I want is to know why you don't trust me with anything real about you. I'm not stupid. I know jack shit about you and that's not cool, you never tell me anything. You keep me out here on the surface like I ain't shit yet you know all my business and I don't like that.. It's an uneven exchange and I can't get my secrets back.. but that's okay, I don't want them back.. I just wanna know you. What's so bad about that?"

"The fuck? That's why you mad? You know me better than most.. Ain't nothing to say, it's not your job to take care of me. I'm the guardian. I'm the protector. I'm the teacher. All I need you to do is listen, obey, and keep yourself open. Don't waste your time thinking you need to know every detail about me to know me. You know me."

"Whatever. You got it."

What did that mean.. What the fuck? He watched her stoic expression as she looked off through the open window. How did they get here? He could only imagine what was going on in her mind. What dots was she trying to connect and what did she already figure out that she wasn't saying? He couldn't underestimate her intelligence. It was one of the things about her he enjoyed most no matter how troublesome it could be. Putting his hand gently on her arm, she didn't react. She was still in thought, contemplating but what was she contemplating? He ain't like the direction this was headed. It stressed him more than he thought it would. Definitely more than it should.

"I'll ask you one question that you gotta answer and you can ask me one question," he blurted watching her eyes slowly refocus and land on his. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

"Just one," she asked, suddenly sobering. Of course she was in.

"One," he stressed with a finger up watching curiosity resurrect her from the silence. She pursed her lips, hesitating before looking him up and down.

"Mm, okay. You go first."

---

I can't believe that actually worked... Go figure.

It's a shame that you have to resort to trickery to get answers from him, but as tight-lipped as he is about himself and all things surrounding him, you would've never gotten anything out of him otherwise. You had to trick him. Right?

"Ask your question," you prompt ready for him to get his out of the way.

"Why do you have such intense anxiety? You mentioned a bad sexual experience and I know it traumatized you.. Do you think that's the root of it or were you dealing with some unwanted thoughts before then?"

"Um.." Your mind freezes. Honestly, you thought he'd ask something stupid or sexual. "Technically, that's two questions." Two very personal questions. Should you pick one or answer them both? You've gotta sit up for this one. "Ummm," you stall sitting up across from him. He's analyzing with those intense eyes again, about to turn over and examine every word you say along with the spaces in between, you already know.

"O-kay," you breathe looking away to collect and organize your thoughts as you pace slowly to the large window. "Alright, so, I guess I'll start with the general anxiety? I don't know why I do it so I can't tell you that, but I think a lot and I can't stop thinking which is why I know when you're overthinking something. I can tell when someone's annoyed with me, frustrated, genuine or otherwise and I don't like disappointing people. I also have an irrational fear of being embarrassed.. I will go out of my way to avoid it.."

You can see cars way down on the street passing by, the tall building across the street, and the darkening sky overhead. Someone says something about sunset retractable awnings on the television and you know it's that ancient commercial because who else even makes those...

"I guess with that incident that happened when I was in college, my two greatest fears came to life all at once and I didn't know how to completely get over it... I told you, well you guessed, that there were.. things said.. and certain things that happened.. and obviously I internalized them. Your word."

When you turn to look at him, he's watching and waiting like no matter how long you go on and on droning, he won't interrupt. He'll listen to the end. Even with the silence now, he doesn't move or speak. Testing your theory, you stare back out through the window for a while. It's like you thought, he's waiting.

"...It was about four years ago. Que party. Senior year. I was a "virgin" and decided I didn't want to be," you shrug. "So you know the Que dog reputation, how they be? Well, these guys lived up to that.. Or so I'd heard."

Still no comment from Erik, but his full attention.

"I decided I wanted someone with uh," you smirk, "Experience.. and since I didn't talk to or know many guys on campus, I stupidly thought that a party could be a good way to go about it. Don't judge me," you point. His expression doesn't change so you continue. "So, I go to this party and I'm already out of my comfort zone, but then I see Omar and he is fine. I mean, my whole body pointed like a hunting dog in an old cartoon and said that one," you chuckle remembering your body's exact response. It was like your response when you met Erik, but on a lesser scale. Never had you reacted the way you had when you saw Erik in person for the first time. You thought you'd collapse on the spot or rip off the both of your clothes in attack, but all you could do was smile goofily and shake his hand stiffly like you were at an interview. The memory is one you'd rather forget.

"So we met, we flirted, we danced a bit, and I'm thinking this just might be bae! He's holding my waist. He doesn't care that I'm chubby. We're having fun and drinking. Then we go to a back room and he's standing there. I'm standing there. We're just standing there and I'm like okay what now? So, I start taking my clothes off and he follows suit. Now, we're both butt booty naked in front of each other.. standing there. It's the first time I've ever seen an adult male penis so I'm staring at it like how do I make this thing hard. It doesn't even matter apparently because he tells me to lie down and that's when it happened.."

You rehash to him the details as the flashback hits vividly. Every word, you remember. What Omar said about you and what everyone else said to your face and behind your back for the rest of the year. Being known as nasty, dirty, trifling, and also the easy girl all at once. It had damaged a lot. Your image, your friendships, potential relationships, pieces of your self-esteem.. even though they were lies. If enough people say something about you enough times, eventually it gets in. Anyone truly trying to know you could figure that they were lies but unfortunately no one had tried after that. It was why you changed states. You couldn't deal in South Carolina.

"So to answer your questions.. the anxiety had always been there but it was something I could push off because I knew it was irrational. After college, my fear seemed justified and necessary like if I had only listened to it and took it as a warning instead of disregarding it as something to overcome or see pass.. what happened to me never would've happened."

Silence.

"That's all," you say letting him know it's okay to talk. In fact, you need him to talk. Fill the silence. Say anything. His pause is thoughtful, giving you room to add if you have more to say, but you don't.

"There's a pattern," he says suddenly with understanding. "You have a lot of fear and most of all, you fear rejection."

What are you, my therapist?

"And? ..Who wants to be rejected," you snap feeling suddenly more vulnerable.

"What I like about you though is that despite that fear, every now and again you'll take a risk and it could either be the worst thing for you or the best thing, but regardless you go all in.. You got a one-track mind like me," he smiles, eyes widening like it's something that can't be helped. His comparison wasn't something you expected. You didn't think you were very much like him in that way at all, but now that he points it out you wish he'd elaborate. Maybe it'd give you more of a glimpse into him.. the man, not the dom. He pats his lap and you step closer, easing down to sit on his thighs feeling his arm wrap around you.

"People's reactions, their motives and what they believe, the past... These are things you can't control no matter how much you want to or what you do.. or don't do. Since you can't control it, dwelling on it is a waste of your mental and emotional resources.. as well as your time. But since that's something that's easier said than done," he scowls giving you the feeling he's talking about himself as well, "Focus on something that's within your ability to effect and control. For example.. You can never please everyone.. but you can please me."

"Nigga."

"Listen," he smirks holding you still just as you're about to push him on the chest to get up. "You're incapable of disappointing me and I won't reject you.. not like that. I won't embarrass you.. not like that. Focus on me. Rely on me. Trust me.. and I'll show you that you're braver than you think. That's something no one can take from you."

"Yeah, okay, my turn and brace yourself since you asked me like sixteen questions."

"You only had to answer once."

"Fuck that, I want answers." Yeah I said fuck, you muse watching his brows go up again in surprise. "What's in that locked room at your house and why is it locked if you live alone?"

"I wasn't alone, you were there."

"Oh, so it's to keep me out specifically.." It takes one stern look for him to cut the crap and he rolls his eyes, a smirk playing at the corner his lips.

"I'll show you when we get back," he promises.

"Red room of pain?"

"I hate that damn movie." That's an affirmative. Suddenly you were excited to get back to Cali so you could really be nosey. "You contact them girls you met at the mall? You should hang out with them again sometime before we leave Texas."

"I texted them a couple of times. They'd be down." They'd actually invited you to lunch with them today, but you were with Erik. They easily understood when you declined.

"I'm ready to see outfit number two. Change and then we'll get ready to head back out. I know you wanna see the Reunion Tower at night," he says smacking your thigh. It's true, you do. That's why he'd paid for you two to go back for the night. You'd look around some more, eat dinner, and just enjoy it. You wanted to eat at the other shmancy restaurant they had earlier but it was closed during the day.

"You change too. You were sweating a bit," you remind him in the spirit of fairness. Just because you had more crevices didn't mean he didn't sweat just as much as you. He had to hit the shower as well.. preferably with you..

"Mhm," he chuckles knowingly as you stand to take off your dress. "All you have to do is ask."

"No need," you smile walking to the bathroom.

"Ask," he insists stubbornly, still staring from the bed. You shake your head.

"Nope! My daddy is a genius so I don't have to. He already knows what I want."

"....Start the shower."

@muse-of-mbaku @imaginewhoever @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagine   @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe   @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens   @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1   @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent @blackpinup22

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[notaparty-trick]

All Those Senseless Scars - Chapter 2

By @notaparty-trick​ for @asyouleft​

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange​

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, May Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Pepper Potts, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds

Summary: There is a rule to the way Peter lives now. He didn’t know it at first, but he learnt it.

It’s simple.

To earn what he needs to survive, he has to make sacrifices. 

--- 

Peter Parker's life is derailed when he's kidnapped and kept in a white-tiled room with nothing: no windows, no cameras, no food, no water, no phone, nobody else. Only his own thoughts keep him from losing his mind. If he asks for anything, he must take punishment. Tony Stark will stop at nothing to bring him home.

Archive Of Our Own link here

  The second Tony hits the floor, he wakes up.

Before even the throbbing of the back of his head, he notices the kid’s arms around him and recalls the last few minutes of his consciousness, the images of a blowtorch burning blue and of waxy crimson burns spidering across Peter’s face still horrifyingly fresh in his memory.

“Get a medical team to the front door right away,” he hears Pepper saying. Pushing himself hurriedly into a sitting position, Tony sees her crouched in front of them both, her widened eyes fixed on the kid.

The kid, whose every inch of skin is littered with bruises, lacerations, swelling, raised lines that look like whip marks. Who is gaunt and frail and half-naked and blue from cold.

“What should you expect, you asked? Cho, I don’t know what to say. He’s… everything. Just, every kind of injury you could think of.”

Tony has spent twenty sleepless nights looking for Peter Parker.

He’d first begun to suspect that something was amiss when he shut up his workshop for the night and realised he’d never received the quiet ping he’d programmed Karen to send which indicated that the kid had returned safely home from patrol. The protocol had been designed so Tony would get a ping from the Spider-Man suit the moment it entered the Parker abode, and, on the flip side, would send through an alert if he stayed out past his curfew, so the radio silence was what began to raise red flags.

Tony had shoved his paranoia aside for the moment and simply called the kid.

Nothing.

After three missed calls, he patched it straight through, the guilt of prying fading in comparison to a need to assure the kid’s safety, but FRIDAY had pulled him up short. “Boss, it is impossible for me to trace his phone or suit. They do not exist.”

“Sure, they exist. Be realistic, FRI. What do you mean?”

“The most likely explanation for this is that they have both been destroyed to the point where they no longer emit a tracking signal.”

Pushing out a deliberately measured breath, Tony ran his hands down his face in a habitual movement. “What are the chances he’s... destroyed all his tech and run off to join the Amish?”

“That is highly unlikely, Boss. Mister Parker spends an average of three hours on his phone every day.”

“Well - yeah. Shit.” Fighting back a growing wave of unease, Tony tried and failed to pull together some sort of plan of action which culminated in a tentative phone call to May Parker.

“If Peter’s with you right now and he hasn’t answered my texts,” she began without preamble, “You’re both in big trouble.”

Tony’s moment of silence drove her to an instant and terrifying conclusion.

“Tony, tell me he’s with you.”

“He’s off the grid. FRIDAY’s saying his suit and phone have been destroyed.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means… I suppose we’re - we’re looking at a missing kid now.”

Tony remembers with harsh clarity the way May’s breath had caught.

“Fuck, Tony. He’s - that’s my baby.”

“I know, May, I know. Best not to get - we don’t know anything for sure. There’s a best-case scenario here.” Neither of them are convinced. They’re both catastrophizers when it comes to Peter, and for good reason: the kid gets whammied by the ugliest parts of life on the daily.

“And the worst case?” May ventured.

Words fled Tony’s mouth.

“There’s a place at the facility upstate if that’s where you wanna be. I’ll kickstart a search there.”

The plastered-on bravery in May’s tone fractured a little as she affirmed, “I’ll be right there.”

Tony called the NYPD. He gathered Rhodey and Happy and Pepper and a team of specialist SI security employees. He scoured footage and followed leads himself, gave every piece of information he had to the cops, sent out teams of drones to survey as much of New York as he could until, five days later, Pepper laid her hands on his shoulders and told him, “If you don’t rest now you’re going to be useless.”

“He’s still out there, Pep.”

She simply smiled sadly at him and repeated, “If you don’t rest now you’re going to be useless.”

“I can’t just rest.”

“Yes, you can. Come on.” She let him take her arm and guided him out of his chair as if he were fragile, ancient. “You’re going to take a hot bath. I’m going to warm up your favourite pyjamas. You’re going to take some sleeping pills, and I’ll be with you all night.”

“The kid needs me--”

“He does. He needs you to be strong, and to do that you have to sleep.”

“Make sure I’m up at five.”

“Six.”

“Five-thirty.”

As awful as it felt harbouring a head full of horrific images of what could be happening to the kid while he let his muscles unknot themselves in a tub of hot water, he awoke the next morning with renewed determination for his task.

Losing Peter was simply not an option.

“Whoever’s got him, they must know a lot,” May remarked over coffee as she watched Tony at work that morning. “To disconnect his suit, too.”

She left for a shift at the hospital a few hours later - as much as she wanted to be around during the search for Peter, her job didn’t allow her to take leave for her missing nephew, and she was determined to remain self-sufficient - but her statement stayed with Tony.

They must know a lot.

When Tony stopped searching for a lone villain and started picturing a group - an organisation of some sort - the pieces began to fit.

“Show me feed 4, the 2nd of February, at... 2 pm. One of the first drone searches I sent out, right?”

“That is correct,” FRIDAY chimed. “The feed begins just over a mile from this facility.”

And there it is. The small, ramshackle building by the freeway. He’d dismissed it at first as a broken-down shelter, but it’s too incongruous not to take a closer look now.

“Send in a scout. I want to see inside.”

Not a minute later, the miniature drone whirred through a chink in its wall and revealed a room that appeared completely unremarkable but for the circular trapdoor set into the centre of the floor. 

After ten minutes of studying that trapdoor, realisation - a thunderbolt from heaven, the eureka moment inventors like him grasp at all their lives - strikes him. He notices the design: a circle broken by a diagonal hinge on the bottom right.

“Bring up the Oscorp logo,” he demanded urgently.

An image flew to join the paused feed of the trapdoor. A circle broken at the bottom right.

Oscorp.

Lunging for his phone, he patched a call through to Norman Osborn - how he came to store the fucker’s number, God only knows, but he was thankful for it then - and hoped his hunch was correct.

“You took the kid.”

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” Osborn had returned with a short bark of laughter.

As he takes in the state of Peter all over again in the doorway of the Compound, he wishes he’d killed Osborn personally. Painfully. Made him feel every inch of pain the kid must have gone through.

The kid. The kid he’d taken out for ice cream on his sixteenth birthday last summer. The kid whose screams are still freshly ringing through Tony’s mind.

He hovers his hands over the motionless body beside him, searching for somewhere to make contact with that won’t hurt the kid. 

“Fucking hell, he just - we’re - he walked all the way back.”

Pepper ends her call and immediately looks to him, gaping, her composure discarded. “What the hell happened?”

“I found the place,” he blurts. “Tried to get him out, but I must’ve knocked my head. He… took us back.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“You should get May on the line,” Tony says, trying to clear a path through his jostled brain. It throbs, but his heart aches more acutely.

Pepper just nods, rushing to find the number.

Swallowing away the breaks in his voice, he tugs off his jacket, shakes away the coating of dust from the explosion, and lays it across the kid’s back. He seems even smaller under it, like he’s shrinking by the minute to a shell of what Tony remembers him to be. Unwilling to gather him up and risk aggravating any of his injuries, Tony takes hold of one of his hands: there’s a litany of half-healed scrapes marring the knuckles, but all the fingers look to be in their proper place, which he can’t say the same of about the other. God. “Kiddo, are you awake? Can you try and open your eyes? I just - we’ve just gotta know you’re all good.”

“May, he’s here,” Pepper says. “We have - no, I’m sorry. He’s not awake. Just - come.”

Tony brings the limp knuckles to his cheek, then his chest. “Look, it’s okay to wake up now. Here’s my janky heartbeat. You always recognize it, remember?” He laughs hysterically, tearfully. Tony Stark is on the verge of tears. “We’ve got a team coming - they’re gonna get you on the good stuff, yeah? Stuff kids your age pay hundreds for. Lucky punk.”

Inexplicably, the kid’s eyelids choose that moment to begin dragging themselves open.

“Oh. Kid? Pete?”

Peter’s face screws up the moment he wakes; he groans, a dreadfully tormented noise.

In his peripheral vision, Tony spots the elevator doors opening to allow out an assemblage of medics.

“You’re okay, kid - it’s me, it’s your Mister Stark, yeah? We’re gonna get you all fixed up.”

“M’s… s’k,” Peter garbles.

“Uh-huh,” Tony assents, although he hasn’t a clue what the kid is trying to tell him.

His gaze is brimming with exhaustion, anguish, pain, a host of harrowing emotions that Tony doesn’t ever want to see there again, but through it all shines trust.

As the medics set down their equipment, he squeezes Peter’s hand and receives a slight twitching of the kid's fingers in response. Encouraged, he prepares to make full use of his skills in comforting monologues. “You’re gonna get lifted onto a gurney in just a second so we can get you tucked up in a bed and fixed up. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Peter whines, long and low and broken. After Tony had watched him rein in his response to pain in the white tiled corridor - the fierce, guarded demeanour he’d taken upon him - he reckons the kid deserves to cry out as much as he wants. He must hurt like hell.

Tony can feel it.

He keeps his hand locked around Peter’s as the medical team lifts him onto the gurney on his stomach, the kid locking his gaze on him as if his life depends on it. As he’s carried back towards the elevator, Tony jogs beside him. “And we’re off on a magical adventure to the MedBay,” he jests feebly. One side of Peter’s mouth actually lifts a little. “Get ready to sleep for a decade. I know you’ll love that. No more getting up at the crack of dawn to take the subway, doctor’s orders.”

The elevator takes them briskly upwards, but to Tony it still isn’t fast enough. Through his tirade of falsely-chipper reassurance, the medical team makes a cursory assessment of his injuries and responsivity.

“Your aunt is on her way. She’ll be here real soon, so expect a lot of kisses. From me, too. If that’s alright.”

“Sir, we need you to clear the room while we prep for surgery.”

“Oh.” They’re in an operating room, he realises dimly. “Yes.”

Although it tears at his primal protective instincts, Tony knows he has to step away for the kid’s ultimate wellbeing. Hysterics in the OR will do nothing to ease the process along.

Laying a hand over the crown of Peter’s matted hair, he tries to imbue his own strength into the kid through his touch, though all he’s got at the moment seems to be an overload of frenzied determination.

“Be brave for me, Pete,” he whispers.

There’s an affirmation of his request in Peter’s eyes, he thinks.

He steps away; the doors glide shut before him.

“Well, fucking hell,” he remarks to Pepper who he hears approaching behind him.

“Yes, fucking hell. Do you want to explain why you were passed out and slung over the kid’s shoulder?”

“I found where they’d kept him. Well, I didn’t know for sure, I just… I’m sorry. It was a gut instinct. Couldn’t slow down if there was a chance it was the right lead.”

“Who was it?”

“Oscorp. They brought him to me, and - God - they, he was…” his headache arrives in full force, half-knocking him off his feet with the sudden dizziness that accompanies it. “Maybe we can talk about this after I’ve got some Tylenol in me. Pretty sure I’ve got a concussion.”

“Okay.” Caring Pepper returns. “Let’s get you checked out, too.”

---

Peter opens his eyes to white tiles.

The pain he’d felt so potently the last time he’d been awake has dimmed significantly, leaving him with dull aches; a mattress cushions his smarting back. It’s heavenly, almost unreal.

“They said he’d only be out for an hour or two, right?”

“It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong, May. He’s just exhausted.”

It’s the familiar voices that bring him back to reality, that cement sweet relief in his heart.

Rolling his head to one side, he finds May attached to his hand.

May. May. May who smells of freshly-washed scrubs and orchids and home. 

He flexes his fingers in hers and she startles, pressing her lips together in a trembling smile. “Peter, baby. Peter.”

At the affection in her words, a bright golden thing deep in his chest that has been left neglected in a white tiled corner for twenty-one days flares to life, thawing, easing him.

He attempts to turn his head the other way but finds a wad of gauze across the side of his head that prevents him from seeing all of Tony. He spots the elbows resting on his mattress, the downturned countenance harbouring something deep and raw.

Grief settles heavily in the room. Peter’s had enough of grief.

“Tha’ was,” he tries through his numb mouth, “Tha’ w’s a trip. An’ all I got w’s… was this…” He attempts to indicate himself with a hand but finds the arm that isn’t enclosed in May’s hand trapped by a sling and a number of casts.

Like the force of gravity has suddenly been applied to him and he’s hit the ground with a thud, Peter remembers the snap of those bones breaking, the wordless screams nobody had heeded, the bloodstains that had tarnished undulating white tiling, and feels a painful lump well up in his throat. 

“I d’n’t even ge’ an’thing.” 

A tear races unbidden down his cheek. 

“That w’s a lousy joke. ’m sorry.”

The lamentation trapped within him has been caught behind his sternum for twenty-one days; now that it’s beginning to escape, it’s impossible to stop.

Peter swallows. Another tear falls, sinking into the gauze across his face.

“Hey,” May murmurs soothingly to him, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Everything.

“Forgot how nice y’ were, May,” he tells her, trying to distract from his crying, trying to smile. The gauze and the numbness of the side of his face gets in the way. “Ev’ryone’s real nice ou’ here. Y’ were - m'ster St’rk, y’ came?”

“I did,” he receives in reply. He’s never seen his mentor look so wrecked.

It’s not every day he returns from a kidnapping, he supposes.

“‘M - ‘m back.” He feels as if he needs to say it aloud to solidify it.

“Yes, you are.” May brushes a fond hand across his hair, tucking away his still-dirty bangs. The touch is more tentative than her usual calming gestures, but she offers him a smile that, although plastered on, holds at least a fragment of genuine positivity. “Everyone’s very happy about that, you know.”

His mind turning to the days at school he never attended, the unanswered texts in his phone, the life he’d left behind, Peter tips his head back restlessly. “Di’ Ned… we were g’na…”

“He handled your World History presentation,” May says with a huff of laughter that is mirrored by Mister Stark. “Don’t you worry about it.”

“Goo’. Prou’ of him.” He is. He misses him and MJ like hell.

May’s countenance affects stern incredulity, although she can never muster up any real discipline while he’s bedbound. Peter has learnt this through a long period of trial and error where, after engaging in some form of stupid behaviour, she’d always wait until he was back on his feet to grill him out. With the state he’s in now, he guesses it will take a while this time. She chuckles wetly at him. “You walked yourself all the way back here, you crazy boy.”

Peter takes another hazy stab at lifting the mood: “Crazy, ‘s m’ - uh, my…”

“Middle name?” supplies Mister Stark, subdued.

“Mm. M’ middle name.”

The crease in his mentor’s brow sets off a warning pang in his chest. 

“M’ster St’rk?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Is ev’rythin’ all, uh…” his brain and mouth won’t work together to produce the words he wants. “All, all, um.”

Tony seems to sense the root of his concern. “You’re safe. I made sure of it myself. Multiple times. We have those guys handled, I promise.” He rests a hand on Peter’s knee, pats it a few times, but he gets the feeling that he’s holding back from doing something as intimate as wiping tears from where they’ve halted, quivering, in the hollows of his eye sockets. In a quiet corner of his mind, Peter wishes he would. 

“Oh. ‘kay.”

He can’t quite bring himself to believe it.

---

The next time he wakes up, he’s gained a new level of coherence that leads him to take stock of the state he’s in. The dressing on his face feels damp but cool with whatever they’ve used to treat the burns. The burns he doesn’t want to think about. 

There’s a splint and a layer of gauze across his nose to reset it; a cast on his hand, one on his forearm, and a sling holding the whole arm at a 90-degree angle. It alleviates the burning pain he’d barely even processed in his collarbone. He can feel a dressing across the lashes on his back, too, and an ice pack laid across his swollen ribs over the hospital gown he’s now dressed in. He’s free from a cannula, thankfully; there are just two IV lines trailing from the crook of his arm and the back of his hand respectively.

God, I’m a mess.

It’s certainly the most wiped-out he’s ever felt. His eyelids are ten-tonne weights.

The trouble comes when May offers him a plastic cup upon noticing his return to consciousness. “Do you want a couple of ice chips, honey?”

“Would you like some clothes?”

Peter’s heart picks up the pace.

“Uh, I - I don’ know.”

“You don’t know?” May presses, brows knitting, and he’s letting her down. She wants an answer.

“Wha’s, wha’s gonna happ’n?” he asks tremulously, recalling the thump of a whip descending on his back, the echoes of his own screams accompanied by the sickening cracking of bones, a million hands pressing him to the ground, and simply needing to know that he’s safe from it.

He is safe. He knows that. But a more primal part of him is terrified.

“What do you mean, baby? Are you feeling okay?”

From his accustomed place at Peter’s right side, Tony leans forward in his seat and interjects. “Hey, is this something to do with…?”

Peter isn’t sure why he says it. It just comes out. “T’ earn wha’ I need, I gotta take punishmen’.”

There’s an ugly silence. Tony sets a hand over Peter’s ankle; Peter can pick up the tremors in his grip. May chews on her lower lip. 

“Kid,” Tony says quietly.

“‘M sorry, it just… that’s wha’ they said. I know ‘s not… bu’, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Tony frowns good-naturedly, signalling a Mister Stark-patented statement on the way, and sure enough: “I don’t want to hear the word sorry out of your mouth for at least a month.”

It’s familiar, comforting, and helps Peter ground himself in the room, the hospital bed, the safe place. 

He smiles wonkily at Mister Stark. “Y’know tha’s unrealistic.”

“Seriously, kid, are you gonna take the ice chips?” is the amusement-tinged response. Tony nods towards the cup now set down on the overbed table, his countenance radiating a schooled softness. “No strings attached, that’s a guarantee.”

“Sure,” Peter blusters, shrugging then regretting it as his collarbone is struck with a stabbing pain. “‘kay.”

May pushes a few chips into his mouth, softly pushing away his good hand, which he notices is weighed down by fatigue and more spindly than the last time he’d been in the MedBay. Almost a month of starvation does that to you, he guesses.  The ice chips are heavenly against his arid throat.

“Is that how you got all banged up?” Tony inquires softly, re-igniting the previous thread of conversation, and although it unearths the reel of harrowing memories that blemish his recent past, something in Peter yearns to tell Mister Stark, to show him that he’d tried his best, even if it doesn’t appear that way.

He’d gotten captured, kidnapped, and absolutely wrecked, and he’d just waited around until Mister Stark had come to save him. Whether Oscorp was involved or not, it fosters a rankling sense of shame in his gut.

If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it.

“Tony,” May hisses.

Peter nods anyway, the rustling dressing over his face irritating him. “Yeah.” He searches for Tony’s gaze, injects sincerity into his garbled speech. “I didn’ wanna ask f’r anything an’ I made it five days wi’out water. Bu’... I had to.”

“Course you did,” Mister Stark tells him with a startling level of empathy.

“I tried t’ be smart,” Peter continues, “S’ they wouldn’ hurt me t’ much.”

“Pete, I’m not grading you on how well you handled yourself in there. Relax. You got out, that’s all that matters.”

“You go’ me out,” mutters Peter.

The crow’s feet lining Mister Stark’s eyes deepen. “Same difference,” he affirms.

But it isn’t.

“Di’ you hear me, May?” he finds himself saying, blinking away a haze of rumination from his vision.

“What?”

“I called you in there, y’ know.”

The feel of the vintage telephone he’d wished into being is somehow more concrete than the real memories of pacing the floor and sleeping on the ceiling and not-crying and crawling when he became too weak to stand and screaming to a helpless Mister Stark as fire licked the side of his face.

“You - there was a phone?” May asks quizzically. She’s trying her very best to understand him, Peter knows, to listen to him and fix any problem he voices, to make it all better. It’s him who’s all over the place.

“No. There wasn’ anything. Just tiles. Bu’ I pretended. Thought y’ might hear anyway.”

His remark breaks something in May. With a sharp inhale, she pushes back her chair and stands, looking anywhere but at Peter, at the casts and dressings and stitches that hold him together. “You know what?” she says loudly, “I’m gonna - do you want a milkshake, Peter? I’m getting you a milkshake. Something nice to get you back to solid foods.”

She rakes a hand through her unwashed hair and leaves.

The mattress feels too soft for Peter now, dipping under his weight. He wallows in his own stupidity.

His memories are now too dark to share with May: she isn’t a superhero, just a woman who has lost her husband and who didn’t ask to be pulled into a world where she risks losing her nephew too. She didn’t ask to have another person to worry about, but here Peter is, breaking her heart. He almost wishes she didn’t care so ardently as she does, didn’t long so fruitlessly to protect him from the wear and tear of the superhuman world.

The silence between him and Mister Stark hangs heavily, riddled with tension and the shared recollection of Peter’s screams.

Only when Tony clears his throat and says, “I set you up a new phone,” is he pulled away from his thoughts.

“You di’?”

It’s tossed into his lap. “Go ahead and text your little Gen Z heart away.”

As hard as Peter tries to turn the device on and swipe over to his apps with his one uninjured hand, it just slips from his grip. His face reddens.

“M’ster S’rk?”

“Yuh-huh?” Mister Stark hasn’t yet noticed, having angled himself away from Peter a little and placed his head in his hands. At Peter’s sheepish call, he twists to face him again in a series of jerks. “Oh.” He lunges for the phone, newly sober. “Oh, yeah. How about I read everything out for you?”

In an instant, the notion of Mister Stark seeing all his texts manifests in all its horrifying glory, and Peter finds himself fearing something as trivial as the discovery of his awkward message history with MJ and nerdy conversations with Ned. It’s oddly relieving.

“Don’ spy on my texts,” he protests weakly. The blue light reflecting on Mister Stark’s face serves as a blatant reminder that his mentor might just be betraying him already.

Tony smirks. “I can’t not spy on them if they’re right there.”

Peter lets out a huff that he hopes conveys the entirety of his indignance, although he’s aware the side of his face that’s free of dressings probably doesn’t create a very threatening image.

“There you are,” Tony chuckles in the face of his display, “I was waiting for that little frown.”

“‘M not little.”

“If you say so, pipsqueak.”

Peter rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can. “Jus’ let me talk t’ Ned ‘nd MJ.”

“Video call?” Mister Stark suggests as if he hasn’t yet noticed the way Peter’s face must look.

The thought of his friends seeing the human punching bag he’s become cuts a sense of horror in him too deep for the lightness of the interaction he’s engaged in.

“No, no, no,” he rushes to say before hurriedly covering his panic with a languid shake of his head. “No calls. Text.”

“And you’re gonna dictate them to me like I’m a medieval scribe?”

“I dig tha’.” Peter finds himself letting out a short bark of laughter despite himself. He’s a melting pot of emotion, experiencing everything at once.

“I resent that,” retorts his mentor lightly.

“Suck i’ up, M’ster S’rk. ‘m an invalid, y’ gotta do what I say.”

Tony just swallows. Peter hopes he didn’t say the wrong thing again.

“Di’ Ned say anything?” he prompts eventually.

“A great many things. Forty-two, in fact.”

“Oh, man.” Just the thought of forty-two things makes his head spin. Ned probably went out of his mind. “Don’ think I c’d process tha’ right now. Jus’... tell him I’m alrigh’. ‘M alive an’ he can finish the Imperial S’r Destroyer wi’out me.”

“The Imperial Star Destroyer?” echoes Mister Stark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Peter remembers the enthusiasm he used to hold for things like this. He tries hollowly but valiantly to recreate that excitement as he replies: “‘S got four thousan’, seven h’ndred an’ eighty four pieces, M’ster St’rk. Isn't tha’ crazy?”

His mentor’s eyes crinkle amiably as he regards Peter, shifting back a little in his seat as if the levity has physically purged some of his stress. “You built all of that?”

“We w’re gonna,” shrugs Peter.

“He’s typing already. It’s… I have to break it to you, Pete, but his fine motor skills seem to have declined significantly in the time you were gone.”

“Wha’ do y’ mean?”

“It’s just a string of random letters.”

“He’s keyb’rd smashin’, M’ster St’rk,” Peter giggles, ignoring the rasp of his throat.

Tony clicks his tongue. “I won’t even ask.”

Making an attempt to lean upwards in his bed and towards the glow of the screen in Mister Stark’s hands which is quickly aborted by the ache of his ribs and back, Peter urges, “Wha’s he sayin’ now?”

“I think I made out a holy shit somewhere in there… I’m gonna kill you, I thought you were dead… No, I am not finishing the Destroyer without you…”

Peter smiles.

“What happened? With an abundance of question marks.” Raising his eyeline with a dip of his brows, Tony studies him for a moment.

“Tell him i’ was S’ider-Man stuff an’ I got in trouble but ‘m alrigh’,” Peter tells him as firmly as he can.

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

“He’ll stress ou’.”

Setting aside the phone in favour of lacing his fingers together atop his lap, Tony sighs, heralding a lecture to come. “Kid, I won’t lie to you,” he says with surprising softness, “Not everything just goes away once you’re back in the world. Some things never do. You - you know that, right? You’re prepared for that?”

At that very moment, Peter is saved by the bustling entrance of May, who sets a creamy drink before him and smiles hopefully. “I got you salted caramel.”

“Th’nk you so much, May.” Inexplicably, it’s the drink, the way his enhanced senses pick up the rich, sugary smell and the slow bleeding of caramel syrup into the milky base, which rekindles passion in Peter, infuses a little color into his world. He lifts his hand until it rests on her arm, too weak to raise it further, and she sets her hand a little awkwardly but with sincerity over his. 

“S’lted caramel’s the bes’.”

“I know, honey.” Returning his smile shakily, she squeezes his hand and tells him, “Now, I want you to enjoy it, okay? It’s - it’s your first...”

Where she trails off, he picks up. “My firs’ drink back in the real w’rld.”

May nods, blinking fiercely. Everything Peter does seems to upset her. So he shuts up and latches on to the straw of the drink.

It’s mind-blowingly good. It’s cool and thick and delicious and makes him feel a whole lot better.

“Can I swear?” he pipes up out of the blue. “Jus’ once?”

Mister Stark indulges him. “Go on.”

“H’ly fuck , I’ve missed s’lted caramel.”

---

Peter tried to escape. He did.

The second time he heard the rhythmic beat of boots nearing his cell, he leapt up onto the wall right beside the door, flattening himself against the tile in the hope that the masked group would be taken by surprise by his sudden attack. With nothing but unbridled terror on his side, he prepared to take out four armed guards who had wrestled him easily to the floor the day before.

The force of the group was unneeded, it transpired. As soon as Peter threw his first weakened punch, the room filled with the torturous whistle, making him drop to the floor in shock.

“Would you like anything?” he was asked mildly after the noise had ceased at last. 

From his sprawled position on the floor, hands still covering his ringing ears, Peter shook his head vehemently. “No. Please, go away.”

White tiles spun with the dizzying motion of a carousel before his vision, the cacophony of retreating boots at odds with the thousands of dismembered feet he sees tramping across the unidentifiable orb of the cell. Peter bit back a cry of pain as the slam of the door assaulted his ears, rocking his head back and forth, back and forth, losing himself in the distracting motion.

His swallows became avalanches, blinking like the shutter of a camera pressed against his eyes.

“Oh, man,” he mumbled unevenly, nausea creeping up his throat. “Pull yourself together, Peter. Come on. Just - chill.”

It wasn’t the first time his senses had overloaded. The bout of sickness after the spider bite; his first overwhelming patrol; a school day he’d attended on a single hour of sleep; all had brought about these almost familiar symptoms. But before, he could crawl between his sheets, relaxing in the familiar scent of his room, and call it a day. He could stumble through his day in sunglasses and headphones, knowing it would pass. He could even lock himself in the dark, soundproofed room in the Compound - the isolation room - and shut out every sensation but his own breath and heartbeat. In his box, there was nothing to distract him from the frightening lack of control that came with the sensory overload but his own sheer willpower.

So he continued to rock back and forth for what could have been hours, simply waiting for the storm to pass by.

---

Peter wakes to a sweat-soaked hospital gown and a lump in his throat.

Sucking in a raw breath, he takes in the room: Tony stirring at his side and May passed out at his other. Nothing out of the ordinary. He burns all over, however, damp and shaky and aching.

“Kid?” Tony mutters, righting himself and rubbing at his eyes.

“Mister St’rk, I gotta go t’ the isolation room,” he blurts.

That gets Mister Stark up quickly. He takes in Peter’s taut face, his good hand clenched in the sheets, the beads of moisture at his hairline, and nods.

The transferral from his bed to a wheelchair is awkward and excruciating, with Tony struggling to bundle his fragile limbs and IV lines safely into the seat while Peter shuts his eyes against the red-hot pokers of Tony’s hands on him and the shifting of the synthetic overhead lights against his skull and the jostling of his arm and back and ribs and face. It’s worth it , he tells himself. Just a few minutes and there will be blissful silence.

“Nightmare?” Tony asks him in a hushed tone as he wheels him down corridors and into the lift.

“Flashback, I th’nk.”

Tony’s hand settles in his slick curls; he wordlessly combs them out, his touch feather-light, and it’s a welcome distraction from the deafening creaking of the cables around them.

Guiding him and his IV stand into the darkened room, he half-shuts the door and breathes, “Anything you need, give FRIDAY a command, remember? She won’t make any noise. I’ll come and get you out when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, his brain rattling with the volume. 

The door is eased shut, leaving only blissful quiet.

Blissful for a short while, anyway.

Peter has never loved the isolation room. As helpful as it is to rebalance his senses, the very name reminds him of why it scares him - isolation. Now, bound to his wheelchair, hearing only his own heartbeat, all he can think of are the days in his cell wracked with pain too great to allow him to move but also gripped by terrible loneliness.

The fear of being alone has dogged him all his life. Re-starting his life without his parents. Watching Ben bleed out on the ground before him. Floundering under the weight of the collapsed warehouse. Never was it more starkly exposed, however, than the twenty-one days he’d spent in his box.

He’d been scared. He could have rotted there forever, his last breath plagued by the loneliness he’d fought so hard to run from.

“FRIDAY,” he gasps, “Get me ou’ of here.”

Tony comes rushing through, concern clear on his face, but Peter wants nothing more than to cling to him and never let go, so he does just that, clutching him until he grunts at the pain radiating from his ribs.

“Kid, I’m here. You’re fine.”

“Didn’ work,” he says into Tony’s shoulder.

“I know.” Mister Stark’s voice brims with sadness. “It’s okay, let’s just - take a breather for a minute. Sit here.”

“Can’ do much else,” huffs Peter.

They rest, Mister Stark breathing into Peter’s hair while he keeps his hand stuck stubbornly to his mentor’s back.

#fanfic #fanfiction #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #whump #angst #hurt and comfort #notaparty-trick

[kumkaniudaku]

Old Friends

A/N: Been gone for a minute. Hopefully this is a peace offering. 

“Mommy, AJ is putting his mouth on the shoppy cart again.”

Tasha’s eyes snapped away from the zucchini noodles on aisle six to examine the fourth interruption in her shopping experience in less than ten minutes. Sure enough, Noah’s mouth was attached to the cart’s handle, shining the germ-infested metal with his constant drooling.

“Aaron, no! Take your mouth off of that.” Her walking came to an abrupt halt to frantically pull her son’s face away from the cart and wipe the spit from his cheeks. The teeth breaking through his itching gums made any surface attractive for biting except the teething ring she had handed him before they ventured into the store.

Snatching a baby wipe from her purse, she worked to clean the handle while searching through his travel bag for another ring for him to chew.

“Mommy, how come Daddy is Aaron and AJ is Aaron too?”

“Your brother has your daddy’s middle name, Boop.”

“Well, how come me and you don’t have the same middle name?”

“Because we liked Noelle better for you.”

“But why?”

Tasha took a deep breath to compose her bubbling emotions and offered a closed mouth smile to her daughter. “Because that’s what you do when you’re a mommy and daddy. You give kids names.”

“Can I name my kid Bunny? I love bunnies!”

“Sure. Have all the animal named kids you want when you’re older.”

Accepting the explanation, Micah returned to the book in her hands much to Tasha’s delight. Grocery shopping alone was already Hell on Earth, but the addition of both of her children was turning the trip into a madhouse. She’d managed to strategically avoid the candy aisle and Micah’s desperate plea for “just a taste,” but knew a storm was brewing after she swiped the zucchini pasta into her cart and began the trek toward the breakfast cereal aisle. Chadwick hated the sugar-filled treats and discouraged her from bringing them into the house, but he also wasn’t the one to shuffle a grumpy child out of the house and to school every morning. Tasha would make the decision and ask for forgiveness later.

As she browsed the tidy shelves for a compromise between sweet delights and bland whole wheat options, she heard the loud shriek of a child and prayed it wasn’t one of hers. Another round of spitting giggles shared between two children finally made her turn her head. Instead of being met with mischief, she found Noah engaged in a starry-eyed exchange with a curly-haired little girl in a cart across the walkway.

“You think she’s pretty, huh,” She smiled before turning her attention to the other child. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Oh, this is Olivia,” a male voice that Tasha didn’t acknowledge answered for the little girl.

All of the emotions of having a baby in her presence sent CoCo’s voice into the high pitch that adults use with children, and she had to scold herself mentally for reaching out to touch the unfamiliar child.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Tasha apologized as she stood to her full height. “I get so excited when I see babies. Especially one as cute as Miss Olivia.”

“Yeah, well she’s a handful.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Adjusting her baseball cap on her head gave the other participant in the conversation a full view of Tasha’s face and her the same, piecing together the voices with an old, yet familiar presence.

“Tasha?”

“Elijah?”

Both adults stood frozen, receiving short flashes of their time together while people struggled to maneuver around them. The low curse from another disgruntled patron pulled both of them out of their thoughts and back to the present moment.

“Mommy, that man is not Daddy,” Micah informed, apparently done with reading her book and ready to supervise the situation.

“No, he’s not. This is one of Mommy’s old friends. Say hello to Elijah.”

Elijah waved back at Micah who narrowed her eyes and refused to return the gesture.

“Tough crowd,” he laughed as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He hadn’t changed much since Tasha last saw him years ago. He carried a bit more bulk across his arms and chest and sported more stubble than he used to, but he still had the same kind twinkle in his eye and warm smile.

“It’s been a minute huh, Tasha?”

“It has,” CoCo trailed off, staring in space before gathering her bearing and making eye contact. “How are you? Everything goin’ okay?”

Elijah smiled as another family passed between them to take a look at other items and nodded, “Yeah. Things are great. I’m back out here getting the business off the ground. For good this time.”

“This time?”

“Well, you know, after…” The situation quickly became uncomfortable at the mention of their sudden and painful breakup, forcing both of them to focus their attention elsewhere until they were ready to continue. “I moved back to Atlanta for a little while, got my stuff together, and then relocated to Houston. Now I’m here.”

“That’s uh...that’s good to hear. I’m sure Houston was beautiful.”

“It was. I learned a lot, met a few people, and started that real estate consulting firm I used to obsess about.”

Tasha nodded at the information without speaking. Guilt was starting to spread into every corner of her mind, and no matter how she tried to hide it, her eyes went sad. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for deferring his dreams.

“I see everything worked out with you,” Elijah continued, gesturing toward Micah and Noah. Micah’s stood in the cart with her eyes still narrowed as she observed the interaction while Noah’s mouth had found its way to the handle of the shopping cart again. If ever there was a time for her children to pretend to be perfect angels, it was now.

“I saw the wedding photos. And the birth announcements, the promotions, all that. I should’ve kept that to myself. I promise I wasn’t stalking you. The ShadeRoom is just usually on my explore page.”

“No, it’s cool. Things are great with me. You’ve met Micah, and this is Noah.”

“That one looks exactly like you,” he laughed as he motioned to Micah. “The expression and stance are all you.”

“Think so? Everyone says she looks like her dad.”

“Eh, kinda. But I see your spirit in there. She doesn’t take anybody’s shit.”

“You said a bad word, Mister ‘Lijah! One dollar in the swear jar for you.”

“Micah, be nice,” CoCo warned the tiny version of her. Though she heard her mother loud and clear, Micah calmly sat back inside the cart and continued to eye Elijah. She was taking notes for a later retelling to her favorite person.

Turning back to Elijah, Tasha attempted to salvage the conversation.

“I see you’re doing well too. Olivia has your eyes.”

“That’s what my mom says,” He laughed.

“Oh my God, I hope Mama Cheryl doesn’t hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word. But I’d watch out if I were you. Mama’s quick in that new power scooter.”

“Yikes. Okay, noted,” CoCo winced after an uneasy laugh. His mother had never been fond of her, and she was sure news about the breakup didn’t help. “So, Olivia’s mom. Is she…”

“She’s back in Houston for a little while. We’ve been doing the long-distance thing, but by the end of the month, she’ll be here so we can finish planning for the wedding.”

“A wedding! That’s great!”

“We gotta get it done before she starts showing again. She’s hell bent on fitting into the dress she chose before she got pregnant.”

“As she should be! Every woman should feel beautiful on their big day!”

“You know, you sound like her. You sure you don’t know Alyssa Tyler?”

“I don’t, but I’m sure if we share similar thoughts, she’s a great woman.”

The pair shared a laugh that felt more like friends reuniting than ex-lovers fumbling their way through their first in-person exchange since the breakup. Suddenly, though, the energy shifted when the weight of Elijah’s words set in.

He was getting married. They’d probably never see each other again after a chance meeting in the supermarket and, if that was the case, CoCo needed to clear the air before she lost the moment forever.

‘Hey, E, I need to apologize.”

Elijah’s smile dropped into a distant frown as he shrugged, “It’s cool, Tash. I-”

“No, it’s not cool. I did a terrible thing to you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not coming to you in person. I’m especially sorry for all of the pain that I’ve caused. It’s completely up to you if you choose to forgive me or not.”

“Look,” he started as he lifted a restless Olivia from her place in the grocery cart. “I was unbelievably hurt after what happened. I thought about trying to get you back, but I realized one thing.”

“That you didn’t want to go to jail for murder?”

“No, I was prepared to go to jail.” The seriousness in his admission lasted for a brief moment before he laughed to ease the tension. “What I was going to say is that I realized that you made the decision that was best for you. I would’ve loved for things to be different, but then we both would have never been placed in the situations we’re in now. You have a dope ass family, and I found the woman that I wanna spend the rest of my life with. We’re good. I promise.”

In his way of signaling a truce, Elijah extended his arm to present his closed fist to Tasha which she bumped her knuckles.  

“I should tell you, though,” he started. “I was gonna propose later that night.”

“Wait, what? The night of the charity event.”

He nodded while situating his daughter on his hip, “The plan was the gift you the house, and once everyone was gone, I had a little setup in the bedroom upstairs. Honestly, I almost pulled the engagement ring out of my pocket instead of the keys, because I was nervous.”

One thousand what if scenarios rolled through Tasha's mind following Elijah's revelation. What if he would’ve gone through with the proposal? Would she have said yes? With her rational mind, she was sure the answer to her final question was no. Not only was she not ready to be married at that point, but she’d been toying with the notion that she needed to explore what possibilities lay within Chadwick.

“Wow. I-I...I didn’t know that.”

“It’s best that you didn’t. What was meant for us came true. Just answer one question for me.”

“Sure! Anything.”

His eyes darted to Tasha’s left, finding Micah continuing to eye him over her Dr. Seuss book before lowering his voice for privacy.

“Were you ever cheating on me?”

“God no,” Tasha exclaimed. “We didn’t start dating until after you and I broke up. I swear.”

The rush of relief on his face and the breath he let out confirmed that Tasha need not divulge certain parts of her and her husband's union. As far as Elijah was concerned, it was months rather than literal hours that separated the relationship.

Just as Elijah opened his mouth to continue the conversation, Olivia released a shriek so loud that it scared Noah into tears. Being unable to communicate her discomfort with words only exasperated the situation. Two crying babies, a shady daughter, and all eyes in the immediate area on them forced Tasha and Elijah to say their goodbyes.

“It was nice seeing you, Elijah. Please, send us a wedding invitation or a link to your registry so that we can get you two a gift.”

“Will do, Tash. Tell Yvonne I said hi. See you later, Little Mama.” Elijah’s free hand extended to shake Micah’s that resulted in a harsh stare. “She really is you. It’s like the first time we met all over again.”

“Trust me; I was much nicer.”

“Mmmmm, I beg to differ.”

After a final set of laughs and goodbyes that carried empty promises to see each other again, CoCo completed her shopping trip with relative ease. Having closure on the situation that had privately plagued her for years lifted a figurative weight from her shoulders. Now, she could finally close that chapter of her life and mentally forgive herself.

As she set off toward an impromptu stop at her favorite shoe boutique to try on a pair of shoes she would request for her approaching birthday, CoCo dialed Chadwick on the car phone. Micah’s ears perked at the sound of her father’s voice, and she sat up from the nap that was beginning to claim her eyelids for a closer listen.

“Babe, I got the pasta noodles you wanted, but you have to cook them. I always get the recipe wrong.”

“That’s fine. It’s my night to cook anyway.”

“The last six Thursday’s have been your night, but I’m happy to see you adhering to the schedule.”

“This isn’t the way to get me to continue if you were wondering,” he laughed on the other end. “The car is quiet. Are the kids asleep?”

“Noah is, I don’t know ab-”

“DADDY! MOMMY WAS TALKING TO A MAN AT THE STORE! HE SAID HE WAS GONNA SUPPOSE!”

“Micah!”

Tasha stared in horror at her center console as the line became eerily silent. Of course, she had no intentions of hiding the information from Chadwick, but she sure as hell didn’t want her conversation with her ex to be blurted by her daughter who only had some of the facts straight. She was sure her husband had hung up the phone if not for the sound of the television in his background.

“I’m gonna assume 'suppose' means propose. You out here gettin’ married on me, girl? I thought for sure having both the kids with you would keep you safe. I guess you just that fine.”

“HE HAD A BABY TOO! HER NAME WAS OLIVIA. AJ LIKES HER!”

“Oh my-Micah, sit down and hush!”

“Nuh uh, tell Daddy all about it, Princess!”

“No! Micah, you be quiet and, Aaron, I will talk you when we get home. Goodbye!”

Neither Chadwick or Micah could get another word in as CoCo ended the call with lightning speed. When she looked in her rear-view mirror, she found her only daughter in her booster seat with her arms crossed and a searing glare directed toward her.

“I see it’s time to teach you about girl code, Boop. Rule number one: let Mommy tell Daddy first!”

                                           __________

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#Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chad x coco #chadwick boseman fan fiction

[canoncannon]

So, I have a prompt that won’t get out of my head. Jesus makes it a habit to visit Hobo Daryl whenever he is out on runs and stuff and they get to know each other, and eventually fall in love. It takes a long time. D is initially annoyed at the intrusion to his solitude, but Jesus cracks through his shell. They open up to each other and J eventually makes a move. Awkwardness insues. D is virginal and things don’t go smoothly. You are the goddess of awkward Desus, and you would rock this. 😘

This was prompted so, so long ago, and I kind of paused doing prompts to try to update my WIPs… it’s actually a continuation from my last ficlet (https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833258/chapters/40192958), but can also be read on its own I think.

@radiofreeamy thank you so much for the prompt, and I’m sorry it took me so long :)

“You ain’t gotta take the couch,” Daryl says, shifting his weight. He and his dog look both filthy and uncomfortably aware of it.

“You and Dog won’t fit on the couch,” Paul replies.

“She can sleep on the floor. Don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Daryl. It gets cold at night, even in here. Take the damn bed.”

Daryl leans down to pet the mutt. “You and your Jesus shtick. Always running people’s errands, giving people your food, letting people sleep in your bed.”

“By ‘running errands’ I think you mean ‘conducting trade negotiations.’ And my usual way of getting people into my bed is far from Christlike, I assure you.”

It’s something he’d have said without second thought in the woods. In his room, though, it feels too intimate. Too real.

“Pft. Explain all them women you’ve slept on the couch for, then.” Daryl’s not looking at him, still petting Dog.

“You want a shower? There’s warm water,” Paul says, because sure, asking Daryl to get naked will help ease the awkward tension in the room. He doesn’t so much as glance at Daryl as he adds another blanket to the couch, mentally berating himself.

—

In the woods, everything had been easy. Paul liked stopping in for a night or two to check on Daryl and flirt a little—occasionally even going so far as to think about taking things further than that, if only Daryl would give him a sign he was into it—before returning home and fucking Alex into the mattress.

Alex is with Wes now, and Daryl is ten feet away in Paul’s bed.

Having a stupid little crush on someone he only saw a couple dozen times a year had made it easy to dismiss the way he felt as unimportant—as, well, a stupid little crush. Having Daryl in the trailer is a different thing entirely.

They play checkers a lot. They eat breakfast that Daryl cooks while Paul struggles to drag himself awake, because coffee is now officially a thing of the past.

Which gets Paul thinking: in the past, if he was attracted to a guy, nine times out of ten he’d simply ask to kiss him. And it had usually worked out for him, at least for the night. With Daryl, that seems unimaginable. He’s never made friends easily, even before roamers started eating his available options. Losing Daryl, even if he gets to fuck him first—maybe especially if he gets to fuck him first—is unacceptable.

But there’s a look on Daryl’s face, sometimes, that makes him wish that he was be brave enough to risk it.

—

Paul falls asleep reading on the bed one night; there’s no light by the couch. Daryl doesn’t wake him up to move, and he wakes up to find Dog laying across both of their legs, head on Daryl’s foot and sharp nails against Paul’s shins.

Two nights later, he falls asleep there again, and pretends in the morning that it was an accident.

When he gets back to the trailer that evening, Daryl’s moves his pillow and blankets onto the bed. He blushes when Paul comes in, and Paul’s heart does something weird. Some might call it ‘skipping a beat’—Paul calls it a fucking betrayal.

—

“She wasn’t kidding. We started it two years ago.” Paul is laying on the bed that he tells himself they share for warmth. Dog is laying in the exact middle of the bed; she generally sleeps between them, as if guarding her master’s virtue. He glares at her, then scratches her ear.

“Does she even know for sure that it’s New Years Eve?” Daryl settles into the bed in his pajama bottoms and long-sleeved top. They’re all freezing their balls off this winter.

“I guess Gregory kept a calendar, and she took it over. It’s close enough, anyway.” Paul reaches for the light, then settles back into the bed. “We don’t have to go. We’ll sign up for watch.”

“I already told her I’d go. She just sprung it on me.”

“Sucks to be you, then,” Paul teases, and they fall silent for the night.

—

Paul had underestimated Maggie’s determination, though. Before he gets a chance to switch watch shifts with someone, giving them the loud, chaotic heat of a jam-packed Barrington library in exchange for a flashlight and Voltaire in the frosty silence, Alden oh-so-casually mentioned how important the party is to her, and how much she wants him there.

As if that wasn’t enough, the next day Maggie hunts him down while he’s doing laundry for the sole purpose of telling him that Daryl doesn’t know that many people at Hilltop yet, and will be more comfortable with Jesus around to distract him.

Paul knows when he’s being manipulated; he also knows when he’s been beaten. He gives in with fairly good grace.

—

The night of the party, he and Daryl sequester into a corner to be uncomfortable and drunk together.

Alex is across from them in the opposite corner, hanging all over Wes, suddenly comfortable with PDA in a way he’d never been with Paul. Granted, they’d never been an official item, but he’d made such a point of keeping his distance—and now he’s sitting on a couch practically in his new boyfriend’s lap, occasionally nuzzling his neck. 

The worst part is that Alex isn’t even doing it to annoy him—he’s completely oblivious.

Daryl looks miserable, too, but then he always does when he’s surrounded by people.

Finally, midnight strikes.

—

Daryl definitely hadn’t planned it. In fact, he doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s in the middle of doing it: holding out his arms with a tiny shrug, offering Jesus a midnight kiss.

It’s just something about Paul’s hurt expression after he locked eyes with Alex—

Something about the superior little glance that smug asshole gives them as he practically gnaws Wes’s face off—

Something about Paul’s flushed cheeks and abrupt change in posture—

Daryl just reacts, offering, and to his surprise, Paul takes him up on it.

Daryl steps back less than a second later, realizing he’s made a mistake; seeing Paul kiss a grimy redneck isn’t likely to make Alex feel any less superior.

—

Paul leaves right afterwards, just turns and practically runs out of the room, so apparently it had been a mistake on multiple levels.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it. Woozy with liquor, Daryl stands and follows him out, down the stairs and into the freezing cold.

Small boot prints lead him to the barn.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Daryl calls out as he enters, because he knows Paul will have heard him coming even over the wind. “Don’t know what I was thinking, just… your ex is a douchebag, and… I dunno. M’sorry.”

“Are you… apologizing for the fact that I kissed you?” Paul appears before him in the dim light, looking cold. Neither of them had grabbed their coats before leaving the party.

Daryl scowls, and Paul’s eyes.

He takes a slow step forward, then a faster one, and then he’s kissing the hell out of Daryl. Then he takes his hand and pulls him out of the barn, across the courtyard through the snow.

Daryl honest to God doesn’t know where they’re going at first, and thinks vaguely that he doesn’t want to go back to the party.

When they reach the trailer they both pause out of habit to pull off boots and socks. Daryl finds himself staring stupidly at a perfectly ordinary set of small white feet that he’s probably seen a dozen or two times before, but never actually noticed.

“I could bring you off with them, if you’re into feet,” Paul says, and Daryl realizes, for the first time, that Paul definitely intends to have sex with him.

—

Paul wants this. He wants it now, and tomorrow night, and next week, and he’s more than willing to go outside of his usual sexual wheelhouse to ensure Daryl has a good time.

“What?! No! Nah, ain’t into that.”

“Sure? You were staring an awful lot just now.”

“Ain’t the feet, it’s just, uh.” Daryl’s face and posture telegraph his discomfort, but Paul doesn’t interrupt to save him from his own awkwardness. He wants to know the end of that sentence. Eventually Daryl finishes sweetly with, “It’s just you.”

It stops Paul in his tracks, trying and failing to hide a beaming smile. “Ok. Just… I’m open to suggestion, is all. If there’s something specific you want, here.” 

A brief shadow slides over Daryl’s face. “But… what do you want?”

Utterly charmed, Paul steps closer and swoops in for another kiss. Daryl flinches at the quick motion and Paul redirects to his cheek—the last thing he wants is to scare him.

Fortunately Daryl recovers quickly. And he doesn’t just recover, he goes a bit wild, mouth careening around their kiss. Paul’s eyes widen a bit and he pulls Daryl closer, letting the other man plunder his mouth messily.

The enthusiasm makes Daryl’s lack of experience extremely obvious.

Paul pulls away gently. “Hey, slow down a little. We’ve got all night, right?”

Daryl nods and pulls in a huge lungful of air. “M’sorry.”

“What for?”

“I ain’t good at this.”

“You’re doing fantastic so far.”

“Pfft. Ain’t gotta lie.”

“I wouldn’t, I’m not.“ Paul would and is, a little, but he’s not about to complain. He pulls them to the bed—pausing to get Dog settled on the couch, where she glares at them reproachfully—then lays down and waits for Daryl to join him. Smiling reassuringly, because Daryl looks about ready to hyperventilate at their new position, he says, “Is this alright?”

Nodding, Daryl turns towards him. “I didn’t think you wanted this, with me,” he says quietly. He’s not touching Paul, or reaching for him.

“I didn’t think you did.” Paul has been waiting too impatiently for too long to deny himself now. He grabs Daryl’s waist and pulls.

—

The bottom line is, Daryl can’t keep up.

Paul has him out of his clothes before it occurs to him to reciprocate. Then Paul’s touching him, and that’s distracting, and by the time Daryl realizes he needs to move his goddamn hands and do something, anything, with them, Paul is back to kissing him instead.

He wants Paul’s clothes off, he thinks, trying to kiss back. Unless Paul doesn’t want that—but he would, right? It’s the usual thing.

Not that Daryl would fucking know.

He slides a hand up Paul’s thigh to his zip. Paul leans back, straddling Daryl on his knees, and it’s so fucking hot that Daryl loses the use of his thumbs.

After a minute, Paul has mercy on him and undoes his pants.

“Your shirt,” Daryl says, willing to sound stupid if it gets the job done, and Paul smiles down at him in the dim light and pulls his shirt over his head. It’s cold, and his nipples are hard. Daryl’s mind is suddenly launched into an unwelcome tangent: Merle bragging about turning up the air conditioning in a car to get some chick’s nipples hard enough to see through her shirt.

He pulls the other man back down to kiss him, and Paul moans over it, biting Daryl’s lip, and fuck fuck fuck how is this actually happening to him now, at forty-something, after a lifetime of not knowing how to even start talking a guy into having sex with him?

Sitting up again, Paul shoves his pants lower, still straddling Daryl, and pulls his dick out, which Daryl isn’t supposed to want to suck. His mouth waters as Paul starts stroking himself, grinding slightly down on Daryl’s dick.

It’s too fucking much.

“I think I might- might come if you-”

Paul stops, eyebrows raising, but it’s too late, and Daryl shoots off against the ass of his jeans.

—

Watching Daryl squirm underneath him, chest rising from the mattress and teeth clenching, just makes Paul jack off even harder. Then Daryl slumps, spent and embarrassed, and shit, Paul really should stop and make sure he’s alright.

He compromises and asks while still jacking off, “You ok?”

Looking determined, Daryl bats his hand away from his dick and takes over. His mouth hangs open, and Paul stares.

Do not ask. Don’t even think about it.

Instead he lets Daryl continue his slow, gentle handjob, touching Paul like he’s worried about hurting him. Paul’s getting off on the idea of it all, more than the actual sensation: Daryl Dixon came in his pants just from the sight of his dick. Daryl wants his dick, is staring at it like he wants to suck it, would probably scramble to his knees for it if Paul just- just asked- “Do you want to use your mouth?”

You are a bad person.

Daryl does scramble, though, and is in position before Paul finishes pulling off his come-soaked pants.

—

It takes long enough to make Daryl’s jaw ache, and to make him wonder if he’s completely fucking this up. Then Paul starts trying to pull away, like maybe Daryl’s so terrible at it that he’d rather jerk off, but Daryl stubbornly stays put and redoubles his effort, sucking harder, going deeper—which is how he ends up with come going down the wrong pipe.

He pulls back, gagging and coughing as Paul comes helplessly on his face.

They both stop at about the same time. There’s come on Daryl’s eyebrow that feels like it’s threatening to drip down and blind him, but he’s not sure about the etiquette here. Paul’s shirt is closest, his own is on the floor a few feet away.

“Shit, sorry,” Paul says, and begins wiping his face clean. “I tried to- that was-”

“A disaster from start to finish?”

Paul pauses in wiping Daryl’s forehead for a second. “Maybe. But we’ll do better next time, right?”

They stare at each other in the darkness. “Yeah,” Daryl says, and he can’t keep the happiness or the surprise out of his voice. “Alright. Next time.”

“Happy New Year, then.” Paul smiles at him, a genuine grin, and Daryl grins back.

#daryl x jesus #desus #don't mind me #just writing desus when everyone else has moved the fuck on #XD

[chloes-yellow-cup]

They Had Time - Part 10 B

A Bechloe endgame rewrite of the first movie that literally no one asked for.

There are a few new scenes in here to keep things interesting.

Feedback is appreciated - love it or hate it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I’m just borrowing.

Finding Harmony

Chapter title inspired by the amazing ‘Finding Harmony’ by @aliciameade​ whose stories were an inspiration to try my hand at my own.

Part A

Rating: Teen

Words: 15,000-ish between both parts

AO3 and FFN

Time Master Post on Tumblr

A Shared Lifetime  - All the works in my alternate (Nowish) timeline so far.

Note for mobile readers: I swear there is a ‘keep reading’ here, but the apps keep dropping it. Sorry if you have to scroll for an hour. 

There is some Staubrey groundwork being set here, but they really aren’t the main focus. But for my world building, I gotta get to my Squared somehow, it’s necessary and I love them so much.

~B~

“All right.” Beca said as she led the way back to the center of the deep end. “Let’s remix this business.”

It had seemed the perfect place to show them what she thought they could do. The empty pool really did have great acoustics but it was also the first place she’d actually put any effort into being one of the team. And it was the first time they had really come together and sang outside of rehearsal. She hoped Aubrey understood that and didn’t only think of it as a place they lost to the Trebles.

“Um,” Beca began as she reached the bottom of the incline. “Aubrey, would you pick a song for us please?” She turned around as the rest of them came to a stop a few feet away. She hoped it showed Aubrey that she was serious about Aubrey continuing to lead the group. Beca scanned the group and realized all eyes were on her and felt the sudden weight of their expectations fall on her shoulders.

‘Jesus. I hope I don’t fuck this up.’ She felt her nerves begin to jitter. ‘Man do I understand Aubrey a bit better right now.’

Aubrey looked around briefly before she said, “Bruno Mars, Just The Way You Are.” Aubrey’s eyebrows went up as she nodded encouragingly, her face clear of any hint of doubt. Beca felt her shoulders straighten a little, like she’d already met the extremely high standards she knew were ahead of her; like she’d gotten the Aubrey Posen Seal of Approval; that one nod, the purity of trust in her expression, showed that she was in this because she believed in Beca and not just because she didn’t have any better options. It was almost identical to the one she’d given Beca on the bus – the one she’d thought of on stage – and it made Beca more determined than ever to make Aubrey proud; to show her that she hadn’t made a mistake.

Beca was slightly shocked that it wasn’t a song sung by a woman – she’d have almost sworn that Aubrey wouldn’t have listened to male artists at all, but she supposed that was just her own snap assumptions that she never bothered to find out if they were true. She also briefly wondered if this was Aubrey’s way of once more telling Beca that she was sorry for any past judgements on her character; that she’s done trying to change Beca to fit the group… That she wanted Beca to be just the way she was. It caused her to freeze for half a second as she tried not to laugh or go all gooey with emotion. “Okay.” Beca found herself nodding back as she tried to pick a song that would fit just right with it. She wasn’t sure if she’d have more than one chance to convince them, so this had to be perfect.  “Um… Chloe, are you okay to take the lead?” She hadn’t heard Chloe singing in rehearsal, and while her talking voice was a little rough, the last thing Beca wanted to do was push her after surgery.

“Yeah.” Chloe nodded confidently, nothing but trust and confidence in her eyes.

Unexpectedly nervous at all their eyes on her, Beca cleared her throat and looked back at Aubrey. Taking note of Aubrey’s own nerves, evident in the way she flattened her hands like she was bracing herself, Beca closed her eyes and listened for the melody in her mind before locking gazes with Aubrey.

Beca let the first notes slip free, her body and left hand bouncing in time to the beat as she kept her focus on Aubrey. She was second to follow Beca’s lead with the rest of the girls finding their places easily. Beca let her own voice still as the simple melody built; she couldn’t help being proud of them as they blended together so perfectly once they finally stopped fighting each other. When she felt it was time, she looked back over at Chloe and gave her a small nod; she smiled when Chloe returned it and began to sing, her voice clear and steady.

 Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shinin' Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying She's so beautiful and I tell her everyday

 She hadn’t really considered it when she’d asked Chloe to start them off, but the song was kind of perfect for how Beca felt about her. Hadn’t she already thought there were stars in Chloe’s eyes at least twice? While Beca hadn’t gone so far as to tell Chloe she was beautiful, it was definitely something she’d thought at least once a day since The Shower Incident. Maybe, after all this, she’d finally find the courage to actually tell Chloe how she felt, instead of just hoping her awkwardness somehow translated correctly. Then she saw the smile hovering around Chloe’s lips and realized that maybe her emotions were written on her face for anyone to see.

Feeling herself warm with the emotions she could feel building between them as well as the simple pleasure that she was feeling in singing with her new friends, Beca just hoped she wouldn’t derail everything as she began to layer ‘Just a Dream’ into it. It was a little different to listen to a remix versus singing song A and have someone else start with song B – the urge to switch to song B was difficult to ignore; Beca had found this out when she started doing her own vocals for songs, having to start over several times until she got used to it.

Beca watched Chloe carefully, ready to stop if it looked like it had knocked her off balance, but Chloe’s smile widened even as she kept on singing, perfectly in time with the beat the rest of them were still creating. She looked back at Aubrey, unable to stop remembering the scathing looks while they were on stage; but Aubrey merely watched her, waiting to follow Beca’s lead.

Beca felt herself smile. ‘Time to push her beyond her comfort zone or this was all for nothing.’

She pointed at Aubrey, hoping that she realized Beca wanted her to swap songs. This was the hardest part, she knew, in seeing if they really could change how competitions were done. She knew Aubrey got it by the sudden light in her eyes and then her voice was blending with Beca’s as beats created by the rest supported both songs.

She wasn’t looking for it, hadn’t expected it to happen, but Aubrey’s obvious approval radiated from her like a wave as she kept her eyes on Beca, willing to follow wherever Beca cared to lead them. Beca couldn’t help the feeling of pride at finally, finally, being able to show Aubrey – all of them – the things she knew could win them the trophy.

Beca felt chills as they continued, each individual adding more flair as their confidence grew until the pool rang with their voices. As they drew to a close, she was thrilled as Aubrey and Stacie paused when she did, joining back in until all of them were singing the same final word. Beca waited as she caught her breath, watching Aubrey closely.

Aubrey’s face lit up as she drew in a deep breath, and Beca was surprised to feel relief and more than a little trepidation as she waited. Beca looked at Chloe and was met with that special smile that Chloe rarely gave to anyone else. Then Chloe looked at Aubrey and where almost anyone else might have silently sent an ‘I told you so’, Beca could tell that Chloe was just as thrilled as Beca was that Aubrey had loved it.

As the rest of the girls exchanged grins, Aubrey broke the silence. “Hands in.” But her eyes remained on Beca, as if she was waiting for her to object.

Beca felt a surge of pride at Aubrey’s obvious approval and finally let herself relax. She wondered if Aubrey expected her to yell or be upset that Aubrey had slipped back into Captain mode. Beca understood that was bound to happen, especially because Aubrey had been doing it for so many months. It also wasn’t as if Beca really wanted to lead the group – she was happy just providing music. She just hoped that Aubrey wouldn’t fall back into her old habits – though with Chloe’s new stance on speaking her mind, Beca didn’t think that would happen. The two of them, when they were acting together, made a great team and Beca was more than willing to support them.

Aubrey held her hand out, smiling as widely as Chloe was and waited. With a grin of her own, Beca slid forward and placed her hand on Aubrey’s, the rest of the girls crowding around them. And it was perfect, they didn’t have to ask ‘on three or after three’, they just began the count together, as if they’d been doing it for years.

Then Chloe scared the living hell out of everyone with an almost bone rattling bass note that reverberated through the entire pool.

Even as Chloe slammed her hand over her mouth, Amy was already asking “What was that?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never made that sound before.” Chloe’s face was the definition of confusion as she touched her throat.

Beca’s first thought was, ‘Shit, her hands are fucking blue again!’

Her second thought was, ‘Oh god, I hope that didn’t hurt her vocal cords or set her back on recovery.’ But Chloe didn’t look like she was in pain, just surprised, and Beca let her suddenly tense shoulders relax again. She watched as Chloe touched her throat then must have felt Beca’s eyes on her because she turned and smiled reassuringly.

“Yo,” Cynthia Rose stepped up. “But with your messed up vocal cords, you could hit the bass notes.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aubrey said earnestly, but before she could finish her thought, Lilly put her hand up. “Yes, Lilly?”

Beca leaned forward with the rest of them to hear the reply, only to jump again when Lilly’s voice carried clearly to the rest of them. “I think I have something that can help us out.” Even years later, Beca was never sure if it was because Lilly had actually spoken up for the first time ever, or if it was the acoustics in the pool.

“Excuse me, bitch, you don’t need to shout.” Fat Amy said.

As the rest of them laughed, Beca stepped up to Lilly and put an arm around her. “Don’t get mouthy.” She urged the group toward the end of the pool. “But, let’s get out of here and back to the house where it’s less cold.”

Aubrey looked over her shoulder. “You guys are welcome to have a sleep over. I know classes start tomorrow, but, if you wanted to get a change of clothes and whatever books you need then come back and I’ll make something for us to eat?”

It was the first time Aubrey had made the offer of a sleep over directly. Always before the invite had been delivered by Chloe, though Beca did know several of them were because Aubrey had wanted them there.

“Sounds great!” Jessica beamed.

“I could eat,” Fat Amy said as she climbed the ladder. “All that wrestling today used a lot of energy.” She slapped her waist as she stepped back from the pool edge. “It takes a lot to keep this gorgeous motor running.”

Beca was next up the ladder and, shaking her head in amusement at Amy, she turned and helped Lilly, Aubrey then Chloe step up onto the concrete. She winced when she felt just how cold Chloe’s hands were.

She was distracted when Stacie finally reached the top and smirked as she accepted Beca’s offered hand. “Such a gentleman.”

“Shut up, Legs.” Beca grinned back at her before turning back to the rest of the group. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll get my laptop so we can go over music.”

“Yes!” Ashley cheered. “The mythical library of mixes! I’m bringing my laptop too.”

Beca laughed. “Alright, I get it. I’ll make sure I have everything.” She tugged Chloe to hold her back for second. “Your hands are fucking blue. Again.”

Chloe looked down and shrugged. “I’m cold.”

“Dude, we’re past that. Those are like… cadaver hands.” Beca raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Seriously. Like, the hands of a dead person.”

She looked up at Beca from beneath her eyelashes. “Would you like to read my palm again to warm them up?”

Beca felt herself flush. “That’s… I didn’t… I wasn’t…” She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them again. “I didn’t know how to ask if I could warm them up.”

“I know.” Chloe smirked at her. “It was a really cute try, though.” She bit her lip. “You could ask now…”

“There’s no way I’m touching those ice monstrosities.” Beca pretended to back away, but there was no way she was going to let Chloe walk anywhere else with her hands like that.

“Oh, Beca you don’t –” Aubrey called over but it was too late, Chloe was already moving, her hands pushing their way under Beca’s shirt to press against her stomach.

“Holy fucking shit!” Beca screamed and tried to push her away. Chloe’s fingers felt completely frozen and Beca’s skin tried to crawl away from the contact. Chloe, laughing at Beca’s reaction, only pushed closer, her hands sliding to curve around Beca’s ribs. Beca pulled in a breath to scream again but then Chloe leaned forward and kissed her. Beca’s brain short circuited under the onslaught of conflicting sensations and her brain chose to focus on the warm lips against hers instead of the cold hands around her waist.

As the thought crossed her mind to deepen the kiss, several people coughed around them, reminding her that they were not only in a public space, but surrounded by their friends. Reluctantly Beca pulled back, opening her eyes to meet Chloe’s mischievous grin.

“Thanks for warming me up, Becs.”

Beca took a steadying breath, realizing that Chloe’s hands were indeed warmer, which had been her entire goal. “You’re… uh… welcome.” She fought the urge to lick her lips and looked around at the rest of them who just smiled at her. “You guys are all aca-pervs.” She couldn’t help the grin at Chloe’s delighted chuckle.

“You guys put on a good show, I couldn’t help it.” Stacie said with a wicked grin that only deepened when Beca’s cheeks flamed with a different kind of flush. “God you’re so easy to rattle, DJ.”

Aubrey spread her arms and waved everyone forward like she was herding cats. “Alright, let’s go. We can resume making her uncomfortable when we’ve got her locked in the house.”

Beca felt her mouth drop. “Who are you and what have you done with Aubrey?” The words were out before she could think to stop them and she winced. Thankfully Aubrey only threw her a smile over her shoulder as she kept the others moving.

Chloe slid her fingers from under Beca’s shirt. “I think you’ll notice a few differences from now on.” She pursed her lips. “I figure she’ll fall back into bad habits a time or two, but I think we can all keep that from happening too much.” She linked their arms together and shoved her left hand into Beca’s coat pocket. “Let’s go get your stuff.”

Pushing down the sense of loss at not feeling Chloe’s skin against hers, Beca nodded and followed the rest of them toward the dorms.

It might have taken longer than it would have for someone else, but as they excitedly traded ideas back and forth, Beca finally realized that being here, amongst these wonderful nerds, was exactly where she belonged.

  ~C~

Chloe hadn’t known what to expect when Beca led them into the pool, but she’d had faith that it would be exactly what was needed to put Aubrey’s mind at ease.

The fact that she knew it would also give them a shot at winning the ICCAs wasn’t bad either.

“Um, Aubrey, would you pick a song for us please?” Beca said as she turned around to face them.

Chloe stopped with the others, her hands already starting to chill as she waited for Aubrey to come up with a song.

“Bruno Mars, Just The Way You Are.” Aubrey said almost immediately.

Chloe grinned to herself as Beca took a moment to process the fact that it was both from this century and not sung by a woman. Asking Aubrey also showed that Beca was serious in wanting Aubrey’s input and making sure she was comfortable in actually letting Beca show what she could do.

“Um, Chloe?” Beca turned to her. “Are you okay to take the lead?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, trying to hold back her grin. She couldn’t wait to see what Beca had planned.

Shaking out her nerves, Beca set the beat. Aubrey was next, followed by Cynthia Rose and then the rest until the pool was filled with their voices blending together in perfect harmony. At Beca’s nod, Chloe felt a last flare of nerves rise but once she’d started, Beca’s eyes on her calmed her again.

 Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shinin' Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying She's so beautiful and I tell her everyday

 Chloe felt the words settle inside her heart. Kissing aside, she and Beca had yet to make any declarations of love though Chloe had realized months ago that she’d fallen hard for the sarcastic freshman. She was also at least ninety percent positive that Beca returned those feelings but was too used to keeping people at arm’s length to allow herself to admit to them. Chloe had been content to follow Beca’s lead, never pushing too far past her comfort zone no matter how many times Chloe had actually pushed into her personal space. The song became her way of telling Beca at least some of the things she’d been holding back, hoping that Beca could read the truth in her eyes.

She could tell Beca was worried that she’d throw Chloe off when she started in with ‘Just A Dream’ but Chloe had spent the last month or so listening to Beca’s mixes; she knew what to expect and had ‘Just The Way You Are’ firmly in her mind. Beca’s pleased smile sparked her own as they continued to weave their lyrics together. It was easy for her to stay focused – she just had to keep singing to Beca and it didn’t much matter that they weren’t alone.

That didn’t change as Beca’s focus shifted to Aubrey and Chloe looked over at her best friend. Aubrey didn’t look stressed out or worried; she looked content to follow Beca’s lead – until suddenly the brunette was pointing and Chloe knew that she wanted Aubrey to switch songs and take lead. With only a grin, Aubrey dove into the new song, switching seamlessly with nothing but as wide a smile as she could manage while singing.

Chloe felt the shift as the girls around them put more enthusiasm and energy into the song, feeling like one cohesive group for the first time since the riff-off. She’d never felt that type of connection with the prior Bellas group, never felt like they all made each other better. They may have been good enough to make it to finals, but Chloe realized that they probably wouldn’t have won because they only had the technical side – they lacked heart.

But now… They were instinctively following Aubrey’s lead; her pace, her enthusiasm and her strong voice - even the smile on her face that was obvious without even looking - kept them all on track while Beca kept their pace and acted as conductor. Chloe felt her skin prickle with the magic of the moment, realizing that this is how it should have been all year: She and Aubrey leading the group and Beca directing their choral arrangements. It would have been – it was – perfect.

‘One might even say it was pitch perfect.’ Chloe thought to herself with a mental eye roll at her cheesiness.

It was almost funny that they were being shown the way by one petite brunette who would swear up and down on a stack of bibles that she was heartless. Except she was leading them into new territory because she believed in them and what they could do – what they as a group could become. Chloe glanced around as they began to clap or stop a foot to the beat, realizing that it wasn’t just her; the rest of them felt it too.

As they drew to a close, Beca’s eyes remained on Aubrey, waiting to see what she thought. Chloe looked over, already knowing that she would be smiling and couldn’t resist grinning back at her; there was still a distinct lack of the tension that had radiated like an aura around Aubrey since the start of the year.

Aubrey exhaled happily. “Hands in.”

Chloe looked over in time to see Beca grin in relief before they were all crowding around, ready to finally get the signature Bellas pre-show move down. Aubrey counted them down and Chloe felt so happy she could almost cry – until the sound coming out of her mouth scared the hell out of her.

“What was that?” Amy asked as Chloe slammed her cold hand over her mouth.

“I don’t know; I’ve never made that sound before.” Chloe touched her throat. It hadn’t hurt in the slightest, which was a relief, but it certainly wasn’t normal.

Cynthia Rose leaned forward. “Yo, but with your messed up vocal cords you could hit the bass notes.”

Chloe rubbed her throat again, feeling Beca’s concerned eyes on her. She gave a reassuring smile as Aubrey spoke up. “You know what that means?” Chloe grinned again at the poorly hidden excitement under Aubrey’s voice. Lilly’s hand went up and Aubrey turned to her. “Yes, Lilly?”

“I think I have something that can help us out.”

The rest of the girls had leaned forward to hear better and they all moved back with startled expressions at, for the first time, being able to hear Lilly speak clearly.

“Excuse me, bitch, you don’t need to shout,” Fat Amy joked.

Beca moved up to Lilly and put an arm around her as the rest of them laughed and turned to leave. “Don’t get mouthy. But, let’s get out of here and back to the house where it’s less cold.”

Chloe saw the look that Beca gave her hands and grinned. ‘Always so considerate even when she’s pretending otherwise.’

As they reached the ladder, Aubrey looked back at them. “You guys are welcome to have a sleep over. I know classes start tomorrow, but, if you wanted to get a change of clothes and whatever books you need then come back and I’ll make something for us to eat?”

Chloe had to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. Aubrey had always used her as an intermediary when she wanted the girls to hang out – or the cover of a mandatory Bella bonding night. This was the first time she’d felt comfortable enough to reach out on her own and Chloe finally felt the last of her worries fall away.

Following Jessica and Ashley, Fat Amy headed up the ladder. “I could eat. All that wrestling today used up a lot of energy.” At the top she stepped back and slapped her waist. “It takes a lot to keep this gorgeous motor running.”

Beca was next up the ladder and Chloe didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was admiring the view. As Lilly followed, Aubrey shoulder bumped Chloe and whispered, “Your toner is showing.”

“That happens sometimes. I blame Beca.” Chloe shrugged as Aubrey laughed and started up the ladder.

“I blame her ass.” Stacie said as she stopped beside Chloe, the two of them momentarily alone. “Not that I’m looking – don’t claw my eyes out.”

“I wouldn’t.” Chloe winked at her. “Aubrey would kill me.”

Stacie grinned. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Chloe put her foot on the ladder. “Even if she’s too stubborn to admit it.”

Behind her she heard Stacie mutter, “Tell me about it.”

Beca was waiting at the top, hand outstretched to help Chloe from the ladder, and she held back a grin at Beca’s wince. One day Chloe was sure she would remember to bring gloves with her when she went outside.

“Such a gentleman.” Chloe turned as Stacie let go of Beca’s hand, amused at the disconcerted expression that crossed over Beca’s face.

“Shut up, Legs.” Smiling, Beca turned back to the rest of them. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll get my laptop so we can go over music.”

“Yes!” Ashley threw her arms up. “The mythical library of mixes! I’m bringing my laptop too.”

“Alright, I get it. I’ll make sure I have everything.” Beca laughed as Chloe started to follow the group away from the pool. Except Beca’s fingers caught her sleeve and tugged her backward. Chloe turned to look at her, eyebrow raised in question. “Your hands are fucking blue. Again.” While the words were almost accusing, the tone was both amused and worried.

Looking down, Chloe shrugged. “I’m cold.”

“Dude, we’re past that. Those are like… cadaver hands.” Beca gave her an earnest look. “Seriously. Like, the hands of a dead person.”

Chloe didn’t even try to fight the mischievous feeling rising up in her. She looked back up at Beca. “Would you like to read my palm again to warm them up?” She grinned at the color that rose over Beca’s cheeks and fell a little more in love as Beca began to awkwardly stutter out an explanation.

Finally Beca closed her eyes and took a breath. “I didn’t know how to ask if I could warm them up.”

Chloe felt herself melt, somewhat surprised her hands weren’t instantly thawed with the warmth that admission spread throughout her body. “I know.” But the urge to tease was still there. “I know. It was a really cute try, though.” She bit her lip coyly. “You could ask now…”

Beca shook her head immediately, though the mirth in her eyes showed she was playing along. “There’s no way I’m touching those ice monstrosities.” She began to back away.

Chloe looked over as Aubrey’s voice carried to them from where she’d stopped to see if they were coming. “Oh, Beca you don’t –”

But Chloe was already moving, having done a version of this to Aubrey numerous times over the years. She pushed closer to Beca, her hands already under Beca’s shirt until she could press both palms against Beca’s stomach.

“Holy fucking shit!” Beca cried, trying to push her hands away.

Chloe couldn’t help the laugh that slipped free, but she was distracted by the feel of Beca’s stomach muscles jumping against her palm. Her hands were still too frozen to truly feel Beca’s skin beneath her fingertips, but that didn’t stop her from curving her hands around Beca’s waist. Ignoring the squirming woman, she slid them up Beca’s ribs and tugging her ever closer until Chloe couldn’t resist the urge that was pushing at her brain.

She captured Beca’s lips with her own, feeling Beca instantly stop moving except for the gentle pressure of her mouth. After what felt like hours, Chloe wormed a little closer, her hands beginning to slip around Beca’s back to pull her tighter and just as Beca’s mouth began to part, there were several pointed coughs around them.

Chloe pushed down the tingling that had begun to crawl its way up her spine and grinned when Beca pulled back and groaned quietly. “Thanks for warming me up, Becs.” Her hands felt nice and toasty where they rested against Beca’s sides.

“You’re… uh… welcome.” Beca looked around. “You guys are all aca-pervs.”

Chloe laughed happily. ‘If there hadn’t been any other signs of it, the fact that Beca just used an aca phrase would’ve sealed it. She’s totally one of us.’ Stacie’s teasing voice pulled her back to the group.

“You guys put on a good show, I couldn’t help it.” Chloe watched, fascinated, as Beca’s cheeks turned scarlet. “God, you’re so easy to rattle, DJ.”

“Alright, let’s go. We can resume making her uncomfortable when we’ve got her locked in the house.” Aubrey began to usher everyone into motion.

“Who are you and what have you done with Aubrey?” Beca asked in surprise.

Chloe took pity on her when Beca winced, obviously regretting her choice of words. Reluctantly she slid her hands out from under Beca’s shirt. “I think you’ll notice a few differences from now on. I figure she’ll fall back into bad habits a time or two, but I think we can all keep that from happening too much.” She hooked her arm with Beca’s and shoved her hand into Beca’s pocket. “Let’s go get your stuff.”

  ~C~

Chloe settled into the middle of the sectional with a sigh, a glass of wine in her hand.

Aubrey was in the kitchen making up a pot of pasta with a couple different options of sauce, since it was both easy to make and could be done in bulk.

Beca was at the center island with her laptop, busily copying her music library to several different hard drives that the girls would then share amongst themselves after they’d finished dropping their bags off upstairs.

Stacie dropped down on the couch next to her. “How’s the throat?”

Chloe smiled and leaned against her. “It’s good.”

“Even after that bass note that, in the right crowd, you could make a fortune off of as a human vibrator?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Chloe’s bark of laughter.

“You are…” Chloe trailed off, unable to come up with the right word because she was laughing too hard.

“Amazing.” Stacie winked. “The word you’re looking for is ‘amazing.’”

“I can only imagine.” Chloe chuckled again and took a sip of her wine. “There was a bit of strain during rehearsal, but I think some of that was just all the tension, you know?”

“Yeah, I felt it too.” Stacie mused. “It’s funny how that feels like a lifetime ago already.”

“Right?” Chloe shook her head. “It keeps flashing through my head that only, what, five or six hours ago we were all screaming at each other?”

“Is that it?” Stacie let her head rest against the couch. “I know there’s still a lot to be said, but… Is it wrong that I would just rather move on?”

“No.” Chloe tilted her head until she was leaning on Stacie’s shoulder. “But Aubrey’s going to need to apologize to you guys. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stacie hesitated, looking over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Is she okay? I mean, really okay?”

Chloe nodded, though her smile was sad. “She is. For the first time all year, she’s not a coiled spring. Once she stops being embarrassed, she’ll be even better.”

Stacie sighed and faced Chloe again. “She’s going to beat herself up over this, isn’t she?”

“For a bit, yeah.” Chloe sat up again and took a drink of her wine. “But maybe between all of us, we can keep her from sinking too low.” She looked over as the rest of the girls began to file down the stairs.

“Sounds like a plan, Red.” Stacie sat up. “There more of that in the kitchen?” She pointed at Chloe’s glass.

“Yup. Couple bottles, actually.” She grinned at Stacie’s raised eyebrow. “I thought we’d need it.”

“You’re so smart.” Stacie leaned forward and kissed the side of Chloe’s head before pushing herself up off the couch. “I’ll be back, save my spot.”

“Always,” Chloe called after her, wondering if Stacie realized just how many times she’d looked into the kitchen before finally giving into her need to be near Aubrey.

‘Probably not. Stacie’s inability to realize her interest in Aubrey is a lot more than sex is only matched by Aubrey’s ability to ignore her own feelings. If that doesn’t prove they’re perfect for each other, I don’t know what does.’

She looked over her shoulder again, smiling as Stacie casually leaned on the island across from Beca and slightly behind Aubrey at the stove, showing no sign of moving despite the full glass of wine in her hand.

Chloe smiled to herself. ‘Nope, definitely clueless. The amount of teasing that I’ll be able to do when they figure it out will be aca-awesome.’

~

Once dinner and most of the clean-up was over – and the musical library of one DJ Mitchell was quickly shared –the talk finally turned to ideas for their set.

Chloe was sitting between Aubrey and Beca, the rest of the girls arranged on the sofa or ottoman as they slowly digested what seemed like a ton of pasta. They’d been listening to random mixes that Beca had made for the past hour, but they kept going back to the one that she’d almost played for them the night she was arrested.

“I like that it starts out kinda slow, for all of two seconds before it picks up and doesn’t really stop.” Cynthia Rose said.

“I do have at least one change I want to make,” Beca said and she looked at Chloe from the corner of her eye. “I… Jesse and I had a fight, and I don’t have any idea if he’ll ever talk to me again.”

Chloe smiled at her. “He will. What’s your idea?”

“I want to include that song from the Breakfast Club.” She clicked around in her list until ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’ started playing. “It was one of the movies he tried to get me to watch.”

“The one where you watched the end first?” Chloe still didn’t understand that, but it had obviously been important to Jesse.

“Yeah.” Beca flashed her a grin. “But I finally watched it over break, along with a bunch of others, and maybe it would be the thing that at least gets him to talk to me again, so I can apologize.”

“Wait.” Fat Amy put out her hand. “You watched movies? On your own?”

“Yes, Amy.” Beca rolled her eyes. “Please don’t make a big deal about it. I’m sure it was a fluke and won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, no. It’s going to happen next weekend.” Amy said firmly.

“We can watch a horror movie,” Stacie offered before Beca had the chance to protest. “No chances of emotions there – unless jumping at every loud noise is an actual emotion.”

“Jesus – you guys – no way.” Beca shook her head. “That’s…” She trailed off when Chloe touched her arm.

“We can cuddle under a blanket and I’ll protect you.” Chloe promised. “Plus Bree will probably laugh at it – until she snorts.” Chloe looked over at her best friend. “Again.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Aubrey muttered behind her wine glass.

“I know.” Chloe replied airily.

“If we could please get back to the task at hand?” Beca asked plaintively. “Instead of ways to annoy me?”

“Sure, DJ.” Stacie said from Beca’s other side. “It’ll give me longer to plan how best to torture you.” Beca groaned and Stacie patted her knee. “I think that song would fit fine in this mix.”

Chloe sat back as the discussion continued. She knew nothing would be fully decided tonight, they’d still have plenty to discuss the next few days. Aubrey and Beca had agreed that they’d have no actual rehearsals for the week, but they were all welcome at the house while they finalized the song list.

“So what kind of choreo do you see with it?” Ashley asked.

After a beat, Beca realized they were all looking at her. Chloe bit back a grin as Beca turned a little green. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“Cause you’re in charge.” Aubrey said, a little smugly.

“Oh no. My job is music.” Beca shook her head. “I’m not a dancer.”

“Liar.” Chloe leaned forward and whispered in Beca’s ear. “I remember how you danced at hood night.” She grinned as Beca’s eyes glazed briefly and her cheeks flushed.

“Uhhh…” Beca cleared her throat. “That’s… That’s different and all I’m going to say about that right now, here, in the middle of your living room.”

Chloe took pity on her. For now. “Alright then, I suppose Aubrey and I could come up with a few things to start us off, once we’ve got the songs.” She looked around the room. “As long as you guys promise to speak up if you have any ideas or changes?” As the group voiced their agreement, Chloe scooted to the edge of the couch. “Then I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Almost as if on cue, Aubrey yawned. “Me too, I guess.”

“Those suckers are contagious,” Ashley said around her own yawn. “Guess I’ll head upstairs too.”

Chloe watched as Beca shut down her laptop as the rest of them pushed themselves to their feet. “I didn’t mean to break up the party.”

“It’s been a long day, Red.” Stacie said as she stretched. “I just hope the bed I’m trying tonight is half as comfortable as Aubrey’s mattress.”

“What now?” Fat Amy turned to face them. “Did you guys start doing your own version of horizontal running?”

“No!” Aubrey exclaimed, her voice cracking in the middle.

“But she just said…” Jessica trailed off, obviously unsure how far they could tease her.

“I wasn’t in it at the time.” Aubrey stood and straightened her shirt. “She took Chloe to the airport the morning after I left and I told her it was alright to sleep in my bed the night before.”

“I’d taken all the other sheets off to do laundry that night.” Chloe offered when the rest of them looked at her questioningly. “Empty house meant I wanted to keep myself occupied.” She turned and smiled at Stacie. “Though I think we ended up talking all night and didn’t do laundry until last night.” She stood and clapped her hands once. “So fresh sheets for everyone!”

“Including you, Aubrey.” Stacie said as she walked toward the stairs. “I changed them this morning before I left.”

“Thanks, Stacie.” Aubrey said before she began to clean up the various glasses and plates that dotted the tables behind the couch. When Chloe moved to help her, Aubrey shooed her away. “I’ve got this, I’m just going to let it soak and I’ll wash them in the morning.”

“If you’re sure.” Chloe said and let Aubrey push her back toward the couch. “Night, Bree.”

Beca had just finished putting her laptop back in her case when Chloe stepped up beside her and tugged her hand. She waited until the other girls at least appeared distracted and leaned close enough that only Beca could hear her. “Share my bed with me?” She grinned at Beca’s startled look toward the group of women heading upstairs. “Just to sleep.” Chloe looked down as she took Beca’s hand. “I understand if it’s too soon after… everything.”

Beca was shaking her head before Chloe had finished. “No – that’s… I’d like that.” She looked like she had more to say, but she only smiled and gave a half bow. “After you then.”

Chloe grinned at the reminder of the first, and only, time they’d shared a bed, though the positions had been reversed. “Definitely a gentleman.” She walked in front of Beca and laughed at the frustrated growl behind her. “Don’t fight it, Becs. It’s cute.”

“Yeah yeah.” Beca poked her in the side and Chloe let out a yelp as she jumped forward. “It’s all an act to lure you in.”

Chloe stopped in place and spun quickly, causing Beca to run into her. “And what’ll you do when you’ve got me where you want me?” She could tell she’d caught Beca by surprise by the way her eyes widened in panic.

“You’ll… uh… just have to see.” Beca said, striving for a confidence she obviously didn’t quite have a grasp on. She ran her hand through her hair as she licked her lips nervously.

Chloe forced herself to look away from Beca’s mouth and reached out and took her hand. “Guess I will.” She tugged gently as she stepped backward, turning as Beca willingly followed her upstairs, briefly detouring to get the bag she’d placed in the double room she thought she’d be sharing with Amy.

Both of them were quiet as they readied for bed, stealing not-so-subtle glances at each other and smiling as they were caught at it. Soon enough they’d brushed their teeth and settled into bed, both of them lying on their backs as Chloe’s bed was marginally bigger than the one in Beca’s dorm.

“I’m glad you came today,” Chloe said into the darkness. “I don’t know how any of that would have ended if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Probably a slap fight next,” Beca said lightly and Chloe chuckled.

“I did pull her hair,” she admitted and the bed shook with Beca’s laughter.

“How very elementary school of you,” Beca said when she’d finally stopped giggling. Chloe thumped her in the side. “Ow.” Beca sighed as the last chuckle faded. “I think you guys would’ve been fine.”

“I don’t know about that.” Chloe admitted. “We were… we were horrible.”

“Aubrey told me some of it.” Beca fumbled between them until she found Chloe’s left hand and squeezed it. “I still think you guys would’ve found your way out of it.” She took a breath and paused before continuing. “I’m not sure if the group would’ve been intact, but… I think you and Aubrey would’ve been okay.”

Chloe thought for a minute, remembering all the anger and rage she’d been feeling at the time. “Maybe. Eventually.” She sighed. “I don’t know how long that would’ve taken though.” She threaded their fingers together. “So – thank you.”

“I almost didn’t. But I had an eye opening talk with my father.” Beca sighed. “He did that parent thing where they’re brutally honest and force you to really think about what you want.”

“How rude.” Chloe rolled over onto her left side, regretful that the action required her to let go of Beca’s hand.

“Right?” Beca rolled to face her, her left hand immediately tucking a strand of hair behind Chloe’s ear. “But he made me realize that I really liked being part of the Bellas. That I like all of these crazy women spread across this house. And it made me realize what he’d been telling me all along, which annoys me to no end.”

Chloe laughed. “What’s that?”

“That making an effort was worth it.” Beca smiled wide enough to be seen in the dim light as she rolled onto her back. “Especially if the friends I make are willing to forgive me when I act like an asshole.”

Chloe wiggled closer and put her head on Beca’s shoulder. “I think we were all assholes, honestly.” She felt Beca’s arm circle around her back and pull her close. “We probably deserve each other.”

“Probably.” Beca yawned and they both fell silent, the long day finally stealing over them.

As Beca let out the softest snore under her, Chloe let herself drift, happy and secure for the first time in weeks, safe in the circle of Beca’s arms, vowing to do whatever was necessary to remain there for as long as humanly possible.

 Part A

End Notes: This is the second time I thought that I was going to have to come up with a long Bechloe talk and they both totally threw that plan out the window and decided to cut through the angst. It’s… almost annoying, but I’m getting used to them – specifically Beca – derailing any plan I actually make.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Anna Kendrick #Brittany Snow #Aubrey Posen #Anna Camp #Pitch Perfect #wlw #Barden Bellas #A Shared Lifetime

[elliedoes]

Everlong - Chapter One

Dean x Reader x Sam

The world has gone to shit. You’ve got the undead trying to eat your flesh, a whining teenager to look after, and a few secrets that you need to keep. The Winchesters are the last thing you need, but the only thing you want.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence, adult language, drug and alcohol use, polyamorous relationship (no wincest).

Note: This is my first attempt to write in a very, very long time. Please, I would love any and all feedback!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

According to Trevor, the high school freshman you found alone and scared, huddled in a Gas ‘n Sip, it had been 173 days since the dead started rising and 4 since you’ve had more than a half can of peaches each. “Stop complaining and look around,” you snapped at him, shoving him down the aisle of the grocery store, though the shelves were heavily scavenged by the time you got there.

“‘Sno use,” he whined, but shuffled along, backpack open and ready.

You headed two aisles over looking for first aid or hygiene items, not that the latter meant much anymore since you were both caked in dirt and the last time you found running water it was barely deep enough for you to drink out of. Still, you were low on bandages and antiseptic, both of which Trevor needed with the nasty cut he got a couple of days ago, the last thing you needed was it to get infected.

“Pork and beans,” he called out through the shelves, “I hate pork and beans.”

“Food’s food,” you replied, picking up an open box of tampons, weighing the options of needing them. You dump what’s left into the front pocket of your bag and moved on, finding a couple boxes of bandaids and a package of gauze. “Find any crackers?”

“Two boxes,” Trevor confirmed. “You?”

“Not as much as I hoped.” You found your way down the toiletry aisle. There was floss left, which would help in a desperate need for sutures, and couple bottles of mouthwash. You dumped what you could in your pack and rejoined the teen to toss whatever canned thing you could find and carry. “It’s gonna get dark soon.” He nodded and zipped up his backpack, shouldering it with a grunt.

The creak of the door on the far side of the store caused you both to freeze. Trevor’s eyes widened, his fingers closed around the axe that hung from his side. You nodded once and pulled out the pistol from the back of your waistband and you two tiptoed towards the sound.

“Two ganked,” a voice rumbled from the stockroom making your blood run cold. Geeks you could have handle, but humans were another issue.

“These look like fresh kills,” a second voice noted. You motioned for Trevor to get behind you and pressed up against the wall near the door. “We should try the next store.”

“It’s getting dark,” the first voice sighed and pushed the doors open towards you, blocking your view for a moment, “if there’s anyone in here, we’ll just ask for a couple of cans and head out, no harm done.”

The second man snorted, following the first through into the main part of the store, “It took the zombie apocalypse to help you find your manners?”

“I’ve always had manners,” the first guy paused, rounding on the second, taller man, and pointed a finger, “I only used them when necessary.” His eyes left his partner and landed on you and Trevor, both stiff from fear, but weapons drawn in defense. “Oh, woah, hey,” he greeted, putting both of his hands in the air when you cocked your gun.

The taller man turned slowly to face you, his hands going up like the other’s, face pulled into a worried pout. “Hey there, we’re friendly.”

The skeptical look on your face had them exchange glances and the shorter guy stepped forward, hands still raised, “Don’t shoot, alright? I’m Dean, this is Sam. We’re here just looking for food like you are, probably. You must’ve heard us, right? We’ll get a couple of cans and head on our way.”

You kept your gun pointed at then, but you turned to catch a glimpse of Trevor. The poor kid was white knuckling the handle of his axe, but he gave you a silent nod. “There’s a few left,” you tell them, nodding your chin towards the shelves nearby.

“Thanks,” the one named Sam smiled and started to back away.

“You mind lowering your gun,” Dean chuckled lightly, clearly in no way actually nervous.

Your face hardened, “Sorry, Dean, but I can’t.” The last guy you trusted took your hunting rifle and three days worth of food, breaking Trevor’s ribs in the process. The poor kid had been through enough already, you were not going to put him in harm’s way again.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “okay, I get it.” He looked from you to Trevor, offering the boy a smile which was hesitantly returned. “You’re lucky you’ve got your big sis looking after you.”

“She’s not my sister,” Trevor mumbled, but stepped closer to you.

“Family don’t end in blood, kid. If she’s watching out for you like this, she’s your sister,” Dean insisted. There was no further protest from Trevor, but he didn’t agree, either. You knew the kid’s backstory, you weren’t offended, but it looked like Dean was.“You two got names?”

“Y/N,” you stiffly replied. “This is Trevor.” Your eyes left Dean for a moment and scanned the store for Sam. You could hear cans being dropped into his pack. “Sun’s getting low, you two should probably get going.”

“Sammy,” Dean shouted over his shoulder, “we good?”

“Yeah,” Sam called back, accompanied by the zip of his bag. His hands were back in the air when he returned, a soft smile on his face, “thanks.”

“Don’t need to thank me,” you shrugged, “I don’t own the store.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got a 9mm pointed at our faces, you own whatever you want,” Dean quipped which earned a sigh from Sam. “But we got what we needed, we’ll head out.” He nudged Sam to go first and he started to follow. “Unless you two wanna tag along?”

Your eyes narrowed and you could feel Trevor stiffen beside you. “I think we’re better on our own, Dean, no offense.”

“Hey,” he said with a half smile, “none taken. You seem like good people and you can obviously handle yourself. We just thought we could help you get you to where you needed to be. Me and my brother used to hunt all kinds of weird crap before the world went to shit, we kept people like you safe from stuff like it. Still do, I guess.”

“What do you mean,” you asked as you took a step back towards Trevor. Whoever these guys were, they obviously had a few screws loose and you didn’t want them any closer to the boy.

“Zombies aren’t the only thing out there. We were in Maine handling a nest of vampires when this shit went down,” Dean explained which you scoffed at. “Oh, so dead people popping up and eating flesh is acceptable, but vampires aren’t?”

Trevor squeaked, “I believe you.”

“Smart kid,” Dean smiled and tossed a wink the boy’s way.

“It took you five months to get from Maine to Georgia,” you asked skeptically.

“We took some detours,” Sam interjected. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the first apocalypse that’s we’ve been apart of.”

Dean rolled his shoulders annoyance, “Just the only one that happened to actually slip by and happen.”

“Anyway,” Sam rolled his eyes, “we thought we could reverse it, you know? Like it was some kind of demonic virus, but those would be more 28 Days Later than Dawn of the Dead.”

“I thought it was some kind of wish, like some kid in mom’s basement wanted to live out a video game,” Dean threw in with a scowl.

“But there’s nothing powerful enough to grant a wish on this kind of scale,” Sam countered, slightly annoyed with his brother’s interruptions. “But, we thought we’d head to the CDC to see if they had anything there.”

“We ran out of gas just outside of Jasper, been hoofin’ it ever since,” Dean finished.

“The CDC’s gone,” you tell them. “Those things are swarming the place. Everyone had the same idea as you, I guess.” The brothers exchanged a look and Dean muttered a few expletives. “There’s a rumor that Fort Benning is supposed to be safe, but when’s that ever worked in a zombie movie?”

Dean grinned at that, but turned his attention back to Sam, “Well, we’ve gotta have something in the bunker about this, guess we should just head home.”

“Bunker? Are you guys like those Doomsday people,” you ribbed.

“Not really,” Sam shook his head, “it’s kind of hard to explain. It was built a while ago, but it could withstand a nuke. There’s plenty of space.” The look he gave you was a silent question and one that peaked your interest. You didn’t know these guys from a hole in the ground and they were bat-shit crazy, but if they had a bunker, it’d be somewhere safe until you figured something out or the world ended completely or they murdered you in your sleep. “It’s in Kansas.”

“What makes you sure it’s still safe?” You can hear Trevor move from behind you. He trusted you with his life, but these guys looked like they were built for this, comfortable in world full of crazy. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but Trevor was going to go with them given the chance and you knew it.

“It’s the safest place on earth, nothing from heaven or hell could get in,” Dean bragged, “so I’m sure it could keep a few zombies out. So, if you wanna come along, we can keep you safe, just as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like trust two guys we just met who are spouting off crap about demons,” you chaffed.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, “like that.”

You didn’t need to look at Trevor to know his answer, but you did. There was a hopeful look in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen since you found him weeks ago. “Fine,” you sighed and finally put away your gun, “but if you even look at him funny, I will kill you.”

The brothers put their hands up in submission once again. “You’re the boss, lady,” Dean yielded. “But we should get going. We’ve got a place a mile east of here and dark’s gonna come quick.” Your own camp was in the opposite direction, but held nothing of importance, just a spot you knew was safe, at least for the night.

Sam was the first out, Trevor on his heels, while you fell into step with Dean to bring up the rear. “How’d you end up with the kid?”

You side eyed Dean at his question and hooked your thumbs into the straps of your pack. “Found him in a gas station near Macon. He was held up in the broom closet, alone and starving. I don’t know how he survived, but his family got attacked there. I cleaned the place out and found him huddled up there.”

“What are you like a super soldier,” Dean teased.

“I had someone with me at the time,” you rolled your eyes. “But Trevor’s been on my ass ever since. He’s a good kid, really smart, really good with electronics and shit. Hotwired all the cars we came across.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement. “So what happened to the other person?”

Your shoulders tensed and your jaw clenched, “Long story.”

“Ah,” he nodded, smart enough to drop it. “We found a group two weeks in, they were nice people, but stupid as hell. We managed to get them to Tennessee and they decided they were better off held up in a cabin. Sam and I went to do some digging on this mess, came back to check on ‘em, all turned.”

“Seems to be the way of the world now,” you frowned. “Can’t afford to make attachments.” Your eyes were trained on the back of Trevor’s head. He and Sam were getting along from the way he was animatedly talking.

“Well, you gotta keep family close,” Dean disagreed. “You won’t be able to survive alone in a world like this.”

“My family’s probably dead,” you replied evenly.

Dean shook his head. “That kid obviously needs you and I’m guessing you’d die before you let anything about to him.” Your silent scowl was answer enough. “We’ll keep you guys safe, just don’t go looking for trouble.”

Your frown deepened, but you remained silent. The two of you watched Sam and Trevor talk, mostly about the vampires the guys mentioned before. “So, on top of zombies, we gotta worry about vampires,” you grumbled.

“Haven’t ran into any since the start of all this, but yeah, they could still be a threat. Werewolves, demons, freaking angels,” Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not enough that we have to deal with that shit every day, but now actual zombies.”

You exhaled, your face pinched, “Is there anything else I need to worry about?”

“Other humans,” Dean offered jokingly.

“Yeah, they’re already on my radar,” you make a show of eyeing him warily. If Sam and Dean wanted to hurt you, they would’ve tried it already. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened and probably not the last. Even if they were playing the long con, you wouldn’t let them get very far, at least not without putting up a fight.

Dean laughed hardily and shook his head, “Normally I’d be offended, but it looks like you’ve been through some shit, so I can’t blame you. Trust me, if we wanted to hurt you, we would’ve. Me and Sammy are people persons, pillars of the community.”

“Seems like it,” you snorted.

“Y/N,” Trevor turned to look at you, “Sam says that their bunker has a whole library of magic.”

“I keep telling you, kiddo, Hogwarts isn’t real,” you deadpanned, but that didn’t sour Trevor’s mood one bit. He turned right back to Sam and the two continued their conversation. “Now he’s never gonna leave you alone.”

“Sam can handle him,” Dean assured you with his gaze bouncing between the two. “They’re two peas in a nerdy pod.”

You followed the Sam along the road, stopping only to deal with a few stray walkers. It was dusk and zombie activity always kicked up at night for whatever reason, so you hoped you could get somewhat close to their camp before the hordes started to form. Dean must’ve felt the same as he tilted his head up the sky and squinted, “Shouldn’t have wasted all that time back there.”

You should’ve felt guilty, but you didn’t. “You could’ve left us.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but Sam would’ve felt guilty and made us go back and find you. Trust me, it saved us the headache.”

Your eyes raked over Sam’s tall frame, his broad shoulders shook lightly with laughter. “I’m guessing he’s the bleeding heart?”

Dean followed your gaze to his brother, “Sometimes. Every man’s got a soft side.”

Your lips pulled up into a grin and you turned your attention to the man next to you, “What does yours look like?”

“Maybe you’ll find out,” he replied coolly.

“You two are gross,” Trevor called back to you.

“Shut up and keep walking, bud,” you reached out to lightly shove at the kid’s shoulders. Trevor whined in returned, turning to bat at you playfully before getting lost in another conversation with Sam. “This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“You gotta feel for him,” Dean sighed. “I mean he’s probably been worried he’d lose you, too. At least he knows you’re safe now.” You raised a brow. “You’ve got more eyes watching your back,” he expanded. “You know, I’m sure you kick ass, but you look like shit, sweetheart, no offense.”

“I haven’t slept more than two hours in the last three days,” you quietly confessed. “I’m running on caffeine pills and a slowly breaking will.”

Dean sucked on his teeth. “Well, as soon as we get back to camp, you’re crashing. I got a bedroll with your name on it.” Both your brows shot up at the implication and he held up a hand, “Relax, I’ll be taking the first watch.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, eyes narrowing.

“Fine, Sam can take first watch and we can snuggle up real tight,” Dean murmured playfully.

“I’d rather sleep alone,” you admitted, “at least until I can see straight.” You two shared a grin and fell silent, keeping watch for any more threats while the two up front yammered on.

It was night by the time you got the house they squatted in, its fence lined with cans on a string, a primitive alarm system, but at least it would work on walkers. The tiny one story home had a split floor plan that allowed you and Trevor to pass out on one side and Sam and Dean to keep watch on the other.

Just as he said, Dean spread out their bedrolls for the both of you. “Thank you,” you whispered as Trevor curled up on Sam’s asleep almost immediately.

“Said we’d take care of you,” he shrugged and started to leave, but you caught his wrist. “Want me to stay,” he teased and slid up to you, slowly licking his lips.

“I’m serious, Dean. You guys didn’t have to do this, thank you,” you reiterated earnestly.

“‘Swhat we do, sweetheart.” He placed a hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. When you released your hold on him, he winked. “Get some rest. Sam might sneak in here, too. He snores, but you get used to it.” With that, he was gone and you collapsed onto the small padding Dean called his and promptly fell asleep.

It felt like your head had just hit the pillow when ya large hand close around your shoulder and squeezed. You jerked awake, but another hand covered your mouth and Sam shushed you. “Four outside,” he mouthed and jutted his chin towards the window. You nodded and looked over to Trevor who was still sound asleep. “Gun. Stay,” Sam added before scurrying out of the room to rejoin Dean.

You pulled out your gun and crawled over to the window to peek outside. There were four men that had made it over the fence and were clearing up the walkers that were roaming along the perimeter. Obviously the cans were a double edge sword since it meant that a house was occupied and a prime target for ill meaning looters.

The group split up, circling the house, two in front, two in back. You fell onto your hands and knees and crawled to pop your head out of the doorway. Dean caught sight of you and you did your best to signal to him, bue shook his head and motioned for you to go back into the room.

You slid back into the room with a silent grumble and closed the door enough for you see through the crack, but there was no eyeline to either door or of Dean or Sam. You could, however, hear the soft creak of a door opening and faint footsteps on the hardwood floors. The intruders were careful, it was obvious they were seasoned.

A second door opened and more footsteps followed, the group slowly slinking through the house. As quiet and cautious as they were, they didn’t expect the brothers to get the jump on them. There was hard smack of skin to skin and someone toppled into a wall. Several grunts and growls were exchanged, punches and air leaving lungs.

There was a resonating tink that made Sam cry out, “Dean,” before groaning himself and more blows were traded. You looked to Trevor, but the boy didn’t wake despite all the noise. You needed to help, but you didn’t want to leave your charge.

Someone cried out in pain and you set down the gun, reaching for the axe that laid next to the teen. The gun would’ve ended things quickly, but it would’ve also drawn walkers around for miles and any other curious idiot that happened to be out at night.

You crept out of the room and down the hall to find one guy already laid out and Dean exchanging blows with another. Two had Sam locked up and used as a punching bag. These guys had knives and possibly guns, why they hell weren’t they using them?

Sam locked eyes with you and before his captor could get out a warning, you slammed the butt of the axe to the back of the assailant’s head and he crumpled to the ground. Taking advantage of your sudden appearance, Sam was able to slam his head back into the other’s face and take the guy down.

“You’ve got some great timing, sweetheart,” Dean panted, wiping the blood from the side of his mouth. “Help us tie these guys up? There’s rope in our packs.” You nodded and set the axe aside as you searched through the two bags near the couch. Behind you, the boys dragged the limp bodies together and you tossed Sam the first coil of rope and Dean the other once you found them.

“You alright,” you frowned, noticing Dean’s split lip and Sam’s red cheek.

“We’ve had worse,” Dean shrugged it off and searched the men for weapons, tossing them near you and the packs. “What the hell were these guys doing?”

“A piss poor job of scavenging,” you offered, picking up a machete for yourself, but placed the rest in one of their bags.

Dean grumbled and shook his head as he headed over to you. “You head back to bed, we’ll deal with these guys.” Your gaze shifted to the tied up men on the floor and back to Dean, a deep frown on your face. “We’re not gonna to kill them, just wanna ask them some questions and we’ll toss ‘em out in the morning.”

You looked to Sam who gave you a confirming nod, a silent promise. “Any trouble, you’ll wake us,” you turned back to Dean, not questioning but demanding.

“Scouts honor,” he grinned. You huffed in annoyance, but took the machete and axe back with you, leaving the door open upon your return. You placed Trevor’s axe back where it belonged, secured the machete to your pack, and moved the gun under your pillow for quick access.

As much as you wanted to stay up to hear the interrogation, you were out the moment you closed your eyes for the second time that night. When you woke the next morning, you were alone and the low mumble of voices carried through the halls.

You shuffled your way to the living room where Dean and Sam were having a quiet, heated discussion that stopped as soon as you came into view. “Something wrong,” you yawned, searching for the four guys they captured last night.

“We’re leaving,” Trevor informed you, spooning pineapple into his mouth. You nodded and shrugged your shoulders in compliance, but the three stared at you questioningly. “Y/N, it’s…”

“Get packing, kid,” Dean interrupted him. You squared up at his tone, but Trevor sheepishly slipped out of the room. “You wanna tell us who Matt is?” A cold chill ran through you and you shook your head. “Those guys? They were his, said that been following you for days.”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” you said dismissively. “If we’re going, then we need to do it soon.”

Sam moved to you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, “If this guy is threatening you, we can help.”

“You can help by dropping it and getting us to your bunker or whatever,” you shrugged him off. “You two beat the shit out of those guys, I doubt anyone else is gonna come around. You proved a point, Matt’ll drop it.” Neither brother looked convinced. “Look, you said you didn’t want us to bring you trouble, so take Trevor. I’ll head out and you guys can be on your way.”

“You’re just going to leave him,” Dean snapped, stomping over to you with a red tinge to his cheeks. Sam put an arm across his brother’s chest to hold him back, but Dean wasn’t going to hurt you, you all knew that. “And you’re stupid if you think we’re gonna let you go out there on your own.”

Your face twisted into pure offense and anger, “Let me? You met me less than a day ago and you think you have some kind of hold over me?”

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Sam sighed, that worried pout back on his face. “Think of Trevor, alright? He’s the one that told us about Matt, what he did. He’s worried about you.” Your nostrils flared and your teeth audibly ground together. You knew the kid meant well, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. “Look, just let us get you as far away from here as we can and if you still wanna leave when we’re safe enough, then you can.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but one heated look from you shut him up. “Fine,” you spat.

Sam released his hold on Dean and gave you a worried half smile, “I’ll go help Trevor.” He patted your shoulder as he passed and slipped out of the room to leave you and Dean alone, steam still coming from both of your ears.

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass,” Dean sighed and headed over to secure their things.

“Yeah, I can say the same about you,” you shot back, arms crossed over your chest, your body still pumping with adrenaline. “But promise me that whatever happens, you’ll keep Trevor safe.” He didn’t look up from his task, but he nodded. “Say it, Dean.”

There was hesitation, but he stopped and looked at you, face straight, “We’ll take care of him.”

You accepted his declaration and moved to help him. “I owe you.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, a grin tugging at his lips, “you do.”

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