#'are you sure you can lift this? (the item in question was five pounds)'

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Today at work our order was delivered. By the time it was delivered I was the only one there which is fine, I've done it before. But before she left my boss said, "You've got it all, right? Except for the fruit. Get Daniel to life the heavy fruit for you."

And I was immediately possessed by an elementary school girl who just heard her teacher say, "I need some strong boys to help me life these chairs."

I lifted all of that fucking fruit by myself.

[sherlocks-freebitch]

Yet more sickfic, because I apparently cannot resist. Set in season one.

Also on AO3

“Martin.”

Someone’s calling him, Martin thinks through a fog of fatigue and flu medication. Someone important. He should really do something about that, but his head is stuffed with cotton wool and it feels like someone has taken a scourer to his throat. He’ll see what this person wants —Jon, it must be Jon, no one else says his name in that particular tone—in just a moment. If only his head would stop pounding.

“Martin.” The voice, sharp and disapproving, cuts through the haze. 

Jon always says his name as though it were a complete sentence in itself, one that should require no further explanation, one that Martin might be able to parse if only he were a little smarter, a little sharper, a little less  himself . 

Martin reluctantly struggles to the surface and lifts his head from his desk. Right, work. He’s at work and Tim and Sasha have gone home and he meant to lie down on the cot, but the desk was so cool against his heated face he couldn’t have moved if he tried.

“Sorry,” Martin says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?” He despises himself for apologising, but it’s a tactic that has stood him in good stead over the years. Keep your head down, do your work, apologise first and don’t ask questions later. Stay unnoticed.

Jon looks at Martin the way he normally does, which is to say with irritation. There’s something else behind it though, something that Martin can’t quite make out. Jon runs a hand through his hair before sighing heavily. He looks, Martin thinks, tired and cross and quite unfairly gorgeous.

“You can’t stay here.”

“What?” Martin feels like he’s missed half the conversation and struggles to orient himself. “What do you mean?”

“You’re sick, clearly,” Jon says with distaste, as though one of his employees being ill is a terrible breach of professionalism and good taste. “Get your stuff. You can stay at mine.”

“Okay,” Martin turns that over, checking the statement carefully for traps. “And the reason I can’t be sick here is…”

“You’ll infect everyone,” Jon states with certainty. “And you’ll be more comfortable at my place. The archives,” he sniffs, “is  not an infirmary.”

“You came to work sick,” Martin can’t help pointing out. “You looked so bad Elias had to send you home.”

“And look what happened,” Jon mutters. “You all have no idea the handholding I had to do with Artefact Storage after Tim absconded with that cursed whip.”

“He signed it out,” Martin says weakly. “It was for a case. Something to do with a circus, he said.”

Jon snorts at that. “Appropriate,” he says dryly. “Nonetheless I’m sure we’ll manage to survive without you for a few days.” He waits, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk.

“Okay,” Martin sighs, defeated. He grabs his bag and shoves a few things into it at random. Clothes, he needs clothes. He trudges over to document storage, Jon lurking at his back like a hopeful bird of prey.  “Will it be safe though? With Prentiss and all that?”

“Not as safe as here, no,” Jon says, frowning slightly. “But I have CO2 canisters and I don’t think she knows where I live. You’ve got your phone?  And your charger?”

“Yep,” Martin says, waving the aforementioned items before stuffing them into his bag.

“Right. Well, call me if anything happens, but otherwise you should be fine.”

Martin lets himself be herded through the deserted archives, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. The door to the stairs seems far further away than it normally is, but soon enough they’re outside and standing in the rain.

Jon glances at Martin’s face and whatever he sees there arrests his movement towards the tube. “Right, uber it is then.” He taps at his phone, then sighs dramatically.

“What?” 

“What’s your rating? It’s just…” Jon looks a bit sheepish for the first time since Martin’s known him. “Mine isn’t exactly ideal. We might be waiting a while.”

“Five stars,” Martin says smugly. “Don’t tell me Jonathan Sims has a less than perfect record?”

The quirk of Jon’s lip could, at a stretch, be called a smile if someone was feeling generous, and suddenly Martin feels extremely generous indeed.

“It’s from back when I was in Research,” Jon says, rubbing the back of his head. “Nights out used to get a bit wild.”

“Was Tim involved?”

“No comment.” The smile grows infinitesimally wider.

“Ha,” Martin says with satisfaction, determined to get the story out of Tim at the first opportunity. “Okay, give me your address.”

“I’ll reimburse you,” Jon promises ten minutes later when the car is weaving its way through the traffic. “Or I’ll make Elias do it.” He smiles grimly, clearly anticipating the battle ahead.

“Like getting blood out of a stone,” Martin agrees, closing his eyes. He wants to sleep for a month. “Thanks, by the way. For letting me crash.”

“It’s fine.” 

They stay silent for the rest of the ride, while Martin does a mental inventory of his bank balance. At least he’s saving on rent while he’s living at the archives, but he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to rely on Elias’s goodwill. He wonders if he should look at getting flatmates when he gets a new place, then shudders at what might have happened if he hadn’t lived alone when Prentiss had found him. 

“We’re here,” Jon says, just as Martin is getting caught up in nightmarish visions of hypothetical flatmates being eaten by giant worms. “Come on.” Jon grabs Martin’s bag and waspishly resists all attempts by Martin to carry it himself. It’s endearing, if somewhat condescending.

There aren’t too many stairs, thank goodness; Martin’s legs are feeling increasingly wobbly.

“Right, I need to make up the spare bed. Sit down, you look awful.” He disappears down the hall. Martin slumps into the nearest chair and looks around, slightly awestruck. He’s in Jon’s flat. He’s in Jon’s flat. 

He’s in Jon’s flat.

It’s…surprisingly normal. There are no ancient tomes covered in cobwebs, no spooky items of ominous provenience. It’s just a flat like thousands of others, furnished haphazardly with a mix of Ikea and Oxfam. Martin smiles and closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to tantalising images of Jon putting together flatpack furniture.

“Martin?” Jon calls, disconcertingly not from the direction of the bedrooms. “How do you take your tea?”

“Milk, one sugar,” Martin says automatically, hoping he hadn’t nodded off. Teamaking sounds emerge from the kitchen, which Martin is ridiculously pleased to note is barely bigger than his own. His former kitchen, he corrects himself. He really should start looking at listings, before Elias throws him out on his ear.

Martin staggers to his feet and makes his way towards the kitchen. Jon gives him that look again, but this time Martin can see it for what it is: concern, with an unhealthy smattering of guilt.

“Sit down,” Jon scolds, hovering like a mother hen. “I’m not having you passing out.”

“I won’t,” Martin says petulantly, but does as he’s told. The tea is good—not oolong, thankfully— and it comes in a frankly adorable mug with a large ginger cat on it. 

“Cute,” Martin remarks. “You like cats?”

“Oh—yeah, I guess so. The mug was a gift from a—from a friend .” Jon turns the conversation away briskly. “Alright, help yourself to food, books, whatever while I’m at work. There’s Netflix if you want it. I’ll leave a spare set of keys for you, in case you need to go out. Do you need me to pick up anything for you? Nurofen? Anti-histamines?”

“No, I’m good,” Martin says drowsily. “Got some with me.” He pats his bag. 

“Alright. I need to head out for a bit, so let me show you your room—”

“Jon.”

“What?”

“Are you going back to the office? It’s after nine.” 

“I—” Jon sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. “I just have a few things to finish up.  You, on the other hand, need to sleep. You were using case files as a pillow earlier.”

Martin holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Just don’t fall asleep at your desk again.” He gets up unsteadily and grabs the back of the sofa for support. Jon tuts disapprovingly and reaches out a hand to steady him, sending a technicolour rush of endorphins to Martin’s brain. Maybe he’s delirious. Or dying.

“Look who’s talking,” Jon mutters, and steers Martin down the hall, his fingers burning like a brand against Martin’s arm. 

The bed is a pull-out, but it looks like heaven compared to the cot in document storage. Martin kicks his shoes off and collapses on top of the duvet. 

“Okay. I’ll see you later. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Light on or off?”

“I knew it,” Martin says drowsily, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Knew what?” 

“Knew you were nice,” he murmurs.

Martin thinks he might hear the beginnings of an indignant splutter, but sleep swallows him up before he can be sure.

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize. 

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide. 

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness. 

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal. 

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to. 

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you. 

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn. 

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting. 

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was. 

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something? 

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled. 

“Once you… … …  it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!” 

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze. 

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow. 

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying. 

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed. 

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated. 

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group. 

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible. 

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed. 

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?” 

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room. 

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long. 

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place. 

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.” 

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…? 

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.” 

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room. 

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly. 

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.” 

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?” 

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?” 

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone. 

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep. 

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming. 

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words. 

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body. 

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.” 

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured. 

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on!  Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement. 

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again. 

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be. 

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.” 

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done. 

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…” 

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?” 

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” 

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…” 

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up. 

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?” 

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it. 

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying. 

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.” 

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained. 

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position. 

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.” 

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?” 

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.” 

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?” 

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all  skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.” 

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.” 

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.” 

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours. 

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.” 

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed. 

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head. 

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.” 

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?” 

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?” 

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!” 

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.” 

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!” 

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good. 

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side. 

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.” 

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.” 

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.” 

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.” 

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall. 

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet. 

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat. 

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in. 

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking. 

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!” 

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?” 

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep. 

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears. 

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape. 

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back. 

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?” 

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.” 

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.” 

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him. 

“Beel, you alright?” 

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered. 

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel. 

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room. 

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?” 

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.” 

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.” 

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders. 

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.” 

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you. 

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered. 

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.” 

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.” 

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.” 

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony. 

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal. 

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…” 

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.” 

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry. 

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips. 

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.” 

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.” 

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin. 

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?” 

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.” 

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now. 

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way. 

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you. 

“Having fun are we?” 

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you. 

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you. 

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug. 

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?” 

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi��s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back. 

“Let me down!” 

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy. 

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.” 

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.” 

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.” 

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?” 

“A little…” 

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you. 

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.” 

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!” 

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub. 

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.” 

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk. 

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.” 

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.” 

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.” 

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character.  If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?” 

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!” 

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?” 

You brightened. “Sure!” 

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.” 

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know. 

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--” 

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little. 

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…” 

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.” 

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?” 

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.” 

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?” 

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?” 

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked. 

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.” 

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?” 

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!” 

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!” 

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”  

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…” 

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.” 

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!” 

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?” 

“Yes.” 

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?” 

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud. 

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo. 

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress. 

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.” 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.” 

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.” 

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?” 

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.” 

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case. 

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?” 

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-” 

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.” 

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!” 

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.” 

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.” 

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next. 

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?” 

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat. 

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?” 

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…” 

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?” 

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…” 

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.” 

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.” 

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.” 

“But I-” 

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don���t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you. 

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?” 

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.” 

“Belphie!” 

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.” 

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.” 

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?” 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!” 

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…” 

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!” 

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question. 

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!” 

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips. 

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound. 

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted. 

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly. 

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked. 

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.” 

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him. 

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds. 

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door. 

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild. 

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left. 

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen. 

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?” 

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.” 

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him. 

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!” 

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?” 

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest. 

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.” 

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?” 

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could. 

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop.  Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver. 

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.” 

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face. 

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same. 

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?” 

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.” 

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters. 

“Asmo…” 

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms. 

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground. 

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.” 

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

[ceo-of-daichi]

Request ~ ‘Hey Lydzzz 💞 I was wondering if u r still taking requests cuz I had a smol one 👉👈 Can u do a Bubble Bath with Daichi after a long day but it *cough* *cough* gets steamy 🙈 (my inner Daichi simp was missing him lol)’ ~ @xxitzmikoxx

Characters ~ Sawamura Daichi x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Smut🦋

Warnings ~ Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Penetrative Sex in a Bath, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Daichi using you like a Cocksleeve

Word Count ~ 1.8k+

A/N ~ Got motivated to write this because I love this concept!!🥺 You said smol and steamy and I said long and full on smut lmao! Thank you for requesting this babie, hope I did it justice😳 Thank you to @mrs-kuroojinguji for the beta read, I honestly don’t know what I would do without you!!

Tip Jar☕️

Daichi knew that you had had a long week at work. Everything seemed to be getting to you in one way or another, you had failed to come home calm for at least 5 days straight. But luckily for Daichi and for you it was Friday, meaning he could set up a super relaxing night for you both.

As you opened up the door to your shared apartment, all you could think about was how good being in Daichi’s arms and under a blanket would be right now. Although you weren’t expecting the smell of essential oils and peonies to infiltrate your senses, you definitely weren’t complaining. You wanted to shout out for Daichi, but before you could your eyes spotted a trail of dainty red rose petals.

You had to take a second to make sure they were real, your facing heating up at the gesture. Following the trail slowly, it led straight to the bathroom where Daichi stood shirtless in a pair of grey sweatpants. Multiple candles were dotted around the room, the lights were off and the whole room smelled like a spa. The bath was full to the brim with fragrant bubbles, the water tinted a slight purple colour, he had even put in a rubber duck which made you giggle slightly.

As your eyes scanned the room they finally fell back on the well built man in front of you, already feeling much more relaxed than you were five minutes prior, a small smile graced your lips. The way the flickering soft light of the candles reflected against his slightly tanned skin had your heart fluttering in your chest, his eyes focused on you as he let you take everything in. ‘All for me?’ You asked, smiling lovingly up at him, your arms snaking around his waist as you rested your head against his chiselled chest.

‘All for you baby…’ He whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head and pulling you closer to him by your hips. ‘I got facemasks we can do as well if you want?’ He said, his lips still lingering on the top of your head. You shake your head under the light weight of his head, this was already more than perfect in your eyes.

Unwrapping yourself from around him, you start to take your clothes off. Daichi was already undressed and settling down into the bath as you finally took the last item of clothing off and tossed it into the washing basket.

You gave Daichi a small smile before sinking down onto Daichi’s lap, the warmth gentle on your skin. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you settled yourself, his arms wrapping around your waist pulling you further into his lap. Your head leaning back against his shoulder as he held you, your muscles completely relaxing back against him.

Daichi’s hands automatically started working their way up to your shoulders and upper back, gently massaging as he went. Another slightly more raspy sigh left your lips as you melted into his touch. He was always good with his hands, whether they were massaging away the knots in your muscles or deep inside your puffy walls, curling and poking every one of your weak spots.

You turned your head slightly, a small moan passing your lips as you couldn’t stop your head filling with thoughts of his fingers making a mess of your tight hole. ‘Daddy~’ You whimpered against his jaw, your ass subconsciously pushing down against his semi hard cock. Daichi let out a low growl at his familiar nickname, his hands moving down to grip your hips tightly.

‘I thought this was meant to be a relaxing bath princess?’ He questioned as he dipped one of his hands down further under the soapy water, running his fingers through your folds slowly. Your hips bucking as his fingers ran over your clit, a spark of pleasure shooting through your body.

Daichi could tell from the way your body reacted to his touch, that you were feeling extra sensitive today. Your body jolted with pleasure again as his fingers started to rub gentle circles on your ball of nerves, small mewls starting to leave your lips as he swirled his fingers around.

The water unsettled around you as your hips jerked occasionally at the ministrations of his fingers. Your head was lulled back on his shoulder, your eyes eagerly searching for his as your mouth fell open. He had barely touched you yet you almost needed release, it had been a couple of days since he had touched you like this and to say you wanted him would be an understatement.

You craved him.

His eyes finally met yours and he smirked at the sight before him before pushing his lips against yours in a sloppy but passionate kiss. His fingers slipped into your tight pussy as you both moan against each other, your legs eventually forcing themselves wider and now hanging loosely out the bath. The water sloshed over the sides as you adjusted position causing Daichi to tut into your ear.

‘Look how much of a mess you're making baby girl, try and stay still, we wouldn’t want all this water to go to waste would we?’ He questioned seductively into your ear, his breath fanning your lobe causing you to shiver.

His fingers continued to curl inside of you, hitting your soft spongy spot with every pump. You gripped the sides of the bath as you tried to stay as still as physically possibly. It eventually became impossible, as Daichi pushed in a third finger and you started to feel your orgasm building, the familiar coil slowly getting tighter until you were ready for release. Your body trembles, your legs twitching; you're yearning to see nothing but white, you're desperate for that waves of pleasure to wash over you.

You squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation, but release never comes as Daichi rips his fingers from your weeping hole. Your hips continue to grind against nothing as you felt the knot fade. ‘Daddy please…’ You beg weakly, a deep ache returning to between your legs as your hand shot up to grip his bicep.

‘If you’re gonna cum baby girl, it’s gonna be around my cock.’ Daichi growled against the back of your ear, nipping softly at the lobe. He couldn’t wait any longer, his cock was painfully hard and dripping with pre-cum. Lifting you up, he helped you line his cock up against your entrance, allowing you to slowly sink down.

Almost forgetting about the painfully good stretch that Daichi’s thick cock provides, he groans out in pleasure as you force yourself all the way down to the hilt. Your eyes roll back into your head as you let yourself adjust to his girth, he always stuffed you so full and your body was never fully prepared for it everytime.

As you were about to drag yourself up his length, Daichi gripped your hips, keeping you firmly on his cock. You turned your head to eye him, a confused expression on your face, he moved his arm around you and gripped the chain to the plug. ‘Make yourself cum before the water drains or you won’t get to cum at all’ Daichi spoke raspilly in your ear before tugging the chain removing the plug.

You wasted no time starting to slowly ride him using the tub for support, as Daichi laid his head back moaning out your name, not caring where and what the water in the tub was splashing as you sped up. The water started to become an obstacle as you struggled with the extra weight it provided, but when it eventually reached your lower hips, a wobbly, content whimper went past your lips. Because you've been starving, and you can finally speed up the tempo of your hips with ease.

Swirling your hips again and again, you eventually find that special spot that he always is able to hit, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally finding a quick rhythm that causes the familiar coil to build again, every slap of your hips sending sparks straight to where you need them most. Daichi couldn’t take his eyes off your ass as you bounced, a long groan leaving his mouth as he watched you use him.

Tears swell in the corners of your eyes as you start struggling to pull yourself off him every time, the drag of his cock causing you to cry out every time, but your body is begging for release. The final pool of water disappeared down the drain as you at long last creamed around him, a scream of his name in pure ecstasy leaving your lips.

‘God you clamp around me so tight when you cum princess, I want to feel it again~’ Daichi moaned out, as you came down from your high you realised he was still rock hard inside of you. Before you could even think, Daichi had pushed you forward onto your hands and knees and had thrust himself back inside your sensitive cunt.

You moan out in pleasure as the tip of his cock is instantly kissing your cervix once again. His pace relentless as he chased his own high, holding your hips so tight you swear it would leave bruises. Your own release came a lot quicker than the last time, the coil already starting to tighten for the third time tonight.

He watched as his cock disappeared inside of you barely fitting into your tight pussy. Grunts and groans passed his lips, as he watched you shake in pleasure beneath him. ‘Mhm so good daddy~’ You moaned out, your whole body starting to feel weak as he fucks you senseless.

He couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hand down firmly on the soft flesh of your ass while you mewled underneath him. A loud crack and a small hiccup left your mouth as he massaged the flesh, still pounding into you.

You started to both let out moans almost in a symphony as the coil finally snapped and you saw white for the second time that night. Your arms gave out in exhaustion, but Daichi was quick to catch you before he leaned back and pulled you against him. Using you whichever way he needed before he finally came, it wasn’t long before he stuffed you full of his cum.

You both panted heavily, you still being held by Daichi as you both laid back in the tub. The water drained and the whole room covered in a thin layer of it. ‘I love you so much Dai.’ You whisper as you finally pull him out of you and turn in his arms. The exhaustion hitting you in full as you let yourself relax against him once again.

‘I love you too baby’ He replies as he lets you fall asleep in his arms. Knowing you needed all the rest you could get as he stayed laid in the bath you curled into his chest, his cum slowly dripping down your thigh. He was just glad he could help you relax, hoping you wouldn’t pay the price tomorrow

Taglist ~ @honey-makki @novvabeam @scorpiosanssexy @sugawara-sweetheart @watermelonsugawara @mrs-kuroojinguji @arixtsukki @whootwhoot @cadenceh2o @minibobabottle @gemini-writes @lxvelylevi @kisskissfailmylife @honeybunny-sawamura @goddessofchaosleo @ineedsomefoodpls

If you want to be added to my taglist send me an ask!

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part three

Friends! 

It’s here! Finally! The last part to my version of Hailey’s time in New York!

I know it took a while me to post everything, but better late than never I guess! I hope this lives up to your expectations and I can’t wait to see what you think of it!

Huge shoutout to @anniesardors and @imjustwritingg for hearing and reading all the things and just being the biggest hype girls of all time!

Please enjoy this fluffy chapter before we get served a whole host of angst in the season finale tomorrow lol. Also, just a forewarning, it’s a long one... Like over 10,000 words so you’re welcome haha.

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias, @stephanie708, @cpd5777 

Read on AO3

It was nearing eleven in the evening and Hailey didn’t think she’d ever been so exhausted from the events of the day. Being released from the hospital and Jay’s mandatory five laps around the floor of the hotel had taken its toll on her.

It was a good kind of exhausted though because today, she had fallen in love with Jay Halstead all over again.

With every gesture and smile and look he gave her she fell in love with him again and again. His strong, but gentle hands, his heart always so kind and his eyes filled with an affection that made her heart ache in the best way. 

Even though her side was killing her, she felt so incredibly grateful to have him with her because the devotion he’s shown to her over the past few days, and especially today, made her once again realize that he truly was one of a kind.

And spending the day with just him, laughing and joking and asking each other silly questions almost made getting injured worth it.

She yawns through a giggle, her eyes shining bright as she listens to him wrap up a hilarious retelling of a time when he was on patrol. For one of her questions, she’d asked him for his craziest experience on the beat and he’d launched into a story about him and his old partner responding to a burglary call at two in the morning.

A man had claimed that he had been robbed and was missing five pounds of bacon but upon further investigation, it turned out the wife had been sneaking into the kitchen for a late-night snack.

“We did get some bacon out of it,” he laughs, looking up at her from where he was laid out at the end of the bed. “So, it wasn’t all bad.”

Shaking her head in amusement, she stifles another yawn with her hand and Jay gives her an affectionate smile and a pointed look, both of which she’s become quite familiar with by now.

“As much as I love this, I think it’s time for someone to go to bed.”

She arches an eyebrow, trying not to look as tired as she really felt. “So, I have a bedtime now?”

“When you’ve been shot and are taking some pretty heavy pain killers you do,” Jay smirks and she knows that not only is he right about her needing rest, but he is also getting payback for all of the times she had forced him to bed using the same argument.

He glances at his watch, the smirk growing, “Oh, and look at that. It’s time for another round of meds.”

Hailey gives him a look and scrunches up her nose, still not thrilled with the idea of taking them, but silently thankful that they should knock her out for a few hours. Shaking out a few pills into an open palm, Jay grabs a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and gives the items to her. 

“Do you want a shower tonight?” He asks as she throws the pills back in one go and takes a gulp of water to swallow them down with.

Wiping at her lips with her shirt, she shakes her head. “I took one this morning before you got to the hospital, so I’m good.”

“Alright,” he nods, leaning down to pick an empty plastic bag that had floated to the floor. “Why don’t you get ready for bed then? I’ll clean up out here and then help you change your bandages.”

Hailey carefully climbs out of the spot she’s been sitting in for most of the day and pads over to the chest of drawers she had finally unpacked in when it was clear she would be staying in New York for more than two weeks. She pulls out an oversized police academy shirt and a pair of running shorts before turning to rifle through the small duffle that Jay had packed for her hospital stay for her toothbrush.

She makes her way into the bathroom and even though her back is to him, Hailey is still very much aware of every move Jay makes as he busies himself with tidying the room and washing their dishes.

It all seems so domesticated and easy, like something they’ve done a thousand times before, and yet it feels different than if they were in one of their apartments doing the same sort of thing after pizza and beers.

There was something about knowing Jay couldn’t just hop in his truck to go home if he felt like it or that she couldn’t hide away in her own bedroom for a few minutes when the overwhelming urge to kiss him comes over her and it makes her heart beat erratically inside her chest.

She rinses her mouth out and takes a deep breath to steady herself before leaving the bathroom now dressed in her pajamas.

Jay places the last dish away as she comes out, turning to look at her with another easy smile that makes her knees week. She thinks it should be illegal for someone to look that handsome doing such a mundane task, but then again, it’s Jay and she knows he looks good in anything and everything he does. She doesn’t even have to work with him every day to know that.

She sits on the edge of the bed and Jay makes his way over to her silently, gauze and medical tape in his hands. Lifting her oversized shirt, she keeps it from falling down with an arm crossed just below her breasts and she thinks for a moment that there should be some sort of initial awkwardness at being this close, that she should feel uncomfortable, but there isn’t, and she doesn’t. 

Jay had been there when the nurses had first changed her bandages, had carefully studied their movements as they showed him what to do when she got home, but now that they were here, his hands touching her and just the two of them in a hotel room it was almost too much.

His fingers were gentle, but nimble as he carefully undid the bandages taped to her stitched side and Hailey couldn’t help thinking how his hands were more reassuring and comforting than even the nurses with all their experience and technique.

“Cop who scares you the most?” The sudden question almost makes Hailey jump, not expecting him to speak and she wonders if maybe the silence was getting to him too.

She blinks but doesn’t have to think too hard on this one. “Platt, for sure.”

“You?” She questions and she can hear the smile in his voice when he gives the same answer she had a second ago. 

As his fingers continue working over her injury, she can’t help the way her heart rate quickens. Can’t stop the goosebumps from popping up all over her skin. If he notices the way she shivers just slightly, he doesn’t show it as he begins to apply the fresh gauze over her side. 

“Did you always wanna be a cop? Before you met Platt, I mean,” he asks then. She hates the way it catches her off guard again, but also feels grateful for the distraction instead of thinking about his hands moving over her body. 

“Um, no, actually. I was really into gymnastics when I was younger. I remember watching the Olympics with my brothers and just loving the way they all moved through the air. Did it for a couple years but didn’t stick with it. Obviously,” she says as he puts some slight pressure on her side to apply some medical tape over the gauze.

“I’m sorry. I know this part hurts,” he says immediately, his fingers stilling, and she shakes her head.

“It’s okay,” she breathes out through gritted teeth. 

She takes another deep breath and feels him begin to move his hands over her side again a moment later. Instead of thinking about the discomfort and pain, she puts her focus back on the way his fingers feel on her skin. The way his hands have taken down some of the most hardened criminals of Chicago, but here he is, as gentle and as soft as can be with her. Like he always is. 

His hands leave her side a moment later and then she hears him whisper from beside her. “All done.”

She nods and pulls down her shirt before slinking further into the bed and carefully lying on her uninjured side as comfortably as she could. She watches him as he cleans up the medical supplies and disposes of her dirty bandages before turning off the main light of the room.

There’s just the nightstand lamp on, now casting a softer glow throughout the room. 

Hailey took another deep breath, trying to breathe as quietly as she could as she listened to Jay moving around the room on the other side of the bed. Her heart was starting to beat wildly again with anticipation as she waited for the inevitable dip of the bed when he was ready to turn in for the night.

She could hear his footsteps fall softly, the door to the bathroom closing shut as quietly as possible and she knows he’s trying hard not to disturb her. It didn’t matter though; she’s so hyper-aware of him, every noise he made echoed loudly in her ears.

If she were being honest, the thought of them sharing a bed had plagued her mind well before she’d been sent to New York and he’d hopped on a plane when she’d gotten hurt five weeks later. When it dawned on her that this meant that her bed-sharing fantasies had a high probability of coming true, her nights had been filled thinking about this moment more than she would ever admit.

Generally, she wasn’t an over thinker, but when it came to this, her mind had raced with the possibilities and each scenario had played out in her mind like a scene from a cringy rom-com.

The bathroom door opened, and her eyes flew shut. He moved silently over to the empty side of the bed and there was some rattling on the nightstand as he plugged his phone in and took his watch off. When it was quiet again, she waited for him to climb in beside her, but she could almost feel his hesitation.

She was about to tell him it was okay, and she didn’t mind sharing; that the bed was big enough for both of them, but then he climbed in next to her like it was just any other night. Like it was completely normal, and he’d been sleeping beside her for years.

It wasn’t a night of passionate frenzy and tangled limbs or awkward small talk over them sharing a bed.

It just was.

*

“Jay?”

He barely heard it, but it was enough for him to wake up.

Turning over quickly, he squinted, trying to see Hailey through the darkness, “Hailey?” He rasped groggily, “You okay?”

She sighed. Or tried to. He heard it catch in her throat before she drew in a quick little breath of pain and he knows that her insomnia is probably what woke her up, but it’s her ribs and side that’s keeping her from falling back asleep.

He tried to shuffle closer to her without jostling her too much, “You in pain?”

He was close enough now to see her facial expression. Her brows were furrowed like she was upset with herself as she muttered a ‘crap’, “I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Blinking, he shakes his head, becoming more alert as he props himself up on an elbow, “Hey, no, you didn’t wake me up.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, but he’ll say anything to make sure she knows that he really doesn’t care about the interruption.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was three in the morning.

Hailey does some sort of half-shrug, still laying towards him on her uninjured side, “A few hours I guess.”

Jay frowns, “You could have woken me up a long time ago.”

She still looks a little frustrated at herself, her forehead creased in pain and he knows all too well how brutal the first night out of the hospital can be.

It’s painful, coming off hospital grade pain medication administered through an IV whenever it was needed, having to now rely on low-dosage pills to get through the night.

It’s certainly not a comfortable night, not by a long shot.

And when there aren’t any nurses to answer your every beck and call, you realize just how hard everything is to do by yourself when recovering from an injury.

But she’s not by herself and he’s ready to do anything he can to help her tonight even if it is three am because she was there for him his first night home after getting shot in the shoulder and every other night when an injury was serious enough to warrant a hospital visit since she’d become his partner.

She would sleep on his couch, waking him up in the night to give him another dose of medication even if he didn’t think he needed it and she was there to gently change his bandages with comforting hands and this last time, he could have sworn he’d felt her warm lips touch his forehead as he drifted off to sleep after she’d made him his mom’s soup recipe; it was his favorite and Hailey always made it for him when he got hurt or sick after she’d found out what the recipe meant to him.

But more than that, he cares about her and this is what partners do. They look out for one another.

He’s also quickly realizing how much it hurts to see the girl you’re in love with in pain.

He’s pushing the sheets off of him, already reaching for the bottle of pills sitting on his nightstand, “I should have been more diligent about you taking these pills every four hours.”

He’s a little frustrated with himself for not setting an alarm to give her a dose during the night because now her pain is so bad she can’t sleep. Something he knows she needs to heal quickly.

Hailey carefully rolls on her back, gently holding a hand to her incision and the bruises surrounding it, “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Jay. It’s not your responsibility and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn yesterday.”

“Hey,” He sets the fresh water bottle he’d just grabbed from the fridge on the table next to the pills he’s shaken out before quickly climbing up on the bed to look at her closely.

He wants her to see how serious he is when he says this, “I will take care of you. Every time, any time, anywhere you need me. Even if you don’t think you need me, I will be there. Always, Hailey,” His eyes search hers, “You got me?”

She doesn’t say anything then or protest anymore, just nodding her head and accepting the out-stretched water and pills, quickly throwing them back before handing the bottle back to him.

They stare at each other for a few seconds too long before she blinks and he’s moving to put the half-empty water bottle back on the nightstand. He gets in the bed and waits till Hailey gingerly lowers herself back into the comfort of the mattress before he reaches out and flings the fallen covers over both of them.

He turns out the light he’d flipped on before rolling over to face her. There was a good foot between them, but he never wanted to gather her up in his arms more than he did in this moment, just quietly staring at her in the sliver of moonlight that was cast about the room.

She was breathing shallowly, her arms carefully folded in a comfortable position and her head resting peacefully on her pillow. Her blonde hair was spread out behind her and even though it was messy from sleeping, Jay didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so perfect.

He was staring at her and she was staring at him and even though neither of them had found the courage yet to admit that they fall asleep thinking about each other even when they aren’t together, they both silently knew.

They knew in the way they laughed together and in the way they sit quietly in the truck doing their job and in the way it felt right in this moment.

The world had never felt so right than in this moment, next to each other.

“Favorite memory?” It is whispered into the dark much like she’d said his name not even five minutes ago and if he hadn’t been listening to her quiet breaths, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

A smile instantly creeps across his face at the question, and he knows he should take a minute to think about the answer to such a difficult question because how can one pick out a single favorite memory among a lifetime of them in such a short amount of time?

But he doesn’t even need a second because the answer is right in front of him.

“This. Now. Anytime I’m with you,” He answers honestly, and it feels like the most direct thing that’s been said between them regarding the feelings they both so clearly have.

He can hear her breath hitch just slightly before she breaths out a chuckle, “That’s not an answer. You gotta pick a moment.”

“Says who?” He challenges with a raised eyebrow she can barely see through the dark.

Hailey gives him a cocky little smirk, “Says me. I’m the one playing your dumb game and I’m the one asking the question, so I should be allowed to make my own rules.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by ‘dumb game’? This is one of greatest games of all time,” He mused airily with a hint of fake indignation, “I mean just think of all the great stuff we’ve learned about each other. It’s truly an unmatched bonding experience.”

“Uh-huh,” She couldn’t help but laugh at his overrated words of praise watching as a grin takes over his face.

“Because learning that you used to steal from Will’s hidden candy stash when you were a kid really strengthened our relationship in a special way,” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know,” He defended with a pointed look at her.

She’s still grinning that wide smile that says she thinks he’s something else, but she’s so carefree with her sparkling eyes and cheeky dimples, his heart feels like it might burst from his chest at the sight.

He’s leaning on a bent elbow, propping his head up as he gets lost in her and his expression morphs into a soft smile as he thinks about what he just said.

“We’ve spent a lot of hours together, Upton,” His eyes crinkle with fondness and Hailey feels a happy warmth settle over her as she hums in agreement, thinking of all the time they’ve spent telling story after story or just sitting in absolute silence waiting for something to happen.

It’s easy being with him. Has been since the very beginning. Even when they were figuring each other out and dealing with a lot of emotional trauma, there was never any real awkwardness.

He’s comfortable and natural and she’s never had that with anyone. That’s how she knows they are good together and that’s what lets her know that they have the potential to make this last forever.

She almost gives voice to her thoughts. Here, in the dark of a hotel room as they lay in a bed together for the first time, only a few inches separating them, but then Jay slowly starts breathing out the answer to her question and she knows it’s not their time yet even though she desperately wants it to be.

“Remember a few months ago when we all went out to Molly’s after that flesh-eating bacteria debacle?”

Hailey nods. She remembers being overwhelmed at the feeling of being carefree after the stress and terror they had all been put through in the last seventy-two hours. She remembers being thankful that she was alive, but more than that, she remembers being so very relieved that Jay was okay.

She’d had nightmares for months after that where she didn’t make the shot in time, that Jay had infected himself and lost limbs or died because of it.

“And afterwards you wanted ice cream, but everyone else wanted to go home so me and you went to get some?”

She remembers that too.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d had an intense craving for the frozen treat that night and she remembers mentioning it to the team in passing, figuring that she would just stop for a carton from the store on her way home, but then Jay said he would take her and the next thing she knew, they were down at Navy Pier getting ice cream.

She remembers thinking that it felt dangerously like a date and that they were going to get caught for being out past their curfew like a couple of teenagers.

Hailey notices his gentle smile as he gets lost in the memory and she thinks she can just barely see a blush coloring his cheeks. She wonders if he also thought the outing felt a little like they were reckless high schoolers out on a late-night date.

“That’s it. That’s my favorite memory.”

She knew that’s where he was going with this, but she still feels a little shocked hearing it, “That’s your favorite memory?”

If she sounds a little dumbfounded, it’s because she is. She was expecting him to say something about a favorite trip or something with his mom, not some random night where the two of them got ice cream.

“Out of all your memories, that’s the one you’re choosing? What about one of your birthdays or some other special occasion?” She questions again, thinking surely there is something better than a crowded night out in Chicago.

There’s a bashful look on his face, but it doesn’t diminish the contented glimmer in his eyes as he simply nods, “You asked and that’s my answer. Or do you have rules for that too?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, adjusting her head on her pillow, “No. I was just wondering why out of all the nights, that’s the one you picked.”

She doesn’t really expect him to answer, but once again he shocks her when he moves his head just slightly closer to hers and he looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever needed.

“That whole night I remember watching you laugh. Really laugh for the first time in months,” He smiles to himself as he recalls the memory, staring off into the distance, “After everything that happened with Adam and Kelton and then the outbreak, things were finally starting to look up and we were all just so thankful to be out without any stress of a case hanging over our heads.”

Jay shifts his gaze back to hers, “And then we went to get ice cream and we just talked without worrying about our team or being split up or potentially dying from a deadly bacterial infection.”

He takes a breath, “I remember being so grateful and relieved that you were okay after being in isolation, that being with you outside of work, seeing you so happy made me realize how damn lucky I am to have you as not just my partner but as my best friend too.”

Hailey has to blink back tears, not expecting the sentimental response or that it would affect her this much. She reaches out and takes the hand he has laying on the mattress, “You’re my best friend too, Jay. I hope you know that.”

She thinks she sees his eyes flit down to her lips and she thinks that this might be it, that he was getting ready to kiss her, but then he doesn’t, and she tries not to be frustrated at being constantly on edge thinking that each moment is the one that would change her life.

“What about you?” He asks, still holding the hand she placed in his.

“My favorite memory?” She arches eyebrow and he nods as she rolls slightly onto her back, staring up at the ceiling to think before answering.

Like Jay, she doesn’t have to think long, “That time I got really sick with the flu and you came over to fix me your mom’s soup recipe.”

It is his turn to look skeptical of her response, echoing the words she’d said to him, “That’s your favorite memory?”

“Yeah,” She nods before turning her head to look at him, “Even though I felt so crappy, I remember thinking that that was the first time that anyone had taken time out of their day to take care of me like that.”

“Hailey….” Jay breathed out, squeezing her hand as a feeling of protectiveness swept over him, his heart aching to hear that that was the first time she’d ever felt cared for while being sick.

“You made me feel safe when I wasn’t feeling good and in a vulnerable position,” She looks at him fervently, “You make me feel safe, Jay. On the job, when I’m not feeling well, and I’ve never had that before.”

He has that same look from the bar when she’d told him about how her dad would hit her mom and how she’d wished someone would come put her father in his place like Jay did with Shane.

What she didn’t tell him then was that even though Jay wasn’t around when she was a little girl to save her, he had already saved her by just being the kind of man he was.

The man who was selfless in his actions and who was brave without need of recognition, who was patient with his words and slow to anger.

So different from her dad.

From any man she’d met really, especially being in a highly competitive male-dominated career.

Jay’s forehead is creased like it does when he is distressed, so Hailey smiles at him and tries to lighten the mood, “I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t all bad. My brothers tried to be there for me, and we had fun when we could.”

She smiles, a little melancholy thinking of the brothers that she’d roughhoused with when she was younger and feels that little pang of sadness when she remembers they are not nearly as close as they were when they were kids, but regardless she knows she wants to let Jay in, so she chuckles to herself and starts to offer some insight to the good parts of her childhood.

“We used to build pillow forts all the time,” Hailey snuggles down into the bed, grinning as she recalls the all the messes they made in their hidden sanctuary that was the attic.

That’s where they would go when they wanted to pretend that they had a normal childhood. No one ever went up there except for them and it was fairly soundproof, so they felt safe to have a little fun without their father hearing.

“We would take all of the pillows and sheets and blankets off of our beds and haul them up the ladder leading to our attic and then my brothers would hang the sheets from the rafters, and we would pile the pillows underneath so we had a soft place to lay.”

There is a soft smile playing at Jay’s lips now and she’s glad she is sharing this rare piece of childhood wonder with him.

She wonders if he is imagining a little girl with blonde pigtails and a wide smile and some part of her hopes that that little girl is not her, but another little girl that plays with her siblings and instead of blue eyes she has green with two parents who are laughing right alongside her.

“I would crawl under those blankets and pretend like it was my mansion and that my brothers were my servants,” Jay laughs at this and Hailey gives a rueful smile, “Most of the time they were happy to indulge and if my oldest brother was in a really good mood, he was usually persuaded into reading to us younger kids.”

Jay smirks, “Now why do I get the impression that you had all your brothers wrapped around your little finger?”

She smirks right back, “Well, it’s not my fault that I was just so dang cute.”

“No, no it’s not,” He says softly, his expression suddenly so open and vulnerable she can’t help but blush.

She yawns, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her, and it effectively breaks any moment they were about to have as a smirk reappears on Jay’s face, “Looks like the meds are starting to kick in.”

Hailey noticed that the sharp, throbbing pain she’d woken up with had lessened to a dull ache and that her head was starting to feel fuzzy, so she knew he was right.

Yawning again, she let her eyes close, humming, “Tell me another story about you and Will.”

She hears him shift, and she knows he is settling into the pillows before his gentle voice overtakes her senses and she’s carried off with dreams of little Halstead boys with green eyes and red hair.[EF1] 

*

She’s woken by a beam of sunlight shining straight into her eyes and the last thing she remembers is listening to Jay’s soothing voice as he told her about the time he fell out of his second-story bedroom window because Will had reversed all the locks in the house as a prank and he was trying to get out.

Apparently, the only thing that had saved him from breaking something was the shed that was under his window and Hailey remembered thinking as she drifted off to sleep that it truly was a wonder that Jay had lived this long between his childhood misadventures and his penchant for getting shot in adulthood.

Turning, she is half-expecting to find him asleep beside her, but he is not there, and the mattress is cold enough that she knows he’s been gone for a while. One look at the clock tells her he has because it’s ten AM and she’s never known the man to sleep past six.

True, she’s not well-acquainted with his sleeping schedule, but she knows enough about him to know that his time in the army instilled early morning habits. Even if he was injured and she was staying with him she would find him awake by at least seven.

Carefully stretching, Hailey is pleased to find herself in significantly less discomfort than she’s experienced over the past few days and she’s hopeful that she will be able to be more mobile than she was yesterday.

She slowly pushes herself upright and looks around for any sign of Jay. His wallet and watch are missing from the nightstand and the door to the bathroom is open, so she feels safe assuming that he has gone out somewhere.

Her stomach growls and she hopes he is getting them breakfast.

It is then that she notices all the chairs and tables have been pushed to the middle of room and there are sheets stretched out over them in a semblance of a fort. The pillows that they weren’t using were thrown underneath and she feels tears prick her eyes because of course, Jay would make her a pillow fort after learning what they meant to her.

Throwing back the covers, she gently swings her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up, rubbing her eyes as a grin makes its way onto her face. She wasn’t lying when she’d told him that pillow forts were something that brought back good memories of her brothers, but she has a feeling that they may be taking on a whole new meaning to her from now on.

Of Jay and hotel rooms and lazy mornings. And if things fall into place, sometime in the future they will mean living rooms and slow kisses and little feet.

Her gaze catches the book lying on her nightstand. Her eyes sparkle as she grabs it and makes her way over to the fort, carefully squatting down so she could crawl underneath the ‘roof’ made of white sheets held up by chairs and heavy objects.

Settling comfortably on her back in the midst of the pillows piled on the floor, Hailey opens her book to her last marked page and gets lost in the world of Farewell to Arms.

*

She doesn’t know how much time has passed before her ears prick up at the sound of the hotel door being opened. She listens as Jay swings it open, catching it before it slams back into the latch as he softly calls out her name.

Staying quiet, she hears the crinkle of bags being sat on the kitchen countertop, Jay calling out her name a second time before he’s silent again, his footfalls coming closer to her spot under his fort.

She watches as his legs appear in her line of vision, his head suddenly making an appearance a few seconds later when he swoops down.

Hailey grins, “Hi.”

Jay grins back in amusement, “Hi,” He squats down in front of her, still just outside the fort, “I take it you found my surprise?”

“Mmhm,” She hums, the sparkle in her eyes softening sincerely, “Thank you, Jay. And not just for this, but for everything you’ve done for me.”

He shakes his head, “Hailey,” He pauses and huffs out an incredulous chuckle, “you don’t ever have to thank me.”

Unexpected tears spring in her eyes as his words touch her in a way she can’t quite describe. She ducks her head and blinks rapidly, trying to dissipate them before clearing her throat and looking back at Jay.

She uses her head to gesture at the space beside her and arches an eyebrow, “You coming in or what?”

Jay laughs, rolling his eyes as he slips off his shoes and carefully maneuvers his tall frame under the sheet roof.

Laying down next to her, he notices the book laying loosely in Hailey’s hands. He nods to it, giving it a pointed glance before looking at her and smirking playfully, “You want me to read to you?”

This time, she rolls her eyes and lets her body sway to gently bump him, “You want to read Ernest Hemingway to me?”

Shrugging, he plucks the book out of her hands and flips through it, “You got anything else?”

“No,” She shakes her head, “It’s the only thing I brought.”

Jay sighs as he looks at the title ruefully, “A Farewell to Arms, Hailey. Really? This is like the most depressing book on the planet.”

Frowning, she gives him an affronted look, “This is one of my favorites!”

He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head in disbelief, “I will never understand it, but okay,” He opens the book again, thumbing through the pages trying to distinguish what part she’s at because almost all the pages are dog tagged from overuse, “Where are you at?”

She diverts her gaze quickly, scrunching up her nose sheepishly before giving him a wry look, “I just got to book five.”

Jay gives her a look that says ‘really’ and huffs out a sigh as he turns to the last section, “I mean the whole book is depressing, but this is arguably the worst part.”

“But it’s so good, Jay,” She insisted, settling her head down into the pillows waiting for him to start reading.

He shakes his head again but turns his gaze to the page and starts to read, his voice gentle and lilting. Hailey thinks she could listen to him read to her for a lifetime and never get tired of hearing him.

He reads about the Henrys living in their cabin and then about Catherine preparing for the baby. When he gets to the part where she goes into labor, Jay notices a melancholy look in Hailey’s eyes as she lays quietly listening next to him, playing with her loose hair as she looks up at the billowing, white sheet.

Then he gets to the part where the doctor wants to do a C-Section and Jay swears he hears Hailey sniffling when he gets to the part where the nurse tells Frederic that the baby was dead.

He is almost to the end now, and he is surprised to find himself choking up just slightly as he reads line after line of Frederic pleading with God to save his wife. Hailey is definitely tearing up at this point and when he reads the last couple of lines, she wipes away the tears and sighs as he closes the book, clearing his own throat.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes before Jay feels like he can speak after going through that emotional rollercoaster of an ending, “God, Hailey, how do you like this?”

She shrugs, turning her head towards him and he’s slightly surprised at how close they were. If he wanted, he could barely dip his head and be kissing her.

“It’s beautiful in a gut-wrenching kind of way,” Her eyes have this inquisitive look in them, and it reminds him of how she looks when she’s going over files, trying to piece together backgrounds for motives.

He can’t help but scoff at her response, “It’s devastating is what it is. I mean the poor guy survived the war just to have his wife and child die all in one day.”

He shudders, rapidly pushing the unbidden, very unwanted image of Hailey in the same situation. God, he couldn’t even imagine, and he and Hailey were just barely on the cusp of being together.

“But it’s life,” She offers softly, a knowing look on her face and this time the look in her eyes is of someone who has seen a lot of death and unfair endings, “We know all too well how cruel this world can be.”

Jay sighs in acknowledgement, letting his head drop as they both quietly think about Hailey’s loaded statement.

He puts the book out of the way and rolls onto his side so he’s fully facing her, “Life is cruel, but it can be really beautiful too. Even in the pain.”

Hailey is quiet for a moment as she watches him, contemplating his words before she cocks her head, a strange little smile on her face, “Who knew Jay Halstead could be such a philosopher.”

Jay can’t help chuckle, his eyes crinkling merrily as he teases, “Who knew Hailey Upton could be such a sentimentalist.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “I guess your game was good for something then. We are just partners; I guess we don’t know everything.”

She said it teasingly because they both know that they knew the things that mattered, but then Jay looks at her and she can’t quite make out the expression on his face.

“I guess so,” He murmurs back, their eyes locking, and Hailey can feel her smile fading from her face as Jay’s gaze darts to her lips.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

The air had shifted from light and playful into something of hopeful anticipation as they both held their breath because this was it. Somehow, she knew that this was the moment they both have been waiting for.

“Hailey,” The way he says it brings her back to flying bullets and quiet break rooms; to teary eyes and soft whispers when the threat of being spilt up was very real and too overwhelming to think about.

He’d said her name then just like he was saying it now, breathy and gentle and maybe even a little bit scared. And just maybe, Hailey thought, they had been on the edge of this for far longer than she’d even realized.

“You know, I think I have just one more question for you,” It was barely a whisper, his minty breath ghosting over her face.

Her own shallow breathing had nothing to do with her bruised ribs and stitched side but everything to do with the way his forehead was almost touching hers as they lay on their sides underneath the fort made from sheets and pillows.

The joking and the laughter and the bright sunlight of a hopeful day shining through the white sheets, surrounding her and she feels it in her bones that this is the monumental moment of their great love story—the start of a beautiful life bursting with love and tears and pain and joy and pillow forts and all the things that come with loving each other; of building a family together.

Her eyes were lidded as she looked into those brilliant green irises that she loved so much, and the feeling of warmth and affection and pure adoration washed over her as Jay’s gaze dropped to her lips before his eyes closed completely, slowly breathing her in.

Their lips were almost touching now as they lay in the quiet of a lazy afternoon of an ordinary Sunday afternoon and it was in the way it was just so natural, so comforting that made her feel like she’d just had a glass of warm milk and was now tucked up in bed.

But that tingling feeling she had low in her belly and rushing through her bones was so much better than she’d ever felt before and she knew it was much more than just an ordinary Sunday—it was an extraordinary Sunday.

“And what question would that be?” She was almost afraid to talk even at a whisper for fear of breaking the spell they were under, but the barely murmured question was filled with hope and love and affection, adding a deeper layer of warmth to the bubble they had created.

“Are we only just partners?” His nose skimmed hers as he moved his head slightly, his slightly open lips almost touching her cheek in the barest hints of a kiss.

Hailey hummed, letting out a soft little sigh as she gently ran her hands up Jay’s torso, stopping at his chest, her touch light and soft.

“Do only just partners fly all the way to New York?” It was a rhetorical question spoken in hushed tones as Jay gently nuzzled her neck before bringing his head back up to gaze at her, their lips once again mere millimeters apart. She swallowed faintly, “Because I think we both know that we aren’t just partners.”

His eyes held soft tenderness and fierce devotion, the quiet future she’d dreamed for them reflecting so clearly back at her. The pads of his fingertips touched her cheek so scarcely it almost tickled, “I’d follow you anywhere, Hailey. To New York, back to Chicago,” His gaze burned into hers and she knew he was getting ready to say the words she’d been hoping to hear for so long.

She felt the fingers of his other hand tangle with hers by their sides, “To the edge of the universe and everywhere in between. Wherever you are, I am, because you are the person I always want to come home to.”

She felt the promises land on her lips more than she heard them, his voice was so soft and quiet. And Hailey thought it was perhaps the most intimate she’d ever been with a person.

It was vulnerable and gentle and warm and just pure, unadulterated love, and she knew she would never be able to put this feeling or this moment into words, but she knows that this is where she belongs; next to him, in his arms, his heart beating under her palm.

She barely had time to whisper, “Oh Jay” before his lips were softly pressing against hers in an intentional kiss instead of fleeting brushes. It was unhurried and really quite innocent as far as kisses go, but she’d never felt more cherished than she did in that moment.

His lips just barely moved against hers, languidly filling her up as he kissed her in the way one would savor the taste of something new yet familiar.

A last first kiss.

Jay pulled back slightly, their lips still touching as he looked at her, his strong but gentle hand cupping one of her cheeks, “Because you are my home. The person I want to share it all with—the joy and the pain. The person I want to tell my secrets to. To whisper all the hopes and dreams and promises. And that’s why I love you.”

Maybe he’s crazy for telling her what he so deeply feels in his heart right away, but then he looks at her and he knows it isn’t. They were already closer than most couples ever are, and he thinks that’s what makes them so special—so different from any other relationship he’s ever had.

It isn’t crazy because it’s true and they are them.

He knows she’s already seen the truth in his eyes anyway.

*

When Jay walks into the hotel room later that day, arms laden with Greek takeout, he does he wanted to do last night and calls out a ‘honey, I’m home’ in a teasing manner.

Hailey smiles at him brightly, her eyes shining with the laughter that’s so clearly on her face, and he can’t help but drop a kiss on her dimpled cheek, marveling at the way tonight was so vastly different from the night before.

It was so easy now, to just drop a kiss to her cheek or her lips whenever he wanted, like he’d been doing it for years and yet, he still had that buzzy feeling of anticipation that he’d had this morning when he kissed her for the first time.

Something tells him that it’s going to always feel like that when kissing her no matter how many times he does it over the course of their lifetimes and that thought alone sends his heart racing and makes him think dangerous things like rings and vows and forevers.

He knows, he knows, it’s definitely way too early for those types of thoughts, but then again, that has never stopped him from imagining a future with her before. Before they were even together. But now they are, and it’s proving difficult to not think about the thing that he’s wanted for so long is realistically and finally within his grasp.

“What?” She’s cocking her head, her lips quirking up in a question and he realizes he’s been staring at her for the past couple of minutes.

Jay shakes his head, lips quirking up in a smile of his own, “Nothing.”

Hailey gives him an inquisitive look like she’s not entirely sure she believes him, but the grin on her face tells him she’s too happy to care. She turns back to where she is gingerly picking up the room, gathering their collective dirty laundry to throw in the washing machines downstairs and he is suddenly, once again struck with the thought of this is what he wants his future to look like.

“What are we gonna do for the next couple of days? I’m probably not up for traipsing all over New York, but we should do something other than stay in this hotel room.”

Her back is to him as she talks and continues to tidy the messy room, leaving the fort for now, but gathering up a few pillows that are laying on the floor to throw back on the bed.

“We’d both go crazy, especially considering I’m not allowed to do anything ‘physically active’ which is, not going to lie, kind of a bummer seeing as how I’ve waited for ages for you to make a move and we’re here totally alone with nothing to potentially interrupt us,” She rattles on casually like she’s talking about the weather and while he is also bummed at not being able to take that final step of being together totally and completely for another couple of weeks, he is thrilled that they have this time together to get to know each other as a couple.

There are more intimate things than just sex and those are the moments he is looking forward to. He wants to know what she finds romantic and how much she likes to cuddle and if she hogs the blankets at night or if her feet get cold.

Things that only a boyfriend would know.

He realizes she’s stopped talking and is looking at him again, this time with an eyebrow raised in exasperation, “Jay! Have you been listening to me at all?”

He blinks and shakes his head sheepishly, knowing she must have been waiting on an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

Her eyes furrow inquisitively as she shakes her own head in slight amusement before turning back to her task, muttering something about how he was an idiot, but she loves him anyway.

“Hailey,” He blurts it out, like he’s desperate, like if he doesn’t say what he wants now then he’s afraid it’ll never happen. She looks back at him again, this time with a hint of concern on her face, but he’s just looking at her like a man in love and she’s his whole world.

“Let’s get married.”

*

“Well, look who it is! The elusive damsel and her brooding knight in shining armor,” Adam exclaimed, his arms flung out wide as Jay and Hailey made their way up the steps and into the bullpen.

Hailey glared at him, but the smile threatening to take over her face ruined the effect, “Ha ha, very funny. A girl goes away for a while and she’s suddenly elusive, she gets hurt and now she’s a damsel.”

She accepts the gentle hug that Adam was offering as Kevin and Kim crowded in behind them at the top of the steps, waiting for their turn to welcome her home.

“Hailey, you can’t ever leave again. Or if you do, you gotta take me with you because one more day alone with these children and I would’ve lost my mind,” Kim insists as she moves in for a hug of her own.

There was a chorus of affronted heys’ from Adam, Kevin and Jay as Hailey chuckled at the desperation in Kim’s voice.

“Also, clearly you need us watching your back because the second you go off without us, you get hurt,” The statement is meant to be funny and it gets the eye-roll it deserves, but Hailey knows this is Kim’s way of saying she’s glad she’s okay.

Hailey is sure had they been alone, Kim would have been more direct with her feelings of relief, but as women in the force, they had to be careful not to exude to much sentimentality even if they know their unit would never use it against them.

“We sure did miss you, girl,” Kevin tells her as he steps up for a hug of his own and she grins into the man’s broad chest when she hears Jay mutter a, “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Adam starts to tease him, but whatever he was about to say is cut off by Kim’s loud gasp as she all but yanks Hailey’s hand which was still resting on Kevin’s back to her face.

“Oh my God,” The squeal that comes out of her mouth is one none of them had ever heard before as she pulls on Hailey’s arm, bringing her fingers to eyelevel as she narrowed in on something that hadn’t been there before.

“Did you get married?!”

That definitely got the other’s attention, Kevin and Adam’s heads’ immediately snapping over to look at Hailey’s left hand that Kim still had a hold of, “Holy crap, Hailey. You go away for like five weeks and you come back freaking married?”

Hailey tries retracting her hand, but Kim still has a tight hold on it, staring at the engagement and wedding band on her ring finger of her left hand. She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn’t get very far before Kim’s talking again, “I’m sorry, but who the hell did you marry?”

There is a beat of silence before Adam curses under his breath, muttering a ‘no way’ as he practically leaps across desks to grab Jay’s left hand which was rifling through his duffel bag. Much like Kim did with Hailey, Adam brings Jay’s hand to his face, pulling him half-way across his desk and ignoring his protests.

“Holy no way,” Kim’s eyes were about as wide as saucers as they all glanced back and forth between the two partners.

“You two got freaking married?” Kim says again, her voice at an unnaturally high pitch.

Hailey can’t help but smirk at Kim’s expression as she sits down with her mouth slightly agape and has to suppress a laugh at Kevin and Adam’s matching dumbfounded expressions. She shares a secret look with Jay, the sparkle of laughter evident in his eyes.

She glances over their friends before shrugging and offering a simple, “Surprise!”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Adam states as he slowly sinks into his desk chair, his face whiter than Hailey had ever seen it.

She knew their news would be a shock, but she didn’t think it warranted this strong of a reaction. Jay sends her another look that says the same thing and she knows he’s about to ask Adam if everything was okay when Kevin starts laughing.

“Oh man. Dude, what did we tell you?” He snorts, holding out an opened palm as Adam looks up at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t think it would actually happen and you told me nothing of the sort,” He defends, looking very uncertain, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.

Swallowing, Adam finally looks at them, flicking his eyes between her and Jay, “You told Trudy, didn’t you? Why would you do that?”

Jay shoots Hailey a look before slowly shaking his head, “No, Adam, we didn’t tell anyone.”

His face goes even whiter than it was before, and he sinks out of his chair to sit on the floor, burying his head in his hands.

Kim’s eyes widened and she looked at Adam warily, “Adam, what did you do?” Her eyes narrowed in alarmed suspension, “Don’t tell me you actually made that bet with Trudy.”

Adam was now lying flat on his back in the floor, his head moving back and forth in misery as he groaned, “I thought I had it in the bag. I mean, if Jay and Hailey didn’t tell her then how the hell did she come up with exactly what happened? That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Kevin shook his head in slightly terrified admiration, “I don’t know, man. Trudy Platt is as mysterious as they come, and she has mad skills.”

Hailey’s eyebrows furrow as she watches Adam’s dramatics play out in front of her, “What bet? What are you guys talking about?”

Kim and Kevin share a look, ignoring Adam who was still moaning in disbelief on the floor behind his desk and at Kevin’s shrug, Kim looks back at Hailey and Jay.

“Well,” She draws it out like one who is coming clean about something they don’t particularly want to divulge, “We’ve had bets going for a while on when you two were going to get together because we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later and we decided the other day that it was going to be sooner rather than later because of the whole New York thing.”

“And somehow Trudy ended up pitching the idea of you guys eloping and I guess Adam was stupid enough to take the bet,” She purses her lips, “Not that any of us actually thought you were going to get married. Together, yes, but married?”

Kim trails off and Hailey’s eyebrows arch warily, “Wait a second. What do you mean ‘we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later’? Because to be completely honest, I didn’t even know if it was going to happen till a few days ago.”

“Girl,” Kevin shakes his head and uncrosses his arms to put his hands in his pockets, “You have no idea the amount of gossip you guys generate down in patrol. You two are like a freaking slow-burn romance novel,” At Kim’s odd look he hurries to add, “Not that I know anything about those. That’s just what Vanessa says and honestly, this whole thing was started by her so you can just go find her in whatever undercover operation Narcotics has her in and bring it up with her.”

There is a slightly uncomfortable pause as Hailey and Jay take in the information that they are already a source of gossip in the district, but it’s broken by another one of Adam’s distressed groans.

“Man,” Jay looks over at him, his eyebrows arching like he was finally fed up with his friends’ bemoaning, “What the hell kind of deal did you make with Trudy.”

Kim crosses her arms, also clearly unimpressed, “You know, I’d also like to know what has you rolling around like you’re in state mourning.”

“I didn’t think they were actually going to get married, or I would have never made the bet,” Adam insists again, running his hands over his face, “I owe her a months’ worth of drinks at Molly’s, and I have to do school crossings for the rest of the school year.”

Jay laughs, “Oh man,” He shakes his head in amusement, “You do realize it’s only February, right?”

Adam glared at him, “Oh shut up.”

Clambering to his feet in a huff of despair, he heads dejectedly towards the stairs, “I guess I’d better go settle up before Platt comes up here to rub it in my face.”

They watch him go, each trying to hold in snorts of laughter before he disappeared around the corner and Kevin turns back to where Hailey and Jay have taken up residence at Hailey’s desk.

“I still can’t believe you two are actually married,” He rubs his face briefly with an astonished huff of laughter, “Together, I could believe. In fact, I have money on it, but married? Like, what inspired you to skip the dating phase?”

Hailey and Jay share an amused look, her expression changing imperceptibly before Jay turns back to Kim and Kevin, “I guess we should probably come clean.”

They look a little confused for a moment before Kim creases her forehead skeptically, “Wait a second,” Her eyes widen in realization before she slowly starts to speak, “Are you telling us that was all a joke?”

“Well,” Hailey smirks, starting to remove the wedding and engagement bands on her finger as Jay did the same with the wedding band he was wearing, “The married part was a joke but the together part,” She looks at Jay and he gives her a soft smile full of warmth and love, “That’s for real.”

“Wait, seriously?” Kevin gave an impressed grin, chuckling, “So, Adam didn’t really lose that bet?”

Jay shrugged, grinning, “No, not technically,” He winks, “but we don’t need to tell him that.”

“I honestly can’t believe that turned out as well as it did,” Hailey shakes her head in disbelief, “We had no idea Adam had made that bet with Trudy. We just thought it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t because that was entertaining as hell and I for one am going to enjoy watching Adam carry out a bet he actually didn’t lose,” Kim flops down in her desk chair, powering up her computer as she laughs.

Kevin follows suit, laughing as they all turn to their computers to start the workday. They have to smother snickers when half an hour later, Adam trudges up the steps with a smug looking Trudy Platt following him, rattling off his new school crossing schedule.

*

“I can’t tell you how good it feels to be back,” Hailey sighs, leaning into Jay as they walk out of the district and into the roll-up, Jay’s arm slung around her shoulders.

He kisses the side of her head, “It feels good to have you back. I know I’ve said this before, but nothing was the same while you were gone. I hope everything will start to go back to normal now that you’re here with me.”

Hailey suddenly extracts herself out from under his arm and puts a good couple of inches distance in between them. Jay frowns, confused at her sudden coldness, “Hailey?”

“What?” She gives him an innocent look, a smile starting to tug at her lips, “You said you hope things go back to normal. This is normal for us.”

Jay gives her an unimpressed look, “Ha ha. Very funny. You know what I meant.”

She chuckles and lets Jay sling his arm over her shoulders again as they continue to walk over to where he parked the truck earlier.

“A new normal then,” He amends, “One where I get to kiss you and touch you and tell you how much I love you.”

Nestling her head into his shoulder, she looks up at him with a heartfelt smile, “Sounds good to me.”

They are at the truck now and Jay walks with her to the passenger’s side before stopping to turn and face her, his hands coming to rest on her upper arms. He takes a breath and Hailey’s eyebrows furrow at the almost nervous expression he is wearing, “I know that whole marriage thing today was a joke, but I meant what I said while we were in New York.”

Hailey remembers the initial shock she felt when Jay had blurted out that they should get married as they stood in their hotel room mere hours after their first kiss. He hurried to add that he meant sometime in the future, but he wanted to let her know how serious he was about this relationship even if it was way to early by most standards to be talking about marriage.

She’d listened to him ramble on uncharacteristically about how he loved her, that she was it for him and he just wanted her to know that. That one day in probably the near future he wanted to ask her for real and he hoped beyond all belief that she would say yes because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her but even if she didn’t want to get married, he was okay with that. He just wanted to be with her on any terms.

After she got over the surprise of his statement, she found that she wasn’t frightened by how fast things seemed to be moving and if it had been anyone other than Jay, she knew deep in her bones that she would be running for the hills at even the hint of marriage.

But it was Jay and if she were being honest, she would’ve married him back in New York if he’d asked her to and she would marry him tomorrow if he dropped down on his knee right now to propose to her.

Jay swallowed and she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “You are it for me and someday, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I hope to God you say yes, but I want you to know that as long as I’m with you, my life is filled with purpose, so we don’t need to define anything with a piece of paper or anything. I just need you to know how serious I am about this.”

“Jay,” She interjects softly, placing a hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart, “Today, tomorrow, ten years from now. If and whenever you ask me,” She smiles gently as she moves to cup his stubbled cheek, “My answer will always be yes.”

I hope the ending wasn’t too cringy, but I had to end it somewhere lol! As always, let me know what you thought!

Love you all and can’t wait to see you for my next project!

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Ch 3

Bdubs’ communicator exploded with vibrations as messages flooded into the chat. Most of them were some variation of demanding to know exactly what the Boogeyman was. Bdubs was curious too, but he noticed that the server had sent him a private message. Quietly, he checked it and his eyes scanned over what it said.

“You are the boogeyman. You must by any means kill a green or yellow life by direct action to be cured of the curse. If you fail, next session, you will become a red name. All loyalties and friendships are removed while you are the boogeyman.”

Bdubs ran his tongue over his lips nervously. Oh. As subtely as he could, he glanced down at his wrist. Four hearts were still there, marked in dark green ink. He tilted his comm slightly to check the color of his eyes. They were still dark brown as always. He blew out a breath. The bloodlust hadn’t started yet. He had a few hours at most to get away from everyone else on the server. To warn them.

Then, he read over the message again. “If you fail, next session, you will become a red name.” Slowly, the meaning sunk in. Unless he killed someone within the next nine days, he would kill everyone. Then, he glanced up at Etho. He was so, so screwed.

Scott trailed behind Pearl as she clambered over the hill, looking for a good place to set up their base. He rubbed at the skin on his wrist, but stopped once he realized what he was doing. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sight of Jimmy’s smiling face, hands rubbing over his palm. Jimmy had always rubbed at his wrist like that whenever he was stressed. He had promised Scott that he himself would die before he let anyone take a single life from Scott. Guess he had been right.

Scott missed him. He missed the sunshine that would come with the blonde as soon as he entered the room. He missed the bright smile and bubbly laughter. He missed being able to smile, missed those fleeting moments where he thought everything might be okay. As long as he had Jimmy by his side, nothing could go wrong. His crown sat heavy against his brows.

Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Scott?” Pearl called out from the top of the hill. “You alright?” Scott’s eyes snapped open, and he met Pearl’s concerned expression. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” he replied, plastering a small smile onto his own face. Pearl didn’t buy it. “Scott, if you need a moment, we can stop for a bit.” “No, no,” Scott assured her. “Really, Pearl. I’m fine.”

Then, his eyes caught on a small smudge of bright red against the green grass. He cupped the flower gently in his hand. Then he plucked it and tucked the poppy behind his ear. “Let’s go,” he said, marching on.

Bdubs’ pick dug into the iron ore, pulling the metal free. He picked up the item drops and tucked them into his bag. “Oh, so I figured out what that boogeyman thing was about,” Etho said from the other end of the cave, startling Bdubs into dropping his pick. “Oh, sorry,” Etho said. “Anyways, that boogeyman thing. Basically, we have to kill someone else or else we get down to our red life.” “Wow,” Bdubs said, voice even. “Glad neither of us got that then.” “Well, you can’t be sure of that,” Etho said. “For all you know, the server could have chosen me.” Bdubs chuckled lightly. “C’mon, don’t joke about that. Sounds like you basically have to act like a red life or else you actually become one. If you ask me, that sounds like some pretty serious pain.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Etho said, pocketing more coal drops. “But if I were the boogeyman, I could kill you right now if I wanted to.” Bdubs’ heart skipped a beat. He was the boogeyman. Etho didn’t have to kill anyone. Besides, he was still on his green life, or rather his dark green life. The bloodlust wouldn’t have started yet.

Suddenly, a pickaxe embedded itself into the stone next to Bdubs’ head. He whirled around to see Etho’s hand on the hilt. “What the heck, Etho?” he exploded. “You almost hit me!” “But I didn’t,” Etho said with a shrug. “Wasn’t planning too anyways. Just wanted to scare you.” “W-well you did a great job of that,” Bdubs spluttered.

Suddenly, he realized how close at hand his sword was, how close Etho’s unarmored chest was. He shoved the thought down. He wasn’t on his red life yet. He couldn’t kill anyone yet. He wouldn’t kill anyone. His stomach began to turn in knots, and he turned his attention back to mining, trying to quiet the pounding headache that had sprung up. He wouldn’t kill anyone. He wouldn’t. Then his hands began shaking.

“I think I’m gonna go get some food,” he mumbled, stumbling back up the mineshaft he and Etho had made. Once he reached the little shelter they had made for themselves, he slid down against the wall, grateful for the feeling of cool stone against his feverish skin. Shakily, he pulled out his comm and re-read the boogeyman message for the thousandth time. A single word jumped out at him. “Cured.” Unless he killed someone, he would die.

Grian slipped through the dark trees, watching for a zombie and listening for the telltale hiss of a creeper or a bow being drawn. The forest was quiet, and any hint of monsters was far off. He still didn’t remove the cloth covering his small lantern. Then, from in front of him came the sound of loud cheerful singing.

He picked up his pace as he recognized the sound of the voice. “Scar!” he called. The singing stopped. “Grian?” Scar asked nervously, as the light of a small lantern flooded the forest. Grian uncovered his own lantern just a smidge, and caught a flash of light blue. He froze. “Is that diamond armor?” he asked, stunned. “You like it?” Scar asked, spreading his arms wide once Grian came into sight. “How did you of all people end up the first in diamond armor?” Grian asked incredulously. “Just lucky I guess,” Scar said with a shrug. Then Grian noticed the six pack etched into the diamond.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “That’s not diamond armor is it?” “What?” Scar said exaggeratedly. “Of course it is!” “Armor doesn’t have six packs engraved into it.” Scar’s brow furrowed in disappointment. “Is it really that obvious?” he pouted. “Only ‘cause of the obviously fake muscles,” Grian teased. “What is that made out of anyways?” Scar shrugged. “Cloth. Had some tailor make it for me before we moved to Season eight.” “So you mean if I hit you, it won’t give you any protection?” “Of course it will,” Scar said. “No need to test it out.” Grian punched him in the chest.

Scar stumbled back, winded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Grian muttered to himself. “How do you hit so hard, dude?” Scar wheezed. “You have like no muscle on those arms.” “Says the man with a fake six pack engraved into his armor,” Grian shot back. “But seriously, don’t underestimate me.” “I don’t,” Scar said, recovering somewhat. “I only survived the game because I had you on my side.”

Grian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it?” Scar asked, mood plummeting instantly. “Scar,” Grian began, tone dead serious. “Everything that happened last time, it’s all null and void. Our old alliance...it’s dead.” “So you mean I can’t put you on a llama and take you to the desert?” Scar joked. Grian didn’t smile. “You really mean that?” Scar asked, crestfallen. Grian nodded tightly. “New round, new rules.” Then he perked up. “Which speaking of, have you tried the give life command?”

“The what command?” Scar said, slightly startled by the sudden change in topics. “Yeah,” Grian said excitedly. “Apparently we can give each other lives, this round. Which, when you think about it, explains why we all got a random amount of lives. And it explains why some of us even got four lives.” “That actually makes a lot of sense,” Scar mused. “But who would I even try the command on?” he asked. “Well, you’ve got me,” Grian suggested. “I’ll give it right back, I promise. I just want to see how it works.”

Scar hesitated for a moment, searching Grian’s face. But then he said: “Alright, how do I do this give life command.” “Say this,” Grian said, typing something into his communicator. Scar’s own comm buzzed. “Why can’t I just repeat after you?” Scar asked. “Because then I’d give you a life,” Grian explained. “And if I did that, I’d be on my red life. And I really, really don’t want that.” “That makes sense,” Scar said with a nod. Then, he began reading off the comm.

“ᓭꖎᔑᓭ⍑ ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ꖎ╎⎓ᒷ”

Golden light enveloped Grian and Scar, and their feet lifted off the ground. The light drifted from Scar, wrapping itself around Grian, settling in his bones, and etching another heart into his wrist. The ink turned a vibrant lime green, and suddenly both Grian and Scar dropped to the ground.

Grian stumbled for a moment, then he regained his bearings. “That was something,” Scar muttered, still trying to regain his balance. Then, Grian glanced down at his communicator. He reached to turn it off, but glanced down at the list of player names. His hands stopped as he realized Scar’s name was dark green. “Scar, it’s still saying you have four lives here.” “No, I have five left,” Scar said, proffering his wrist for Grian to see. There were indeed five dark green hearts there. Grian’s brow furrowed. “Wait, but that would mean...you started with six lives?” he asked, jaw dropping. Scar nodded. “Like I said, I’m just lucky.” Grian shook his head, clearing the whirlwind of questions that had sprung up.

“Yeah, I’m not giving this back,” he said. “What-no!” Scar exclaimed, reaching for Grian, but he was already sprinting away through the forest, laughter echoing off the trees.

Jimmy bounced along, skipping over the grass, tossing his spyglass between his hands. He reached the peak of the hill, and stretched. He hadn’t exactly gotten a good night’s sleep last night, worrying about what it meant that he was back in the game, and trying to figure out what this new boogeyman thing was. Besides, a small hole in the side of a mountain never made for a great shelter.

Suddenly, he heard voices drifting up the hill. He stopped, tucking his spyglass into his pocket, just in case. Two faces appeared over the top of the hill. He recognized Pearl’s dark colored hoodie and Scott’s bright blue hair. “Hey!” he called out, waving. Pearl returned it. Scott was a bit more hesitant, but his eyes lit up when he recognized Jimmy. “Hey!” he called back. A bolt of joy shot through Jimmy, but he ignored it. He and Scott couldn’t ally this round. He didn’t want to risk another incarnation of Dogwarts deciding the two of them were a threat.

“How are you?” Pearl asked, smile bright and enthusiastic. Scott was smiling too, the one he reserved just for Jimmy. Jimmy squashed down the butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t think of Scott like that. Not anymore.

“Pretty good,” Jimmy replied, nonchalantly. “Were you guys able to find shelter last night?” Pearl nodded. “I actually found something else this morning,” Scott said, reaching behind his ear. It was just now that Jimmy noticed the crown tucked over Scott’s hair. He wondered where it had come from. He certainly hadn’t had it on Empires.

“Figured you’d like it,” Scott continued, proffering something to Jimmy. It was a bright red poppy. A pang of longing shot through Jimmy’s heart. He ignored it. Scott’s expression fell slightly when he saw that Jimmy wasn’t taking the flower. “It’s a poppy!” he said. “Just like last time, when you-” “I know,” Jimmy said gently, cutting him off. He pushed Scott’s hand down, and Scott’s smile fell. “I know, Scott. But I can’t do this. Not again.” “But-but...” Scott protested.

“New round, new rules,” Jimmy said sadly. “Besides I can’t...I can’t risk losing you again. And I don’t want you to have to lose me. We’re both on our yellow lives. I can’t go through that again. And it’s not fair to ask you to.” He hesitated for a moment, but then he gathered himself and marched past Scott and Pearl.

Scott watched him go, staring dumbly at Jimmy’s retreating form, hand curled tightly around the poppy. Then, his heart shattered.

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (3)

Ch 1 | Ch 2 |

warning: mentions of fear, crocodiles, discussion of teeth

-

Logan found himself grateful that he’d made arrangements to postpone their other jobs for a bit, because it looked as though they’d be staying firmly on this planet’s surface for a while.

There had been all of one attempt to bring Virgil aboard the Mindscape, and it had resulted in a significant amount of crying from both the child and Patton. Whatever circumstances had led the Human to this planet, it had left them deeply fearful of any sort of spacefaring vessel.

… This did not annul Logan’s suspicions about smuggling, though he was careful not to say as much in front of Virgil. The child was keen, and any time the fact that they were a Human was mentioned, they withdrew and began displaying body language that Logan believed indicated a desire to flee. Checking that exits were still there, putting space between themself and any of the Mindscape’s crew, anxious tics, and so forth.

Needless to say, they avoided the topic.

However, to Logan’s surprise, the child didn’t seem at all adverse to basic questions about themself. Understanding their responses was rare, of course, but the kid was picking up on Common with a shocking quickness, and Roman had turned out to be rather talented at interpreting their gestures when they didn’t have the right words.

The data that Logan had collected from these inquiries was both strange and intriguing. He’d carefully woven a mental list of it all.

1. Virgil seemed to identify by he/him, though whether that was an actual gender preference or simply a child wanting to be called the same pronouns as the three of them was up for debate. Either way, Logan seriously doubted that there was any way to convey the nebulous concept of gender through a language barrier, so he let the matter lie.

2. After eating too fast, Virgil would convulse slightly in a semi-rhythmic pattern for a short period. He didn’t seem alarmed or pained by this, only slightly irritated when it would interrupt him mid-sentence. The condition of ‘hiccups’ was thankfully temporary, since it made Roman quite jumpy. For their tiny, squeaking nature, Patton had called them ‘hicchirps’, which was ridiculous, but Virgil seemed to enjoy any and all wordplay that made it through his grasp of the language, so Logan stowed his complaints.

3. Virgil was terrified of the locals. Despite being plainly evident, this observation didn’t make sense at first, seeing as the nearby town consisted primarily of native Hiiynal and a few offplanet transfers, none of which could be described as particularly dangerous or violent. After a few days of gentle questioning and no reprimands for not answering, Virgil finally told them that the locals would ‘chase monsters far away’ and so he couldn’t risk getting near. Questioning was temporarily halted in favor of showing the Human the art of shadow symmetry, for purely scientific reasons, of course. 

(Supposition: Human children enjoyed movement games.)

4. While the synthetic meat from the ration kits was accepted by Virgil, he showed a surprising preference for sweeter food items, such as fruit and sugar crystals. Seeing as Humans were rumored to be obligate carnivores or even raw flesh-eaters, this was a strange discrepancy. Virgil had even eaten some of the leafy vegetables Logan had brought, face pinched up in disgust but insisting that eating ‘greens’ would make one tall. It was unclear to Logan what color had to do with nutrients or growth. He was also slightly alarmed at the implication of Virgil being short for his age.

5. Virgil seemed, for all intents and purposes, fixated on Roman.

The latest data point was a work in progress. Logan hadn’t mentioned it to Roman himself, because the Cravon was already fairly worked up over everything the Human did as it was. Nobody seemed sure if this jumpiness was because of the Human child, or on behalf of it.

Still, it was present in little ways. For example, even as he answered Logan’s latest series of questions, his gaze would occasionally flicker up from his hands to Roman, who sat at the mouth of the little cave, carefully peeling more fruit. It wasn’t about the food; Patton had taken it upon himself to make sure the child knew he only had to ask to get something to eat. No, this  ‘almost-staring’ was a frequent occurrence, no matter what Roman preoccupied himself with.

“You were saying you met… Susan… when another predator was attacking it?”

Virgil nodded, hurriedly looking back to his hands. “It was a big bite monster, and Susan was loud crying, so I did, uh,” he lifted his arms up, hands spread wide, “this, and I was loud at it until it ran away. Like raccoons back on Dirt.”

Dirt was apparently Virgil’s name for his home. Logan hadn’t heard of ‘raccoons’ before. He decided not to get sidetracked. “I’d estimate the creature you saw was a Lifel. They are the natural predators of Humlilts.”

“Natural?” Virgil mimicked.

“It means ‘of nature’,” Logan attempted to clarify, gesturing around them. “In the wild.”

Virgil only grew more confused with the wide, encompassing gesture. “Sky? Was not flying.”

Logan glanced at Roman, checking that he was still preoccupied. Patton was back at the ship, contacting a friend for advice. There seemed no better opportunity if he wanted to avoid overwhelming Virgil.

“Virgil, would you like to try something new?” he asked, carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do to put any pressure on the child.

The Human squinted at him slightly, quick to use his most common phrase. “Will it hurt?”

“It will not hurt,” Logan replied, ignoring the tightening in his core with careful practice. It always felt so wrong, that a mere pupa would be so familiar with hurt. “I will always tell you if something might hurt.”

“Mmm.” The Human hummed, the way he always did when they told him such things. Like he wasn’t sure if he could believe it. “What’s it?”

“What is it,” Logan corrected automatically. “It is something I can do, to show you new words. Want to try a little bit, first?” That was the phrase they used for new foods, but it applied well enough to mindsharing.

Virgil clenched and unclenched his hands for a moment longer before nodding, going a little tense like he expected something unpleasant. Logan held a hand out to him, waiting until he’d reached out in return to start sharing.

Small, simple flashes of images and sensations. Quiet forests, shallow oceans, clean air. Plants, bugs, animals, humanoids, living and dying and living again. Nature.

Virgil had pinched his eyes closed immediately at the start of the low-level telepathy, and Logan only had a moment to worry that maybe it had hurt him in some manner.

Then, there was a feeling of recognition. Without a moment to spare, Virgil had grasped the nature of the Vidi and was projecting his own thoughts. Walking on a crunchy leaf-covered trail with other Human young, a winged insect emerging from a cocoon, the crack of thunder and heavy rain on a windowsill. Nature.

“Wow!” Virgil whispered, imprint thoughts flickering like flames, too quick for Logan to really see. “You see into heads!”

Logan pulled back slightly, offering a bit of content-smug in return to the Human’s awe. “That is one way of framing it, yes. So, you understand what I mean, about the Lifel being a natural predator?”

“Carnivore,” Virgil mumbled, and then offered image-thoughts of several creatures that Logan could only assume were from the deathworlder’s home planet. He watched with morbid curiosity as Virgil remembered a clip from a screen, displaying large ungulates with twisting horns crossing a river, and then being dragged underwater by a dark, writhing shape.

“That’s a crocodile,” Virgil told him, his eyes still closed tight in concentration. “They’ve got big teeth and they do death rolls. They look like alligators, but I know they aren’t because gators live in Florida.”

“Florida?” Logan asked. He wondered if perhaps ‘gators’ were kept in captivity for species preservation. Or perhaps they were too dangerous left in the wild?

Virgil showed him a memory of a long, reptilian form with a narrow, tooth-filled jaw. It was wading steadily through a swimming pool, not paying any mind to Virgil, who was sitting with his legs dipped in the pool, watching in fascination. “I lived there!”

“Oh,” Logan managed, his ears going numb with fear at the idea of a child being so near a creature like that. “So it would seem.”

The Human patted him carefully, a gesture of comfort. “It’s okay. The bad guys didn’t take any gators or crocodiles from Dirt. Just people.”

Virgil’s words trailed off, a sense of melancholy overwhelming him. Rather than find out more about the Human’s past, Logan felt an unreasonably strong urge to stop that sadness. “Could you perhaps tell me more about these… ‘crocodiles’? You seem to be quite informed on them.”

“I had a book about them,” Virgil managed, slowly dragging his thoughts away from his abduction. “Did you know some crocodiles have a… a ‘biting force’ of five thousand pounds?”

He had lapsed into English, the sentence sounding well-recited, but Logan still got the general idea of what he meant, and a strong image of a picture book, covered in writing he couldn’t read but still understood. If Logan was right about the measurement conversions, the fact was terrifying.

“That’s very interesting,” he mused, because terrifying and interesting often went hand in hand. “Are there any other predators that can bite like that?”

Virgil scrunched his face up in thought. “Maybe sharks. Oh, but for sure a T. Rex!”

Logan saw a very concerning glimpse of a large fish with too many teeth before Virgil’s mind switched to a cartoon depiction of a larger creature with also too many teeth. He was beginning to see a trend in deathworlder species. “I… see.”

“They’re all dead, though,” Virgil told him sadly, projecting a memory of a huge display of bones. He then seemed to perk up, glancing over at Roman again. “Except for in space!”

Logan narrowly avoided laughing out loud, covering his throat before the vibrating chirps could get far. So, this was the truth behind the Human’s interest!

“Roman is not a ‘dinosaur’,” he clarified, once he felt composed enough to do so. “In fact, I believe he rarely even eats meat.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you sure? Maybe he’s a secret dinosaur.”

Logan wiggled his fingers thoughtfully. “I suppose we’ll just have to check.”

---

“Roman, would you come here for a moment?”  

Roman looked up from his task, immediately suspicious. Logan sounded strangely amused, like he was on the brink of laughing at him. That was never a good sign.

Still, the Human was looking over at him with those wide, strange eyes, and he wasn’t about to run away. He got to his feet, leaving his pile of dana peels behind as he crossed the cave floor. “What is it, dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of me?”

“I need you to show us your teeth,” Logan said, very much not being a dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of him. Roman resisted the urge to hang his head in resignation. He should have expected this. The Ulgorii was shameless when it came to exploiting his friends for science.

“How about absolutely not?” he replied, because there were actually limits to his tolerance for shenanigans, and one of those limits was threat-displaying at a baby Human.

“Hold on, look,” Logan said, and then bared his own ridged teeth with a click.

The Human did his small grimace-smile back, entirely unphased. They both looked to him expectantly. Roman felt as though he was being ganged up on.

“Um,” Virgil said, painfully tentative, “please?”  

Roman felt extremely ganged up on.

He squatted, tail keeping him perfectly balanced, and pulled at the corner of his mouth to show some of his teeth.

“Woah,” Virgil breathed.

“See how the back teeth are narrow but dull? They’re designed to crack bones and get to the marrow at the center,” Logan narrated, like the nerd he was. “Roman doesn’t have the small incisors or sharp molars required for proper full-time carnivores.”

Roman almost reminded his crewmate to use small words, but Virgil seemed to get the idea, leaning uncomfortably close to stare. He then opened his own mouth, like he was planning to take a bite out of something, displaying a shocking number of tiny little bone-teeth crammed inside. Some of them were uncomfortably sharp.

Rather than attack anyone, though, Virgil touched his own teeth, carefully inspecting the shape of them. Roman resisted the urge to get him to sanitize his hands. Kits would be kits, he supposed.

Logan was patiently watching as Virgil pointed to each tooth in turn, and he obligingly recited the name of each type of tooth for the kit. His two lower arms took frantic notes on Human jaw structure, probably to prepare more elaborate meal plans better suited to a deathworlder diet. The kid soaked every bit of information in like a sponge.

Finally, after a long moment of thought, he announced, “My ‘lower canine’ is going to fall out in close time!”

“Soon,” Logan offered, always quick to interpret the Human’s occasional nonsense Common. “'My lower canine is going to fall out soon.'” And then, after a moment’s pause. “Wait, it’s going to what?”

And then, because Roman’s day needed more nightmare fuel, the kit bared his tiny fangs at them and poked one with his tongue, revealing that it did indeed seem to be sickeningly loose. In fact, Roman could see a few other gaps in the curved row of teeth, some with little bits of bone peeking out.

“Stars above,” Roman said, feeling a little faint. Logan was already interrogating a very confused Virgil on whether or not losing teeth was indicative of an illness or not.

“They’re just my little teeth,” Virgil told them, seemingly unconcerned with holes in his mouth. “I get big ones later.”

“There are plenty of species that have milk teeth, but to have their adult set not fully-formed by the time the milk teeth are ready to fall out…,” Logan quickly devolved into muttering, hands flicking.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Roman asked despite himself, eyeing the kit just in case he was going to burst into tears all of the sudden. Roman himself had lost one or two front teeth before his next set had fully formed, and each time it had felt like biting on hot metal.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil seemed to have moved from confused to amused, still not entirely sure what the fuss was all about. “Not unless I,” he mimed pulling on the tooth, and Roman made a click-click-click of parental don’t-do-that chiding before he’d even fully registered the alarm he’d felt at the motion.

Virgil clicked back at him curiously, sounding exactly like a tiny version of an exasperated parent. Roman tucked his face against his shoulder, unsure if he should laugh or despair.

This Human was really going to be the death of him.

[mikkomacko]

Christmas Magic 5

Here it is! Only a month late lol. Thank you for being so patient with me, enjoy!

Jingle Bell Rock flows throughout the mall for the umpteenth time in the hour and a half that Harry and y/n have been there. She's still a bit sniffly from her cold, the congestion often giving her headaches but she's fairly certain that the pounding in the back of her skull is the result of Christmas shopping.

"Do ya think she'd rather have a Goofy in her stocking or a Minnie?"

Harry's holding both plushies in his hands, eyebrows knitted in deep thought and she's tempted to laugh from how seriously Harry's taking shopping duty. He'd picked out his gift for Ophelia easily, deciding she'd absolutely love a pair of roller skates and some new clothes from him. It was almost magical watching him easily navigate Toys R Us and pick out the gift, no hesitation about whether it's the right gift or not. He just knew. But now, now that he's shopping as Santa and not as dad, every little item is debated.

"Oh God, maybe she'd prefer Pluto?"

Y/n does laugh this time when he turns back to the wall of stuffed animals in the Disney store, more fear in his eyes than she thinks belongs in the eyes of someone with a medical degree. Harry whips around at her giggle, nose scrunching in annoyance. "What's so funny?"

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, she moves closer and takes the toys out of his hands. "She's your daughter Harry. You know everything about her, including which character she'd love most." Harry huffs as she puts the toys back on the shelf with their clones.

"But this isn't from me, s'from-" Harry throws a quick glance over his shoulder, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Santa and he doesn't know her like I do."

Defeated, Harry turns to face her and with a pout that greatly resembles his daughters, Harry hunches over to lay his cheek on y/n's shoulder and bury his nose in her neck. She wraps her arms around him, lightly scratching at his shoulder blade.

"You're thinking too much babe," she says "you know she loves Goofy." He hums, nodding just once and he breath is warm on her skin when he whispers, "but she's already got a Goofy."

Ophelia wouldn't mind another Goofy, y/n knows that, but she decides to just stay quiet and endure a long day of shopping with Harry. After all, this is for his daughter and she'd do anything for him and his baby.

~

"Hello?"

Harry squishes his phone between his ear and shoulder, folding a pink pair of pajama pants and tucking them into Ophelia's flower printed suitcase.

"Hey there," Gemma greets, "m'leaving the house now so I'll be there for my little one soon."

Through the phone he can hear the sound of Gemma's car starting, the engine humming lowly. Tucking an extra pair of underwear and socks into her bag, he gasps. "Your little one? I think you mean my little one!"

He zips up her suitcase, now gripping his phone in his left hand and then setting the bag upright on the carpet. "Well tonight she's my little one."

Ophelia laughs from the living room, the sound warming Harry's chest. "Suppose that's fair," he agrees "but just for tonight. I want her back tomorrow."

"Morning or noon?" Gemma asks with a sly tone, hinting towards something.

Harry's ears grow hot and he perches himself on the edge of Ophelia's bed, scratching at the back of his neck. "Depends on the nipper." He remains casual, but his mind flashes to the box of condoms now sitting under his bathroom sink, knowing they're the reason he asked Gemma for a sleepover with her niece.

"So if she wants to go home at 3 in the morning tonight-"

"You call and I'll go get her." He replies instantly. "No matter the time or what I'm doing I'll go get her."

Gemma hums. "And this girlfriend of yours..."

His heart thumps loudly. "Yeah?"

"Would she care if you had to come get Ophelia?"

Harry doesn't even have to think about it and that makes him happy beyond belief. "No. She'd probably beat me getting there if m'honest." It may be a bit of an exaggeration because God knows Harry would move mountains to get to his daughter, but he also knows that y/n would be right there with him.

"Good," she says "just wanted to make sure you weren't shagging the wrong kind of gal."

He snorts. "Don't have to worry about me."

She gasps, "so it is a shagging date!"

Harry's entire face turns hot, embarrassment prickling his skin which he thinks is odd considering he has a bloody child and everyone knows he's not a 30 year old virgin. Still, his voice cracks when he exclaims "Gemma!"

Her cackle is loud and obnoxious through the phone, obviously pleased with herself. She's never missed an opportunity to make him flustered like that so he's not surprised.

"I have good intuition." Harry says, changing the subject back to their previous topic.

His sister clicks her tongue. "That'd be more comforting if you hadn't knocked up Isabella. Bloody b-"

"Gem," he interrupts, voice stern. He knows he screwed up in college, knows Isabella used him, but she also gave him Ophelia and a part of him will always thank her for that. "S'in the past. I've grown up."

The line is a silent for a moment, followed by her defenceless sigh. "I know Harry. I'm proud of you but I just-you're my baby brother. And she may be Ophelia's mom but I'll never forgive her actions."

And he can't argue with that. Gemma has every right to feel the way she does especially because he knows it's born out of her love for her family, but he wishes she weren't so bitter about it. Bitterness makes the bones brittle, he's been told.

"Don't have to forgive her but can you forgive me at least? I have a part in this too."

She exhales, annoyed. "You don't have a part in her not being the mother Ophelia needs and you don't have a part in the way she treated you."

Harry feels like he does. He should've been tougher, stronger, better, anything to make Isabella stay in Ophelia's life. He's not going to say that to Gemma though. "Yeah," he mumbles, hating how much this phone call has brought his mood down. "I'll uh, I'll see you in a bit Gem."

"See ya Harry." Gemma says, sounding tired herself. Every time they bring up Isabella it's exhausting and they never get far in their conversation. Maybe that's why the topic is avoided. That and Harry doesn't like talking about the woman he once loved.

Mood gone sour, Harry tucks his phone into his pocket and collects Ophelia's suitcase, carrying it out to the living room.

Arthur Christmas is playing on the TV and much to Harry's amusement, y/n is laughing at it more than Ophelia. He's not even sure what's so hilarious about the movie but she's laughing so hard her shoulders have curled in and her whole body is shaking.

"Auntie Gem will be here in a moment for you Fee." Harry says, pulling his daughter's gaze from the television. He places her things by the door, turning back to the couch just in time for Ophelia to launch herself at him. Used to the terrible habit, Harry easily catches her against his chest.

"Gonna be a good girl, yeah?" He asks, tucking a wild curl behind her ear. The little one nods, eyebrows furrowed in determination. "Gonna have fun with auntie?"

"Always have fun with auntie Gem." Ophelia promises, her features easing into a smile.

"I know you do," he kisses her forehead. "Gonna miss me?" His question brings a little frown to her lips and she tucks her face into his neck when she whispers, "Gonna miss you a lot daddy but I'll see you tomorrow."

Her little reassurance makes him laugh. Sometimes she's like a bloody adult in the body of a five year old and it never fails to amuse him when she 'parents' him.

"Yeah," he swears "you will, nipper. As soon as you're ready to see me I'll be there, okay?" Ophelia nods as best she can without leaving her cozy cove in his neck. "I mean it babycakes, whenever you're ready, yeah?"

"I know daddy."

Before he can ask another overprotective question, there's a knock on the front door. Ophelia wiggles out of his arms, screaming as she bolts to the door and pulls it open. "Auntie Gem!"

"Why hello sunshine!" His older sister, stepping into the apartment and lifting Ophelia up for a cuddle. Y/n climbs off the couch, attaching to Harry's side like a lost puppy. He takes her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

Ophelia's feet touch the floor again and Gemma looks up to greet Harry and y/n. He speaks first, tugging y/n closer to him.

"Gem, this is my girlfriend y/n."

Gemma's eyes look over y/n, analyzing. She always been a good judge of character and he can't help but want to jump with excitement when his sister smiles and shakes y/n's hand.

"Gemma, it's lovely to meet you." She responds, clearly pleased with the vibes she picked up from y/n. Then she turns to Harry, raising an expectant eyebrow. Smiling, Harry releases y/n's hand to wrap his arms around his sister's shoulders.

"Hiya squirt." Gemma says teasingly, reaching up to pinch Harry's cheeks. He scoffs at the nickname. Gemma's always called him that because he was always a smaller for his age. Too short and too skinny, then too short and too chubby, but somewhere around the age of 20 he evened out. Now he stands a foot taller than her and could easily throw her over his shoulder if he wanted to. But the nickname still stuck.

"Daddy my boots!" Ophelia comes barrelling into his legs, a pink snow boot clutched in each of her little hands. He crouches down in front of her, helping guide her feet into the thick shoes and lace them up. Y/n suddenly comes up behind her, carrying her puff coat. They bundle her up tight, knowing that the snow in London has been especially abundant this year.

"Arms please," she requests, Harry leaning back just in time to catch her gentle smile. Ophelia spreads her arms, allowing y/n to slip in over her shoulders. "Thanks sweets."

"Thank you y/n." Ophelia replies, waiting patiently for Harry to zip the coat. He can't help think about great of a team they are, y/n slipping a beanie over his daughter's curls as he drags the zipper up to her chin.

A perfect team, actually.

~

"This is the cringiest Christmas movie I've seen."

Y/n rolls her eyes, swallowing down the bite of chicken fajitas that Harry had cooked for dinner. He's sat next to her on the couch, mismatched-sock clad feet up on the coffee table and he's wearing an adorable-y amused expression on his face.

"That's what makes it good," she reasons "plus the knight is cute."

Harry scoffs, looking at her as if she were crazy. "That guy? Sir Cole?" he mocks in a posh accent. "His name is literally circle." She can't help but laugh, watching Harry's cheeks redden. It's obvious her comment has made him jealous and she finds it very endearing that he thinks he's got competition.

"Sorry it's not as original as Harry, your highness."

Face growing even redder, Harry shoves a bite of food in his mouth. Y/n laughs again, leaning forward to set her plate on the table. He's staring too intently at the TV, trying to ignore her as she scoots closer to him and cuddles into his chest. He doesn't move a muscle.

"Don't be a baby," she begs with a pout, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "Harry is the name of royalty. Like a king. Cole is the name of some random guy that becomes a knight. Everyone loves a king.

Harry's lips twitch, much to her delight, and then he's chuckling quietly. Finally, he rests his arm around her shoulders and tucks her into his side. "Since m'royalty I demand you wrap Christmas presents with me."

"Demand?" She scoffs.

He nods. "King's order. He's absolute shit at wrapping and Santa's supposed to be good at it. Think the princess is getting suspicious."

Y/n warms at the thought of Harry up late on Christmas Eve, cursing and mumbling as quiet as possible to not wake Ophelia, frustrated when he rips the corners of the paper or makes it too short for the gift. Luckily for him, she loves wrapping gifts.

"Well the peasant has got no say in this. Bust out the paper Styles." She agrees, pushing herself up from the couch. Harry catches her hand, tugging her back into his lap.

"Not a peasant love." He states quietly, sealing the words with a kiss to her mouth. "Could never be a peasant."

Blushing, she rises with him, following him to the bedroom to retrieve the gifts and wrapping supplies.

~

A stack of gifts with pretty bows and tags, and two cups of hot cocoa later Harry finds himself sprawled out his mattress next to y/n. She's got her left hand in front of her face, pouting at the Barbie bandaid on her pointer finger, a casualty of the Christmas season. Paper cuts are common when you can't stop giggling and admiring the pretty wrapping paper.

Laughing to himself, Harry reaches over for her hand and presses a kiss to it. "All better sweetheart. Got a dad's magic kiss."

Y/n gasps dramatically. "Oh thank you so much! I'm afraid I would've bled to death!"

"Not on my watch," he promises, rolling onto his side and draping his arm over her tummy. She tangles her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp until he was a puddle of mush on the mattress.

"You're a good dad Harry." She whispers as if she's afraid to say the words that make Harry's veins flood with joy. "Like incredible actually."

Flustered and flattered, he smiles shyly, "Really?"

She doesn't hesitate to nod, rolling onto her side to face him as well. "I don't know how you do it but it's really admirable. I remember dad always wanted to pull his hair out with me. Seems like you and Ophelia are best friends."

It's incredible to Harry that she has no idea what those words mean to him. He remembers holding Ophelia in the hospital, a tiny pink bundle in his arms that had no idea it'd be just the two of them against the world. He remembers being terrified, wanting to throw up and move back home with his mum because he really didn't know what to do. He just wanted to be a good father for his baby girl.

"There were times when she was a baby and it felt like everything I did was wrong." He admits, "Wanted to pull my hair out too."

He knows now is the time to tell her. If he wants this to go further, to take that next step she needs to know his and Ophelia's story. That way she can decide if she wants them or not.

"I want to tell you the story of how I got Ophelia," he says, palms starting to feel a little sweaty. Y/n looks surprised but nods anyway.

"Only if you want too."

He pushes himself to sit up against the headboard, y/n following. "I do want to. If you're going to be a part of our lives you deserve to know...."

~

Isabella was the girl of his dreams. At least at the time she was. Where he was quiet and timid, she was outspoken and confident. Where he was cautious and analytical, she was reckless and carefree. Anyone who knew them, knew they were polar opposites. Beautiful blonde hair and icy blue eyes, Harry had been stuck on her since the first day he saw her. It was sort of like a movie if he's being honest. The nerdy and awkward boy falls for the older, popular girl. Never in a million years did he think he'd ever end up with her. He didn't have anything going for him. He was 23, living with his best mate and trying to become a male nurse. He wore chunky glasses, his hair was always a terrible mess of frizzy curls, and he wore the same white tee-shirt and black jeans every day. Nothing remarkable about him. Hell, he'd never even been kissed let alone slept with anyone.

And Isabella was nothing like him. She was remarkable. She was going to school to be a dermatologist, starting a bit later than him because she wanted to travel and hang out with friends before she committed to school. She never dated, though she knew everyone and everyone knew her. Harry knew she partied and drank, knew she had sex whenever she wanted to and he loved that about her. He desperately wanted the ease she had. Isabella didn't worry about school, didn't worry about love, didn't worry about her future. She was a wild spirit.

He looked up to her so much. And that's why he got attached to her so quickly. His mother always told him he has a big heart and that it'll always be unstoppable in who it wants to love. Evidently, she was right. After his first night with Isabella, an embarrassingly short first time for him, and a lesson on how to use his pretty hands to make her feel good, Harry knew she had him. Every thought he had was about her. Dreams of her in his flat, his hands in her shiny hair as she kissed every inch of his body and loved him. In his dreams, she loved him.

In real life, she just wanted to have fun with him. They slept together a few more times, enough for Harry to build up enough stamina to actually have her coming on his dick and not his tongue or fingers, but that was it. She turned down his invites to hang out, to study, and when he finally asked her on a date, she turned him down then too. And then she stopped seeing him.

Beautiful Isabella, who could never be tied down. She would never belong to anyone or anything. She would never want to. A month of heartbreak later, she showed up on his doorstep.

"I'm pregnant Harry," is what she had said, and her voice that used to hold so much allure now held contempt. She was now stuck, tied down to a child, committed to the baby and some sort of relationship with him. Exactly what she never wanted. "and I can't raise it. I don't want to raise it."

Even after how much she hurt him, he couldn't bring himself to be angry when they reached the agreement that she'd have the baby but Harry would be the caregiver. He was grateful that she let him have a say, that she didn't automatically decide to not have the child. He loved her and he'd take anything he could get from her, even if it was just her child. And that was all he got. He missed most of her pregnancy, caught up with school. And he knew a part of it was how much Isabella hated him for putting a child in her. He knew she blamed him and that's why she didn't want him around much. He hates to admit it, but he knew that she hated their baby too. He knew from the moment they saw the first ultrasound and her terms for the baby were put in place.

She doesn't want to be in its' life. No phone calls, no texts, no pictures, no claim on her birth certificate. Nothing to show that the baby was hers too. It broke his heart all over again to know that their child would never know a mother's love all because Isabella couldn't love Harry. She hated the baby because it was half him.

From the moment Ophelia was born, it was clear that she was his daughter. She already had dark hair, already developed his green eyes. Her lips took the same shape as his, and her nose was just a tad too big for her face. Just like her father. Nothing about her hinted at her being Isabella's daughter.

Harry took that as a sign. He needed to let go of his first love. If he were meant to always want her, to always have her with him, their child would've carried some semblance of her. But she didn't. It was as if the universe knew it would be just Harry and Ophelia.

Isabella left the hospital a few days later, changing her number and her school. Harry was blocked on everything, as was his family. She wanted nothing to do with them.

As for Harry, he went home to his apartment, introduced his baby to her uncle Niall, and then showed her the corner of his room that was now hers. A crib and a little dresser, squished into his already crowded room.

It was him and Ophelia against the world. He always thought that she was the only girl meant to be in his life. It would take a miracle to find a woman that wanted a dorky, single father who spent too many long hours at work.

But sometimes miracles happen.

~

Harry's skin prickles with nerves and his tongue rests heavy in his mouth. Y/n is holding his hand, her thumb tracing the cross tattooed by his as he anxiously awaits a reaction from her. The first thing that comes out of her mouth is not what he's expecting.

"You wear glasses?"

Shocked, he stutters. "Uh, y-yeah I do but that's....what?"

Y/n shrugs, frowning down at their intertwined fingers. "How come you never wear them?"

Again, Harry's shocked and a little confused. That definitely wasn't the detail he expected her to focus on but at least it's a simpler topic than the woman that abandoned his daughter. "I wear m'contacts when you're over."

She finally looks up at him, eyes wide with concern. "You're not supposed to sleep with those on! Your eyeballs could've melted!"

He can't help it. He bursts out laughing, eyes squeezing shut as his chest jolts with the joyous sound. "Sweetheart, one night every few days isn't a big deal." He says once he's finally calmed down.

"It is to me," she mumbles with a pout, slipping a leg over his thighs and pulling herself up to straddle him. "I bet you look hot with glasses."

His heart stutters, hands instinctively holding her hips. "Y-yeah?" He stutters, painfully aware of the fact that he hasn't had sex in six years and the last time he did, he was left heartbroken.

"Yeah," she assures softly, cupping the sides of his warm neck. Her hands are gentle and tender, a grounding force he didn't know he needed until now. "You always look good though."

That's a nice thing to hear after spending your whole life as the scrawny nerd that stands sort of funny because his left leg is just a bit shorter than his right. It's a pain in the ass on his back and he should find someway to alleviate that discomfort but he can't begin to think about how right now because all his blood is quickly rushing to his cock.

"Not as good as you," he replies in earnest, eyes never straying from hers. "never as good as you."

Y/n responds with her mouth on his, slipping a hand to tangle in the curls that meet the back of his neck. He hums into her lips, a current of electricity budding between them and spreading throughout his whole being. He doesn't have much experience but he swears kissing someone has never felt like this.

His fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin on her sides. As it trying to get even with him, y/n's hands move to his hips and clutch the edge of his tee-shirt, dragging it up. Harry's brain feels fuzzy and light, floating in lust as they both continue to strip each other of their clothes. By the time he's sat in just his boxers, fingers toying with the waistband of her underwear, he can't even remember how they got here. He hates himself for it, wishes he remembered every little detail, but there's time for that later.

"I've got-fuck," he smacks another kiss to her mouth before continuing. "got condoms, in the bathroom." Y/n kisses him again, reluctant to pull away but she's just as desperate as him. Harry had intended on nipping into the bathroom to retrieve the rubber but y/n is quicker, removing herself from his lap.

"Be right back!" She calls over her shoulder, panty clad bum disappearing into the restroom. Harry takes a second to ground himself, breathing smoothly as he drops a stern look to the throbbing bulge in his boxers.

"Don't embarrass me," he mutters, "know it's been awhile but it's gonna be even longer if you come in the first five minutes." Mentally praying to a higher being, Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed just as y/n returns with the black box. His cock twitches, overwhelmed with the fact that she grabbed the whole fucking box and not just one little pack, and his hope of lasting long enough for her weakens a bit.

She retrieves a packet from the box, laying the container on the bedside table. Harry rises from the bed, hands trembling and chest fluttering. He's reaching for the band of his boxers when y/n moves to the edge of the bed, sat on her knees in front of him.

"Can I?" She asks, her own fingers gripping the last article of clothing on him. Swallowing thickly, he nods and then she's pulling them down his thighs, over his knobby knees, and dropping them to his ankles. He kicks them off, eyes locked on her reaction.

Just seeing her face, eyes dark and mouth dropped open has him frantic. He tears open the condom, fitting it over his prick and tossing the wrapper to the side. "Can I be on top?"

Y/n is already moving to lay back against the pillows, nodding. "Fuck, yes please." She breathes, gripping his shoulders when he covers her body with his. They're mouths meet in the middle while Harry slips her underwear down her thighs. It takes some awkward wiggling and kicking, but she gets them off eventually and that's all that matters.

Harry grips himself, lining his cock up with her slit. "Never done it like this," he admits quietly, lips brushing hers. Y/n wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him in closer. "was always on bottom."

"Are you okay doing it this way?"

He smiles, butterflies swarming his chest at her sweet words. "Of course I am. Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to try it." And she kisses him again, urging him to sink into her with a tightening of her leg. Harry complies, a wheezing gasp leaving him as he slowly presses into her.

He's had sex before, obviously, and he knows how fucking good it feels, but nothing compares to the feeling of being with y/n. Maybe it's the new position or because it's been so long for him, but it feels euphoric. Like if he keeps fucking her, eventually he'll die from too much pleasure in his veins. He can't help but think it feels magical as he rocks his hips into hers, listening to y/n mewl in his ear. That's the only explanation. It has to be magic.

Magic isn't real, he reminds himself, trying to ground himself to the beautiful beneath him. She's all he should be thinking about.

And she is, because he fails to notice the snow that has suddenly started glittering past the bedroom window, shimmering more than any snow he's ever seen.

~

She's lining the roof of the gingerbread cottage with green icing, sticking gumdrops on it when Ophelia bursts into gleeful giggles. Y/n glances up from the icing bag, heart swelling to a size so large it could burst as she watches Harry and his daughter. He's got Ophelia in his lap, two large biceps wrapped around her little body to hold her squirming limbs still as Harry blows raspberries into her neck and cheek.

"Daddy!" Ophelia bubbles through laughs, "your whiskers daddy, no!"

Her words make Harry laugh loudly into his daughter's neck, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. The vibrations must tickle her even more because Ophelia's laughs grow louder and she wiggles liked a cooked noodle. A baby hand slips free, slapping at Harry's cheek and smearing crystal sprinkles across his scruff.

"I'm telling Santa you hit me!" Harry exclaims like a child tattling to a parent. Ophelia immediately freezes, eyes widening in fear as she turns in Harry's lap to face him.

"No daddy," she cries, cupping his face in her sticky hands. "please. It was an accident, I'm sorry daddy!" Y/n bites her lip to hold back her smile, watching Harry maintain his facade of hurt.

He shakes his head. "I have to. Santa has to know who goes on the naughty list."

Trembling lips place an apologetic kiss to Harry's cheek. "B-but m'not naughty! You told me I was a good girl!"

Harry finally cracks, giggling as he snuggles his anxious daughter into his chest. "Fine I won't tell," he concedes, "but you gotta give me a real kiss nipper."

Complying, Ophelia places a sweet kiss to Harry's puckered lips. He dots a few more to her face, gently tickling her with his beard before settling back into decorating. They're both working on putting buttons on the gingerbread snowman when Harry steals y/n's attention from her window decorating.

"What are ya plans for Christmas love?"

Pursing her lips, she shrugs. Her father was never big on Christmas. Of course they celebrated it, but he lives in Washington and she lives in London now, and Christmas has never been big enough to them for her to fly overseas. She typically spends the holiday picking up extra hours at work or hanging with some friends.

"Don't really have anything planned. I just go with the flow of the day." She explains.

Their eyes meet, Harry's narrowed under furrowed eyebrows. "Ya don't go with family or friends?"

"Not worth the flight honestly. My dad usually goes on fishing trips anyway and I hate fishing."

As if he can't believe her words, he shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. "Shouldn't be spending Christmas alone pet." She shrugs, used to it just being her. "Guess I'll have to drag you up North with us."

His smirk is beautiful and alluring, making her mouth ache to meet his, but that thought is buried under the alarm sounding throughout her brain. Head home with Harry?

How is she supposed to manage that?

[nostalgiahan]

Euphoria

word count: 4k (holy shit)

genre: smut

content/warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, restraints, pillow humping, oral (both receiving,) anal (m receiving,) face sitting, consent, discussion of boundaries, aftercare :)

pairing: dom!chan x sub!felix x afab/switch!reader

a/n: it is heavily implied that felix goes into subspace at the end! however you can interpret it however you want <3

You never planned on having two friends with benefits at once, but it turned out to be better than you could have ever imagined. You were originally just looking for someone to take your emotions out on after a long day, break them down to the bone and then put them back together again. You found that in Felix, your perfect boy; always obedient and eager to please, even if that meant getting orgasm after orgasm cruelly denied or being overstimulated to the point where his lithe frame was shaking and his eyes were puffy and red from tears. In the end, though, you were always there to calm him down, to rub lotion into his sores and to kiss his bruises better, to run your fingers through his hair as he cries into your chest. That’s what makes it worth it for you.

However, soon enough, you became burnt out. Domming Felix was fun, but it was tiring, and sometimes you just wanted to be taken care of. This lead you to Chan; similar to Felix in some ways but entirely opposite in others. Where Felix was timid and obedient, Chan was outgoing and domineering; ready to degrade you and pound you into his creaky bed or call you sweet names and milk multiple orgasms out of you until you were relaxed; whatever you happened to need that day.

So here you were. You had thought for some time about introducing them to each other; after all, they would fit together perfectly. Chan was the Yin to Felix’s Yang; one unabashedly dominant and the other perfectly submissive. You would love to just sit back and watch their dynamic play out. However, you also felt that doing that would make things more than just casual, and you weren’t sure how either of them felt about it. That was, until after one of your sessions with Felix.

You two were in the bath, his back against your chest, and you thought he was asleep until he turned around to press a peck to the top of your breast, his favorite way of getting your attention.

“What’s up, Lixie?”

“Um, I’ve been thinking about… something. Lately.”

“Yeah? What is it, baby boy?”

You maneuver him so you’re both sitting up in the tub, facing each other. At that, Felix averts his gaze.

“What do you think about, maybe, bringing in another dom?”

It’s silent for a bit before Felix speaks again.

“I mean, it’s okay if not. It’s just… you’re a really good dom, but I’ve been thinking lately about how hot it would be to be dommed by… two people at once. I don’t know. I feel like it’s weird.”

You bring a gentle hand under his chin, guiding him to look you in the eyes.

“Sweet boy, it’s not weird. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

You pull him against your chest again, and your hand returns to his hair.

“I have another friend with benefits, you know. His name is Chan. He’s a really good dom, and I’ve been thinking about introducing you two for a while.”

Felix relaxes noticeably against you, nuzzling his face into your chest.

“How about I text him right now?”

“Mmm. Bath first.”

“Of course. We’ll finish our bath, and then I’ll fix you some tea, and then we’ll text him. Sound good, Lixie?”

Felix nods against your chest, and not five minutes later, he’s dead asleep.

About half an hour later, the two of you are in bed, phone in hand. You’ve already shown Felix Chan’s pictures, and he seemed intrigued, given the way he shifted in his spot and gulped a bit louder than he probably intended to.

“Alright, Lixie, what do you want to say? He already knows that you’re my sub, but not much else.”

“Uh, we should probably get straight to the point, I guess. Something like, ‘Hi, my sub and I want you to fuck us.’”

He giggles, a cute sound that makes the air in the room feel lighter.

“Okay, maybe that’s too forward.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Felix is still giggling slightly as you type out a draft in your Notes app.

“How does this sound, baby boy?”

Hi, Chan. My sub and I were talking about how we might want to introduce another person into the bedroom, and I’ve been thinking about introducing you two for a while. Is this something you’d be interested in?

Barely a minute passes before Chan replies. It’s short, but it’s all the two of you need to hear.

Of course

The three of you settle on a time and date, about a week later. You didn’t have the foresight to set up a group chat or anything of the sort, so you’re going into this completely blind. Whatever. It’ll be fine.

The first one to arrive is Chan, and he has a duffel bag with him. Expected, but a bit intimidating.

“We could’ve just used my stuff, you know.”

“Eh, it’s more fun this way. Then I get to surprise both of you.”

You scoff but walk across the room to hug him. He takes you in his arms and chuckles when he feels you practically melt against him.

“Long day?”

You just sigh and Chan pecks the top of your head, squeezing you even tighter.

“Don’t worry about a thing, baby. Just let go for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes later, Felix walks in, carrying nothing but his keys and phone. He sets them down nervously on the table by your front door before latching onto your side like a shy child might with their parent.

“Hi, lovely.”

Felix makes a muffled noise into your shirt but doesn’t move to greet Chan.

“What’s wrong, baby boy? Nervous?”

Felix pulls away to nod, gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Chan coos before approaching Felix slowly, just trying to get a closer look at the boy.

“You’re more… intimidating then I thought you’d be.”

Chan smiles wide and giggles brightly at Felix’s statement.

“Don’t worry, Felix. We don’t have to go faster than you’re comfortable with. Besides, we still need to have a talk about boundaries.”

Felix nods slowly, seemingly pleased with Chan’s statement.

“By the way,” you say, the two boys perking up at the sound. “I ordered pizza, it’s in the kitchen. We can have dinner and talk, and maybe you two can get to know each other.”

Felix jumps up, nervousness seemingly forgotten as he rushes to the kitchen, a big smile on his face. He rips the pizza box open, grabbing a slice for himself and shoving it into his mouth unceremoniously, forcing a giggle out of you. As everyone gets their pizza and settles down, you turn on some soft music and invite everyone to sit on your couch. You figured it would be better to have this conversation on neutral ground. Felix immediately curls into your side, now staring inquisitively at Chan, who’s sitting on your other side.

“So, uh, I figured we should just establish some hard boundaries first. Lix, do you want to go?”

Felix nods and grabs his phone from the side table, seemingly opening something on it.

“I wrote down what I wanted to say so I wouldn’t forget.”

Both you and Chan smile at that.

“So, uh, I can’t really handle intense degradation. I can do it if you mix in nice words, but I much prefer praise. I like knowing I’m doing well. Uh, and no bodily fluids or gross stuff like that. And aftercare is really important for me. I need a lot of it.”

Chan nods, looking attentively at Felix.

“Pretty much anything else other than those things is fair game.”

Chan leans in just slightly.

“So what do you like, Felix?”

Felix looks back at his phone, the tips of his ears and nose turning a light pink.

“Uh, choking. And pain. And, uh, praise, obviously. I like being marked up, too.”

Felix’s face gets adorably redder as he reads off the items on the list. You look over and notice Chan is trying to cover the outline of his half-hard dick in his sweatpants with a slice of pizza.

When Felix is done, Chan asks him another question which makes Felix choke on his own spit.

“What do you like to be called?”

After taking a moment to collect himself, Felix speaks up.

“Uh, I didn’t write that down.”

“That’s okay. If you remember later, just tell me.”

“Okay. Well, uh, Lixie and Lix are always good. And uh, baby boy, or any variant of that, really. And, uh…”

Felix murmurs the end of his sentence and although you already know what he said, you still lift his chin up with your hand and guide his gaze towards Chan’s

“Go ahead, Lixie. Tell him your favorite pet name.”

Felix looks away, and in a very small voice, says,

“Kitten.”

Chan’s eyes visibly darken and he shifts in his seat, clearly trying to restrain himself until the conversation is over. You smile contentedly, and decide to continue the conversation yourself in fear of Felix becoming impossibly more flustered.

Eventually, the conversation comes to a close, and the three of you stand up to head to your bedroom, Chan grabbing his bag which Felix didn’t notice until now. His eyes widen and he grabs your hand, squeezing hard. You squeeze back to offer him some reassurance as the three of you slip into the bedroom.

Turning Felix around to face you and taking both of his hands in yours, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Are you still nervous, baby?”

Felix nods and looks away again.

“You know we can stop any time if it gets too much for you, right?”

He nods again.

“I want to do this. I’ve just never done this before.”

“That’s okay, Lixie, just try to relax, okay?”

He nods and you let go of his hands, turning towards Chan.

“Is everyone good with using the traffic light system?”

The both of them nod.

“What is everyone’s color?”

Everyone says green.

“Alright. Lixie, why don’t you sit on the bed for me?”

Felix, ever obedient, sits with his hands in his lap, fingers nervously picking at the sleeves of his hoodie. You approach him carefully and take his face in your hands, leaning down to kiss him gently. He immediately reciprocates, falling into the comfortable rhythm that the two of you share. Chan watches from the sidelines until you pull away, beckoning him with a small tilt of your head. He pads over softly until he’s standing in front of Felix, running his hand through the younger boy’s hair. Felix tentatively places his small hands on Chan’s waist, and the older smiles before leaning in slowly to kiss him. It starts out slow and sweet, but soon Felix is grasping at the fabric of Chan’s shirt, letting out tiny whimpers into his mouth. It’s adorable, watching Felix fall apart like this.

You decide to sit behind Felix on the bed, wrapping your arms around him for a quick hug before dipping your hands under the hem of his shirt, letting them explore the skin there. Felix whines at the unexpected touch but keens into it, prompting Chan to pull back and pull Felix’s shirt off.

He’s flustered at first, covering his chest with his hands, until you pull them away and start brushing your fingertips over his pert nipples. He lets out a long, drawn-out whine, arching into your touch.

“Does my pretty boy like having his nipples played with?” Chan asks, smirking down at Felix. He nods frantically as you increase your speed, causing him to squirm even more in your hold. Chan hums appreciatively before motioning for the two of you to scoot back on the bed, and when you do, he settles in between Felix’s legs and starts to mouth at his cock through the younger’s jeans. Felix cants his hips up into Chan, but the older is having none of it and pushes his hips down violently, coaxing a gasp out of him.

“Stay still.”

Chan unbuttons Felix’s jeans and and pulls them down, along with his underwear, agonizingly slow, relishing in the younger’s sigh of relief. He’s already fully hard, and it must hurt.

“This worked up already?”

Felix nods frantically, just trying to get Chan to get on with it. Chan walks away, and retrieves a pair of pink leather cuffs from his bag.

“I’m told you look pretty in pink.”

When Felix stays silent, you lean up from where you’ve been sucking gently on Felix’s neck to murmur in his ear.

“Is that true, Lix? Tell him.”

“Y-yes, I look pretty in pink.”

Chan nods approvingly as he snaps the cuffs around Felix’s wrists, securing them behind his back. He assumes his position between Felix’s legs again, hands wrapping around his now bare thighs, shocked to find that his hands are big enough to wrap around almost halfway. He can feel his dick twitch at the thought of being so big that he can literally split Felix in half.

When Chan wraps his lips around Felix’s tip, he can tell the sub is using all of his self-control not to fuck up into his mouth. However, nearly as soon as he starts, Chan pulls off, leaving Felix whining for more.

“Tsk. Be patient, kitten.”

Chan’s ego swells when he sees Felix’s dick jump at the pet name. He looks towards you, where you’re still kissing all over Felix’s neck and shoulders, running your hands up and down his sides, and lifts your chin up, giving you a quick kiss.

“What do you think about helping out our y/n? They deserve it for introducing us, don’t you think?”

Felix nods, but tugs at the cuffs restraining his arms. He wants so badly to touch, but he knows Chan won’t let him.

“Go ahead, then. I’ll get you started, yeah?”

Felix can only nod as he watches Chan undress you to your underwear, rubbing his fingers lightly over your slit and reveling in the low groan you let out, completely opposite to Felix’s whining.

“Alright, go ahead, baby boy.”

Felix looks at Chan, confused. How was he supposed to get your underwear off if he couldn’t use his hands? Chan just shrugs and sits back on his heels, undressing himself and palming himself through his underwear as he watches.

Felix tries to be sexy and pull your panties down with his teeth, but he can only get them down an inch or so before he gives up. He eventually settles for just mouthing at your clit over your underwear, but it’s still not enough. He switches between your clit and nipples before just giving up for the second time and sitting back, looking at his knees dejectedly. Chan sighs before moving Felix aside and huffing in fake disappointment, pulling down your panties and unhooking your bra with his hands.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Felix whines, but he yelps when Chan delivers a harsh slap to his thigh. 

“No talking back.”

Felix sighs and huffs out a “fine” before leaning against you, signaling that he wants you to touch him.

“Poor Lixie. That must hurt, huh?” You gesture towards his cock, angry red and straining against his stomach. He nods and you hum, reaching out a hand to stroke him slowly.

“You remember what Chan said, baby boy?”

Felix nods.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“Stay still.”

You hum approvingly and continue to stroke Felix lightly, squeezing involuntarily as Chan’s lips wrap around your clit and suck. You try your best to keep going as Chan licks up your slit, making lewd slurping noises that cause Felix to thrust up into your hand. He doesn’t process that he did until he feels another slap on his opposite thigh and your hand move away from his cock. He whimpers to try and get your attention, but both of your hands are tugging at Chan’s hair, and all Felix can do is watch.

Eventually, Felix’s helpless whines catch Chan’s attention and he grabs a pillow from the head of the bed, tossing it in Felix’s direction.

“You want relief that badly, huh? Be patient for us, kitten. For now, hump that. I’m busy. And don’t you dare cum until I tell you to.”

Felix whines but complies, situating the pillow between his legs and rutting into it as he watches Chan eat you out.

Meanwhile, your eyes are screwed shut as Chan picks up speed, letting out loud moans that only make Felix more desperate for you. You can feel your first orgasm quickly approaching, and you make sure to let Chan know. He just hums against you and sticks two fingers inside of you, making you nearly scream in pleasure. Your grip on his hair grows ever tighter as you beg him to let you cum. He pulls away just slightly to give you permission, and almost on command, you’re cumming all over his fingers and tongue. Chan just laps it up eagerly and shifts his gaze to focus on Felix, who’s rutting into the pillow faster and faster.

Chan lifts Felix’s chin up and kisses him hard, almost toppling the poor boy over with the force of the kiss. He slows down, and eventually comes to a stop, panting as tears line his eyes, threatening to fall from how desperate he is to be touched again.

“Come here, baby boy. You were so good.” Chan unclasps the cuffs and Felix takes a moment to stretch his wrists. Chan kisses the spots where Felix tugged too hard and left red marks, causing the younger to look away and blush.

As Chan is leaning Felix back on the bed, kissing down his body, an idea pops into the sub’s head.

“Hey, Chan, uh…”

“Yes, Lixie?”

“I was wondering if, uh.”

Chan cocks his head and rubs his thumb over Felix’s cheekbone as he waits for him to finish his sentence.

“Yes?”

“Uh, if it’s okay with you, I want you to fuck me.”

A short silence passes before Felix covers his face with his hands, trying desperately to backtrack.

“I mean, it’s okay if not! I know some people aren’t really into that, and, uh, it was just a suggestion, but if not-”

Chan silences Felix with a kiss.

“Sweet boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Felix sighs in relief.

“Y/N, why don’t you help prep our kitten?”

You nod and reach towards the bedside table where the lube and condoms are kept.

“Lix, is it okay if I fuck your mouth?”

Felix sputters out an overenthusiastic ‘yes,’ bringing his hands towards Chan’s thick thighs. The older just laughs and discards his boxers before situating himself on Felix’s chest, the sub’s mouth watering at the sight of Chan.

Chan has just started pushing gently into Felix’s mouth when you put your first finger in, slicked up thoroughly with lube. He moans louder than you’ve heard him all night when it’s fully situated, at which Chan groans and pushes in further. You can’t see what’s happening, but the sounds give you a clear enough picture, sloppy and wet and absolutely filthy. When you tease a second finger at Felix’s hole, he groans, causing Chan to buck forward into his mouth.

When Chan sets a steady pace, you push a second finger in, and then a third. You don’t purposefully aim for Felix’s prostate, but you must have hit it because a moan even louder than the ones before it reaches your ears and a gush of precum dribbles out of Felix’s slit. You decide to treat him and wrap your lips around his tip as you stretch your fingers out inside him. Chan just keeps fucking into Felix’s mouth faster and faster, and you can tell he’s getting close, but he pulls out right before he cums, much to Felix’s dismay.

Chan gets off of Felix’s chest and rolls on a condom as you decide he’s stretched out enough.

“Ready, kitten?”

Felix nods, whining desperately. There are tears tracks drying on his face, which must have been from Chan fucking his mouth just moments before.

At first, you just want to sit aside and watch as Chan takes your pretty kitty apart. You do for a bit, reveling in the way that Chan throws his head back as he tries not to cum right away from Felix’s tightness, or the way Felix bites on his knuckles and arches his back as Chan pushes into him. However, once Chan is fully settled inside Felix, resting a comforting hand on the smaller boy’s inner thigh, you have a better idea. Crawling towards the two of them, you give Felix a soft kiss before setting yourself over him, dripping heat right above his mouth. You’re facing Chan and he gives you a look, but when you say in a low voice that face sitting is Felix’s favorite, he nods.

You can feel puffs of air on your cunt as Felix tells Chan to start moving. Then, you lower yourself onto Felix and when his tongue starts circling and gently biting at your slit, you throw your head back in pleasure. Chan grabs the back of your neck and tugs you in for a kiss, and it’s more of an exchange of spit and clashing teeth than a kiss but it works.

Chan starts fucking faster into Felix and the younger lets out a loud, high-pitched moan, his mouth leaving your cunt as he lolls his head back onto the pillow. You reach behind you and grab his hair, pushing his face up into your slit rather forcefully. His licks and sucks get more frantic as Chan thrusts even faster, and he lets out moans into you, wrapping his arms around your thighs for purchase.

You can feel your second orgasm of the night coming on.

“Can you keep holding on for me a bit longer, baby? I’m close too.”

Felix moans frantically, freely fucking himself back onto Chan, nearly screaming when Chan holds his hips up to more easily hit his prostate and wraps a hand around his dick. Chan hammers that spot over and over, Felix letting out helpless moans and screams as he approaches his high. Chan can tell that he’s close, but he knows Felix won’t be able to ask him for permission to cum in his fucked-out state.

“You can cum, Lix. Go ahead and let go for us.”

With a strangled scream, Felix cums hard onto his own stomach. Chan follows soon after, letting out a low, loud groan as he rides out his high inside Felix. You reach a hand down to your clit to finish yourself off, body convulsing as you fall over onto Chan. He pulls you against his chest as he stills inside Felix, the three of you breathing heavily. When you get off of Felix, you notice that he’s fully crying.

“Lixie, are you okay?”

Felix just groans, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. Chan pulls out and discards the condom as you pull Felix’s head into your lap and stroke his hair. His entire body is limp.

Chan once again returns to his bag and pulls out a big fluffy blanket sporting a paw print pattern and a few extra pairs of clothes. He drapes the blanket over Felix, tucking it in around the sides and brushing some stray, sweaty strands of hair from the younger’s forehead.

Felix’s eyes flutter shut, and you lean into Chan, exhausted.

“That was… really good,” you say groggily.

Chan just nods, putting an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head tenderly. You busy yourself with threading your fingers through Felix’s hair and trying to get all the knots out. Chan reaches over for the clothes and tugs a shirt over his head, wiggling his legs through some sweatpants. The two of you work together to wipe Felix down and dress him in a similar outfit, before you pull on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants identical to the ones that Chan is wearing.

After a bit of maneuvering, you’re sandwiched in between the still asleep Felix and a very, very, tired Chan.

“Do you want to do this again sometime?”

You laugh hoarsely and nod. “We’ll have to ask Felix when he wakes up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t be opposed.”

You hum, and Chan wraps his arms around you even tighter then they were before, pulling you closer to his chest.

“Pancakes and bacon when we wake up?”

“Absolutely.”

[shortracha]

rattled: a valentine’s day shake

a/n: sorta surprise! hehe i had so much fun writing this!! thank you @harrysgoldenbum​ for being my lovely beta and an all around gem! @soullikestyles​ , this is for you for loving these two as much as i do <3

summary: audrey gives harry his present early, and harry absolutely loses his mind (not really) 

warnings: cursing? a single spanish word? i think that’s about it. again, this is shmoopy fluff.

word count: 1.6k

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

If someone were to ask Audrey what her favorite item of clothing was, she would, without a doubt, tell them it’s her maternity sweats she found at TJ Maxx. They were $5, and a bit big when she bought them, but she’s never looked back. Harry’s bought her several pairs that are similar, but they don’t compare to that pair. 

This morning, she finds herself sprawled across the bed in her favorite pair of sweats. With a snack bowl in hand, she watches the baby kick at her. Harry and Audrey are sharing a quiet morning to themselves before Harry has to go attend to some major work details this afternoon. Should be back for dinner, but it’s just not the same. He leaves for a week tomorrow as well, so they’re trying to make the most of the little bit of time they have.  

The window is cracked, the birds are chirping, and the air smells wet like it just rained. To Audrey, it’s the perfect type of morning.

“Look at her, she’s so active this morning.” Not even born yet, she’s already left awestruck by her little girl who’s showing her parents that she’s here and kickin’. Quite literally. Audrey likes to think that it means her baby is already strong, she clings to that thought. But also, damn does it hurt. Not every kick, but her belly starts to feel sore in the mornings when the baby does her thing.

“Yeah, she’s beating you up pretty good today.” Harry’s response is almost instant. He looks up from his book and places a hand on Audrey’s belly, waiting to feel his baby girl kick again. When she does, he smiles and offers his babygirl a quick, “Good morning to you too, little peach.” And returns to his book. 

Audrey tosses a grape into the air and manages to catch it in her mouth on the first try. She throws her arms up in celebration, and Harry high-fives her without looking up from his book. He does chuckle to himself, but it’s unknown if he is amused from the book he is reading or the actions of his fiancée.

“But, can you do it three times in a row?” He carefully places a bookmark on his current page and closes the cover. He reaches across Audrey’s lap, attempts to grab a few grapes. She smacks his hand away and scolds him with a quick, “¡Déjalo! It’s mine!” before scooting the bowl further from him, almost to the edge of the bed. He rubs his hand and pouts.

“Um, ow!” He exclaims dramatically. 

Harry crawls over her, grabs a handful of grapes, just to bother her, and wiggles into a more upright seating position. Back to the headboard, he tosses two up and catches them both in his mouth one after the other.

Audrey rolls her eyes, “Showoff,” she mutters with disdain.  

“I’m a showoff? Do you really want to play this game?” He laughs, incredulous. 

“Whatever,” She waves him off. As weird as it may seem, it’s moments like these that Audrey enjoys the most. It's the little things for her. She tends to remember them more, compared to others. It’s not always easy, but the little moments she gets to spend feeling normal with her best friend are ones she’ll treasure forever. 

“Help me down? I gotta pee.”

Harry hops down from his side of the bed and walks around, grabbing her hands and holding her steady as she scoots her way off the bed.

She shuffles into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as she beelines it for the toilet. 

“Uh, baby, could you close the door, maybe?” Harry’s question is more rhetorical in nature. He knows she’s not going to get back up to close the door. 

Since Audrey got pregnant, she’s become a lot less...private about a lot of things. She was never one to really care too much about the things some people would feel embarrassed about, but things took on a whole different level after she found out about the baby. 

“No, it’s fine.”

“But I can..hear everything.” He laughs on the last word, in disbelief at just how comfortable she seems to be around him. It’s a good thing, to be sure. She just shows it in odd ways.

A few minutes go by, Audrey does her business and begins her exit from the bathroom. 

“Hey, babe, would you mind if I gave you your present early?” Audrey calls out from the bathroom, but she’s not really looking for an answer. She’s already grabbed the small box from the linen closet on her way out and is approaching him, doing her best to hide it behind her back. Unfortunately, she fails.

“Well, I don’t have much choice, do I?” 

Harry’s not one to say no to presents, but they had agreed to wait until he got back from his trip. However, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for the gift exchange.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s so terrible that you’re getting a gift, H.”

“‘M not ungrateful, if that’s what you’re implying.” He pretends to be offended, clutching his chest and an exaggerated gasp leaves his mouth. 

“It is.” He rolls his eyes at her response, Audrey just giggles. 

“Well, are you gonna give me my present, or am I meant to guess what it is first?”

She sets the box on the bed, lifts herself back onto it and slides next to him. Her nerves are bubbling, making her restless. Now, Audrey knows that Harry will be happy with whatever the gift is, but it still intimidates her, when it comes to giving a gift to her loved ones. But this particular gift has her feeling vulnerable and slightly uncertain.

“Here you go, sport.” 

“Don’t ever call me that again.” Harry demands. Instead of responding, she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek and taps the box. 

“Just open it,” he smiles and shifts to sit directly in front of him, eager to watch his reaction. 

“Okay, okay..” Harry trails off, losing his train of thought while he unties the bowtie on top of  the rectangular box. Setting the lid aside, he lifts a small leather photo album out of the box and Audrey’s heart begins to pound in her chest. 

“What’s this?” He asks with such a gentle voice, it’s barely above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for an answer, though, and opens the album to the first page of 12.

Inside, is a picture of Audrey sat on her knees in a black bra and panties, baby bump on full display. He sits there, carefully examining the photo, expression completely unreadable. Audrey has absolutely no idea how he feels. It’s terrifying. 

He takes the time to examine every photo He takes in every detail from each HD shot of Audrey in sexy position or another. Audrey’s favorite is a closeup shot of her chest, arm covering her nipples and her engagement ring sparkling to the camera. As he flips through the album, he keeps the same stoic expression. Each second seems to feel longer than the last. It drives Audrey crazy not knowing what Harry thinks of his gift.

Eventually, Harry reaches the last photo and the slightest hint of a smirk lifts from his lips and Audrey breathes a little easier. It’s a miracle she’s managed to stay quiet the whole time. It’s absolutely no small feat for her. 

“So...What do you think?” She’s meek, cheeks warming up in embarrassment. “Do you hate it?” Harry snaps the book closed and looks up to make eye contact with her. 

He offers her a sly smile, while he adjusts his pants. “Of course not!” His voice cracks ever so slightly, and Audrey lets out the most ridiculous laugh he’s ever heard. More a chortle than anything else. 

She catches on. 

“Which one do you like best?” She crawls beside him and takes the album from his hands.

“When did you do this?” 

“That’s not what I asked.” She browses the album herself, curious to see if she can guess which one it is. If she had to, it would be the black and white shot of her on the floor, knees skyward and back arched slightly, baby bump on full display again. “I did this not too long after we found out about Peach being a girl.” She recalls the time she left for the afternoon under the guise of a “girl’s day”. Harry never suspected a thing. 

“And you managed to keep a boudoir shoot secret? I’m impressed, baby.” He kisses her head in praise. “You know what, I think we should blow this one up. Do you have access to the digitals?” He points to the open page, the black and white floor shot, just as Audrey suspected. 

“A few of them, yeah. What exactly do you want that for, if you have the album?” She looks up at him, curious. 

“I want this one in the living room.”

“Absolutely not!” 

“C’mon, it would look so good!” He argues with her, tapping the page for emphasis. “You look so good!”

She feels her cheeks warm up again, beyond happy that he likes his gift. “You’re very sweet, but we’re not hanging anything up in the living room.”

“Why not? I should be able to show off how sexy you look!”

“Harry, I refuse to have a picture of me, nearly naked might I add, hanging in our living room.” Audrey crosses her arms and keeps a light scowl on her face. 

With some discussion, they finally manage to compromise; Audrey lets him hang up a canvas of the floor shot on the wall by the bed when he gets back from his trip. The album finds a home in the bathroom.

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 11

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. Minor angst. Fluff!

A/N: This is it, the final chapter. Thank you to those that stuck by me during my long break. I hope you love this final chapter as much as I do. 

Word Count: 2,657

Catch up with Chapter 10

**

“I agree. We need change that last scene around a bit too,” you spoke into the camera on your laptop.

The door behind you creaked open and you spun your chair around to see your intruder.

“Hey beautiful,” crinkling eyes greet you. “Who are you chatting with?” he asked, stepping closer to you, leaning down to view the screen.

“It’s Kimmie.”

“Hey, Kimmie!” Chris said a little too loudly, bending his knees to get a better look. You turned back to the screen, partially blocking his view that caused him to bob his head back and forth.

“Hey, Chris,” she replied back with a wave.

“Let me call you back in thirty.”

“No problem,” she grinned.

You clicked disconnect and pushed down the screen, spinning back around to face your boyfriend.

“You didn’t have to end your call on my account,” Chris said, taking a seat on the couch in your office. He kicked out his legs and rested his arms on the back of the couch.

Standing up, you stretched your arms over your head until you heard a small audible crack. The long hours in your desk chair were doing nothing to help with your stiffness. You walked the five steps to reach him, straddling his lap and giving him chaste kiss.

“I missed you. Taking a break is well deserved,” you murmured into his neck.

Chris lowered both arms, wrapping them around your waist and lowering them until they rested on your bottom. “Missed you too sweetheart. But if you really missed me, we’re going to need more than thirty minutes. You may need to give Kimmie a call back tomorrow.”

You lightly pushed on his chest, shaking your head but giving him a smile.

“I’m pretty sure I can get the job done in fifteen, but I wouldn’t mind taking the whole night off,” you replied, bending down and bringing your lips to his.

**

The two of you had been together for two years. It had taken a bit to get there because as it turned out, you both were very passionate people in and out of the studio.

Once your one month extended stay to help with editing ended, Chris was adamant you shouldn’t leave. You had unofficial moved into his bedroom two weeks prior and he had gotten used to you being there. You had gotten used to it as well if you were being honest. You changed your ticket for an additional week, but all too soon late-night arguments became the norm in the days leading up to your flight. He had trouble understanding that you had an apartment with all your belongings that you paid rent on to get back to. Meanwhile, you had trouble understanding that the two of you really needed this time together since it was so early in your relationship. By the time the plane touched down in L.A. you weren’t sure it would last.

Phone calls quickly became strained and almost a chore, but it was all you had. He was staying on the East coast to be close to family and work. Most jobs for you were in L.A. where the studios were located. You didn’t have a choice.

The majority of Chris’ past relationships had been with actresses who had the means to fly back and forth and the funds to take time off to dedicate to that relationship. That wasn’t you. Yes, you were in your thirties, but you didn’t make movie star money. While you did have a good chunk of money in savings, you still needed to either get back to bartending or get another contract for a movie so that money wasn’t quickly depleted.

When Chris hadn’t called or texted for a solid week, you were sure it was over with. This intense relationship that was all consuming apparently had gone up in smoke. You called in sick to your side job and spent an entire day crying. Gemma, being the good friend she is, came over with a bottle of tequila in hand to help drink your tears away. It worked for a little while, until you woke up with a pounding headache. Not to mention, the only reason you were awake was because someone was actually pounding at your door. Taking a one-eyed look at your alarm clock, you saw that it was only six in the morning.

“Who the fuck…” you groan, loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

You dragged yourself out of bed, only then realizing you were still dressed in yesterday’s jeans and top. Albeit, both heavily wrinkled and misshapen from your rough night of sleep. You didn’t catch your reflection in a mirror but were pretty sure your mascara was smeared everywhere but your eyelashes.

You flicked the lock and opened the door to a red eyed Chris. Before you could utter a greeting or a question, he pushed his way past you into your living room and began pacing. Closing the door softly, you moved past him into the kitchen turning the water on until it ran warm. Grabbing the pot from the coffee maker, you rinsed it before filling it, keeping your back to Chris. He still hadn’t uttered a word but you could hear his steps on the vinyl wood floor. You continued busying yourself with the grounds before flicking the switch to start it.

“I only have that caramel flavored one. I know it’s not your favorite...” you trailed off, still facing the machine rather than him.

Him being here in L.A., your apartment to be more specific, after not hearing from him was slowly putting you into a tailspin. What did it mean? Why wasn’t he speaking to you? Why the fuck is he here? These are questions you really needed to verbalize, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

“Come here,” his raspy voice called.

You cleared your throat and took a breath, turning around to see that he stopped pacing. His arms were at his sides but his fingers twitched. Not only were his eyes red, but he looked tired. His beard longer than you’d seen it and a little unkempt. You walked to him, stopping a couple of feet away, staying quiet and trying your best not to cry.  

Chris licked his lips and blinked slowly. “Do you love me?”

What? Do I love him?... Do I love him?

You closed your eyes tight as if it would help this flood of emotions you were feeling. Seconds ticked by. You felt Chris’ fingers touch your hand before the warmth quickly fell away.

Opening your eyes, you were met with his glassy ones. Your head started to nod before you could get the words out. “Yes.” It was weak. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “Yes, I love you.”

Chris grabbed your face almost harshly, but you didn’t care as his lips crashed into yours. It was a hungry kiss and you had to grab on to his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall. He pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours. “I love you. I fucking love you,” he growled.

His lips met yours once again. Your hands slipped from his shoulders to around his neck. You could feel the wetness on your face and you couldn’t tell if it was from his tears or yours.

The two of you eventually made it to your bed, the coffee long forgotten as you reclaimed the love you had gone weeks without. Sleep later took the both of you, only waking at the feel of his hand as it combed through your hair.

“You know,” he murmured. “You really shouldn’t go to sleep with your makeup on. S’not good for the skin.”

Opening your eyes slowly to see the smirk on his lips, you pouted your own. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” he questioned, lifting a brow.

“Nope.” You lifted your head and laid it on his chest. “Chris Evans loves me.”

“That’s true.”

“And if he can love me when I’m hungover with black mascara all over my face, I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”

His throaty chuckle made you smile. “We should probably talk,” you said into his chest after a quiet moment.

Chris’ fingertips slid softly up and down your bare arm. “We should, but I want to hold you for a bit longer.”

The talk didn’t happen until the next day as you both opted to stay in bed with Chris only leaving to pick up food for dinner. Your room smelled like garlic shrimp and sesame chicken, but you wouldn’t change a thing about how the day had gone.

Chris was making his primary residence in California as soon as he was done wrapping up the movie. You argued that Boston was home, but he insisted he had his house in Laurel Canyon just wasting away. He wanted to be with you. Needed to be with you.

“I can fly out East whenever I have an itch to. Take you along because I know Ma will want to see you.”

Who were you to argue?

As promised, two months later Chris was back on the West coast with you. And it stayed that way for almost a year until he had you flying out to Massachusetts for another film. This time it wasn’t one of his, but a friend of his that he put you in contact with. You didn’t like him doing you favors like that, but the producer had stated that you came highly recommended.

For several months you split your time between Rhode Island and Boston and grew to really love that part of the country.  It was breathtaking and covered in snow which you had to admit you kind of missed. You loved it when you were here with Chris the first time, but most of those days were spent reconnecting with Chris and worrying. This trip you really had the time to appreciate the beauty despite the coldness of the winter.

Kimmie was the screen writer on that film and the two of you had formed a fast friendship. She enlisted your help on another film keeping you employed and on the East coast much to Chris’ delight. By accident, you had added another career to your resume, consultant. And later, screenwriter.

You let your apartment go along with the furniture in it, packing up only your clothes and the items you couldn’t part with. You officially moved in with Chris in Boston even though you had been living with him for almost a year.

**

“How’s that script coming?” Chris asked over scrambled eggs with cheese the next day.

“Good. But I really need to call Kimmie back. You majorly distracted me yesterday. She’s going to find a new writing partner if I keep pulling stuff like that.”

Chris give you a closed mouth grin before scooping another bite into his mouth, shaking his head in disagreement. “You two work well together. Doubt she cares if you get distracted,” he said, his fingers making air quotes.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you sighed. You really didn’t think she would kick you to the curb, but you wanted Chris to gravel a bit.

Chris pushed his chair back from the table, picking up his empty mug. He kissed the top of your head before refilling his cup. “I can send her flowers if you want.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “You barely send me flowers!”

“Well, that’s your damn cat’s fault. If he’d stop chewing on the stems, I’d bring you flowers home every day,” he argued taking his seat back at the table.

“You love Mr. Fluffykins. Admit it.”

“Only half the time. And that’s only because he’s cute with Dodger.”

Chris only had about thirty pictures on his phone of Mr. Fluffykins, Fluff for short, and Dodger cuddling together. The two of you lucked out on that friendship when you brought Fluff home from the shelter two months ago.

Rinsing your plate, you placed it in the dishwasher before walking over to Chris and kissing his lips. “I’m off to work dear.”

“Have a safe commute,” he said with a smile. It had been your little inside joke for awhile now since your in-home office was your place of business most days.

**

“Knock. Knock,” Chris said, entering your office. “Working late?”

You yawned, suddenly realizing what time it was. “Sorry. Got caught up on something new,” you said, standing and walking over to him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I thought you and Kimmie finished up last week?” he said, pulling you over to the couch in the room instead.

“We did. This is something new. Something that’s just me,” you said timidly.

“Oh yeah? Just you?”

Leaning into him, he put an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

“It’s a script I’m working on. Eric Sherman had asked if I had anything in the works and it got me thinking. Why don’t I have anything in the works? Kimmie and I can still develop scripts together, but there’s no reason I can’t work on a project that I’m really interested in. I might have her look it over when it’s done, but I kind of want to keep it to myself for a while.”

He lifted your face to his. “Just you? Not even little old me?”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “I suppose I could tell you.” You took a breath, sitting up straighter and turning your body to his. “It’s called Just a Simple Lie and it starts with a fake engagement.” Chris started a slow smile on his face. “Along the way, the lie gets a little out of hand and she ends up falling for a friend. I’m just not sure how it will end.”

“I can’t wait to read it. When you’re ready for me to read it.” He tugged on your hand, pulling you out of your seat. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

**

Rubbing in your nightly moisturizer, you gave yourself a final look in the mirror before clicking off the bathroom light and walking into your shared bedroom. You gasped, your hands immediately going to your chest. Chris was facing the doorway, on one knee dressed in a pair of Snoopy pajama pants and gray t-shirt. One hand rested on his bent knee while the other held a ring by his pointer finger and thumb.

“I think I have an ending for your story,” he began. You still couldn’t speak nor could you move. “See, I met this amazing woman that took me by surprise and turned my life upside down, but in a good way. It might have started as a lie, but I know she only had good intentions. I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. The only way this story can end is with her promising to spend the rest of her life with me. Happily, ever after, if you will.” he shrugged. “So, what I’m trying to say is, will you continue to write this story with me, as my wife, my partner in life?”

You nodded your head, walking to him and dropping on your knees. You kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes. Yes,” you whispered. “I love you so much.”

Chris took your left hand from around his neck and brought it close to his face, kissing it, and then placing the ring on your finger. “Love you too baby.” He kissed your hand again and pulled you into a hug.

After a minute or two, he kissed your lips and looked into your eyes. “I know we’re having a moment, but would you mind if I take my fiancée to bed?”

You chuckled and kissed him again. “Yes, fiancé. I’d like that very much.” The two of you got to your feet and climbed into bed. “I suppose the ground is pretty hard on those old knees of yours,” you teased.

“Such a brat,” he said, kissing your nose.

“You like it.”

“Yeah…I kind of love it.”

**

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[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme

AN: Anyone stay up late to watch The Falcon and The Winter Soldier on Friday, because I did with pride.

Word Count: 4.9k

Trigger Warnings: none

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Sixteen: Tensions Run High

The room that surrounded me was incredibly unfamiliar, the walls were a dark shade of cherry wood and not the serene blue I have in my own bedroom. The sun seeped through the curtains, the light reflecting off the silver tray of empty plates that once had breakfast on it on the table by the window. This didn't look like a bedroom, it appeared more as a hotel room, a five star hotel at that. Large, royal blue satin curtains, a canopy bed with matching bronze and blue comforter to the curtain, and a bronze carpet.

I stretched out, feeling content as I remembered the events of the previous night.

"What happens now?" I asked, shifting my body in a comfortable position.

Charles wrapped his arm around my waist, something I tensed at first but relaxed into. It felt nice to have him holding me. I leaned back against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked backed, starting to play with my fingers.

"Where do we go from this?" I clarified, leaning my head back to look at him.

"I think that we're now a 'couple', as Raven would put it," Charles chuckled, tucking his chin into my shoulder. "I quite like the sound of that," he added, his lips curving into a smile.

"It's funny, I never thought I'd see myself with a white man," I commented, closing my eyes. "Not after James," I breathed out, reopening them.

"No one special in college?" Charles asked curiously, peering down at me.

"There was," I answered, nodding my head. "His name was Benjamin," I remembered. "He treated me well, he didn't run to the nearest exit sign when I revealed that I was a mutant. We dated for a few months, and I thought all was going well..." I trailed off.

"What happened?" Charles questioned.

"He just couldn't take it anymore," I answered, shaking my head.

It was a warm day for the spring, as I walked to the park looking around trying to find Ben. The park had a few people in it, mainly kids playing over by the baseball diamond or younger kids at the playground. There were a few teens but not many. Then I saw him and made my way to Ben for our outing. Ben Hughes was sitting on a bench off away from everyone by a tree in an olive green button down and brown slacks. I smiled at the sight of him, the green complimented his complexion quite nicely if I do say so myself. I walked up to the black-haired and brown-eyed man.

"Hello," I greeted smiling.

"Hey," Ben greeted back, but his smile was more nervous then happy and I got a bad feeling in fact I was unintentionally picking up on a few of his emotions and I didn't like what I was feeling.

I sat down next to him, "What's wrong?" I asked placing my hand near his.

Ben's face fell and took my hand gently. "It's...I...I'm sorry I can't keep doing this," he looked away and I suddenly got a very terrified feeling that he was talking about us dating.

That and I sensed that Ben didn't like this either.

"But why? I thought...I thought we were happy?"

"I was...for the most part...but Claudia...you're wonderful, but I'm not ready for this," Ben ran a hand through his conk styled hair looking over the park. "I'm just not ready to date someone like you...I mean we both know how people treat others that are different, we face it all the time...and...I don't want that to increase tenfold...at least not until I know I can handle it. I figured you would want to be with someone that could be open with you in public," Ben explained lamely.

I thought about it, and looking back on it Ben always did act like we were just friends or something in public while we only kissed or anything simple as holding hands, unless we were at each other's rooms or no one else was around.

"Are you ashamed of me being what I am? Cause there's nothing wrong with it," There was a hint of anger in my voice, but I didn't care.

"I...I don't know...that's one of the reasons I don't want us to get to serious and...there's another reason,"

"What?" I asked him, I was sensing something from him but I wasn't sure. "Come on, I know there's something that's really bothering you so what is it!"

"That's it!" Ben exclaimed. "I hate the fact you know what I'm feeling all the time...it's creepy! I mean I don't want my emotions known," he explained, throwing his hands up.

"I can't help it! I mean I'm still learning how to keep my barriers up, I don't mean to, this isn't easy for me either you know!" I snapped slightly raising my voice, and feeling my eyes water up.

Ben looked at me in sympathy, "I know, I know, you've told me and I wish you didn't have to go through all that and that you had control...but it feels like an invasion of privacy to me...I...I just can't handle it. You know how much of a private and shy person I am and this...this just makes me feel uncomfortable, I'm sorry I don't mean to make this sound horrible I'm trying not to I really am...but I can't," Ben repeated sadly.

I could feel the emotions running off of Ben and knew he was hurting just as much as I was and I tried to shut off the surge of emotions, but I was having trouble doing so.

"So...you don't ever want to see me again," I stated coldly.

"No, I didn't say that...I just can't date you...at the moment. I thought I was ready, but I'm not. I'm just not ready,"

Charles softly placed his hand on the side of my face and captured my lips with his own. A shudder went through me as I was snapped out of my memory, but I smiled into it, kissing him back. His hands traveled down my waist and flipped me over to fully face him, pulling me on top of him. The two of us continued kissing until he pulled away for a short moment. Charles stared at me, moving a lock of hair from my face simultaneously caressing my cheek.

"His loss, love," Charles declared, pressing a kiss to my head causing my smile to widen further.

"I'd better take the tray down," I sighed, wiggling my way out of Charles grip.

"Or you could just stay here if you'd like," Charles suggested tightening his grip around my waist.

"Easy, tiger," I laughed at his forwardness, softly pushing his hands off my waist.

"Maybe next time, then?" he questioned, releasing me so I could stand up.

"Oh, there's a next time?" I asked, making Charles flash me a grin. "Next time," I agreed, lifting the heavy, silver tray from the table and walked across the room.

I opened the door with a flick of my hand and walked out, a cold draft rushed through from the open window in the hallway, making my body shiver. As I closed the door behind me, I heard footsteps coming toward my direction. I saw Erik down the hall, his blue eyes completely fixated on me, standing outside the door of Charles' bedroom. Erik shut the door to his own room, my pulse began to pound furiously within me as Erik came toward my direction.

"Good morning Erik!" I greeted cheerily, attempting trying to break the awkward silence.

Erik responded by sending me a frosty glare and something akin to a scowl, as he walked past me without a word. I released a breath I had no idea I was holding in. Erik clearly knew something was going on, but chose not to say anything outright.

Today was going to be interesting.

~~~x~~~

From the distance I could see Erik and Charles talking amicably, but their body language told a different different story. While Charles body was relaxed, Erik's was tense and rigid.

"Ah, Claudia it is nice to see you have joined us!" Charles chirped as he came over to me.

His hand quickly found mine while his other hand rested on my lower back and led me closer to the table that he had set up with a pigeon thrower next to some clay disks.

I moved away from Charles and ran my hand along the table, "What do we have here?" I asked, studying the equipment on the table.

From the corner of my eye I saw Erik staring at me, maybe he was waiting for me to return his gaze. I don't think he was too pleased at how relaxed Charles was when he took ahold of me. It probably had something to do with the fact that yesterday Erik also held me similarly. If he only knew what his touch did to me. I tried very hard to not look at Erik and concentrated my attention on Charles.

"Well, I figured since your already adept at your telekinesis I'm not going to ask you to move a pen, or a book. It seems that you have grasped the notion of moving small and large items and have expanded on this. The shield you created, is an example of this," Charles explained, now beside him again I crossed my arms over the grey sweatshirt I had changed into. "So, I thought some target practice would do you some good. The energy you use for your telekinesis can be molded and projected into various forms," Charles continued.

"So what? Skeet shooting?" I guessed, looking around for the rifles. "Where are the rifles?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Skeet shooting with a twist, Claudia," Charles corrected, moving in front of me. He grabbed both my hands and lifted them up to eye level. "You don't need a rifle love, your hands are more than enough," Charles reminded, letting go of my hands. "Erik, when you're ready," he called, looking over to him as Erik loaded up the trap thrower with a clay disk.

I shook my hands out before lifting them up in front of me as violet aura formed around my hands, "Pull!" I called, Erik fired off a clay skeet. I aimed my hand and fired, a purple bolt hitting the clay skeet, and shattering it.

"Nice shot, Claudia!" Charles smiled, as I dropped my arms.

"Did you ever doubt me?" I laughed, glancing over at him.

"Never, I'm just trying to keep your skills sharp," Charles answered, as I raised my arms up again.

"Pull!"

Erik fired off another clay skeet. I aimed my left hand this time and fired off a purple sphere. The sphere from my palm contacted the clay skeet, and it exploded into a little million piece.

"Excellent!" Charles exclaimed again. "Wasn't that fantastic Erik?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes, it was a fine shot," Erik replied, a tight smile on his face.

"Thank you, Erik," I said, flashing him a quick smile in an attempt to make things less awkward. It didn't, if anything it just made him shoot an icy glare at me. I darted my eyes away from him and went back to focusing in front of me. "Pull!" I directed, trying to now avoid the metal bender's stare.

The clay skeet sailed through the air, and I aimed my hand at the skeet, and fired.

The skeet then shattered.

~~~x~~~

I collapsed onto the grass off the side of the mansion, my chest heaving. It had been awhile since I had exerted this much physical energy. My lungs were screaming for oxygen and the muscles in my legs and feet were begging for mercy. Not too far behind me was the sound of three thuds falling next to me. I lazily turned my head to the right to see Hank, Sean, and Alex in a similar state of fatigue.

"The...Professor...needs...a...smaller...mansion..." Sean said in between breaths, his face the color of his hair.

A chuckle managed to seep through my gasps for breath, "Nonsense," I called, pushing myself up to rest on my arms. "You just have terrible stamina, Sean," I corrected smiling.

"What did we do to deserve four laps around the mansion?" Alex groaned, before sitting up.

"Hey, your lucky I didn't make you all run five like I originally planned to," I pointed out.

"She has a point," Hank agreed, copying Alex's movement.

"Shut up Bozo,"

"Now, now. Knock it off," I called in a motherly tone, pushing myself up from the ground, "Alright boys we're done for today," I stated, stretching my arms out over my head. "Last one back at the mansion has to do the others washing for a week!" I announced dashing off towards the mansion.

As I sprinted away from the boys I could hear their cries of displeasure because of my head start towards the mansion. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, already envisioning not having to do my washing for a week. But the sound shoes nosily slapping the gravel behind me told me that the boys were quickly catching up with me. Suddenly, a flash of red hair surged past me and I looked to my side to see a newly invigorated Sean in the lead of our little race. Sean looked back at me and gave me a wink knowing that he was mere meters away from the back door, but fate would prove otherwise.

Unfortunately for Sean he didn't notice one of the larger rocks that were strewn across the ground and tripped right before the backdoor. I easily sped past him and reached my hand out touching the door first panting heavily, but with a smile on my face. Hank and Alex followed shortly behind me just as I opened the backdoor, I looked back to see Sean dusting himself off and slowly heading to the door.

"So close, yet so far," I commented, slightly laughing as I held the door open for Sean.

"Very funny Claudia," Sean replied dryly, as he entered the mansion.

"Aren't I?" I quipped, closing the door. I walked beside Sean as we made our way down the hall and towards the kitchen. "Come on, you gotta admit it was a little funny," I suggested, pinching my finger close together.

Sean smirked at me, "Alright, it was a little funny," Sean agreed, nodding his head as we stepped into the kitchen.

"By the way I'm going to enjoy watching you do my washing this week!" I informed, mirth simply rolling off me.

I went straight for the cabinets where the cups were stored so I could quench my thirst, if I didn't get something to drink I was sure to die from a dry mouth. On my way to the cabinet I lightly hit Alex on his leg.

"Get off the counter, you're all sweaty and disgusting," I stated, walking past him and onto the cabinet.

"Yes, mom," Alex said mockingly, sliding off the counter.

"Be like Hank, he sitting in a chair at the table," I pointed out, a grin appearing on my face as I opened the cabinet door.

Reaching on my tiptoes I grabbed a cup and went to the sink to pour myself a glass of water. After I took a deep, long gulp out of water I hastily wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Just as I went to put my glass down onto the counter Erik and Raven had walked through the doorway of the kitchen, Raven was clinging onto his arm with a grin on her face which made me raise an eyebrow. Erik mirrored Raven's expression as if they were just laughing from a joke he told before coming in here, but as soon the two of them saw me their grins vanished.

It was as if a black hole had opened in the room, sucking in all the warmth, leaving cold and emptiness. What was once a friendly atmosphere turned tense and uncomfortable. I looked at Erik and I could feel an angry bitterness swirling beneath his calm demeanor.

"What were you two doing?" I asked, breaking the silence that had blanketed over the room.

"Erik and I were training," Raven answered simply, and I just gave a nod also noting that Erik still hasn't said a word to me. I lifted my glass back to my lips to take a sip of water and just as I went to swallow Raven spoke again. "He was teaching me the best way to use my body while in combat. He said that I was quite the challenge," Raven continued, with a challenging glint in her eyes.

I nearly choked on my water and subtly spit out my drink back into cup due to the innuendo that Raven made. I set down my water, my eyes flashing dangerously and resentment coiled like a small little snake in my chest, I was getting too worked up. And then a sudden realization hit me, oh dear God. I was jealous. I know that I needed to calm down, but I couldn't hold my tongue.

"How surprising," I began, staring right at Raven. "I've always known him to take a vested interest in things he considered nice and easy," I quipped, arching my brow in response to her challenging stare.

If looks could kill, Raven would have butchered me right then and there, as she visibly flushed before turning stony and a glint of hate appearing in her eyes.

"Let's go Erik," Raven ordered, storming out the kitchen and dragging Erik along.

The silence in the kitchen was deafening, you could hear a pen drop. I looked at the shocked faces of the boys that remained in the kitchen, all of their mouths forming an 'o' shape from witnessing what just transpired.

"We're going to pretend the last five minutes never happened," I stated, before taking a sip of water.

~~~x~~~

I sighed and fell on my queen-sized bed after changing into a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. I snuggled against the coolness of the pillows, my body relaxing against the softness of the bed. I cherished the silence in my room letting my eyes drift close as I prepared to meditate. All was well, I was at peace as my chest rose and fell with each breath I took. That was until my thoughts felt clouded and muddled, my heart flooded with a myriad of emotions, spinning in a thousand different directions. A sudden spike of self-loathing and reproach plowed through me, and returned me back into reality, trying to sort out my emotions.

I had to lower my barriers to pick apart my own feelings. A wave of uncertainty, affection, and fear sent my mind spinning. Sweat beaded my brow. I felt even normal emotions with an unnatural strength, but these threatened to render me unconscious. From somewhere below me, I stumbled out the bed wearily stood and headed toward the strangling emotions.

Being the empath that I was, I responded to those emotions even as they tried to block them out. I ventured outside my room. It was quiet in the hallway, however as I came closer to the staircase I heard a faint sound of piano keys. The melody was quiet at first but then it began to escalate further up. A crescendo and then it began to descend as I came down the stairs.

Claire de Lune.

The music did not stop as I almost stumbled down the last stair to see where the music was coming from. I finally reached the sound and slightly pushed open the door to see Erik completely engrossed in the music. I could not quite see his face as he was looking down at the keys. My heart began to race within my chest as he continued to play oblivious to me watching him. Without warning, the melody was gone and instead all I heard was a slam of keys. My head snapped up to see Erik staring right at me.

He didn't look too happy.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I turned around to head out, but before I could reach for the door knob the door slammed shut right before me.

"Why are you here?" His voice was menacing as he stood from the bench.

My stomach flipped as he came closer to me, "I...I heard the music," I stammered, before I cleared my throat. "And I felt a spike of emotion from my room. You could kill an empath without ever coming closer than six feet, you know that, Erik?" I quipped, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

"Shouldn't you be with him? Shouldn't you be with Charles?" Erik asked, spitting out Charles' name like it was venom.

I lowered my head slightly and raised an eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?" I questioned, placing my hands on my hip.

"You know exactly what that means! I saw the two of you last night! “ Cautiously, I moved back to the wall as he inched closer and closer. He prowled toward me as if I was his prey. "The two of you dancing, kissing?" Erik hissed, he had me cornered.

A chuckle of disbelief bubbled me and that only made Erik angrier, "If all you wanted was a dance with me, then you should've just asked," I pointed out simply, my playful expression vanished when Erik slammed both his hands down on the wall behind me, literally trapping me.

"Is everything a game to you?" he hissed.

"Depending on the situation. Sometimes, I just spin the wheel and see how many spaces I’m supposed to move," I answered, cocking an eyebrow and Erik's anger rose even more, which almost suffocated me. "You're angry at me, that much is clear. As to why, I'm not sure," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"What more do you want from me to do? Get down on my knees and confess it! Erik stared at me, emotion churning inside him.

"So, you admit it?" I could no longer keep my facial expression neutral and a small triumphant smile appeared on my lips. I ducked from underneath from Erik's arms and laughed. "Finally!" I laughed, closing my eyes and spinning around. "Oooh, Mr. Lehnsherr, is that resentment I feel burning in your chest?" I giggled, twirling once more.

The shock that radiated from Erik caused me to open my eyes again to look at the German. Erik was staring at me in astonishment, before he lurched forward and two strong calloused hands closed over my arm and my mind was flooded with emotion one particular emotion, anger.

"You've been purposefully toying with my emotions this whole time!" Erik growled, his expression livid and his blue eyes ablaze.

I scoffed giving him a once-over, "I didn't toy with your emotions. We've been flirtatious with each other since we got to the mansion," I reminded, attempting to free myself.

"So what, your affectionate embrace with Charles last night doesn't qualify as toying with me?" Erik questioned incredulously.

I leaned my face closer to Erik's, "No," I answered, pulling my face back smirking and he narrowed his eyes at me. "If you wanted to kiss me you had your opportunity yesterday in the woods," I pointed out. "If you wanted to kiss me then you should've of been a man about it and pulled me back when I went to walk away," I continued, lifting a finger to his chest. "Because you wanted to kiss me...just as badly as I wanted to kiss you," I admitted, watching the anger in his eyes briefly eclipsed as he processed what I had told him and his grip slackened.

I held his gaze a little longer, my brown eyes meeting his blue, "But you chose to pursue Charles' affection over mine. Why?" Erik asked.

"Because Charles didn't shy away from me," I answered, staring at him.

"That can be corrected," Erik remarked.

"Oh really," I retorted, cocking my head to the side, before I freed my self from his grasp and pulled away. "Erik, do you want to know another reason why I pursued Charles?" I asked, walking backwards slowly.

"I am all ears Claudia," he responded sarcastically.

"Charles has never been insincere with me, he's never tried to manipulate me," I explained, continuing to move away from Erik and ending up on the other side of the room. "I never had to second guess what his motives were," I added.

"Oh, this again?" Erik asked annoyed, frustration joining the list of emotions that emanated from him.

"Yes, this again!" I repeated. "That stunt Raven pulled in the kitchen earlier," I recalled. “The way you let her cling onto your arm with that hopeful gaze in her eyes. You’re using her massive school girl's crush on you against her," I explained, folding my arms together.

"Claudia, you would think so low of me?" Erik questioned, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"No, I just know the wicked games men can play," I answered simply, staring into his eyes searching for signs of deceit.

"Claudia, you are an assertive and observant woman, but I'm afraid you'll find no mastermind schemes here," Erik assured with a smirk that said he wasn't going to give away a thing. "You can take my word," he added.

I turned on my heel, my back facing Erik, "I am going to need a lot more than just your word, Erik," I replied with the same light tone and slight smirk.

"And what do you suggest, Miss Walker?" Erik asked right into my ear, his chest pressed up against my back.

I bit down seductively on my bottom lip, "How about you do what you were to afraid to do yesterday, Mr. Lehnsherr," I suggested, pushing off his chest and spinning around to face him. "I'll have you know second chances like this don't come by often," I breathed, staring up at him.

The two of us were so close to each other, Erik gently grabbed my face and tilted it up and as he leaned closer my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. My eyes slid shut and I waited to finally feel his lips, all our flirting and dancing around each other finally leading to this. I felt breathing against my lips and then a slight pressure...but then there was a loud slam.

"Erik, Charles is looking for...you..." Raven trailed off.

I turned my head away feebly in an attempt to not show that Erik were about to kiss. I lifted my hands swiftly, palms facing outwards, softly pushing him away from me.

Erik, continued to stare at me, "Fine," he growled and moved away from me. I watched him as he ran his hand through his fine brown hair.

I nodded as I dared not look back at the man who had my heart pounding against my chest furiously.

Chapter Seventeen: Everything Falls in Place

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 15

Word Count: 2,842

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Here we are with the next installment. As always feedback is welcome. Also still looking for candidates for thirst night if anyone wants one.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

The following morning, much to Sid's dismay, you were up and out of bed early. You had to be at the arena early to help with the parade organization. It was a complete whirlwind until Sid got there and then he literally picked you up and tossed you into the back of the pickup he was riding in. The streets of Pittsburgh were lined with so many people. They were hanging out of building windows and off of parking garages. The whole experience was completely surreal.

 You were sitting on the edge of the pickup with Taylor, laughing and just taking everything in, while Sid stood holding the cup, and waving to everyone. Halfway through the parade, he hauled you up beside him, one hand on your waist. "This is unbelievable isn't it?" He shouted to you above the cheers.

 "It really is." You tried to pull away to go sit back down, not wanting to take the attention away from him, but he held you close.

 "Relax and enjoy the moment (Y/N). I didn't get to share this with you on the ice, let me at least do it now." His eyes stared intently at you, leaving you no choice but to nod before his lips captured yours. The crowd cheered even louder, for Sid was always so intensely private, that they felt like they were getting a glimpse into his personal life; which they were. However, it made you blush profusely.

 You hung off to the side with his family as all the players went up on stage. The celebration seemed to go by in a flash. One minute they were calling each of the guys up and the next minute Phil Borque was telling everyone they were going to take the cup to the river and party all summer, to which the enthusiastic crowd just got louder. You insisted on staying to help afterward, even though Sid pouted. Reluctantly, he went home with his parents after you promised to head to his house immediately afterward.

 Dinner that evening wasn't an elaborate affair. It was just the five of you ordering takeout, so you could plan out the rest of the summer. A brief conversation earlier in the day with Mario, confirmed that Sid was correct and you literally could spend most of the summer anywhere you wanted. You and Sid decided to head up to Canada in two weeks. He had locker cleanout in a few days, then you needed to be in town for the draft, as you'd be showing the newcomers around Pittsburgh. You tried to insist that he head up to Cole Harbour without you, but he wouldn't even discuss it. With most of June gone by then, you felt as if you were taking what little summer he had away from him. He brushed past your objections and moved on to going to Europe. At the end of the night, the entire summer was mapped out, and you felt as though you'd be living out of your suitcases until September, which really wasn't much of a difference to what your life had been like the last several months.

 Hours later you were climbing into bed with Sid, exhausted from the day. Surprisingly, he'd actually accepted your no sex rule while the parents were in the house that night. It somewhat shocked you, considering how the night before had gone. "I think I can wait the twelve hours until their gone." He chuckled as he wrapped you in his arms and drew you near.

 "Interesting, since you couldn't last night." You chirped him.

 "Full disclosure," he said, his hand idly rubbing circles at your hip. "I missed hearing you moan out my name last night." The sentiment was sweet and sexy all at the same time.

 "Really?"

 "Mmm," he hummed out, pecking your lips. "I plan on making up for it the minute they head out the driveway." It was your turn to laugh only to have his mouth cover yours, in a kiss that stole your breath away and had you moaning into him. "Fuck, baby I was going to be good tonight, but then you go and do that."

 "If I'm too much of a temptation maybe I should head home." You teased.

 The hand on your hip pulled you in closer so that no space separated the two of you. "Don't even think about it. Now go to sleep woman before I can't control myself." He kissed you one last time before you both closed your eyes. If you were being honest, you found it hard to fall asleep. It was as if your body was aware of every detail of the man next to you. His hand on your hip felt warm, where it laid and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your hand unconsciously moved up and down his back feeling the muscles there, while your legs were pressed up against his thighs. You willed your mind to think of anything but the man beside you. In the end, you started making a mental list of all the things you needed to do before leaving for Cole Harbour.

 There were tons of work-related items that needed to be done, as Mario had put you in charge of overseeing the construction of the temporary players' house, he was having built. It was one of the suggestions you'd originally given to him when he hired you. Though in truth you hadn't meant for him to build a house, just maybe get a couple apartments downtown or something. But when he came to you, after buying a piece of property near the practice arena, you had to admit you were excited. Before you knew it, you were picking out designs and hiring contractors all during playoffs. With construction already in progress, there were dozens of things you needed to see to before heading off.

 Thankfully, thoughts of tile patterns and kitchen cupboards put your restless body to sleep, for the next thing you knew, morning light was streaming through the window. "Morning, baby," Sid whispered as you peeked your eyes open.

 "Mmm, what time is it?"

 "Almost eight. I think my parents are awake. I can smell the coffee." He smirked at you before capturing your lips with his and kissing you awake. You had to admit, you could get used to waking up like this every morning. His erection pressed into you and you pulled back from the kiss to see where his thoughts were. "Sorry babe, I can't help what you do to me."

 "Well, only a few hours and you have me all to yourself."

 Sid groaned before rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "You're killing me. You know that right?" You simply hummed your agreement for he wasn't the only one suffering here.

 "Come on, let's get up and head down." He groaned some more but followed your downstairs where you spent the next couple hours with his family. All three of them hugged you goodbye, saying they couldn't wait to see you in a couple weeks, before heading out to the airport. You and Sid stood in the driveway waving goodbye as they headed out. True to his word, the minute the car was out of the driveway, Sid turned you into his arms. His hands grabbing your ass and hauling you up so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around him. "What are you doing?"

 "Taking you back inside where I can ravish you." He stopped and looked down at you midway to the door. "Unless you just want me to take you here outside."

 "Sidney!"

 "Is that a yes or a no? I can't tell." He chuckled, before heading into the house.

 "Put me down before you hurt yourself." He gave you that incredulous look as if he didn't lift three hundred pound weights daily.

 "I won't hurt myself; you hardly weigh anything." He stated as you made your way to the kitchen. "But…" He stopped and leaned you against the island, where you gave him a questioning look. "I've always wanted to…" He suggestively raised his eyebrows.

 You caught on to his meaning. "Here? In the kitchen?" An innocent look crossed his face, and it was cute to see the blush that stained his cheeks as he nodded yes.

 "Unless you don't want to?" Your whole relationship with Sidney was new, including your sex life. So you thought it was cute that he gave you the choice. You locked your lips with his by way of answer, opening immediately for him to plunder inside you. He pressed you against the counter harder, as he ground his hard length against your clothed core. The friction felt delicious, however, you wanted more. You wanted his length buried deep inside you. He sensed your needs and set you on the counter, mouth still fused with yours; as his hands snuck down to your waistband. You lifted your hips up so he could slide your clothes off. Spreading your legs, he stepped inside, as he undid the button of his fly.

 You broke the kiss to shuck off the shirt you'd had on, tossing it to the ground. His pants were down around his ankles and he kicked them off to the side, before trailing his fingers down your body to your pussy. "Fuck, baby, you're dripping."

 "I want you, Sid." You breathed out unashamed that your body had been thinking of this moment for quite some time. He moved, so that his cock was positioned at your entrance, but then he stopped and you whined.

 "Shit," He swore, and the next thing you knew he was searching for where he had tossed his pants. You gave him a confused look, as he retrieved the condom from his back pocket, things finally clicking into place. "Sorry babe, you make me forget things sometimes." As he rolled the condom on, you took a moment to appreciate his body, at least from the waist down as he hadn't taken the time to remove his shirt yet. His muscular thighs just set your body to flames, and your mind drifted to riding them only at the moment you really wanted Sidney inside you.

 "So I take it you were planning the whole kitchen thing?" You asked as he shifted you closer to the edge.

 "Well, I wasn't sure we'd make it to the bedroom." A giggle escaped your lips only to be replaced by a moan as he nudged the head of his cock inside you. "Is this what you want, baby?" You groaned out a yes, as he slowly slid inside you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and soon he was lifting you off the counter, taking all of your weight as he thrust in and out of your pussy. His lips sucked that tender spot on your neck and you held his mouth close to you knowing that there would be a mark there later, but not caring. Your back hit the edge of the counter as he thrust into you, causing you to arch into his arms. Reaching back, you held onto the counter as he continued to pound your pussy.

 "Fuck Sidney, you feel so good," you moaned out as he that spot inside you that made you shiver. His mouth moved down to nibble on your breast, and you could feel your body humming with delight in every move that he made. With a few more thrusts, your orgasm hit you and you were spasming around him. "Sid!" You screamed out, yet he continued to pump in and out of you. Before you knew what was happening you climaxing again, and then Sid followed you, pushing you hard up against the counter so that is was biting into your back, though you didn't mind the pain.

 "Shit, babe. I'm sorry," he huffed out when he saw you wincing in pain.

 "I'm good." Sid carried you through the kitchen, and into the family room, laying you down on the couch.

 "Better?"

 "Yeah."

 "Be right back," he slid the condom off and went to dispose of it; coming back with a wet cloth to clean you up. He collapsed on the couch beside you then curling you into him while grabbing a blanket to cover you both up. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" He peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders.

 "I'll be fine." You relaxed deeper into his chest and his arms came around your midsection to snuggle you close. Words hovered on both of your lips but yet neither of you spoke them, though you could feel them in the way he held you and touched you as if you were something that needed to be treasured. You hoped that you made him feel the same.

 The week past pretty much the same way. There were tons of sex, in every room of his house and there were a lot of rooms. You'd even managed to make it to your place a few times, though you'd always end up back at his. Once the draft took place, the Pens flew out the new recruits for a look around the facility as well as the town, which meant that you'd be spending most of the day away from Sidney. He was reluctant to let you leave but told you he'd see you later.

 While the Penguins drafted six players in total, only five of them made the trip to Pittsburgh. Alamari one of the late-round picks was in Finland and didn't make the trip. "Hi guys, my name is (Y/N) and I'll be showing you around today. We're so excited to have you as a part of the Pens family. I'm going to take you around the city first, then we'll head back here so I can show you around the arena." You piled in one of the Suburbans and took them up to Mount Washington giving them the best view of the city. Media was with you and captured a bunch of pics everywhere that you went. Two hours later you were pulling back into Consol Energy Arena. As you walked through the tunnels to where the ice was still on the arena floor, you could see many of their eyes light up. "So this is the arena," you pointed up the rafters. "And right there is will be hanging the next Stanley Cup Championship Banner. Hopefully, someday you guys will be standing on the ice watching it raised after your names have been engraved on the cup." You saw a few elbow pokes to each other, as their smiles were permanently etched on their faces. They took a bunch of photos before you moved everyone on.

 "So here are the offices, but we also have places at the practice facility in Cranberry. This one is mine and the door is always open if you ever need anything when you're here." Unbeknownst to you didn't see the exchange a couple of the boys had. "And here's the locker room." They took in the unique oval layout which let the players interact with each other better. It had been a well thought out plan when they designed it, taking almost two years to make it the ultimate locker room in the NHL. You pointed out some of its uniqueness to the guys.

 It was Connor Hall who finally asked. "What is it you do again for the team?"

 "Oh sorry, I thought I mentioned that. I'm personal liaison to the team. Basically, I'm at every practice and game and help with communication between players and their families. I've also become sort of the go-to for anything the team may need." You chuckled mainly to yourself thinking of some of the things you'd gotten for the guys during playoffs. "Speaking of which, I need to take this call." It was Phil on the line. You'd helped him with picking out the perfect boat, but sometimes the man was helpless and you knew he was picking it up from the dealership today. You walked out of the locker room to your office, leaving the guys alone in the locker room.

 "Did you hear that? She's a fucking liaison. You know what that means right?" Connor said to the other guys when you left the room.

 "I don't know what you're talking about man," Filip Gustavsson answered.

 "I think he means she's basically the team whore, but I doubt..." Ryan Jones added to the conversation.

 "No fucking way," Joe Mansonius said in disbelief. "Do you really think they have one of those?"

 "She practically says she does whatever the players need." Connor chimed back in. "Like look at her, she's fucking gorgeous…and those tits."

 Kasper Bjorkqvist, the second-round pick finally chimed in. "Look man you shouldn't say shit like that."

 "Why not I'm sure she hears it all the time." Little did Connor know you weren't the one who heard him talking at the moment.

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 16

And so the angst continues...for those who enjoyed Chapter 6/the engagement chapter, here is the angsty counterpart! But in all seriousness, I promise it’s not all doom and gloom by the end 😭 Plus the next one will be much more ~spicy~ for those who like those chapters. As always, please let me know what you think as I simply adore your asks, comments, etc.! Do feel free to check this out on AO3 too ❤️

Something shifts in Kuvira after she meets with Suyin in Zaofu. When she returns to the train, almost everything about her looks the same but you instantly notice the added hardness in her eyes. When you look closer, you see that her jaw is clenched tighter than usual.

It doesn’t help that more chaos ensues when Varrick, Zhu Li, and Bolin unsuccessfully attempt to defect from the army. Baatar and two other privates manage to haul them back. Kuvira decides to keep Zhu Li around after an admittedly impressive display of her devotion to the Empire and more importantly, Kuvira.

You try to ignore the twinge in your chest when Bolin is carried away. He had committed a grave mistake, this was true, but you know he is a good man at heart. You only hope he will see the error of his ways and return. However, the more realistic part of your brain knows his departure doesn’t signal a positive outcome.

Varrick is shipped off shortly thereafter and then Kuvira decides to call you, Zhu Li, and Baatar for an impromptu meeting in her office.

You all follow closely behind and you notice the stride in her step is slightly faster now, almost heavier. She won’t express it, much less admit it, but you know the treason is affecting her deeply. Not only had she been shunned yet again by the woman who so carelessly thought of herself as Kuvira’s mother figure but now faced the uncertainty of whether those closest to her actually had the Empire’s best interests at heart.

For a fleeting moment, your stomach feels like it sinks to your feet when you wonder whether Kuvira is questioning your own motives as well.

You step into the train car and hope the conversation starts immediately. It’s wishful thinking.

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence so thick it feels like it’s plunging your feet into the metal flooring. In reality it probably only lasts five seconds, maybe ten, but they drag on like hours, emphasizing just how grim everything really is.

“Zhu Li,” Kuvira starts. The young woman looks up with a convincingly neutral face. As you stand by Baatar’s side across the room, you see the faint quiver in her neck when she swallows.

“Yes, Great Uniter?” she responds. Kuvira takes two steps forward until her chest nearly touches Zhu Li’s. She looks down at her, cold and menacing, before lifting her hand to rest it on the smaller woman’s shoulder. Beside you, Baatar shuffles around on his feet.

“You have proclaimed your allegiance to the Empire and myself admirably. Keep in mind that I haven’t kept you around because you’re indispensable — you aren’t. You do however have one final opportunity to demonstrate the depth of your commitment,” Kuvira explains.

She turns to face you and Baatar. “Suyin is planning to attack me tonight,” she says. You feel the sensation of ice cold water crash down your spine. Obviously, it’s a purely emotional response but a violent tremor rushes through you nonetheless.

You’re about to speak when Baatar jumps in. “There’s no way Mother would do such a thing,” he gasps. “She is stubborn and ignorant, yes, but I can’t believe she would resort to something so...barbaric.”

Anger flashes in Kuvira’s eyes or perhaps it’s distrust. It’s likely both.

“If you know what’s best for you Baatar you will cease to let your emotional attachments cloud your judgement,” she snaps. The man instantly falls back at your side, pressing his back against the metal wall.

“I never once doubted Suyin would turn to violence,” Kuvira continues. “Zaofu is no longer about innovation, about progress. It’s about an outdated system of government that clings to a single woman’s vision of what should be and what shouldn’t. I told Suyin we would take the city by force if she did not relent and she will use that to justify her plans.”

You want to speak so badly, you want to interrupt her and somehow convince everyone that it can’t possibly be true even when the weight in your stomach tells you otherwise. Instead, you try to swallow around the lump in your throat and fail. It feels like it’s expanding, growing wider and denser upon realizing Kuvira’s life is in much more immediate danger than before.

It’s not like you ever acted like she was never in danger — her position invited threats from all angles. But now it’s closer, it’s far too real and when you think about waking up in the morning and realizing Kuvira is no longer there, it makes you sick to your stomach.

So you stay silent. There’s nothing else you can do that wouldn’t exacerbate the already growing tension.

“What are we going to do then?” Baatar asks. His voice wavers, much like you imagine his mind does between his devotion to Kuvira and his deep-seated attachment to his family.

“That’s where Zhu Li comes in,” Kuvira says. At this Zhu Li’s eyes widen, the first indication of any emotion you’ve seen from her during this entire conversation.

“Suyin’s strategy is simple: cut off the head of the snake and all else will fall into place. My tent is easily identifiable — she’ll aim there. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to take this on by herself and there are only two others who have the necessary metalbending abilities to assist her. Wing and Wei.

Therefore, Zhu Li will serve as the pawn. The tent itself is rather dark so there won’t be a great deal of making up to do. You’ll give her the necessary items she’ll need to vaguely resemble my appearance,” she explains, turning to you.

She waits for a response, unmoving but somehow still looking expectant. You can’t find your voice so you simply nod.

“Zhu Li, you won’t be in any legitimate danger,” Kuvira reassures, turning back and marginally softening her expression. “My guards will be outside ready to intervene and I will have additional reinforcements sent to arrest the intruders. All you have to do is stay calm and play your role. Do I make myself clear?”

Zhu Li schools her face back into something indiscernible and she clears her throat. “Affirmative, Great Uniter. I’m grateful for the opportunity to prove myself to you again. I promise I will not lose your trust a second time.”

“I’m sure you won’t, as a second time won’t bode well,” Kuvira responds. She finally removes herself from Zhu Li’s space and walks out of the room, leaving the three of you stunned and disoriented.

You’re the one who finally breaks the stillness by yanking the door open and running towards Kuvira. You shout her name once, twice but she doesn’t turn back. The guards watch with piqued interest which annoys you but not enough to actually care.

Eventually Kuvira stops and you nearly ram into her back. Your hand starts to reach towards her elbow but she tugs it away just enough for it to be out of reach. When you speak again, your words come out shakingly.

“Kuvira I...we can’t do this. We can’t risk it, please. Please, I-I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you, not when we’ve gotten this far. Your plan is sound, I know it is, but—”

“But what?” Kuvira interrupts. She doesn’t turn around but her shoulders roll backwards and her voice is barely above a growl. “There’s still some fault in it? Are you going to take Baatar’s side now too?”

“This isn’t about sides, Kuvira,” you nearly sob. “I don’t care what Baatar thinks. I care about you and I care about what Suyin could do to you. I swear if she so much as brushes a hand over your head and takes you away from me I won’t...I won’t be able to cope with that. I’ve lost too much already and I don’t regret it. Not for a moment. But you’re the one person I can’t...I just can’t lose. Please. Please, let’s just go and...and we can figure it out later. We don’t need Zaofu.”

Kuvira is still. All you can hear is the roaring of blood in your ears, pounding in your skull with relentless force. Your vision starts to blur around the edges.

“I understand your concern...but this isn’t about Zaofu. This is much bigger than that and I should hope you understand,” Kuvira says quietly. She turns around and she looks at you, aimless, distant.

She makes a move as if to close the gap between you but you see the way she holds herself back. She clasps her hand behind her back and presses her lips into a firm line. “You will stay in Bolin’s former tent. Don’t wait up for me tonight.”

Kuvira doesn’t wait for a response. She walks away and you fear your chest is caving deep into your body, collapsing and splintering until it feels like you’ll be engulfed by your own self.

Beneath the layers of twisted, broken emotion, you wish you actually could be.

---

The buildup to the actual event is intolerably slow. So much so that your body grows sore with the force of holding your limbs tight. Bolin’s tent had been cleared of his meager belongings and though there was nothing there to remind you of him, there was still a faint presence that could be felt.

Even so, it did nothing to assuage the terror swelling in your bones.

The metal walls are thick so it’s nearly impossible to hear anything outside unless it’s especially loud. You don’t expect Suyin to come barging into the encampment with blaring sirens and a horde of soldiers but you aren’t prepared for how the silence will affect you either.

Your mind shifts between believing nothing will actually happen and wondering whether they’ve already taken Kuvira away, or worse…

When it happens though, it feels like every sound and movement is condensed into the span of five seconds.

There’s a faint commotion before the alarm starts blaring and you hear the sound of Kuvira’s tent coming down. Despite her orders to stay inside, you fling yourself off the bed and run. The guards outside shout and follow behind but you can’t stop. You need to get close. Not close enough where you can be seen by Kuvira but enough to see everything unfolding and know she’s alive.

The guards in the mecha suits don’t try to subdue you — clearly they’re just there to make sure no one gets to you either. However, you’d rather anyone take you first before ever considering getting close to Kuvira.

There’s too much distance for you to discern what’s being said but you can see everything in vivid detail. Kuvira was right.

Suyin stands at the center of the tent with her twin sons at her sides, surrounded by what seems to be a dozen mechas and an equal number of privates who bring the tent down. Zhu Li sits upright and you release a bated breath when you see they hadn’t actually harmed her.

The exchange passes quickly. Kuvira walks away, you see the neon glow of electricity that folds over the three Beifongs like sheets of paper, and Kuvira’s shadow becomes solid flesh as she approaches you.

She pauses before her eyes narrow. “I told you to stay inside,” she hisses. The rancor in her voice is unexpected and you don’t know how to react, how to feel. You’re still trying to process what just happened, trying to convince the part of your brain that refuses to believe she’s here that she’s really okay. Your hands hang limply at your sides.

“Go back to the tent. You had nothing to worry about but it seems you couldn’t even believe that,” Kuvira says before walking away. You can’t tell exactly where she goes, you just see her silhouette fade into the shadows.

The guards call your name and inch you towards the tent so you finally make your way back. Your body collapses onto the bed and when you rest your head on the pillow, you feel moisture pooling onto the cool fabric.

To no one’s surprise, you don’t sleep that night.

---

The next day Kuvira fights the Avatar. She never came back to the tent and you didn’t see her all morning.

You feel that same fear grip your heart when Korra goes into the Avatar State and nearly kills Kuvira. Your body goes numb before it thrums with panic and it’s all you can do to not throw yourself past the throngs of soldiers and beg her to stop.

But Korra fails. Kuvira is safe. Opal and Tenzin’s eldest daughter blast Kuvira with a powerful gust of wind that sends her flying onto her back. She’s lifted up by two privates and within moments the army charges forward.

Zaofu falls not long after. Kuvira stakes her claim to the city and then it’s over. Opal manages to flee but the rest of the Beifongs are now locked away. Zaofu has been annexed and all that’s left is Republic City.

Zhu Li is tasked with assisting Baatar in building a spirit cannon that will force President Raiko to yield if he chooses not to do so voluntarily. The army makes it way to the spirit vines and you watch as information is gathered and the plants are harvested.

Everything should feel normal. The army just won. Kuvira certainly seems satisfied.

But something still isn’t right.

Ever since Zaofu, you’ve only caught glimpses of Kuvira in your time alone: when she slides into bed beside you but makes it a point to avoid your touch. Or when you awake in the morning and she’s already dressed, slipping out of the tent without a word or glance in your direction.

These days you find yourself looking down at the metal band around your finger more often, tracing the detailed curves and engravings, and remember the night you accepted Kuvira’s proposal. It doesn’t feel like any period of time has passed...it feels like another world entirely.

Kuvira doesn’t wear a band — it’s not really her style plus it’s inconvenient given the gloves she wears everyday. Nevertheless, she had made it an unspoken ritual to touch your ring at least once during the day, gliding her finger over the design her hands crafted or holding it up to the sun to watch it glint in the light.

It’s not lost on you that she hasn’t done this for a while now.

But that’s not what stops you. It’s the distance hovering inside Kuvira’s eyes.

She carries herself proudly, almost arrogantly, now that they are so close to the end. She nearly preens under the exaltations and praises of her following.

And yet, she’s not entirely there.

You can’t tell if she’s looking for something far away from here or if she’s somewhere else completely in her mind. You try to broach the subject one night but to little avail.

“Kuvira...I...I’m worried about you,” you say, keeping your arms folded over your blanket, resisting the urge to reach over and touch her. It’s been over a week.

Kuvira’s back faces you and she doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound.

“What happened with Suyin —”

“Nothing happened with Suyin,” she snaps. It startles you and you bite your lip to refrain from speaking again. She continues in your place. “We are closer to uniting the Empire than we’ve ever been. Zaofu is under my control — that’s that. There is nothing to dwell on.”

You want to believe she falls asleep soon after but the uneven breathing at your side indicates you both lie awake for the rest of the night.

--

Things don’t get any better with time. When you’re alone in your tent, or caught up in the neverending stream of paperwork that still needs reviewing and filing, you find yourself chuckling. It’s humorless. Pained.

What was that whole thing about time healing all wounds?

You’ve argued with Kuvira before, both minor altercations and ones that fundamentally influenced how you approached each other. Regardless, you grew from that. Each conflict allowed you to learn more about Kuvira and what she needed from you and she learned the same for you. Even in disputes that felt insurmountable.

Nothing gets better now. At one point, Commander Zhen looks at you questioningly during a morning assembly. People are starting to notice but it’s not like there’s anything you can do.

Time proceeds, paying no mind to these hiccups of little people’s lives that mean nothing in the grand scheme of all that’s to come. Baatar and Zhu Li make great strides in the spirit beam cannon and it seems to be the only thing that brings Kuvira any sense of contentment these days. When she’s not preoccupied with observing the cannon’s construction, she’s quiet. Closed off.

Then the day comes when Kuvira realizes Zhu Li has been plotting to sabotage her plans for the cannon all along. Whatever inkling of hope remained in Kuvira’s eyes up until that point is consumed by something else that’s ruthless and sour.

Then the Beifongs come in and take everyone away. You see Bolin. You make eye contact for a second and you look at each other like strangers.

Everyone manages to scuttle onto Opal’s flying bison and just before they leave, you see Toph Beifong. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve felt anything other than despair and your eyes widen upon seeing the inventor of metalbending standing right before your eyes.

“You give metalbenders a bad name!”

Toph’s voice rings fierce and indignant as she throws the words in Kuvira’s face. No one else says a word. You stand behind Baatar so you can’t see Kuvira’s face but you do see the way her fingers tighten around the metal bars on the deck.

She looks...sad from here. You aren’t sure if she feels sad but for the first time since you joined her army, it’s the first time you’ve seen Kuvira shrink in on herself. It’s not something you see in her body language — she manages to stand upright, seemingly unaffected by the accusation.

It’s the way she stays still when Toph flies away. The way that Toph, the creator of the discipline, diminishes the one thing Kuvira has always known to be her strongest point, the characteristic that people admire her for the most.

This seems to be the breaking point.

That night, Kuvira doesn’t come back to your tent at all. You sit up in bed, staring into the empty room, wondering how on earth this can be salvageable when too much time has passed. The wedge digs deeper, grows wider, and there’s no sign that it will ever leave.

Eventually, you break your gaze to look back down at your finger.

You twist the metal band around, feeling the material slide and tug on your skin. Even since Zaofu, you haven’t thought of removing it.

But now, it feels heavy. Too tight. You slowly slide it off and set it on the bedside table, wondering if you’ll ever put it on again.

The possibility is agonizing so you pull your uniform on, step into your boots, and make your way outside. There are no guards milling about too close-by so you’re able to slip away quickly towards the shadowy mountains.

In a few days time, the army will be in Republic City. You wonder when the president will start evacuating, if at all. You wonder what will come after, when the city inevitably concedes to the Empire and everything is complete.

It’s all that Kuvira’s dreamed of for years now, to see her people reunited and moving into a new era of progress and modernity. She ushered you into this dream, allowed you to see how much was actually possible under her guidance and your knowledge, and you believed it too. You still do.

Everything had once seemed so clearly laid out. The Empire would be one at long last and you would marry Kuvira soon after. You would rule at her side, endeavoring to make life better and more meaningful for your citizens.

How true is that now?

Without the ring on your hand, you feel different. Or rather, you feel like nothing at all. You had expected to feel so many other things but instead you simply exist, feeling totally disconnected from your body, your thoughts, and everything else that breathes and moves around you.

When Kuvira finds you, it’s not surprising. You didn’t leave because you knew she’d follow. Frankly, you almost wish she hadn’t. Her being here now means you have to face reality, to determine exactly where you stand with her.

You’re not ready for that answer.

You turn to face Kuvira because she doesn’t step towards you and before you see the look on her face, you see her hand extended. She isn’t wearing gloves. Cradled in her palm is a familiar silver band. It twinkles in the hazy moonlight before her fingers close over it.

“I didn’t mean…” You start to say but then Kuvira’s face tightens, immediately making you stop.

She seals her eyes shut, swallows hard, and walks towards you.

“You were right,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, similar to when she first wakes up in the morning except right now it’s troubled. Hurt.

She sits to your side, never once unfolding the hand that holds your ring and sits upright. “Suyin tried to kill me,” Kuvira whispers and it sounds like disbelief. You wonder how long she has repeated those words, trying to convince herself that they’re true.

What can you say to that? Yes? The woman who took you in when your parents left you for dead, who dared to call you her daughter, had decisively elected to end your life? What good would it do for Kuvira to hear that from your mouth? She already knew this anyway, so what exactly were you right about?

So you stay quiet. You look at the mountains towering over you, feeling the smallest you’ve ever felt.

“She wants me dead,” Kuvira continues. “She forced Korra into the Avatar state. When she escaped, I knew she would stop at nothing to end my Empire even if it meant seeing me lifeless at her feet.”

“Kuvira...” Your voice doesn’t sound like you at all.

She doesn’t move, only stays silent. When you finally decide to look at her, the darkness isn’t enough to obscure the myriad of emotions cascading over her face. You see disbelief, anger, disgust.

The one that lingers: sadness.

“I think I always knew it would come to this, after I left Zaofu,” Kuvira says. “When we came face to face in Republic City after three years, things were just as we had left them when I set off for Ba Sing Se. I think worse even. There was nothing between us anymore and I accepted it.”

“But you couldn’t...you couldn’t have known she would take it this far,” you insist. Kuvira’s jaw tightens and she inhales sharply through her nose.

“But I did,” she says coldly. “You and Baatar were too invested in who you thought Suyin was. You didn’t see her the way I did, the way she discarded me without a second thought when I first left. The moment I returned, I knew what she had planned for me.”

For a moment there’s a pause where you think Kuvira’s going to continue speaking but she doesn’t. Those last few words echo in your ears.

I knew what she had planned for me.

You ignore the conflicting thoughts in your head and listen to your body, reaching towards her instead. You let your hand hover in the air just above her leg and wait for her to respond. She looks at it for a second before she slides her fingers against yours.

Her hand stiffens and you realize this is the first time she’s touched you in weeks.

You sit in silence for a while, letting the angry streams of tears roll down Kuvira’s face. Her breathing grows hard and shallow but it doesn’t break. She looks straight ahead, never once turning to face you, but her hand stays clasped over yours. The other stays clenched around your ring.

“You have the choice, you know,” Kuvira eventually says. You look at her, confused, and her face is stony again, the only hint of any emotion in the wet lines stretched over her cheeks.

“When this is all over, you have a choice. I never want you to think you don’t and I’m sorry if I made you believe that,” she murmurs, finally opening her hand to look at the ring.

There is so much you can say. You know there is so much you have to say but you fear it will come out wrong and you’ll shatter this precarious offering Kuvira makes. So you reach out with your free hand, letting it rest over Kuvira’s fingers entwined with yours, and wait.

She stops breathing for a second before tentatively, almost fearfully breaking your hands apart just enough to press the ring over your finger and slide it down.

You don’t look up at Kuvira but you feel when she leans forward and rests her forehead against yours. Hot tears fall against your wrists and you breathe in. You can’t tell if they’re yours or hers. It doesn’t feel right to break this moment with words that hold little meaning when compared to the weight of Kuvira’s hand in yours.

Instead, you sit with her for most of the night outside, waiting, always waiting for Kuvira for as long as she needs.

[delldarling]

confession | merrick

chasing truth | chapter five male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 6330 words lime | nakedness, cuddling, lots of smooches! but also some angst note: Not going to lie, this is one of my favorite parts. Hope everyone enjoys! chapter index? or chapter four?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

Merrick is a faerie.

The knowledge knocks you for a solid loop, leaving your breath coming fast and your shoulders tense for all of three seconds before you’re shaking it off. You laugh instead, short and sharp. You can’t help it, even though you don’t really find any of this particularly amusing. It’s just.. you immediately want to reject the thought. Merrick. Sarcastic Merrick, with his aversion to most modern day tech and his disdain for questions. Merrick, who has wing tattoos and pointed ears and- He doesn’t glitter. He can’t be some kind of fairy tale creature... can he? You aren’t living in some kind of coming of age story, where the weird new boy at high school ends up being a vampire. You’re not in high school, and all that paranormal stuff is just...

Your eyes are drawn back to the wing tattoos. The top pair curls around his shoulders and biceps, while the second goes straight down his back and over his ass, laid flat along his fair skin. They look real enough. They have a strange texture to them even, but tattoos can do that, right? They can have raised edges, can make the skin rough, depending on ink or the kind of needle or- tattoos are like scarring, so texture makes sense. Though this is the most you’ve ever thought about tattoos while lying in bed next to someone in the dark 

You sit up, achingly slow, trying not to worry at your bottom lip as you keep staring. He has ear mods—or they’re real, your brain insists. And there had been some kind of light or glow in the room earlier.. 

This is silly. You lay back down, huffing before you focus on trying not to make any noise. You draw the tangled sheets up over yourself and Merrick, and the only thing left to do is grab some sleep. This will make so much more sense in the morning, you’re absolutely sure of it. 

It doesn’t. 

You wake before Merrick, still tired, but restless and turn to face him. His mouth is partially open, lips pink and soft, and his body is close to the edge of the mattress. His arm is thrown over the edge, fingers likely dangling close to the floor, but he doesn’t so much as twitch when you get up. You tug on your trousers, mulling over what you know of Merrick, trying desperately to come up with some other kind of solution. But it all makes a heart wrenching kind of sense. Faeries aren’t supposed to be able to lie, and you don’t know that Merrick has ever lied to you. Most people do, in small ways. 

Say someone moved something, and they’re not sure you saw them do it - half the time they’ll insist they never touched the item. Some people will peek over your shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the book you’re reading or the image on your phone and when confronted? They’ll lie. Plenty of people will spare feelings with white lies too. But Merrick? He's never spared anyone's feelings. Even if someone has asked him not to do something, and he does it, he’ll admit to it readily. He words answers so strangely, like he has to think over every syllable as he speaks, but he’s never lied. It’s part of why some people find him a bit irritating and others are drawn in. It’s why his laziness sometimes drives you up the wall. He’s so fucking honest about it that it’s hard to stay angry with him.

And why would Merrick—stoic, sarcastic Merrick—get faerie wing tattoos and ear mods when he’s never shown the slightest interest in anything to do with them?    

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, turning to glance at your window, growing lighter with every passing second. You shove your arms through your shirt sleeves, but you pause before you pull it over your head. “Just ask. Just ask a direct question, and then he’ll have to answer—or he won’t, and that will be an answer too. Direct,” you repeat, sucking in a breath. Part of you thinks he might laugh at you as soon as you ask though.

He’ll drop the act and claim it’s because of some sort of… Vow, or whatever, something religious maybe, that makes him only speak truth. And the whole faerie thing? Is something he did before he took the vow and it was all just a joke. Just a weird, perhaps unhealthy interest in fantasy oriented things that he shook off after his religious vow.. You cringe. None of that sounds right when applied to Merrick. Not in the slightest.  

Merrick yawns, and you can’t help staring at his mouth, hyper-focusing on the beauty mark on his chin and the memory of kissing it—multiple times—last night. His eyes flutter open and for a moment he looks confused, gaze lazily sweeping the room until his eyes catch on your face. Then his smile is radiant. You’ve never seen him look so happy, so much like something out of a literal fairy tale book, with rosy cheeks and lovely curls.

You were planning on leading up to it, and even now you’re tempted to cross back to the bed, throw yourself down in it and let him pull you into his arms. It’s probably what he’s expecting, and you can’t lie to yourself and say you wouldn’t expect the same if the tables were turned. It's what you would want, but the knowledge sits heavy in the pit of your stomach. Tripping over your own tongue, cursing yourself for letting your thoughts run away with you, you blurt: “Are you a faerie?”

Your shirt still isn’t entirely on, so you tug it over your head, sparing yourself the sight of his face for a few seconds more. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, straightening the way the shirt sits on your shoulders, trying to steady your breathing. This isn’t anything to worry about. You chance a look at him, heart pounding. His face is blank.

“What?” He finally asks, and his voice is soft and careful. He probably just thinks you’re acting crazy, but his hands are clutching at the sheets a little too tightly and his shoulders are growing tense. 

“A- A faerie,” you repeat, and your heart falls. He doesn’t laugh, and the moment stretches, utterly silent. He still hasn't laughed, and now that you’ve said the words, you’re halfway convinced. “Those tattoos are- they’re intense, okay? People get weird tattoos all the time, so if that’s all they are, I’m not judging, they’re gorgeous but... And your ears. Did you really go out and get ear mods?”

Merrick just stares, all the sweetness having faded from his expression. He curls into his pillow, like he's trying to use it as a shield, worrying at his lower lip. 

“I didn’t get ear mods,” he murmurs, and… Doesn’t say anything else. You catch sight of his pulse jumping in his neck though, a furrow deepening between his brows and that makes you sigh. You walk back to the bed, trying not to twist your hands. 

“Okay, you didn’t get ear mods. Merrick, are you a faerie? Or some kind of elf? I don’t know what, what classifications there are, or-”

He laughs, though the look on his face isn’t funny at all and then he covers his face with both hands, rolling over until he’s muffled by both pillows. He says something then, just low enough that you can’t quite hear, though you don’t push for him to repeat it. You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out, hesitating for barely a moment before you’re stroking your hand down his back. Some of the tightness eases out of his shoulders with every pass of your hand. 

“What if I was?” He asks, turning back towards you, letting his hands slide off of his face. He catches your hand when you start to pull away, unsure if you should stop touching him or not. He tangles his fingers with yours, not painfully, but tightly, holding on like he's trying to keep you both in place. “If I was, what would you do?”

All you can do is stare at him. He whispers your name, thumb stroking over the pulse in your wrist.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “I mean - Faeries can’t lie, am I right?” He doesn’t answer, so you forge on ahead anyway. “So that means you haven’t ever lied to me about anything. There are always people who omit things—and some people call that lying, but it’s not like I ever asked if you were human before, have I?”

“You haven’t,” he whispers, and his lips tremble, though whether it’s with happiness or sadness or some other emotion, you don’t know. 

“So you haven’t lied to me, and that’s nice? Truth is always appreciated. And I just- I really don’t know, Merrick. What does that entail? Do you- do you secretly drink morning dew-”

“I haven’t even answered whether I’m a faerie or not, and now you’re asking about morning dew,” he complains, and there it is. A bright spark of his normal self. Some of the strange tension eases from the room and you settle more fully on the bed.

“You’re not angry?” He asks, reaching up to cup your cheek, and then it’s your turn to scowl. 

“Merrick, can you answer the question?”

“I can,” he replies readily, lashes shading his eyes as they dart to your mouth. 

“Then are you going to tell me, because-”

“I’ll show you,” he interrupts, lifting his gaze back to yours. “If you’d like. For- for a kiss, I’ll show you.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. He makes it sound like he’s going to change so utterly that he fears you won’t want to kiss him. You trust him. 

“A kiss then,” you whisper, and lean down to press your lips to his.

It is... entirely more than a kiss. 

Kisses always sound like soft, sweet things. A kiss is the careful alignment and brush of lips, and that’s how it starts, of course, but this is more. This is the in and exhalation of air, this is shared breath and space and the taste of yearning. More than touching lips, it’s exchanging atoms, spiraling into the depths of your chest before your mouths are sealed together. Merrick raises a hand, those long fingers careful as they slide along your jaw and curl around the back of your neck. You aren’t ashamed to say that you forget why you’re kissing him for a few moments, lost in sensation. He raises himself up on his elbow and then he’s leaning into you so completely that you have to shift back onto the bed or risk being pushed off.

He straddles your thighs, changing the angle of the kiss, and you can’t help cradling his face in your hands, arching your neck to keep the kiss going as he slowly lays you back against the bed. 

You make a soft sound against his mouth, and his tongue strokes over yours, like he’s eager for the taste of your noise, and then there’s a brightness flaring through the room. Even with your eyes closed you can sense it, almost warm— and then you tilt your head to break the kiss. Merrick lets you go, but he doesn’t drop his hand from the back of your neck, and with his face so close you can’t quite see at first. As soon as your eyes adjust though, your eyebrows raise.

“Oh,” you whisper, and Merrick finally, slowly, releases you. He sits back, though he keeps his full weight from resting on your legs, hands balanced on his knees. His cheeks are bright and when he meets your gaze, he quickly turns his eyes down to the bedspread tangled under you both. 

There are four wings coming out of his back, larger than you had imagined. They’re thin and iridescent, and again you’re reminded more of bees or beetles than of butterfly wings. Suddenly they flutter, too fast for your eyes to follow, and there’s a soft buzz of noise that accompanies the movement, filling the room before Merrick’s shoulders hunch and they stop. You’re fairly sure he’s forcing himself not to move them.

Beyond the wings, his hair and eyes and ears are much the same, but there’s an… aura almost, that accounts for the feeling of light. You can’t focus on it—as soon as you do it seems to vanish, but if you stare at his face-

“Prettier than Fern Gully,” you tease, letting your hands come to rest on his thighs. He moves his hands, hesitating, hovering them over yours before he finally trails his fingertips over your knuckles. 

Merrick arches an eyebrow and a soft huff escapes his chest. “No more questions for me about morning dew?” He asks, and he hesitates when he starts to lean towards you. You solve the problem by slipping a hand out from underneath his, reaching up and tugging at his earlobe, urging him to come closer. 

It doesn’t matter. He can’t lie. He has wings and pointed ears and there is so much you don’t know about him, but.. He’s Merrick. 

“I can’t deny I’m still curious about that. You’re a picky eater, you know, and other than that one drink at Corner Pocket-”

Merrick makes a disparaging noise. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard any of you get on Gar for his eating habits—” he starts, dark eyes narrowed, and then his mouth snaps shut and his wings buzz against his back, tickling your legs, even through your trousers. You have to keep yourself from kicking at the sensation, but then his words seem to penetrate your brain and you feel your jaw growing slack. 

“Gar,” is all you say, and then Merrick is closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe rhythmically. “Garrick?”

“Is this all it takes?” He mutters, trying, and failing, to brush his curls off of his forehead. “One secret and then they all just fall out?”

“Is he a Gar-goyle?” You try, wondering, and promptly burst into laughter when Merrick gives you a decidedly unamused stare, dropping his arms back down to his sides. “Are vampires real too?” You ask instead of continuing to ask after Gar. You doubt, very much, that he wants to talk about your friend and his.. Erstwhile? Roommate. Not while he’s sitting naked on your thighs. And it’s not really his secret to tell, either. You don’t want to inadvertently have him betray anyone's trust, not when just having this small kernel of information might be too much.  

He ignores your question, leaning forward and bracing himself over you, eyes darting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “You’re not angry with me,” he murmurs, like he’s only just realized. “You’re not- not throwing me out or pushing me away. You know what I am and you still-”

“I told you,” you interrupt, brushing your thumb over the beauty mark next to his mouth. “You haven’t lied to me. Not really. I have questions because I’m human and we’re utterly curious creatures—but you’re still..” You search his eyes. He has the same ink-dark irises and pale eyelashes. He always gets that sour twist to his mouth when he doesn’t find something particularly funny. He’s always made your heart beat double time when he says your name. “You’re still you. And, I don’t know if you remember, but last night you told me you now have the only thing you’ve ever wanted and—that’s intense, coming from someone who can’t lie.” That thought alone makes everything feel utterly surreal. More than the wings on his back, or the pointed ears poking out from his curls, you can’t quite believe that he’s returning your feelings, that... that he felt the same, for so very long.

His eyes fall closed, eyebrows drawn together like he’s in pain, and then he’s kissing you again. He nips at your lower lip, hand pressed gently into the middle of your chest, and shifts his legs until his erection is pressed against you. You raise your thigh so he’s pressed a little tighter to you, hands sliding down to rest at his hips. Merrick pauses in his trail of kisses along your neck, breathing deep, but he still ruts against you, eager for more contact.  

“You’ve no idea,” he murmurs against your throat, and the whisper of his breath makes you shiver. “How relieved I am. You still- you want me?” He nips again, hand shaking slightly against your chest when you tell him yes and of course. 

A sucking kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder has you tugging on his hips. You regret putting your clothes on now. It’d seemed so important earlier, but- 

Merrick is a faerie. His wings buzz when you make a soft noise, and you catch sight of the barest flash of embarrassment on his face before he’s nosing at the collar of your shirt, hand slipping underneath the hem. That haze, that- corona of a glow, faint in the corner of your eye, brightens when his mouth touches your skin again.

“Merrick,” you murmur, and notice a slight twitch in his fingertips. You must stiffen, because Merrick leans back, eyes heavy lidded, but focused intently on your face.

Faeries aren’t supposed to share their true names, right?

“Is- Is that your name? Or, part of it, I don’t-”

The hint of wariness in him vanishes and Merrick’s mouth curls into a smirk. “You’ve heard about true names then?”

You push gently at his chest, laughing when his smirk only deepens. “Yes, I’ve heard about true names. Someone, somewhere can always quote stories about faeries and true names. Wait- don’t tell me, is it Rumpelstiltskin?”

He shakes his head and leans in close again for another kiss. “You’ll never cease to surprise me, will you?” He asks, a dimple appearing when you kiss that sweet little beauty mark on his chin. “No, it’s not Rumpelstiltskin. Faerie names are much simpler than a long, strange sounding word that we think no one will ever guess,.” After a moment, his nose wrinkles. “Though I suppose it’s that, too.”

“Faerie names are simple?” You ask, and you’re listening, you are, but it’s still so hard to think with him so close to you, let alone when you’ve been exchanging kisses. 

Merrick braces himself on his forearm and leans his chin against your shoulder, tapping his fingers idly on the sheets. “We are every name, every title, given to us. We are the names our forebears gave us, and the nonsense names our parents tease us with and affectionate names from our friends and loved ones. My name is Merrick, now. I took it before I came here, and having it shaped who I am, who I’ve been in my time here. I’m Mer and Rick, and-” He sighs. “I’m Merry Rick, as well,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it.

One of the local drunkards at the bar had once slurred the name, laughing and repeating it for any and all who would listen. Gar had gotten a good laugh out of it, had even said something about Merrick needing a healthy dose of merriment in his life.

“That’s a lot of names,” you say, unable to fight the grin on your face. Merry Rick, indeed.

“I would be willing to bet, if this Rumplestiltskin truly came from Faerie, that his true names all start with the letters that spell out Rumplestiltskin.” Merrick shrugs. “If that were the case, I’m not entirely sure I could pronounce the string of letters I consist of. So yes, Merrick is my name. Not the only one, not even close, but it is the person I am, here.”

You have to concentrate, to force yourself not to ask him for any of his other names, but you wonder if he can see the desire in your eyes. 

“I was recently called Aodhfin, in Faerie,” he murmurs, and it sounds almost like Aiden, with a soft f in the middle, even though the word has a sharpness to it. The smile on his face turns a little brittle. “The King gave me that name. White Fire, because I have always burned hot. Because I don’t leave even ash behind when-” Merrick’s jaw clamps shut, blowing out a breath through his nose. A frown grows on his face.

“It’s not a name I thought I would ever share,” he mutters, and glances away from you. “It is the name of someone who lived only for the task at hand, and not for those who surrounded him. I thought I needed no one. Faeries are…” He huffs, leaning into your touch when you turn his face back towards you. 

“If you’re not ready to talk about everything, that’s alright. I mean- I just found out my- my boyfriend?” You say, almost breathless, and take Merrick’s quick grin for a mild agreement, though actual labels can be figured out later. “I found out you have wings and like a hundred names or something. I can be patient if you’re not ready to share other things.”

“It’s just this: The Faerie do not show affection so freely as humans do. There is.. Safety, in the detachment of the Fae, but nothing has ever warmed the core of me like the kindness and care you’ve shown.” Merrick’s expression is earnest, intense.

“Smooth talker,” you sass, feeling your heart jump when he arches an eyebrow. He looks brighter, but you can’t decide whether it’s his Faerie-side showing, or if it’s simply the endorphins, giving everything in the vicinity a rosy glow.

“There are things I don’t want to tell you,” he confesses, and you can’t help but feel the need to reiterate: you don’t ca—no. It’s not that you don’t care, it’s that, even as people, if you were both humans and you started dating, you wouldn’t expect him to share his life's story. You’ve known him for a year! You’re not exactly rushing into things here. 

“They can wait,” you finally get out, turning slightly, until Merrick has to shift so you can lay side by side. His leg is still thrown over yours though, and you have to force yourself not to look down, to get distracted by his nakedness. “I’m not going to force you to tell me, I promise.”

“I know,” he says, voice soft as he presses his forehead to yours. “But I need to tell you at least a few things today. Now, even.”

“I…” You feel like a break between bombs might be important, but if Merrick says he has to tell you? “Okay,” you agree, willingly letting him reel you into his arms, until your chin is hooked over his shoulder. 

In stilting, awkward tones, Merrick tells you how he came to be here. How he was chosen, and what exactly, he was chosen for. He tenses the longer he speaks, and for a second you think he’s going to pull you closer, afraid that you might turn away. Instead Merrick’s hold on you loosens and he leans back far enough to look you in the face. 

“I didn’t complete the task I was given. I didn’t kill Gar. I don’t want to. While I believe I made the right decision, that doesn’t change what my Court, or Gar’s Court wants. They’ve sent someone else, and while they might not be familiar with the human realm, I… I need to lay low.” He finally glances away, guilt written in the hunch of his shoulders as he continues. “I don’t know that I should even be here right now, because I don’t want to chance them finding you.”

You let him ramble about danger for another few minutes before you thump your hand solidly against his chest, mouth twisting into a frown. “You’re going to pull the whole it’s not safe for you, schtick?”

Merrick’s wariness fades almost immediately, and he scowls. 

“Don’t look at me like that! You said it yourself, okay, you need to lay low, and whoever came isn’t going to be familiar with the human realm-”

“We hope they aren’t,” Merrick corrects. “Those much older have little desire to leave Faerie, and it’s likely that anyone with experience of your realm will be centuries behind the times.” Merrick opens his mouth, waffles over the next words he plans to say and then shrugs, finally settling on: “It’s not a guarantee, though.”

“Laying low,” you repeat, ticking the list off on your fingers. “No glamour, keep in contact-" You pause, a thought occurring to you. "When was the last time you and Gar checked in with each other?”

Merrick doesn’t move, but the pause after he opens his mouth is all the answer you need. You make what you think is a decent attempt at copying his arched brow. “I was distracted,” he mutters, tone a little sullen. He still gets to his feet, even as he glances longingly at your legs, cheeks turning faintly pink. He moves towards the clothes he’d abandoned in the living room, wings fluttering as he walks through the doorway.

“Can’t exactly say I wasn’t,” you add, hoping you sound encouraging, because this—Learning Merrick is a Faerie? Surprising, but… okay. You’ve filed that knowledge into a place titled: Things You Can Handle. That he was employed as some kind of assassin? You shake your head, unsure what to do with that particular detail. You’re still kind of processing here. You won’t tell him it was a mistake to share the information—you’d meant it when you told him that truth was appreciated—but it’s a lot.

The thought of him up and vanishing to keep you safe is at the forefront of your mind anyway, so you let your brain focus on that. You follow him into the living room, arms wrapped loosely around yourself, and politely avert your eyes when he bends over to rummage through his clothes. Maybe you peek, eyes catching on the gleam of his wings in the sunlight, but only for a moment. 

“Yesterday evening he said he was fine,” Merrick mutters, standing back up and scrolling through his messages. Your eyes dart back to his face. The image of him now is absolutely surreal, standing in the sunshine with iridescent wings, holding a phone of all things. He looks like he should be posing for some kind of magazine. 

“Do you want to check in with him now, then? The sun is fully up, and—” You sigh, watching Merrick set his phone aside on the kitchen counter, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. "You aren't going to?"

"I will soon," he reassures you. "I'm not trying to pull anything. It's the truth! Me staying here probably isn’t the best—"

"You said something about glamour?" You interrupt, heart jumping when he turns around and walks towards you. "Merrick, it is—it is difficult to talk about things like this when you- Do Faeries generally walk around naked?" You ask, knowing that your embarrassment is written all over your face. With the way he stands, the way his lips twitch when he knows you’re looking, it feels like an invitation to touch him.

Merrick's arms slip around your unresisting body, but instead of pushing for something heated, he gently kisses your forehead. "I wish I could say we do, just to see the look on your face," he says with a sigh, thumb brushing over your cheek.  

You scoff, tempted to push him away when you catch sight of the small smirk in the corner of his mouth, but you still lean against him, into him, eyes falling closed. Touching him at all might be distracting, it’s still so new, but being allowed this after a year of pining... Even if he never returned your feelings, you’ve always known he still cared. There’s always been something between the two of you, it’s still just kind of mind blowing, knowing it’s not friendship alone.   

"Then you're just doing this to try and distract me," you whisper against his neck, opening your eyes again when his wings buzz. You’ve kept your hands to his hips, worried about where exactly you should place them to keep from damaging his wings, but Merrick doesn’t seem to notice, even when the edges of them brush against your hands. 

"Maybe," he sighs, draping his arms over your shoulders. "Yes. You have to understand, I don't want to leave—"

"Then explain this glamour business to me again. Tell me how Fae can track each other using it, because it sounds to me like you don’t need to leave.” Your fingers twitch, half wanting to feel his wings buzz over your fingers. “Running around out on the streets sounds much more dangerous! Especially after you’ve said that you haven’t been using glamour here.”

Merrick grumbles, finally stepping away and picking his clothes up off of the ground. As much as you’d like to let him distract you, you’d rather him stick around for more than just a confession and romp in the sheets.

“It’s almost like… Heat, when we use our glamour. Or light. There isn’t actually any lingering residue that you can physically see or smell, but Faeries can feel it.” Merrick picks up his shirt, starts to lift it over his head, and then he frowns. He rolls his shoulder, dropping the shirt back down to the ground, and lays his wings flat against his body. He strokes his hands slowly over what he can reach of his shoulders, and the wings—You don’t quite have the words for it. Shift? Slide? They merge with his skin, until all that’s left of them is the larger than life tattoos. They’re still ridiculously cool looking on him, but it’s hard to be quite as impressed after having seen the actual thing. He picks up his shirt again, like he’s just done nothing at all.

“Was that glamour?” You can’t help asking.

Merrick’s smile is a little more genuine now. “Not a form that most can track, anyway. I’m not taking away a part of myself, only bringing it closer. What Gar usually does, the way he hides his ears and his hands-”

“His hands?” You say, before you can think better of it. You shake your head, sighing, as he proceeds to dress himself. 

“Who was it that was distracted?” He murmurs, a little heavy handed as he buttons his trousers. “What I was saying,” he continues, as if you never interrupted, “is that Gar’s form of glamour, taking away from himself, leaves a kind of… Gap. We might not realize at first, even though Faeries can see through glamour, but we’ll realize that something feels like it’s missing from them. More so when they’re trying to hide themselves entirely. This- wait,” he says, turning towards a soft buzzing from the kitchen. His phone is ringing. It’s probably Gar, calling to check in.

You turn towards the sliding glass door, intent on giving him a bit of privacy. He might be willing to share all the knowledge he has at hand, but there’s no need to eavesdrop. You slide it open, realizing as the fresh breeze blows through that the apartment probably smells entirely of sex. There’s no time to really be embarrassed about it though, because a heavy shadow falls over your face.

For just a moment, you find yourself wondering if this is what Gar has been hiding of himself. Merrick still essentially looks much the same, so you’re confused about why Gar would change his appearance so completely—But there is none of Gar’s soft smiles or contagious energy about the Faerie lighting down onto your balcony. 

The man standing in front of you is tall and thin, and sharply beautiful. His hair is black, as are his eyes, and unlike Merrick, he’s made no effort at all to hide his otherness. His wings are splayed wide, pointed and layered like a bird, but they’re still crystalline and reminiscent of an insect. There’s a strange paleness to him, trailing him like smoke, and there’s a smattering of freckles spread over his serious face. 

“Roran,” Merrick chokes out from somewhere behind you, and the faerie turns his eyes away from you. Then the room is chaos.

You know the unknown faerie made a grab for you, you felt fingertips just barely grazing your forearm, but Merrick has you wrapped in his arms and pressed against the wall next to the front door before you can blink. The couch is knocked over, as is an end table, and through Merrick’s phone, sitting forgotten on the counter, you think you can hear Gar’s voice, shouting repeatedly” “I’m coming, I’m on my way, I’m-”

“Aodhfin,” the faerie says, ignoring you entirely. He looks frightening. Frightened? He’s standing next to your overturned couch with pain on his face, hand still outstretched, searching Merrick over like he can’t believe his eyes. “The King believes you dead,” he finally says, and you don’t know him, you’ve never seen him before, but even you can tell that isn’t what he wants to say. 

Merrick’s arms are trembling around you, fingers smoothing awkwardly over your forearm, feeling for your pulse. You know there must be a reason for it, that something about your actions or the look on your face must have made him worried, but you’re not... You think you’re in shock. 

It’s one thing to find out that Merrick’s oddness was because he’s a Faerie. To have him reveal himself to you in a slow show of gleaming wings and a blushing face. It’s quite another to have an unhappy Fae fly onto your balcony with anguish rolling off of him in waves, near destroying your living room with one swipe of his arm. He must be the assassin that Merrick claimed was in town. Someone Merrick knows, it sounds like. 

“I know, Roran,” Merrick finally says, letting go of you only reluctantly. He tries to keep the other faerie from seeing you, angling his shoulders, pressing his back close to your face—but you meet the faerie—Roran’s narrow gaze and his lips thin with distaste. A chill settles into the marrow of your bones..

“I thought you were dead,” Roran adds, and he’s openly glaring now. Merrick shifts so until his line of sight is broken. Pressed between Merrick and the wall, all you can do is stare at his forgotten hat on your floor.

“I… I know,” Merrick says, and his shoulders droop.

A broken, haunting wail fills the apartment, followed closely by a thud. You bite down on your bottom lip, hands clutching awkwardly at Merrick, and try not to join in yourself. The noise is wretched, heart breaking, and then there’s a clatter as something is tossed towards Merrick’s feet. 

“I found this in the traitor’s home and I assumed the worst! The human realm is—it’s changed,” Roran whispers. “Even after I got here, I held out hope that you were simply taking your time. Never mind that you’ve never—I hoped, and then when I found that human-touched den, and this, this hidden under a bed? I was sure that he had taken it from you.”

Some part of you realizes that there’s another noise, far off, but getting closer, but none of you acknowledge it. 

“That was my room,” Merrick murmurs and the clack that reaches your ears sounds like teeth being clenched too tightly. “I left it there.”

“That’s what he told me,” Roran bites out. “I thought he was lying, was sure that the traitor was mad with lies, but then-”

The noise you’d heard blasts into the front door. The only reason it doesn’t bash Merrick in the face is because he has the reflexes to get out of the way, pulling you with him. Gar barrels in, breathless, his cheek bruised, lower lip bloody—and freezes when he sees Roran. His mouth opens, but he stops, hands unclenching as soon as he catches sight of you in Merrick’s arms.

“You cannot honestly be working with-” Roran starts to say, getting to his feet, and then you’re being pushed towards Gar, air rushing through your ears and muffling Roran’s speech. Gar steadies you, glances down at Merrick’s hat on your floor, and snatches it up. 

“Roran, I know you’re hurt—” Merrick begins and then you’re gasping and tripping as Gar pulls you out the door.

“Wait a minute,” you hiss, because you can’t leave him. That faerie, Roran is supposed to be some kind of assassin, isn’t he? If Gar leaves—

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, but Merrick will be handicapped if he’s attempting to shield you from harm. And his friend back there? I’m fairly sure that he’s a ‘take hostages now, ask questions later’ kind of guy.” Gar pauses and you stumble into his broad back while he glances between the staircase and the waiting elevator. 

“I, okay,” you say, because it’s.. It’s a reasonable decision, even if you don’t like it. “Uh, hi, Garrick, I hear that Faeries are real things?” 

He spares you a bright smile, and another flood of relief rolls through you. Faeries or not, Merrick and Gar are still themselves. Things are confusing as hell, but you can hold onto that much.

“Also, we’ve left behind my shoes, and while I am all about keeping you and Merrick out of the crossfire—I can’t exactly run around town barefoot.”

Gar’s smile wilts and he pulls you into the elevator, jabbing impatiently at the close door button. “Shoes, got it. We can make a pitstop. I’ve got to find a car somewhere anyway.”

“...A car?”

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

[theawkwardterrier]

Fateful Friends

The surprise part 2 of my Steggy Secret Santa gift for the very cool @sagesiren​/@theeleganteuropeanwoman - a Peggy POV modern AU avec Bucky and Angie because they wouldn’t allow me to fit them in last time. A somewhat belated Chanukah gift for you - or I guess a very early one for next year?

Summary: An afternoon of helping out Angie leads Peggy to a chance encounter. 

Read on AO3

“Carter,” Angie says, tapping a finger against her wrist even though she isn’t wearing a watch. “I love you, and it’s because I love you that I don’t mind telling you that you’re a big liar. You promised 11:30.”

Peggy sighs but saves the document she had been working on. Angie is right. Peggy had said they would leave at 11:30 and it’s already 12:15.

“We can stop at the bakery on the way,” Peggy offers, swiveling her chair around to reach for her purse and coat. “My treat to make up for delaying us.”

“Perfect,” Angie says brightly. She’s a bit flushed: she had refused to remove her parka since she got here nearly an hour ago as a pointed reminder that Peggy had promised only five more minutes, though she had unzipped it after about a quarter of an hour, and she’s also wearing a beret she keeps adjusting even as she insists that it makes her outfit. Still, she hops to her feet readily, hooking her arm with Peggy’s. “And this won’t be a drag, I swear. Just a girl’s day out, the two of us on the town, cleaning out my dead grandmom’s place.” She considers as they stop in the doorway to let Peggy flip off her office lights. “Okay, maybe we’d better get extra of the lemon pound cake to keep things fun.”

Peggy sighs. “Lead the way.”

There had been a bit of extortion involved in the whole business. Six months ago, Peggy had agreed to allow Angie to start setting her up. But after multiple mediocre dates (and one which ended in a well-deserved black eye for the man in question) she had begged off and refused to be convinced otherwise, even when Angie complained that this would ruin her credibility as a romance columnist and swore over and over that she had actually found the absolute perfect guy this time, the one Peggy would truly regret not meeting.

It isn’t that Peggy doesn’t want a relationship. She isn’t being too picky, and she hasn’t decided that her career should be her focus just now. But planning, the precise thing which has served her well her entire life in so many areas, seems to have failed her now. Online dating, singles mixers, allowing herself to be set up by friends, all the tried and tested strategies - nothing has led her to anyone she would even consider as a lifetime companion, and just this once, she has decided that she will leave things up to chance.

Standing firm on the dating question, however, apparently meant that Peggy was required to join Angie whenever requested and to do whatever favors she required in exchange for reneging on their original agreement.

In the end, though, spending a Saturday with her best friend is always enjoyable, even if they’re sorting the belongings of a recently deceased ninety-eight year old woman who Angie refers to as “the old bat.” They try to one up each other for the oddest item found in their cleaning, and eat their way through altogether too many pastries. As they trade off picking playlists, Angie even provokes Peggy’s competitive spirit enough that they both end up showing off their dance moves.

After eight hours of work, Angie decides that they have done enough for one day, even though they’re nowhere close to finished.

“Sixty years of crap isn’t going to shift itself in one try,” she shrugs cheerfully, searching within one of the scattered “keep” boxes for her other glove. “And I was forced to do all this out of oldest granddaughter sexism. I’ll come back next week and make my cousins help.”

Peggy laughs, retrieving the missing glove from beneath the once-fancy living room settee. The two of them gather the rest of their belongings, making certain the lights are turned out before they weave around the boxes to get to the front door.

On the threshold, Angie digs for the keys to lock up the brownstone, a beautiful Brooklyn property which her family couldn’t have bought with the help of a fairy godmother if they had wanted to try today. Peggy breathes in the sharp cold of the night air, turns to comment on it to her friend, then spins immediately back around as a snowball whizzes past her ear and explodes on the façade of the house just beside her.

A man’s voice from somewhere out on the darkened street shouts, “Bucky, what the—” Cutting himself off before actually verbalizing whatever curse he clearly wants to, the man changes tone, calling, “Peppermint hot chocolate for anyone who hits Bucky in the next five minutes.”

In the next second, the street comes so alive with childish chatter that Peggy can’t believe she didn’t notice the apparent army of little ones nearby. Over their whoops and cries, another man yells, “Not my fault that your shot went out of bounds. I just ducked - self preservation instincts, Rogers, if you’ve ever heard of them.”

Squinting into the dim streetlight, Peggy pinpoints where the second man’s voice is coming from, just as the thickly swaddled shape of him is tackled by several smaller forms and pelted with snow from all sides. Another shadow breaks away from the place on the street where last night’s half foot of snow has turned into haphazard forts on either side of a snowy battlefield, jogging toward where Peggy and Angie still stand on the steps.

“I’m sorry about the snowball attack there,” he apologizes as soon as he’s close enough. “We don’t usually drag strangers into our fights, or at least not before we’ve learned their names.”

Peggy hasn't been in a snowball fight since she was twelve - well, fourteen, if she’s being honest - declaring war on her brother Michael back at their house in Hampstead when they were both home from school for the term holiday. Perhaps she's been a bit infected by the lively afternoon or the stress of the past several weeks is finally catching up to her, but she finds herself turning and saying to a man she has never before met, "My name is Peggy Carter, and I'd be delighted to be recruited if there's room for one more, considering that hostilities have already been accidentally declared."

Apparently he didn’t expect a response like this, a strange woman deciding to take a chance. His eyes widen, but only for a moment before he says, "Well, sure, there's plenty of snow."

Glancing back at Angie, Peggy tells her, "There's no need to wait for me while I indulge myself in a bit of winter warfare, of course. Go off home and put your feet up."

But Angie instead looks delighted in a way that's almost outsized for her best friend taking her recommendation to relax a bit. "Oh, I'd never miss this," she says. "I'll just watch our things and spectate from over here." And she unhooks Peggy's purse from her shoulder and shoos her off toward the battlefield.

"Steve," the man says as they set off up the street together. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. By the way."

"Lovely to meet you," she says politely.

She isn't particularly prepared for this sort of activity - her boots are fairly practical for walking from apartment to subway stop to office though clearly are not meant to do much heavier lifting - but she ventures that it can be forgiven considering how spur of the moment the entire thing has been. However, Steve is not, Peggy notices, exactly dressed for the weather either. It’s a bit too cold for a waist length peacoat, thin gloves, and a loosely hanging scarf, and he seems to have half soaked through everything. When they pass under a streetlight, she looks up toward him and observes that his cheeks are flushed red, though it actually suits him quite well, making the blue of his eyes shine.

"Were you pulled into this under similar circumstances?" she asks.

He laughs a little shyly. "No, Bucky—My friend, Bucky - you'll meet him in a minute—Anyway, his mother invited a bunch of their family over for the afternoon, and between all the cousins there are a dozen kids running around these days. We just volunteered to keep them occupied."

She wants to ask exactly where he fits into the structure of his friend’s family, but they are nearing the place where the children are still shouting and pelting Steve's friend.

"I've brought someone else to even out the teams," Steve calls, and the kids leave off, coming to surround the newcomer instead.

After introductions have been made - Steve's friend Bucky gives Peggy a look which is strangely appraising but completely without objectification - Peggy is informed of the rules (no faces, no sand or rocks mixed with your projectiles, ten seconds of reprieve after you've ducked behind the walls of your team's fort) and assigned a team (Steve's, which sends a thrill running through her which she doesn't care to examine, settling for a decisive head nod and a small smile in his direction).

She had forgotten, in the years since she had last participated in a snowball fight, exactly how exhilarating it could be. Her careful plans for methodical stockpiling and adherence to ideal technique are soon thrown out the window in her haste to simply get the next missile prepared and launched at the opposition. As she and a small girl named Iris fling nearly loose snow at the other side of the street, she finds herself laughing more freely than she has in ages. At one point, she and Steve end up huddled against the wall of the fort next to each other.

"Your hands must be freezing," he comments, and when she looks down in surprise at her red fingers, she realizes that he is right. He strips off his sodden gloves and wraps his hands around hers, trying to press some heat back into them. It’s futile, considering that his hands, while larger, aren’t any warmer, but she doesn’t stop him. When he tries to pass his gloves over to her, however, she declines with a smile.

"Oh, I could never allow anything to interfere with my process."

"Right." He unwraps his scarf instead, offering it to her. "Maybe this way at least some of you will be warm, and you won’t lose your edge either."

She won't swear that it's feeling the wool still toasty from his neck which allows her to jump back into the fray with renewed vigor, but she certainly wouldn't swear otherwise.

Her watch and phone are buried within her coat, but it cannot be much later when the door to what Peggy guesses is Bucky's mother's house opens and a group of people starts to stream out, each member gravitating over to collect particular children. Peggy stands at the sidelines as Steve and Bucky are kissed on the cheeks and thanked for their babysitting efforts. Angie ambles over just as the last of the kids, little Iris, is taken off with a wave of her cheerfully red mitten.

“Enjoy yourself, English?” she calls, grinning as she picks her way down the sidewalk around the disarranged clumps of snow. “Haven’t seen you have this much fun in ages, although it’s also reminding me why I’m never playing laser tag with you again.”

“My skill doesn’t only apply to snow. I’m a bit of a laser markswoman,” Peggy tells Steve who has returned to her side, apparently having finished being showered with familial affection by Bucky’s relatives.

“Laser sharpshooter,” Angie corrects. “Laser sniper. Laser no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners—”

“Angie?”

Bucky has joined them, looking at Angie with surprise which turns quickly into a smile and a hug.

“Bucky Barnes!” Angie says after they’ve broken away. She’s still framing him with a hand on each arm but she lets go to give him a friendly whack on the shoulder. “I should have known there couldn’t be that many Buckys in Brooklyn.” Stepping back so she can face Steve and Peggy fully, she says, “Bucky and I are...I mean, Bucky’s mom and my mom are...Well, we’re...We must be—” She glances up, clearly trying to mentally map out a family tree.

“We’re cousins, somehow,” Bucky fills in smoothly. “Just like me and half the neighborhood.”

It occurs to Peggy that the situation might be awkward - they had just seen a number of Bucky’s relations leaving a gathering to which Angie clearly hasn’t been invited - but Bucky says, without apparent unease, “I guess you’re in the area to clean out your grandma’s place?” and then adds as an afterthought, “God rest her.”

Angie rolls her eyes, though not, Peggy suspects, at Bucky’s insincere tone. “My mother kept making noises that Jersey was too far to come for just the day and couldn’t I just take care of it, so I finally gave in.” She loops her arm through Peggy’s. “Carter here has been the perfect assistant - without her, I’d have either tried to keep everything or just backed the garbage truck up to the front door and set up a funnel.”

“You’d never - you might miss out on some heirloom to hold over everyone’s heads,” Peggy says with an affectionate elbow to Angie’s side. “And I certainly had my fill of fun sorting through objects from decades gone by, along with that snowball battling which capped things off perfectly. But I think it might be time that I started making my way home.” She truly has had a wonderful afternoon, the sort which will live fondly in her memory (including the feeling of Steve’s hands wrapped with such gentle and precise strength around hers), but the idea of a steaming bath and freshly laundered pajamas sounds absolutely heavenly at the moment.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He extends a hand. “Well, it was nice to—”

“No,” says Bucky, shaking his head, and “No!” Angie adds with hasty vehemence.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy angles herself to try to see Angie’s face, but it’s Bucky who answers.

“You’re soaking wet, and I’m guessing that you don’t live on the next block. My mother would kill me if she found out I didn’t at least give you something dry to get home in.”

“It’s a lovely offer—” Peggy starts to demur, although she is now noticing that she’s quite chilly and it is going to be a bit of a slog home. Before she can get any farther, however, the door to Bucky’s family home opens up and a woman stands silhouetted in the spilling light.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I hope that you weren’t thinking of leaving these two young ladies out here in the cold without inviting them in to warm up.” She walks carefully down the steps, arms crossed over her chest, but she throws them open as she spots who is standing there. “Angie Martinelli, is that you? Wonderful to see you, sweetheart, come here!”

Angie releases Peggy to submit to a hug and a rapid-fire back and forth of greeting. Peggy suspects that their chances of making a smooth escape have just decreased rather dramatically.

“I’ve known Mrs. Barnes all my life,” Steve says quietly from over Peggy’s shoulder. “She’s never going to let you get away with leaving before you at least have on dry socks. And anyway, I promised hot chocolate to whoever managed to hit Bucky, and I definitely saw you paste him at least once.”

She smiles despite herself. “I believe it was peppermint hot chocolate which was promised.”

He laughs as their eyes meet, though his flick downward just after, a new flush filtering through his cheeks that she suspects has nothing to do with the cold.

“And who do we have here?” Mrs. Barnes asks, clearly finished cooing over Angie.

Peggy turns, smile still on her face. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Barnes. I’m Peggy Carter.”

“Get out of here while you can,” Bucky whispers fifteen minutes later, and Angie nods, telling Peggy, “If I ever need you to take a bullet for me, I expect you to remember this moment.”

“Why on earth would we be standing beside each other with bullets flying?” Peggy asks, eyebrow gracefully arched.

Before either of the others can reply, however, Steve takes Peggy’s hand from behind and tugs her away, whispering, “They’re not wrong,” as Mrs. Barnes returns with arms stacked with twenty-year-old photo albums.

“I promised Peggy something hot to drink,” he tells Mrs. Barnes more loudly. She waves them off, probably half from good hostess instincts and half eagerness to force the remaining two into a walk down memory lane.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s notice that Steve doesn’t relinquish her hand until they’re safely in the kitchen, although it’s quite apparent where it is. She can’t say that she minds, however. With neither of them wet and frozen any longer, it’s much easier to appreciate the gentle solidity of his fingers, the press of their palms against each other.

Too soon for her to have cataloged the sensation entirely, Steve lets her go and starts moving around to the pantry and cupboards. Peggy stands watching him, curling her toes against the floor in the borrowed socks she is now wearing along with an absolutely divinely plush gray cardigan loaned to her by Mrs. Barnes. The lady of the house had insisted on adding the wettest items to the dryer - “As if I would let you back out into the street like that to freeze. My mother would come back and haunt me!” - which had included Peggy’s blouse and coat, though luckily not her singlet or her jeans (damp, but dark enough to have avoided scrutiny, so Peggy hadn’t needed to strategize a polite objection to wearing someone else’s trousers).

“I hesitate to offer considering my skills in this area, but can I do anything to help?” she finally asks.

Steve shakes his head as he sets a saucepan on the stove. “This is about the only thing I can make, but I can do it with my eyes closed.” He gestures her over to a seat, which she takes.

“Why was peppermint hot chocolate the one recipe you ever learned?” she wonders as he lights a burner and adds together milk, cocoa powder, chocolate chips, and a bit of sugar.

“I learned plenty,” he says, angling himself to see her and stir at the same time. “This was just the only one that stuck. My mom worked a lot, and plenty of night shifts. It was just the two of us, so I wanted to make sure she would come home to something warm and good after all of that. She passed a while back, but I still make it for Bucky’s family when I’m around - they’ve always been great to me.”

“Ah,” Peggy says, trying to sound normal and satisfied with his answer instead of a bit overcome by his factual sweetness, the way he seems completely unresentful of the multitude of Barnes relatives while he apparently has no family left. She clears her throat. “And what is it you do, other than distribute homemade hot beverages?”

He flashes a bit of a smile at her, tucking his hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Bucky’s old bedroom upstairs. His hair is adorably mussed from pulling it over his head, and Peggy can’t quite tear her eyes away.

“I run the art program over at the community center,” he says, turning to add a few drops of something to the chocolate mixture. From the scent which suffuses the air, Peggy guesses that it’s peppermint flavoring. “Afternoon classes, activities with the schools, workshops. My under-twelve group just put up a display at the local library if you want to go visit.” He sounds absurdly proud.

“How wonderful.” The words come out even more softly than she had thought they would. She tries to pull herself together with the crispness of tapping straight a stack of papers, but doesn’t quite manage it. The soft smile won’t leave her face and she wonders if it might be a permanent fixture now. Oh, they’ll certainly go their separate ways shortly, but she feels that there was some amount of luck involved in her having had the chance to meet him in the first place.

Blinking a little, he turns away and unwraps a few of the peppermint candies Mrs. Barnes has set out in a dish on the counter. “What do you do?” he asks, crushing the candies with the handle of a knife.

Feeling her smile fade a bit into something more businesslike, less touched by gentle joy, Peggy says, “I’m the policy director for a non-profit.” It’s her standard response, the beginning of a slow wade into the more detailed answer. It is also, she has to admit, the beginning of a test, one which nearly all the potential partners Angie had tried to set her up with ended up failing.

“Which one?” Steve asks, gliding unknowingly through the first level of scrutiny as he scrapes the crushed peppermints into a palm and deposits them into the pot, beginning to stir again. (Peggy still sometimes finds herself surprised at how many people are so eager to turn the topic back to themselves that they accept the most simplistic answer and move along.)

“The INRJ,” Peggy says. It seems that she’s holding her breath just a bit as she gives her usual pause. She finds that she does not want Steve to make a misstep in this. She thinks she might forgive him if he did.

“The International Network for Reproductive Justice, right?” The way he gives her a look, double checking, deferring to her knowledge: if there were truly points, he would have earned himself a bonus just then. “Back when it was the International Pro-Choice Network, my mom used to bring me along to play under the table while she was stuffing envelopes or phone banking.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Bucky actually reminded me of that a few weeks ago - he saw an ad for the symposium you were holding and thought I should check it out.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, using the reminder of work to shore herself up a bit from melting. “I was meant to speak about the effects of the global gag rule, but I ended up sitting on the tarmac at Heathrow instead.”

He makes a commiserating face. “They did say that the talk about adoption and foster care in eastern European countries was a last minute replacement, although the speaker was really good. I hadn’t realized that was supposed to be your spot. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to speak; I would have liked to hear what you had to say.”

“Yes,” she says, slightly dazedly, the word nearly lost in the sound as he snaps off the burner. “Natasha is quite talented. She always gives a good presentation.”

“The community health initiatives to reduce parent and child mortality in Sierra Leone sounded like amazing stuff too.” He’s still talking as he reaches into a cabinet for a pair of mugs, apparently not noticing her reaction. “I ended up donating to the hospital building fund after I got home.”

She’s told dozens of men over the years what she does for her job, and the responses have run the gamut from indifference to confusion to polite questions, from furious rants about the sanctity of life to pompous assurances of allyship. This is the first time she’s heard one of them discuss her organization’s projects with true interest, the first time everything seems to have been said genuinely and unprompted and without the aim of impressing her.

Which is why it does all the more.

“I was glad Bucky suggested it,” Steve tells her, setting her mug in front of her. He takes a seat across from her, his own mug in hand. “He’s been trying to get me to go to all of these random places lately, and the symposium was one of the more interesting.”

“I’ve actually been experiencing the same thing with Angie,” Peggy says, seizing on the topic as a way to keep her equilibrium. “In the last month she’s taken me to a wine and cheese tasting, a Broadway play, and an art showing at the Sage Gallery, which I actually think I would have enjoyed if I hadn’t needed to spend most of it in the stairwell on a conference call.”

Steve, who had been about to take a sip from his mug, lowers it back to the table. With care, he says, “Bucky tried to get me to go to a wine and cheese night but I had to fill in running a watercolors class at the senior center. We went to a Broadway play but ended up switching seats with mom and little kid so they could be on the aisle.” Voice dropping a bit, he adds, “And I had a showing of some paintings at the Sage Gallery three weeks ago.”

They glance in unison toward the living room, as if they might establish some facts by merely turning in the direction of their friends, but all they hear is the low sound of chatter and laughter.

“Angie has arranged so many dreadful dates for me in the past,” Peggy says, leaning over the table to speak to him quietly. “I told her she wasn’t allowed anymore.”

Steve nods. “When Buck sets me up, they always think I’m going to be just like him, and it’s awful to see their faces when they realize I’m not. I just wanted a break from having to sit through dinner with someone who was disappointed that it was me there.”

The mug is hot against her palms, and she finds herself taking in deep breaths of peppermint-scented steam. “One of these days, he’s certain to find you someone who isn’t an utter bloody fool, then,” she says, and though she truly means the words, they come out soft instead of sharp, an outstretched hand.

“I sort of think,” Steve says, tipping his chin up so his eyes catch the light even as they lock with hers. “I sort of think that he’s been trying.”

Later that night, once she’s tucked away in bed, she thinks about fate and design, the overlap between them, and decides that it doesn’t matter how the moment comes to be if she doesn’t do anything with it. She takes a deep breath and texts him: Your hot chocolate was quite good. Perhaps we could meet sometime so you can show me how to properly prepare it?

Not even a minute later, he responds: I think we can come to an arrangement.

Angie only gloats a little when she hears that a hot chocolate making lesson and a week of texting has led to the arrangement of an actual date. Bucky is not as gracious. Peggy can’t quite bring herself to care, and by the undeniable flicker of Steve’s smile, she suspects he feels the same.