#(Her hands were shaking reading this and nearly broke down thinking about the same logic being applied to Fred.)

[explosiveunderscore]

She’s still here because she loves you

[Ask deleted]

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 16 - Bloody City [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood.

Word Count: 3000

Summary: Threats come closer. 

The room was so silent that you could swear even your heartbeat was audible. You tried to think through the panic running through your veins, but it was nearly impossible.

He wasn’t supposed to find out about that.  

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be one to understand how betrayed he felt at the moment. He looked completely frozen, his sharp glare giving you goosebumps.

He had never looked at you like that before, and the anger in his eyes was more than enough to pin you to your spot.

“Spencer,” you managed you say, your voice way too weak, “I can explain.”

Silence.

“I didn’t—“ you stammered, “I didn’t read it. I would never.”

He just kept his gaze on you, raising his brows as if he didn’t believe a word you said and you wetted your lips.

“Where did you find it?”

That managed to draw a reaction from him, at least. He scoffed a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s what you’re asking me right now?” he asked, “It was under the magazines on the coffee table, I thought it was one of mine.”

You cursed under your breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Of course your mother would put it there for you to take a look at it in case you wanted to.

“So?” he said, nodding at the folder lying on the kitchen island, “Do you want to tell me why you have a file on me?”

“It’s not mine.”

The bitter smile on his face was almost amused at your pathetic attempt, and it hit you right at that moment, there was no way you could talk your way out of this. This was what he did for a living, and he could tear your whole list of excuses apart, picking holes in it one by one.

“Try again.”

So people felt exactly like this when he was interrogating them. It was like his whole personality had just changed right in front of your eyes, and you weren’t even sure that you knew this person standing in front of you.

“I mean,” you swallowed thickly, “Okay, it’s technically mine. But I can explain why I have it.”

“You can?”

You pushed your hair behind your ear, your hands restless for some reason.

“The other day,” you started, “After we…. Well, when you were in Ohio, my mom dropped by. She already has a key and well, you’ve met her, she comes and goes as she pleases. I told her not to numerous times, but—“

“That’s not what I asked.”

You nodded, clearing your throat.

“Right, yeah,” you said, wringing your hands, “Um, she has this P.I.”

“You mean your family has a P.I.?” he corrected you, “Philip, you said? It’s not just your mother who uses him, you told me so yourself.”

You cussed at yourself in your head and bit on your lip, “Yeah. Yeah but he—he usually works for my mother. She’s overprotective, especially after my dad she became quite paranoid with the type of people me and Mina date. Anyways, she came here that morning, and she had this file but I didn’t read it,” you shook your head fervently, “I would never.”

He tilted his head, humoring you, “Oh you didn’t read it?”

“No, of course not—“

“Why did you keep it then?”

“I didn’t keep it,” you said, “I had to leave in a hurry so I left my mom here and I swear to you I told her to throw it away. I thought she did, I didn’t see it before just now. I wouldn’t keep it if I knew—“

“Did you know she was going to do it?” he cut you off as if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your excuses, “Put a P.I. on me?”

You opened your mouth to say no, then the memory of her saying that at the brunch flashed in your mind, making you shut your eyes for a second before looking up at him.

That was enough of an answer for him.

“You knew?” he asked, barely controlling the fury in his voice, “You knew but you didn’t tell me?”

“She mentioned it in passing but I didn’t take her seriously,” you said quickly, “I didn’t think she would actually do it, that’s why I didn’t tell you!”

He let out a humorless laugh and walked to grab his satchel while you stood there, unable to even breathe right as your heart pounded in your ears.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” he said curtly, “I’ll break your heart if I stay here any longer.”

“Spencer please, we need to talk about it—”

“Talk about it?” he repeated, “Why? So that you can give me more bullshit excuses?”

To that, you honestly had nothing to say.

“I would’ve told you whatever you wanted to know about me,” he said through his teeth, his eyes narrowed, “Because I trust you. That’s the difference between you and me.”

You blinked back the tears, digging your fingernails into your clenched fists.

“Have fun reading that,” he motioned at the file in front of you, then walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Your hand shot up to wipe at your eyes and tugged at the roots of your hair as you slouched against the kitchen island.

“Fuck.”

                                                         ***

The next three days were an absolute disaster. You couldn’t focus on anything, you checked your phone every minute to see whether he had texted you or called you, but there was nothing. You had no idea what you could do to explain yourself, or at least convince him to hear you out, but you decided to wait until he wasn’t as angry. Maybe then, he would be more willing to listen to you and you would have gathered your thoughts together.

That was the logical thing to do and you knew that, but it didn’t help with the situation at all. You had already missed him way too much and the guilt was basically eating you alive.

You should’ve been more careful. You should’ve checked everywhere, you should’ve at least called your mother to make sure if she had thrown it away but you had done none of that because of multiple distractions. Spencer had a point, you knew it was possible, you even knew your mother had done the same thing with Kenzie and yet you had told him nothing about that.

Until it blew up on your face.

There was absolutely no way he would ever trust you again, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

Your fingers were itching to text him, but you every time the urge hit you, you tried to do anything else but that. You concentrated on work, you accepted a new client, you did anything and everything that could stop yourself from thinking about him, but all of that was in vain.

Mina and Kenzie had invited you for dinner and you had accepted it just so that you could distract yourself and feel less terrible. Around nine, Lily had insisted you to be the one to read her a bedtime story, and that kid could ask for a freaking castle and you would get her that, so of course you had said yes.

“And they lived happily ever after,” you finished the story and pressed a kiss into her hair as she snuggled closer to you. “Time to sleep, bug.”

“I have a question.”

“Hm?” you asked, “What is it?”

“Will we all live happily ever after?”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, “Certainly.”

“Here?”

You tilted your head, “Here? What does that mean?”

“I heard mommy talking to grandma on the phone about you moving to—“ she scrunched up her nose, trying to find the right word, “Ven…?”

“Venice?” you asked and shook your head, “No sweetheart, I’m not moving anywhere.”

“It’s just that,” she looked up at you, “In the stories, they go away sometimes right? I thought since you found your prince—“

“You don’t need someone to live happily ever after Lily,” you said, “And in this case, I don’t need to move somewhere else to live happily ever after. Besides, things are complicated with my prince nowadays.”

“So you’re not moving away?”

“I’m not.”

She gave you a toothless smile, “Yay!” she said, “I would miss you.”

“I’d miss you too bug,” you kissed her hair, “So much. But now that we both know I’m staying here, you need to go to sleep, we had a deal.”

“Fine, fine…” she heaved a dramatic sight and you turned off the lamp by her bed, getting up from the bed. “Good night!”

“Sweet dreams, bug,” you closed the door behind you and made your way to the living room where Mina and Kenzie were still sitting by the table, drinking wine.

“Thank you so much,” Kenzie said and you waved a hand in the air as you sat down.

“Of course,” you said, grabbing your wine glass, “Mina, she asked me if I was moving to Venice.”

Mina frowned, “What?”

“Yeah, she heard you talk to mom on the phone,” you muttered, “Is that still going on? I thought we put that behind us, I’m not leaving.”

She heaved a sigh, “You know how mom gets, she’s just worried.”

“Have you talked to Spencer yet?” Kenzie asked and you took a huge sip of your wine, shrugging your shoulders.

“He knows where I am.”

“I take that as a no.” Kenzie said and you scoffed a bitter laugh.

“If he wants to break up with me, he can pick the time.”

Mina’s head shot up, “Y/N…”

“Come on,” you forced yourself to say and downed your wine before tilting your glass towards Kenzie, “You guys know how it goes. Experience talking.”

Kenzie filled your glass, “Listen, I can tell you right now that finding that out was a shock, yes. I felt betrayed, also yes. But after a couple of days, the anger subsided. When we broke up, it was— it was just my anger calling the shots.”

Mina nodded slowly, “Yeah, and then we talked and solved it.”

“Exactly!” Kenzie snapped her fingers, “Besides, after the first argument… I went to my apartment and after I calmed down I had to question whether I wanted to lose Mina over that.”

You shook your head, “It’s different.”

“How?”

“You weren’t there,” you lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke, “You didn’t see the way how he looked at me after that. Something inside him shifted and I don’t know how to change that, or fix that.”

Mina and Kenzie exchanged glances.

“I don’t think he will ever trust me again,” you managed to say, turning the cigarette between your fingers, “That is if he talks to me again. I think he might just call it quits over the phone to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything after this point, after what happened.”

“Y/N, I saw you two together even before you started dating,” Mina said, “This is not the end. It’s just some stupid obstacle in the way, that’s it.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes but you blinked them back.

“I’ve never-” you trailed off, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, you know? And if I lose this, lose him, I don’t know…” your voice cracked but you cleared your throat and took a sip of your wine again, “I have no idea what to do.”

Kenzie nibbled on her lip,

“You won’t have to, just—“ she started but was cut off when your phone started vibrating on the table. You lowered your glances to check the caller I.D flashing on the screen, then gasped, jumping on your feet.

Spencer.

“Excuse me,” you said and snatched the phone off the table to walk to Mina’s study, your heart slamming against your ribcage. You hoped that it was a good sign that he was calling you, instead of just ending your relationship via text and you closed the door behind you, then answered the phone.

“Hi,” your voice sounded way too squeaky even to your own ears and you shut your eyes for a moment, making a face.

“Hey,” he greeted you and you bit down on your lip, pushing your hair behind your ear as you walked in the study.

“How—um, how are you?”

“I’m good,” he said slowly, “How about you?”

“About the same,” you answered, “I was just thinking about you actually. I wanted to call you, but…”

“But you didn’t?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders,

“I figured you might need some time away from,” you thought for a moment, trying to smile, “Well, away from me, I guess.”

He fell silent for a moment before he cleared his throat,

“Listen,” he said, “I just called to let you know that we— the team and I, I mean, we’re flying to Illinois in fifteen.”

Your head shot up, “Oh? There’s a new case?”

“Might be related to this one, we will see when we get there,” he said, “I just figured you’d…I don’t know, you’d want to know where I was.”

Even when you were quite possibly in the worst terms, he still wanted to make sure you knew about what was happening and that thought alone was enough to make you smile.

“Yeah absolutely,” you said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure thing.”

There was a pause before he took a deep breath.

“Anyway, yeah. That’s why I called. I’ll see you later—“

“Spencer,” you interrupted him, “Before you hang up, I want to say that I get why you’re upset, I really do. You have every right to be, but I was hoping…” you bit at your fingernail, “Maybe we can talk after you come back? Would that be possible?”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, “Sure, that sounds good.”

“Yeah?” you let out a relieved breath, “Okay, great. Be careful out there, please?”

You could almost hear his small smile, “You too,” he said and hung up, making you let out a squeal and you sat down on the couch, pressing a hand over your chest.

You didn’t know it back then, but the next time you would see Spencer, it would be under very, very different circumstances.

And it definitely would not look like what you hoped it would.

                                              ***

Even though Mina and Kenzie insisted you to stay over for the night, you told them you had an important appointment the next morning. It wasn’t a lie either, you had been handling Vincent’s wedding’s possible venues since last week and finally you had narrowed it down to three, so you would be visiting those venues with him and his husband.

But that whole morning started very strange.

For starters, you hadn’t even heard your alarm go off, which was unusual, because that had never happened to you before. By the time you woke up, you had a terrible headache as if someone had hit your head with a baseball bat but you hadn’t even drunk that much last night. It felt way too difficult to even open your eyes, and your limbs felt like they were made of jelly as you forced yourself to sit up in the bed.

Where was your phone?

The wind coming from the open window moved the curtain and you frowned, trying to remember when you had opened the window before a shudder ran down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

Spencer would’ve had some scientific explanation for it you were sure, but for you, it went deeper than that. It was your instincts, warning you that something was wrong.

Something in here didn’t feel right.

And every single cell in your body made sure you knew that.

Trying to make as little noise as you could, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, blinking to get rid of the blurriness in your sight and looked around in the room for any potential weapons, then grabbed the nail file on the vanity before you opened the door. You peeked around the hall, but as soon as your gaze fell on the front door, you felt the goosebumps rising on your arms.

The front door wasn’t closed properly, and you were sure that you had closed it last night.

Your heart started pounding in your head but you stepped out of your room, still holding the nail file tightly just in case there was a sudden movement. You took another step, trying to fix your breathing but you happened to inhale deeply for a second, and that’s when you took the scent.

You smelt it before you could even see it, the bile climbing up your throat almost automatically.

Metallic and sweet.

Blood and jasmines.

You slowly lowered your glances to the floor connecting the hall to the living room to follow the small flowers of jasmines soaked in the red river of blood, leading behind the kitchen island. There were sirens going off in your head, screaming at you to run away but you took a deep breath, your whole body shaking as you stepped around the kitchen island, the warm blood soaking your feet before your eyes found the body lying completely still on the floor.

The nail file slipped from your closed fist as you stared at your ex-boyfriend Anthony, his eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling, his hair and clothes drenched in his own blood.

The shock only lasted for one second.

Then a scream ripped itself from your throat.

Chapter 17

[gryffindors-weasley]

A Known Love

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco felt as though his relationship was kept secret, though one person sees everything.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, fluff, kissing

(not my gif)

Dawn was rapidly approaching, the navy hues of the sky beginning to lighten and the stars began to disappear as slivers of orange stretch across the horizon. It was Draco’s least favorite time of day, for it was when he had to say goodbye to you until the following evening. The hours in the day had always passed as if each were an eternity, one longer than the last, agonizing as he thought of nothing else but you.

“You really should be going now, love,” he murmurs softly, his lips ghosting over the skin on your neck. His hand enveloped your own as he pulled you farther behind the shadows of the crumbling stone statue, impossibly closer to him.

“I suppose I will once you let me go, Draco,” you laugh softly. A kiss is pressed just below your ear, another to your cheek, and another to your lips to quiet your very logical reasoning. He hadn’t wanted to let you go yet. He never wanted to let you go.

He pulls back to look at you, still close enough to feel your breath on his lips, gray eyes twinkling under the soft moonlight as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His attempts at goodbye were quickly becoming more pitiful with each moment that passed him by, and he knew it. He had the same problem every time the moment arises.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you say with a smile, your thumb brushing over his slightly pouted lip and he finds himself leaning into your touch. “You’ll have the whole day to miss me.”

For that, he closes any remaining gap once more, delicate kisses pressed to the underside of your jaw. He’s very knowledgeable of the way it makes you squirm, your jovial laughter slipping out into the crisp summer air, unable to be controlled much like his smile. His lips find yours in another attempt to silence you, soft and sweet as he hums lightly, your lips melding in a kiss he hadn’t wanted to end.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but the cooing of the morning doves is too hard to ignore. A sigh is exhaled and the sight of your kiss swollen lips leaves him wanting to do nothing but continue to kiss them, more so with the way you’re beaming up at him.

“Promise you’ll be here tonight?” He murmurs, forehead pressed to yours as his eyes fall closed. A quiet laugh escapes you and fans against his lips.

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” He asks in a quieter tone, something akin to fear weaving around his words even if he’d tried to hide it.

“I will try, my love,” you murmur.

He pulls away once more and looks at you with narrowed eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. You tilt your head and look at him with a sweet smile, settling your hand on his cheek. He was not happy with your nonchalance. “It is not funny.”

You couldn’t stifle the soft laugh you’d tried to hold, appeasing his grumbling and worry as you brushed the platinum strands of hair out of his eyes.

“I will be here and I will be fine,” you say, kissing the very tip of his nose.

The tension in his embrace lessens considerably at your words, tightening his hold as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. Even with your reassurance, he was still rather scared that this would be the last time he kissed you, the last time he held you. So he relished in every second of it. He memorized the sweet smell of your perfume, the taste of your kisses, the softness of your skin. He took it all in and stored it away in his mind for safe keeping.

He released you with a chaste kiss to your neck, and one to your lips as his arms dropped to his sides. Your fingertips brush over his cheek once more as you smile, and in a matter of moments he’s standing by himself behind the moss covered statue, looking at the spot you’d once been standing in just seconds ago.

—

Draco spent the entirety of the day in his bedroom, pacing around in front of his bed aimlessly. He’d tried to get some sleep, he had been rather busy running around in a secret endeavor the night before. But he only found himself staring at the deep green velvet curtain splayed high above each of his bedposts. He hadn’t wanted to leave his room for a good while, however, there wasn’t reason to and he certainly didn’t want to run into his father. The man had become more insufferable with each passing day it seemed, if that was even possible. Besides, his mind was far too busy to hold any sort of meaningless conversation with him should there be any.

His boredom was near maddening, the Manor wasn’t exactly a place that had been bustling with entertainment. It was a place filled with silence and luxury that was made to be viewed but not touched. He looked at his clock, the hand only inching closer to eight o’clock in the evening much to his dismay; it was as if it was taunting him.

On a more positive note, it had been late enough for him to feel as though he could venture into the halls without chance of running into anyone. So he did. He found himself navigating the gray corridors with a practiced ease, eyes darting around each and every corner he passed. The residence was practically a maze; anyone who hadn’t been familiar with it would surely get lost in a matter of moments, unable to find a door to exit. He’d lived there for nearly eighteen years and still found himself wandering down unfamiliar halls.

In a matter of minutes, he finds himself standing in front of an old mahogany door, intricately carved like most others. He twisted the tarnished metal knob and pushed it open, wincing at the very audible creak it made. The scent of old books had immediately hit him as he closes the door behind him, trickles of sunlight streaming in through the latticed windows. The golden light illuminated the dust particles floating around the unfrequented room, nearly making him sneeze.

He just about jumped out of his skin when a soft voice broke through the silence in the air, his heart racing momentarily as he searched for the source. His mother sat in the corner, a half-read book propped open in her lap.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d been all day,” she says with a soft laugh, peering at him over the tops of her glasses.

“I was in my room,” he states when he settles, trying to sound believable even though that’s exactly where he’s been.

He smooths his hair behind his ear before spinning on his heel, unable to withstand her stare a moment longer. His hands were growing clammy as he wandered the familiar aisles, lined floor to ceiling with books ranging from the history of magic to even some Shakespeare classics. Those were Narcissa’s favorite.

“Draco, what ever is the matter with you?” Narcissa asks suddenly, her brows furrowing as she looks over at her son and marks her page.

“Nothing, Mother,” he says, plucking a maroon book from its spot on the dust covered shelf, looking over the aged cover briefly and putting it back before moving onto the next.

They were the very shelves he roamed between with you in the late hours of the night, speaking in hushed whispers in the nearly abandoned library. The very shelves you hid behind to share stolen kisses and tight embraces, gently whispered ‘I love you’s’ spoken against flushed skin. They house books of fabricated fiction and tales of forbidden love, stories he finds himself reading and wishing he didn’t understand what it had felt like to be the lovers within them.

Regardless, you loved when he read to you, his voice soft as he spoke each word with ease. You’d lay on his chest, tucked away somewhere private in the Manor, somewhere with enough moonlight streaming in to ensure there was no need for a light to draw any attention. His fingers would absentmindedly tangle through your hair as he read, stopping occasionally to press a kiss to your forehead. He’d stop once you fell asleep, his eyes bouncing around the room for any chance of prying eyes. He was quiet for any chance of listening ears.

“Draco?”

He startled slightly as looks over at his mother as she continues to sit in her black velvet chair, her brow raised curiously and expectantly. His cheeks flush a pale pink as he realizes he’s gotten lost in his thoughts.

“You’re distracted,” she states.

“No I’m not,” he says almost immediately, too fast to be believable.

She chuckles, shaking her head briefly. “Then what have I just told you, darling?”

He averts his gaze and focuses on the tattered book spines stacked in front of him, the heat in his face now burning down his neck as he scrambles to think of a proper answer for her, one that isn’t foolish.

“School has been rather busy. That amongst other things,” he says, tone sharp though she knows precisely what he’s talking about. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Mother.”

She overlooks the bite to his words as she gestures to the seat just paces away from her own, wordlessly telling him to sit down. His finger stops it’s tracing on the old books and drops to his side, wiping his hand on his blazer and leaving a smear of pale dust behind on the pristine black fabric. He takes a seat, her gaze having him fix a stare on anything but her.

A quiet tension settles over the room, thick and unwavering for a few moments, the only sound being the ticking of the grand clock in the far end of it. He knows his reasoning couldn’t have been any good, at least not half of it. It had been summer break, one that was highly anticipated before the start of seventh year. So his excuse for academic stress didn’t seem to be quite as fitting at this very moment.

“What is her name?” She asks abruptly.

His heart stills in his chest at the question, and he looks at her immediately before narrowing his eyes to contain the flurry of emotions raining down on him. Had he heard her correctly? He had to have, she couldn’t have said anything else.

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses, sitting up a little straighter as he smooths his tie.

She knew about you, of course she did. She’s known about you for far longer than Draco could ever be privy to. In fact, the first time she had ever been made aware of your relationship was last summer. It was dawn, and she was unable to sleep, though she always had been an early riser. She had her morning tea in hand as she made her rounds around the Manor, that’s when it had caught her eye. Narcissa had known the place like the back of her hand, therefore it had been easy to note anything out of place, such as the tracking of mud in a very familiar shoe print leading from the door to her gardens.

Upon closer inspection, she peered out of the windows into the moonlit maze of roses and finely manicured bushes. She had caught glimpse of her son weaving through flowers and statues, hand enveloped with that of a strikingly beautiful girl; and even with such a distance she could see the smile on his face, big and bright.

She had seen you once or twice before, knew enough to know you wouldn’t have been someone her husband would approve of. But technicalities aside, she stayed put and she watched the sight before her for a few moments longer for she hasn’t seen her son quite this happy.

Her eyes fell on Draco, the blush that had spilled from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now a very noticeable shade, one that was very indicative that he did in fact know just who she was talking about. He began to fidget in the grand velvet chair, twirling the ring around his finger in nervous habit. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen, panic flooding his chest.

“Your father wouldn’t approve of this, you know,” she says, though there’s a soft laugh in her words. Regardless, the thought makes Draco’s stomach swirl with nausea, anger building and pressing within his chest.

He knows this, he knows you don’t fit his fathers preposterous ideals because he’s too caught up in pleasing the Dark Lord’s wishes to see with even an ounce of rationality. However, he’s always been one for conforming to absurd standards to better his reputation, he supposes.

“You don’t understand,” Draco defends in hushed anger, his jaw tensing as he fights to reign in his temper.

“Then enlighten me, my dear boy.”

He stares at his mother for a few moments, then shifts his gaze to the dark hardwood floors, seconds feeling like hours as his heart hammers in his chest and the heat crawls up his neck. His mind is bombarded with intrusive thoughts, one after another. If he tells her what’s been plaguing his mind, who has been residing there for the better part of a year, he could very well lose you. If he doesn’t, her suspicions will ruin any chance of time spent alone with you in fear of wandering eyes.

“I’m in love with her.”

It tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself from saying it, it’s as though all sense had left his body. You have a habit of doing that to him. Though his words were a bit shaky, the declaration came out clear as day, not a single drop of doubt in his words. He doesn’t know what she’ll say next, and quite honestly he does not care, not entirely. Not enough to hide his feelings for a moment longer, feelings that are so strong he doesn’t quite know how to handle them. 

The look on her face is unreadable for the first several moments after he sputtered his confession, and the panic simmering in his chest is beginning to build and boil over. But something softens in her stoic expression, and she nods slightly. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know what to make of the small gesture until she speaks up.

“I see.” 

That’s all she says.

He finds the statement hard to interpret, unable to find any sort of relief from those two words as he swallows thickly and tugs at the collar of his black dress shirt, loosening the tie around his neck a fraction. The large room suddenly felt terribly suffocating and he desperately wanted some air. He was quickly beginning to regret ever opening his mouth, even though it seemed it had done so of its own accord. He could never keep anything from her, she could coax his deepest darkest secrets out of him with just a simple look. Right now, he felt it’d be perfectly suitable if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

He had to take the statement back somehow.

“Mother, I-”

“What is her name?” She asks once more, effectively cutting his stammering short.

He looks at her cautiously, surprised to find her to be truly interested, and not for malicious reasoning. Hesitancy still clouds his mind as he wonders whether or not he should give her such details, but a part of him feels as though it’s okay if she’s privy to it.

“Y/n,” he says softly, almost too quiet to be heard, his eyes darting around the room in search of anyone who may be listening in. “Her name is Y/n.”

She smiles softly with another nod. “She’s beautiful, Draco.”

He smiles lightly at his hands, his mind wandering to you once more. To the way your lips curve, to the soft freckles smattering across your cheeks that he could spend a ridiculous amount of time kissing. Perhaps his favorite is the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, the way you look at him. He will never feel as though he’s worthy of such affection, it doesn’t make sense to him. For that very reason, it worries him everyday that you’ll slip through his fingers. That you’ll realize the person you’ve chosen to love, you’ll come to your senses and you’ll disappear.

It wasn’t easy loving a Malfoy, after all. Anyone who simply hears the name turns their lip up in disgust. He can’t say he blamed them, his family wasn’t known for anything noble or kind. He wasn’t proud of himself either, which was all the more reason he feared your seemingly inevitable epiphany.

“I know,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head. His hands are shaking as he reaches up to swipe at the hair dipping in his eyes. “How…how did you know?”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in quite some time, Draco. It was rather easy to figure out,” she starts, her words bittersweet the more she allowed herself to think about it. “The smell of perfume had given it away in an instant. It lingers, you know.”

His face reddens, and he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, his hair falling back in his eyes again.

“Does she treat you well?” She inquires.

He smiles lightly as he nods. “She’s quite wonderful, more than I can say about myself.”

It was true. In his eyes, you were the embodiment of sunshine to put it simply. You were the kindest person he’s ever known, so much so he hadn’t been used to it at first. He had been skeptical. You treated him far better than he could have ever anticipated, though you did not hesitate to correct him when he was wrong.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my dear?”

He gulps, his mind swimming in horrific scenarios he hadn’t ever wanted to think of, possibilities he wished he didn’t have to fear. Each one was worse than the last, and paired with his pounding heart, he wasn’t sure if he could hide his internal conflict from her. It felt as though his throat was impossibly dry and the air had been stolen from his very lungs.

“Please don’t tell him,” he whispers, the lump in his throat becoming hard to ignore. The thought of how his father would react out of spite made his stomach churn and twist in knots. “Please.”

She looks at him with furrowed brows, her crimson nails tapping on the curved wood of the chairs arm. You hadn’t entirely fit the ideals set in place for the only Malfoy heir, and she knew for certain that repercussions would follow such a romance. But the unease and the color draining from her sons face had shown how truly distraught he was, and she couldn’t bring herself to tamper with it. She had never seen him care so deeply for something. She had seen just how much you had been keeping him afloat amidst the troublesome darkness trying to pull him down. Maybe she will warm up to you if he ever decides to introduce you, she would have to. For you kept him happier than could be imagined and she didn’t want to take it from him.

She fought for her love with Lucius, she fought desperately and unrelenting for it. It quickly became apparent to her that it wasn’t her place to stand in the way of it, it would be rather hypocritical if she did.

“As you wish,” she says with a soft smile, one that eased the tension in his body as she grabbed her book again. “Off you go now, Draco. I believe someone is waiting for you.”

She nodded slightly towards the window and he gets up without another word, promptly exiting the quiet library upon her dismissal making quick strides. A soft smile tugged at his lips that he had fought desperately to contain, but the attempts were proving to be pointless every time he caught glimpse of the setting sun. The hues of oranges and yellows painting the somber walls of the Manor only reminded him of you, of how you’d be waiting for him behind the decades old statue in the garden.

His conversation was brief and unexpected, one that offered waves of comfort and lightened some of the weight on his chest. Only some. Because consequences of his love were uncertain, but it hadn’t seemed to matter in that very moment. Maybe it was selfish of him to think that way, and maybe his purposeful walk had given way to the fact that he had something to look forward to. Maybe he shouldn’t have told his mother about you, he did not know.

What was known was the steady pounding of his heart within his chest and the scarlet in his cheeks.

What was known was that he loved you.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 129

Despite the last couple weeks of work being profoundly exhausting (think 60 hours, easily), I am proud that I’ve been able to keep writing and stay ahead! I literally could not have done that without @baelpenrose, @charlylimph-blog, @the-raven-fae, and @anotherusrname. Y’all are my real-world rocks when everything gets crazy.

***Shameless Plug: @the-raven-fae has the first episode of the podcast up now! you can find it here!! ***

The other thing that has been keeping me going is each and every one of you who has found this story and binged it from start to finish as a speed-run. I can’t even name all of you at this point, but I want you all to know that I see it, and it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.

Now, who is ready for some Charly shenanigans?

A few days later, I had just enough time to sweep dinner off the table in my quarters before Charly unceremoniously dropped a long something in the midst of us with a dull thud.  Immediately, a rusty red cloud rose up and set us all into a fit of tears and coughing.

Out in the hallway, I was eventually able to convince my lungs to at least try to breathe long enough to wheeze out, “Geezus, Charly, what the hell was that?”

“Soooo….” Uh oh. “ItmayneedsomecalibrationthecloudwasntsupposedtobethatbigandIdidntmeanforittogooffbut - “

I shook my head and typed a quick message on my datapad. “Please breathe because right now I don’t think the rest of us can and I would love to know why.”

She stopped rushing out what I think were words long enough to read the message and try again. “Chili powder arrows. I think I need to recalibrate them, though, because it shouldn’t have gone off at less than one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour, and there’s no way I set it down that hard.”

“Why?” I rasped, still swallowing as hard as I could and mentally begging Noah to bring us some water or a medical transport.

“Defensive measures,” she insisted. “Scent navigation is really common in the Galactic community, and so is sensitivity to capsaicin, so…”

“Makes sense,” Conor managed to get out as he tried to gasp for air. “Even Noah.”

“Bit much.” I pinched my fingers as closely as I could without touching - which was more difficult than expected considering that I was shaking.

Maverick was the first to get up off the floor of the corridor, just as the medical transport arrived.  He and Charly helped us on before distributing bottles of water to rinse our mouths and eyes. “It was… a good idea…” he panted once we were all seated. “Just… bit overkill…”

“The range of the cloud is only supposed to be five feet,” she insisted fretfully. “And I swear the pressure sensor is supposed to be calibrated to only go off if it’s fired from a bow or swung really, really hard.”

“Who...want...swing?”  I was honestly starting to get dizzy fighting my airways to breathe.

Once we arrived at a medbay, Charly helped a couple of Miys’ bodies get us out of the transport and lying down in berths. In a glitch-like transition, suddenly I could breathe easily and she was joined by Arthur and Coffey in sitting with us.

“Wait… when did… I’m so confused,” I admitted, my voice only slightly strained.

“Lethe field, apparently,” Arthur shrugged. “You didn’t want to be awake for that.”

Conor sat up and rubbed his sternum. “I remember chili pepper arrows - Charly, love, that was brilliant except the, you know, going off bit - and getting off the transport.”

“Respiratory lavage,” Charly winced. “You know, war crime if done incorrectly?”

I shuddered and nodded. “Yep. Didn’t want to be awake for that, thanks.  Glad I can’t remember, don’t ever want to, would rather remember the pepper bomb you set off. At point blank range?”

She snuggled further down in Coffey’s lap as he gently rubbed her scalp with his fingertips.  Arthur spoke in her defense, instead. “She’s sending the schematics to Zach and Derek to find out what went wrong.  Tactically, they were a brilliant idea - she’s right about the large amount of species who would react even worse than you did if hit with one.”

“I only inhale spices figuratively.  I would prefer not to do it literally - like, ever again.”

Maverick sat up and gave Charly a curious look. “You said they can be swung… Unless I saw something wrong, the arrow was only two feet long.  Who would want to swing something like that?”

Coffey and Arthur both held up gas masks and wiggled them. “Between my arm reach and the length of one of those, I could do it, no problem.”

“We aren’t all so fortunate,” Arthur intoned drily. “Plus, that doesn’t mean someone closer isn’t getting hit.”

Conor raised his hand politely before pointing out a potential flaw. “What if they have gas masks?”

“Noah has a topical reaction,” I answered, my mind racing. “And I assume we have other measures in the works?”

“Multiple types of sonic weaponry are being tested,” Coffey intoned with a nod. “Sub- and ultrasonics, infrasound, and just loud music.”

Still in full Devil’s Advocate mode, Conor persisted. “And if they are covered, head to toe, and none of that works?”

A deafening silence filled the medbay. The prospect of being forcibly boarded had only been a known issue for a week, and apparently this prospect hadn’t been covered yet in the defensive planning.

Finally, it was Maverick who spoke up. Had anyone else been talking, we couldn’t have heard him, but in the quiet his whisper echoed like a gunshot. “The interior hull is organic, not magnetic.”

“Mav, we know that. It doesn’t help us.” Conor’s voice was confused.

Arthur, however, looked like he had just seen a travesty occur in front him, unable to stop it. “You’re talking about blowing the airlocks.”

I scrambled to sit up, clawing at the blanket that covered my legs. “What!? Maverick, he’s wrong, right? You aren’t talking about that, right?”

“It makes logical sense,” Charly added, still laying her head against Coffey’s chest. “If someone boards the Ark by force, and they have enough gear that no amount of defense we mount even bothers them, they would be wearing enough gear to survive being blown into space.”

“And they can’t magnetize to the hull,” Maverick confirmed. “Maybe the outside, but not inside.”

“What about Noah?” I demanded. “They are a non-combatant.”

“Noah evolved in vacuum,” Charly pointed out.

“You’re talking a war strategy!” I nearly shouted. “What about Arthur? Coffey? Or Ivan? Are you seriously going to tell me they won’t be the first people charging to defend the Ark?” I pointed at the previously brandished gas masks with a damning glare.

“We are talking about a last-ditch defense to save as many people on this ship as possible,” she whispered.  “I don’t make the decisions, I just make the tools they are going to use. You know, you know I don’t want us to use any of this. And I plan to booby-trap everything within an inch of all our lives to keep us from having to use as much of it as possible.  Hence, arrows. As many kinds as I can make up.”

I started taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. At my heart of hearts, I knew she was sincere - Charly was almost as much of a pacifist as I was, at the end of the day. Even Arthur wasn’t necessarily a warmonger, just… uninhibited in what he defined as ‘the best defense is a good offense’.

Frustrated, I swung my legs over the side of the berth. “I need to go home. I want dinner, and a nap.  Probably a drink.”

Charly reached out and pushed my legs back on to the bed. “You’re under observation for another hour. Dry-drowning risk.”

I groaned and gave her a pleading look. “I’m hungry, and this isn’t my bed.  It’s honestly half the reason I’m in such a bad mood. You and Arthur probably make absolute perfect sense to less-sleepy, fed Sophia, but right now, not so much.”

“Your limey assistant is bringing a change of clothes, your sister, and some food,” Arthur smirked. “So you get to stay right there,  not die, and get some sleep.”

“But Mac…”

“Is at Derek and Sam’s, but very nice try,” he confessed.

“I wanna go home,” I grumbled sullenly.

Maverick nodded, and gulped down some water Charly handed him. “Did someone turn on the scrubbers in there yet?”

Conor and I turned wide eyes to him. The thought apparently never occurred to either of us. “Charly love,” Conor started hesitantly. “How much bigger was the cloud than you thought?”

“I’m not sure,” she confessed, sheepish. “It was pretty big.”

Rubbing my face briskly, I suppressed the urge to sob. “My blankets… the furniture… our clothes…”

“Else is working on it.”

I glanced at Coffey, confused. “Else is? They eat iron.”

Noah’s voice broke in from the ceiling. “Correction. When still a bacterium, Else fed on iron. However, as they have evolved, their needs have expanded to include a more diverse diet.”

“Are you telling me that there are faceless baby chickens flooding our quarters, eating the chili powder?”

“They do show a preference for foods more toxic to the general Galaxy.  We estimate that this is due to their origin within human beings, who share the same marked trait.”

“At least someone is appreciating my hard work,” Charly grumbled.

I strained to suppress a smile. “I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner, for a week, to make up for being ungrateful?”

“Maybe just tell Alistair it was an accident?  He gets upset when you almost die.”

“Both?”

“Both. Both is good.”

<< Prev   Masterlist  Next >>

[jenniferxprentiss]

with my calamitous love (and insurmountable grief)

jj/emily -> read it on ao3 here

“I just want to be a real mom.” Her voice was broken, lips quivering as she looked down at her hands, at her bitten down fingernails and chipped nail polish, a testament to the mental turmoil she had been experiencing.

tw: infertility, canon abortion mention, post-Doyle fic.

————

this is a very personal fic to me, and though I will never know that it’s like to be stabbed in the abdomen with the leg of a table and have my internal organs ripped to shreds like Emily Prentiss experienced, I feel this fic very personally in other ways, and if this fic brightens anyone’s day or is as cathartic to them as it was to me, then I’ve done my job w this one

please do not read if you’re at all triggered by infertility, as this fic centers around it as a main theme. just lookin out for y’all

as always, reviews are appreciated

xo

————

The crushing weight of guilt mixed with sadness hit her like a ton of bricks, watching JJ ghost her hand over the subtle swell of her stomach, still mostly concealed by her flowy tops but prominent enough for Emily to know it was there. A sadness that she would never be enough — never have this experience that JJ did, thanks to Doyle — and guilt over feeling so heartbroken.

JJ looked over in her direction, their eyes locking and Emily noticed the worried furrow of her brow, the way she silently asked if she was alright. Emily nodded, forcing the corners of her lips to turn upwards in a plasticine, practiced smile.

It wasn’t that there was a lack of joy, because god, she was the happiest woman in the world to watch her wife happy and pregnant, her face positively glowing — it was that she felt a sense of failure. Failure to grow their family, unable to become a true mother.

She watched JJ from across their backyard, leaning back in a chair and half engaged in a conversation with Garcia, eyes darting between her and Henry.

That little boy was the light of Emily’s life, and she knew he was JJ and Will’s too. She felt the familiar sting of tears in her throat watching him play, climbing to the top of the slide and shouting triumphantly and racing down. He spotted her across the yard, ran to her and nearly knocked her down with his force, arms wrapping around her middle in a tight hug.

“Mom!” He was breathless, face reddened from the heat and exertion. “Did you see me? I climbed all the way to the top!”

She swallowed back her tears, choked back the emotion that would make her voice waver and uneasy and focused all of her love, all of her energy on him. Her fingers brushed through his sweat dampened hair — blonde like JJ’s, but curly on the ends like Will’s — and smiled down at him, gaze tender and full of adoration for this tiny little person that held so much space in her heart.

“Oh, did I ever! You were so fast, Hen, like lightning. I wish I were as fast as you, really.”

There was a silence between them, Emily unable to look up from the little boy’s face, counted his freckles in the rapidly setting summer sun and felt herself getting choked up again. He hugged her so tightly, so hard, and she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

Her hand came down to the space between his tiny shoulder blades, pressed him into her for just a second longer before she released him, tiny body squirming against hers and anxious to get back to the slide and swings. Tears pricked at her eyes again and she dabbed at her face, hoping desperately that no one would notice her moment of weakness.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Emily noticed JJ stand and cross the patio, concern etched deep into her features. She tapped Rossi on the shoulder, whispered something in his ear, and Emily had to stifle a sob as she slipped through their back door, guilt settling on her shoulders once again. She couldn’t stop being a distraction for one simple dinner with the team.

Inside their home, the tears began to flow freely, and Emily tried to choke back her sobs. She couldn’t let JJ see her like this — couldn’t explain why she felt this way. She was standing at the bottom of their staircase when the door shut again, quieter than when she had passed through it, heard JJ’s gentle footsteps approaching.

“Emily…”

The brokenness in JJ’s voice nearly broke Emily, choking out a sob into her hand, clapped over her mouth. They knew no one would dare come in the house right now, wouldn’t intrude on their privacy, but Emily still felt too exposed in their foyer.

She extended her arm, took JJ’s hand in her own and squeezed gently — a reassurance of sorts — before guiding her up the stairs to their bedroom. Emily closed and locked the door, let out a small chuckle at the fact that she locked the door when anyone could hear them if they wanted to.

When she turned, she felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards in a half smile at the way JJ was already reclined against the headboard waiting for her.

Emily allowed herself to curl up into JJ, head resting on her shoulder and hands entwined as she let herself cry, shoulders shaking softly. JJ’s free hand ran up and down Emily’s back, rubbing soothing circles and whispering in her ear.

“Em… shh, love, you’ll be alright.” JJ’s heart was breaking at Emily’s sadness, the way she curled in on herself when she sobbed. “Everything is going to be alright.”

Her tears subsided at JJ’s calming tone, the way she was passing her thumb over the back of her hand and rubbing circles into her back. She waited until she felt like she could speak without crying again, thanking god for JJ’s patience and love, picked her head up and wiped at her face with the back of her hand before looking at her wife pointedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Em?”

“I’m sorry I distracted you from dinner, that I couldn’t hold it in until everyone left.”

“No.” JJ’s voice was firm, authoritative. She pushed the overgrown bangs out of Emily’s eyes, in that moment realizing how small and fragile she felt. “No, you’re going to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, baby, and I just want to help you.”

Emily let out a sigh, hand coming up to scrub at her face with her sleeve before looking back up. She wasn’t quite able to meet JJ’s eyes, instead staring across the room, her eyes settling upon the pictures hung in a gallery on their wall.

There were pictures from their wedding — of them and Henry smiling brightly, the tiny boy squished between them with so much love on their faces — among pictures from their regular family photo sessions. Her lips twitched up in a small smirk at the picture from Henry’s birthday, the entire team crowded around the boy as he blew out his candles.

She knew there would never be judgement from JJ — knew that she could never be angry with her for a feeling that was purely biological — but still there was a flutter of anxiety in her stomach, the fear of rejection wound so deep in her personality that it almost made her choke up again.

“I’m so happy, Jayje, I promise I am…”

It was a half truth and they both knew it, knew by the sunken sadness in Emily’s eyes that there was more to her statement. JJ waited patiently, hand rubbing gentle circles on the small of Emily’s back, her gaze soft as she watched her wife — watched the way she chewed at her bottom lip, teeth worrying at the already peeling skin. She brushed her fingers across Emily’s lips in a gentle reminder, smiled softly when she released her lip and smiled sheepishly back at JJ.

“But?”

“But I’m mourning.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ever want to be a mom, not a real mom, until I couldn’t — until I had that option ripped away from me.”

In truth, Emily never wanted children — couldn’t bear the thought of screwing them up the way her mother had done her — but there was a glimmer of hope when she started dating JJ, when she felt herself slipping so comfortably into the role of step mom.

She would think about it sometimes, late at night with Henry dozing in her lap in the rocking chair, always taking the night wake ups after the little boy no longer woke up to feed. Emily would think about Henry with a little sibling, never able to clearly picture the gender, but always seeing a little raven haired child running alongside him.

And then it happened — Doyle happened, and it nearly broke her.

She remembered waking up in the hospital, JJ and Hotch sitting in the corner of the room, their faces crumpling with a mixture of relief and fear — remembered how the doctor told her solemnly that Doyle had destroyed her reproductive system, that she had a full hysterectomy and children wouldn’t be an option for her.

At the time, the only thing that mattered was that she was there, alive and with her family — their little boy snuggled against her side in the hospital bed when she could sit up without pain, a proud beam on JJ’s face from where she sat.

But now? Now that they were growing their family by one heart and two little feet? Emily felt such a myriad of emotions that she could barely sort through it.

Anger, at Doyle mostly, but also at herself for not being able to defend herself — for being unable to carry a child of her own. The jealousy and guilt ripped at her heart, though, and she didn’t know how she could feel so much joy and so much sadness at the same time.

“I just want to be a real mom.” Her voice was broken, lips quivering as she looked down at her hands, at her bitten down fingernails and chipped nail polish, a testament to the mental turmoil she had been experiencing.

“Emily… what do you think you are?” JJ cupped Emily’s cheek with her hand, thumb stroking over the tear tracks gently. “You’re Henry’s mother. You’re this baby’s mother in every sense of the word. He or she is just as much yours as Henry is, you know this.”

The logical part of Emily's brain knew that JJ was right, that she was just as much of a mother as she was, but the irrational, anxiety riddled part of her told her that she wasn’t enough — that Henry already had parents and she was merely an intruder in their situation.

“But you and Will are Henry’s parents… you’re Henry’s mom.”

“No, we’re Henry’s moms. He can have two moms, you know? He can have a bit of a dysfunctional family. He calls Rossi grandpa. He calls your mom grandma.” JJ ran her hand through Emily’s hair gently, her fingers threading through her dark hair. “You’re a real mom, honey.”

“I’ll never have that… not like you do.”

She was right, and JJ couldn’t argue it — she knew that Emily harbored a lot of self resentment for her choices in the past, knew that Emily often regretted her decisions. Her fingers pulled through tangled raven locks, gathering Emily’s hair into a ponytail in the way she knew helped comfort her.

“I don’t know how to make that better, and I wish I could.”

JJ’s words were sincere, but Emily could see the fire at the back of her gaze. The way her nostrils flared a touch and her breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly — knew that JJ could never be upset with her, that she was upset with the situation.

She had so much anger for Doyle, filed in a slot at the back of her mind, couldn’t let herself think about it too much or else the hot, angry tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over. It wasn’t just anger, but a deep sadness she felt every time she ghosted her fingertips across the prominent scars on Emily’s abdomen, the brand on her chest.

He had taken so much from them — so much from Emily — and JJ couldn’t think about him without feeling a ball of resentment in her stomach. With therapy, she had learned to replace the resentment with pride — that her wife could fight and survive and most importantly, overcome — but sometimes it was hard to push past the feelings of anger and resentment.

“I just want to feel it.” Emily sniffled, her bottom lip ensnared between her teeth again. “I know it sucks and everyone hates it but I just want to know. About the kicks and the hiccups and the way a baby feels. And I know I can feel them through you in just a few weeks but fuck, it isn’t the same.”

JJ was silent for a moment, fingertips still massaging at Emily’s scalp. She had to collect her thoughts, to swallow past the sob she threatened to let out — knew that it wasn’t the time, that this was about Emily and her emotions, not JJ’s anger with Doyle and what he took from her wife.

“Emily…” She let out a puff of air, gathered Emily into her arms the best she could and dropped a tender kiss to the mess of dark hair on her chest. “You know that I’ll never judge you, right? That I’ll never be angry that you’re upset and hurting. Your sadness doesn’t detract from your joy for this baby, for our child.”

JJ smiled when she felt Emily’s hand rest gently on her abdomen, moved her own hand to rest on Emily’s and trace over her fingers. She felt the soft curve of Emily’s lips against her collarbone, pressing gentle kisses into the soft skin she found there.

“I can’t say I know how you feel, just like you don’t know what I’m experiencing… but I promise I’ll meet you in the middle. If you need to be angry and sad, I’ll sit with you in that anger and sadness until you’re ready to move past it. For better or for worse, remember?”

Emily nodded into JJ’s chest, her face still buried against her skin. She inhaled deeply, dizzy from the mixture of the smell of outside mixed with JJ’s favorite perfume — one they had bought together in Paris when they went on their first vacation without Henry. It was floral, and Emily insisted that it smelled the best on JJ and she should be the only one to wear it.

Ever since their trip she had imported the tiny bottles for JJ, always wrapping their boxes in rose gold paper. JJ’s little hitched breath full of excitement at the small box always made Emily giddy, usually giving it to her after they returned from a tough case, or more frequently, when she began to notice JJ’s gentle pout as her bottle started to run empty.

They settled entwined for just a moment longer, Emily curled into JJ’s chest as she reclined against the headboard, her hand resting between Emily’s shoulder blades. She let her head fall, face buried in dark hair as she waited for Emily to feel secure enough to break apart, knew that she wouldn’t want to talk much more — not now.

There was a girlish scream outside their window, followed by maniacal laughter from Henry, both women chuckling softly at the thought of their son tormenting his Uncle Spencer. Knowing him, he was probably chasing Reid with the water hose, laughing hysterically.

Emily sat up, untangling herself from JJ’s embrace, her lips curving upward in a small, shy smile. Her face was puffy, eyes red rimmed from the tears that seemed flow forever, sadness pent up over weeks and months — from the time they left the hospital after her attack, really.

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, looking into JJ’s eyes with a steely gaze of her own.

“Thank you for talking to me about how you’re feeling.”

JJ was sincere in her sentiment, dabbing a tissue across Emily’s face gently. She was so proud of her for speaking up — for speaking without fear of judgement — because even though she knew that JJ would never be upset with her, it was a challenge to be open, to speak her mind. It wasn’t a luxury she ever had before she joined the team, before she found a family of her own.

The soft thud of little feet running through their downstairs living room made them break apart once more, JJ letting out a soft, rumbly chuckle when they heard Derek call after Henry.

“Do you think I have time to clean myself up?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell everyone your stomach was hurting… must have been the burgers or something.”

The corners of Emily’s lips turned up in a smirk, letting out a breath of a laugh. She leaned forward, hands coming up to cup JJ’s cheeks and pulling her close, pressing their lips together tenderly. She smiled into their kiss, lips barely brushing before she pulled back, genuine smile on her lips.

“Must have been the burgers, hm?”

“Or something.” JJ stood, making her way to the bedroom door, hand lingering on the doorknob as she looked at Emily — watched the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Emily watched as JJ shut the door behind her, giving her a bit of privacy while she freshened herself up. She felt her lips tugging up in a goofy, girlish smile at the way JJ said ‘we’ — knew that she didn’t mean the team, she meant their little family.

Her wife, their son, their little baby growing inside of her. The family that Emily never thought she’d have, but couldn’t imagine her life without.

@heat-waveee @anepiphany @ssaemilyprentits @f-m27 @whiskey-fluent

[the-great-bbe]

How about something with Rhaenys/Garlan?

Setting: Regency Era!AU, “I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.” “They're not empty now.”

Note: Marei of Oldstones is the Westerosi version of Marie de France, a 12th century poet whose work influenced the Arthurian Cycle. And yes, it was a common pastime for learned ladies to discuss the phallic imagery ever present in medieval romances lolol the tumblr instinct has been around for centuries

--

It begins as simple admiration. He is Margaery’s favorite chaperone, as Willas can’t keep up with her merry chases and Loras enables her chases to become proper misadventures. So he is the one that Mama sends to court when Margaery becomes lady companion to Crown Princess Rhaenys. And what a court it is—Queen Regent Elia rules with grace and glitter, and all the courtiers gossip enough to make dear Grandmama herself lean in. Here Garlan can train with the finest of knights, read from the royal libraries, discuss with like-minded lords and ladies about the progressive new laws that the Queen Regent is putting forward...

And then there is the Princess herself. 

Tall, with rich olive skin and black ringlets cascading down her back. Her face is soft and round, balanced by full lips and large eyes—oh, her eyes! Garlan has never seen such eyes outside of paintings, an impossible shade of black-violet. And when he first sees those eyes, she is smiling at him. He cannot help but smile back.

--

It’s not just that she is beautiful, of course. Her mind is a treasure beyond words. One day she and Grand Maester Tyrion have a three hour long debate about the origins of dragons in the courtyard. Garlan nearly swoons like a green maid to hear the strength of her arguments, the logic she wove like silk in a loom. And even Tyrion concedes defeat to her, as most people end up doing to the Crown Princess. When Rhaenys takes her leave to give her mother company, Garlan bows. “An excellent battle, Your Highness. I’ve never seen a Field of Fire through words alone before and yet we all are blown away.”

“Thank you, Ser Garlan.” She smiles and there’s faint dimples in her cheeks; the sight nearly makes Garlan swoon again! “Care to escort me to the Queen’s apartments?”

Of course. Her hand is a warm weight in the crook of his arm and truly, Garlan is surprised she is not betrothed yet. She is eighteen, of age to take the throne in her own right were it not for her father in the sanitarium on Dragonstone, and easily the loveliest creature on the gods’ green earth. Perhaps she will marry Lord Robb Stark for his bloodline, or Ser Joffrey Baratheon for his riches. Had Willas not eloped with Leonette Fossoway to Braavos he too would’ve been a contender. Grandmama will probably throw the Tarly girls at Garlan, or perhaps a girl from the Riverlands...

“Your eyes seem far away, Ser. Does anything trouble you?”

Garlan shakes himself. “It’s nothing, Your Highness. I’m simply wondering when I shall become an uncle.”

“Yes, I hope my wedding present to your brother Lord Willas and his wife Lady Leonette survived the ship to Essos.” Her gaze flickers away for a moment, then she squeezes his arm. “Join my lady mother and I for tea? Perhaps you can give your perspective on elopement, as my dear brother Aegon intended to run off with Shireen Baratheon in their “doomed romance” when we’d much rather just give them Summerhall.”

--

“Ser Garlan! Do join us!” Rhaenys sits on a large picnic blanket with Marg, a gaggle of other ladies and Rhaenys’s fearsome cat Balerion. Prince Oberyn, Rhaenys’s uncle and practical second father, keeps watch over them and nods at Garlan. They are in the shade of a gigantic plum blossom tree given as a gift from the Emperor of Yi-Ti, and there’s a few petals fallen into her hair. Unthinkingly, Garlan sits by her side and brushes them loose, and he shivers from the feel of her hair between his fingers. Rhaenys asks, “Tell us, have you read the words of Marei of Oldstones?”

“Yes, her poetry influenced the Arthurian Epic did she not?” Epic tales set in the Dawn Age of heroes and fair maidens and wretched monsters. Garlan remembers being still in leading strings, listening to Papa read him and his siblings a passage before bed each night. 

“We were discussing some of the themes in in the Epic and other tales of its kind.” Marg gives him a grin that sends a shiver down his spine. Gods, what is she up to now? “About the imagery of a knight rescuing a princess from a tower. What do you make of it?”

“I...”

Sansa Stark hides a giggle behind her folding fan. “It’s always a giant tower, so very large and impressive.” Then she and little Allyria Dayne dissolve into giggles.

Garlan tugs on his collar. Rhaenys is looking at him expectantly and he can’t ignore his future queen. But really! Marg is still grinning and Garlan narrows his eyes at her. Oh, he’ll get her for this. “It is quite a juxtaposition of imagery. As Lady Sansa said, the tower the knight must handle is always a tall and imposing one. Yet...”

“Yet?”

Garlan prays to the gods for guidance. “Yet the knight must enter the tower. So truly, what function is the imagery in this context?”

Walda Frey—Loras once called her Fat Walda at a feast and she gave him a split lip and a black eye, so now Garlan defers to her as the very best of Waldas—whispers to Marg, “Better than just scaling up and down its walls in its lonesome.”

The ladies giggle and Garlan wants to sink into the floor. Then Rhaenys laughs. “Well put! Thank you for indulging us.” She pauses, then cocks her head and Garlan wonders when the mild spring day got so warmer so quickly. “Indulge us again: do you prefer the sword, or the joust?”

“I prefer handling two swords at once, although I am no green boy when it comes to the joust.” Marg might just choke to death on her stifled giggles and Garlan hopes that she does! But there’s a hint of red to Rhaenys’s ears, and what mild flirtation ever hurt anyone? “At the next tourney, I’ll do my best to impress you.”

“Perhaps I’ll give you my favor as a good luck charm. We can’t have me being unimpressed, can we?”

Indeed, they can not. Garlan would love nothing more for her to admire him, as he admires her.

--

“Your Highness,” Garlan licks his lips, as they are as dry as a Dornish desert. His words catch in his throat. Then Marg in the stands motions at him to continue, Prince Oberyn himself sends him a wink...and he says, “I crown you, Princess Rhaenys, as my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

The crowd erupts into cheers. It was a very hard joust won, as Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard nearly dislocated Garlan’s shoulder and Lord Robb was no one to be trifled with. But at the end he threw even his brother Loras down to the dirt—as if his trick of using a mare would work on Garlan! Not after the tourney at Longtable where Garlan broke his nose!—and won the crown of jonquils and morning glories. They look so beautiful in Rhaenys’s hair, almost as beautiful as Rhaenys herself.

Rhaenys’s reply is nearly lost beneath the deafening roar, but Garlan hears it all too well. “I am honored and delighted to be crowned by such a noble and true knight as you.” And her favor, tied neatly around his arm beneath his armor, seems to catch alight.

He has nothing to offer her, other than this crown of flowers and his hand in the dances to come. He is a second son of a family with many mouths to feed, with no kingly descent or heirloom sword. She shall marry someone worthy to take his place at her side as Prince Consort, and he...he shall content himself with the feeling of her hand in his.

He bows over that lovely hand and kisses her knuckles. 

Later that night, after hours of dancing and feasting and laughing and chasing, he kisses her knuckles again. And again, and again, and again. Until Rhaenys pulls him up from his knees and kisses him with lips as soft as spring and rich as wine. Beneath that plum blossom tree with no one to witness them other than the moon and stars reflecting in her impossibly beautiful eyes, no other sound than their shared breath against each other’s lips and Garlan whispering “I think I’m in love with you.”

He kisses her before she can tell him they cannot be. He cannot bear it.

--

“Do you love my daughter, Ser Garlan?”

Garlan can hardly breathe before the presence of the Queen Regent Elia Martell. So much of Rhaenys’s bold beauty is from her mother, and the Queen Regent has decades of power behind her piercing gaze. But he is no liar. He jerks a nod. “With all my life, Your Majesty.”

She nods, as if it were a foregone conclusion. She is not wrong in that, as the entirety of Kings Landing must know that Garlan would gladly die for Rhaenys, and live for her as well. Even Papa knows, and Papa hardly knows anything! After an eternity of being sized up and raked over the coals of the Queen Regent’s eyes, she sighs. “You are not my first choice, but you are not my last. If my daughter consents to it, I give my blessing to officially court her.”

Truly? Truly?! Garlan gapes like an idiot, or perhaps some ill-bred fish. And the Queen Regent laughs; she sounds so much like Rhaenys. “I encourage you not to make that same face when you ask for her permission.”

Garlan, after bowing and scraping as much as he can without fainting, eventually leaves the royal solar. Marg immediately tackles him and cackles that her hopes have gone swimmingly, and her best friend shall be her sister. Then she pulls him along to gods know where while Garlan’s head reels.

He? To court Rhaenys? To hold her hand in his and not let it go? Garlan’s knees nearly give out, especially when Willas and Loras both clap their hands on his shoulders. “Grandmama will finally be proud of us, I think,” Loras boasts.

“Her Highness has not even consented yet!”

Marg rolls her eyes “Garlan, I love you, but you are as thick as molasses. Now go confess your love to her!” She practically shoves him towards Rhaenys’s plum blossom tree. “And kiss her! With tongue!”

He stumbles into the tree and nearly into Balerion. The cat blinks up at him to say he is a fool, then slinks away to a laughing Aegon’s arms. “Ser Garlan! Are you alright?”

“Y-Your Highness, I...” Garlan peeks around the tree to see Rhaenys on the other side, standing with something hiding behind her back. She catches his questioning gaze, and flushes a pretty red before revealing a knitted scarf. “For your brother, my princess?”

“For you, actually.” She bites her bottom lip before puffing herself up. “I intend to ask my lady mother the Queen Regent if we would be allowed to court. With your consent of course! I would never presume that you would wish to—”

“I was just given permission by Her Majesty to ask for your permission.”

They stare at each other for a moment, before Rhaenys giggles into her palm. Garlan melts, and finally asks, “Would you like me to court you, Your Highness?”

“Yes.” She presses the scarf into his hands, and leans up to murmur in his ear, “And please, call me Rhaenys.”

He shivers. “Rhaenys.” All is right with the world it seems, just from the sound of her name on his lips.

--

Garlan smiles despite the tears in his eyes. “Rhaenys, are you sure? I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.” 

“They're not empty now.” Rhaenys squeezes their hands together.

Then she cloaks him in her house colors, and Garlan is hers, hers forever and always, just as he was always meant to be.

[jace-todd]

Slack

@oh-faithful-inner-demons this is totally not about the headcanon you posted a little bit ago, pssh totally not but uhh enjoy anyway~ I tried to use some of your headcanons in this too!! Sorry if it's not that good- I decided to go with the first part of the headcanon, becoming slack in a hug to focus on Aizawa and Hitoshi's relationship as Father-Son but I'm still open to writing a second piece-

Word count: 2,069

You can read it online right here on my Archive

warning for bullying, jumping (as in bullies cornering a student after school hours to beat on them, i'm sorry hitoshi), neglectful parents, abandonment

There were only two people in the whole world who knew how weak Hitoshi was for affection. Affection was never something Hitoshi got a lot of when he was growing up. His parents were firm believers that vulnerability would only aid in you getting soft and getting yourself killed out there in ‘the real world.’ When he was four, not long after his quick manifested, all of the early affection he received to keep childhood development on path disappeared altogether. Maybe every now and then, his mother would ruffle his hair when she’d finish a long shift at the hospital - too tired to even remember her hatred.

At school, without friends, Hitoshi didn’t get to experience friendly hugs. He didn’t have that one friend who’d practically vibrate in their seat when he’d enter the room in the morning, calling out his name with greetings and asking all about his previous afternoon. That one friend didn’t exist so they never pulled him close in between classes, an arm thrown over his shoulders, talking loudly in his ears to combat Hitoshi’s natural silence. That one friend who understood that Hitoshi didn’t feel comfortable talking - not with his quirk as villainous as it was, not with his quirk putting up the risk it did merely by interacting with anyone. That one friend who’d sit next to him at lunch, against a tree, their entire body shoved against his side - completely foreign to something called personal space.

What he got instead were people leaving the seats around HItoshi empty every year, too afraid to go near the kid with the villainous quirk and the absent parents and the snarky personality. They whispered behind his back rumors about how he was the one that leaked the test results two weeks ago, he was the one that made Miyuki punch Kako in the fact yesterday after she hung out with him. The only kind of company and touch Hitoshi received were pushes in the hallways and jumpings behind school. Instead of hair ruffles Hitoshi’s hair would be held tight in a fist to maneuver back to punch him in the face. Instead of hands holding his, feet ground against them until he broke his promise to not show signs of weakness. Instead of hugs, arms kept him from slumping to the ground hit after hit landed.

After a while, Hitoshi stopped expecting to get affection from anyone. It became easier to expect the worst, assume that anyone who got close only wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, it made Hitoshi’s life easier - knowing the world already wanted to hurt him prepared him for the worst. It prepared him for when his parents up and left two weeks before he started UA - no real explanation, just a final argument between him and his father that ended with Hitoshi silently heading to his room and hiding. When he came out for his work-out the next morning, their rooms were empty and money was left on the counter.

Life really became lonely after that. School was awkward and quiet - coming home to an empty house made it seem even worse. At least when his parents were still around, one of them would be home by the time he got back from school. They wouldn’t greet him but at least Hitoshi knew someone was there. Now though, there were no one to glance in his direction, to eat dinner with, to awkwardly stare at when they found each other in the middle of the night doing their own thing. He had the entire place to himself.

Then Eraser-head started mentoring him. After the Sports festival, being pulled aside during homeroom to talk to his favorite hero had felt like a fever dream. The minute he walked away, Hitoshi pinched his arm three times just to be completely sure that it wasn’t. Starting up training had been learning where Hitoshi’s boundaries were, being taught how to use Aizawa’s - Aizawa, Hitoshi gets to call his favorite hero by his name - original capture device, and figuring out their own dynamic. Every minute kept Hitoshi on his toes, exhausted with lack of sleep and too much working out, but more energetic and happy than he’d been in years.

Their interactions started out as just mentor-mentee. Aizawa was trying Hitoshi to get into the hero course, to get enough strength and control to impress the Board, Hitoshi was learning everything he could from his idol. It was strictly business. And then Aizawa broke first, offering Hitoshi a trip to get some food and water down at a cat cafe, not even two blocks from the school. Hitoshi had flushed, unused to any sort of attention from the hero outside of these training sessions. He had agreed without thinking too much and for the next two hours, Hitoshi found himself pouring out more information about himself than he’d told anyone in his entire life.

Two days later, Hitoshi perfected one of the hardest maneuvers to learn after only a month. Aizawa had given him that weird smiling-but-not-smiling thing of his and reached out. He initially flinched away, expecting the worst but the hand just slowed down. A moment later, it dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair. Hitoshi did not tear up. He didn’t, really. If there was one lesson his father taught him that stuck was that crying meant vulnerability and weakness. However, Hitoshi did feel lightheaded at the sudden affection.

Aizawa ever-observant kept it on his head a moment or two too long before letting go, nodding in the direction of their jungle gym, telling him to get going.

The next couple of months passed pretty much the same. Slowly, Aizawa integrated casual affections into their interactions. Whenever Hitoshi did something well, Aizawa ruffled his hair. When Hitoshi smiled, Aizawa gave it back. Eventually, when Hitoshi started to open up, Aizawa did the same - it was a sign of trust. They were going good - Aizawa and Hitoshi had what he was slightly afraid to call a father-son dynamic, Hitoshi was already admitted into the hero course, Aizawa was getting through physical therapy steadily and surely.

And then Aizawa came into their usual weekend breaks to the cat cafe with a manilla folder. Hitoshi was pressed against the back of the cat cafe, sipping at the strong coffee he had ordered when he arrived, stroking the back of the tabby on his lap, reading the latest comic he got his hands on. When the little ding of the door closing rang out, he lifted his head out of the pages to see who it was. Aizawa lifted a hand in greeting, heading straight to him rather than get his usual strong coffee and retrieval of his favorite cat.

Immediately, Hitoshi felt a pit rise in his stomach. This was it, this was where Aizawa decided Hitoshi wasn’t fit to be in the hero’s life anymore, wasn’t fit to be a hero, that he had come to his senses and Hitoshi would be nothing more than a low-life villain. He stuffed the comic back into his bookbag, careful with it despite the way his hands were starting to shake and he was getting light-headed. “Aizawa-Sensei? Is everything okay?”

Aizawa slid into the seat across from him, “Everything’s fine, Hitoshi. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” He didn’t want to take a deep breath. What he wanted was for Aizawa to just rip the bandage off so he could leave. One of Aizawa’s hands disappeared from view for a moment before coming back with one of the fidget toys he kept around for his kids. In a sign of peace, he put it in the middle of the table and Hitoshi took it, swiftly working it over with practiced ease.

It worked well to calm him down enough to hear what Aizawa wanted to tell him. “What’s in the folder, Sensei?”

The teacher flipped it around so that it was facing Hitoshi before opening it. “See for yourself, kid.” Staring back at Hitoshi in big bold letters were the words ‘Report of Adoption.’ The world stopped as Hitoshi read through it all. His biological parents had been contacted and had signed over custody already, Aizawa and Yamada’s information were nearly completely filled out except for the very last signature, which left only Hitosh’s section empty.

“Are...Are you serious?” He couldn’t look away from the papers, going through them over and over again just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Surely, there was his mother’s signature and then his father’s. On the other page, neat Shouta Aizawa stood above Hizashi Yamada.

Aizawa nodded, “I’m completely serious. It’s only logical considering your living arrangements and the multitude of arising issues as you enter the hero course next year. Hitoshi, you deserve to have someone who cares about you and whether you make it home safely or not. Hizashi and I have already spoken it over and we’ve contacted our lawyers. Before we continue anything else, I needed to tell you. Do you consent to being adopted by Hizashi and I?”

Did he consent? Did he consent to being taken in by the hero that kept Hitoshi going his entire childhood? Did he consent from having to leave the one place that was always home to him to move to a brand new location, a brand new layout, a brand new family? Everything between them would change again. He would have to readjust, find himself and where their limits were - surely, they would have rules and strict No’s for him. Maybe they’d regret adopting him not even a week into their legal adoption and then it’d all be for nothing. Maybe Eri would fear him and he’d leave. Not that he’d mind it. Eri and her had interacted plenty of times but he knew he made the little girl uncomfortable.

But Hitoshi wanted it. He wanted it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Hitoshi wanted to wake up to Hizashi’s singing in the mirrors as he cooked breakfast. He wanted to wake up to his own cat pressed against his side. He wanted to step out of his room in the morning, dressed for the hero course, and see Eri leaving her own room, smiling up at him while he smiled down. He wanted to be able to walk home with Aizawa after training rather than have to go separate ways every day. Above all else, Hitoshi just wanted to be loved.

“I- I consent.” Aizawa’s smile was toothy and a little lopsided but Hitoshi didn’t really see it past his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six and had scraped his knee badly enough to need a hospital trip. This was the biggest thing in his life, the biggest change surpassing the hero course with ease.

The cat had already scurried off, leaving Hitoshi’s hands and lap free once he dropped the fidget toy. He stood up, rounding to Aizawa’s side. The hero stood up as well, and Aizawa reached a hand out to ruffle his hair no doubt. No more did Hitoshi flinch but he didn’t let the hand reach him. Instead, Hitoshi threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Aizawa’s shoulders, tucking his head in the crook of his arm and Aizawa’s neck. Aizawa returned the hug, holding on even tighter than Hitoshi was, one hand on his back and the other curled around purple hair.

He let the emotions and relief finally escape him, completely silent sobs racking his body as he went limp, letting the hero hold his weight for him. Aizawa grunted, planting his feet more strategically before shushing him, “I’ve got you, Hitoshi, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

Aizawa didn’t budge under Hitoshi’s weight - even if the teen was nearly as tall and as heavy as the hero was, steadily starting to surpass him even. For nearly five minutes they stood there, Aizawa supporting both their weights, talking softly to Hitoshi the entire time, telling him to let it out, that he would be there and so would Hizashi no matter what Hitoshi needed. Unfortunately, Aizawa’s straining muscles eventually caused them to both slide to the floor, still gripping each other tight, Hitoshi slack in his arms.

They didn’t need to move anytime soon so Aizawa let the kid remain there. After all, it was about damn time Hitoshi got some well-earned affection.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 1: The Accident...

It is recommended, though by no means a must if you know the Marauders history enough to be reading fanfiction about them, you read We Were first. The first five chapters are slightly AU to the continuity of this fic, but the grand point and especially the final chapter are key to the beginning of this fic as you get plopped in the middle. Link is below or you can find it in my profile.

Before you get started; Warnings include- Explicit Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius), and on the whole a rather flimsy premise that I honestly created to indulge myself because I didn't let myself do it the first time. A lot less logically based and a lot more I just felt like having fun with this one. It's not to say I'll let this degenerate into tropes and one note things, but there's going to be even less reading of the books involved, as in literally they're just interacting around the story with only passing mentions of what's going on in there. If you want a much more grounded basis and more 'realistic' approach to a reading series, I put my heart and every cell of my mind into The Life that Never Lived, PDF's upon request. I'm pretty sure this one grew from my funny bone that I broke when I was seven.

HPHPHPHP

The dungeons where Potions were held had always felt like the most oblique part of the castle, and Sirius had been in every corner of it to claim as such. It wasn't entirely the fault of the dark stone walls, sweltering hot air from the many flames, or the often unexplained fumes. The feeling seemed to seep up straight from the cold stone floor no matter how many fires were lit, as if the wooden stool itself were trying to pin them all with the unknown.

Sirius had never been more grateful for a Potions class to be over, and that was really saying something. It was the last one of this bleeding school semester, and if he had to spend one more day glaring at a cauldron and somehow inexplicably turning it the wrong color one more time without the usual helpful hint from Peter telling him why, he was going to chuck every last drop of it in Slughorn's face for constantly telling him he'd figure it out!

He'd never packed up his bag faster, even managing to multitask by muttering under his breath how stupid all this was. He was the first person to make it to the door, but collided with someone even less pleasant to see than the three people he'd most been avoiding lately. He cursed loudly, earning several dirty looks as the rest of the class was now passing. His bag had ripped upon stumbling into his little brother and smashed to the ground, sending his things flying and managing to spray him with ink.

Regulus hesitated in the doorway, muttering a quick, "sorry Sirius."

"Oh, it knows my name," Sirius growled under his breath, though his tone was far less hateful than usual, considering this was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone in nearly three weeks. His little brother was hardly his first choice, given his proud Slytherin status and being two years younger didn't remotely have them coming near each other most days, a fact he was usually grateful for.

"Yes, he does," Regulus' scowl looked remarkably close to Sirius', the two put side by side at once was rather eerie. His tone though was even more friendly than Sirius', which wasn't all that hard as he tried to explain his abrupt appearance. "I ah, I came sprinting down here to see if I could catch Slughorn, ask him if I could pick up an extra credit assignment."

Sirius straightened with his stuff still half strewn around, but again that pull for someone to talk to seemed greater, especially as he glanced back and saw who hadn't left yet, so he responded no matter how unenthusiastically. "Yeah, what you struggling with?" While tapping his bag and mending the tear, slowly bending down to pick each item back up while he absently listened. Regulus even began to help him while he explained in short, precise sentences like he was practicing for the teacher.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Smith slipped in past the two Black brothers at the doorway and found the room mostly empty, and they shared an exasperated look as they wondered if they'd just walked in on Slughorn telling this group off again. They were early for their next class after all, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. They did get a full view of what started quite an interesting journey.

James was hanging by Evans' cauldron, trying to chat happily with her, but mostly waiting for Sirius to leave first. He could hardly stand to look at him these days, let alone pass by him in such a restricted place, yet the wanker had struck up a conversation with Regulus of all people, someone he'd hardly spoken a whole sentence to in the past five years, but no, he'd chosen now! Probably just waiting for them to walk past first, like this was all still some game to him.

Remus and Peter were hovering on edge right beside him, Remus fidgeting with what was left of his cauldron on the desk while Evans was trying to pack hers up and being hampered by James staying in her way. "Won't you at least consider coming? It's our last game of the season! What if you're my good luck charm, you've always been the best at those! Do you really want to be the reason Gryffindor loses?"

"They've gotten on just fine without me there the past years," Lily snipped. She never knew why she even bothered responding to him half the time, but considering it no more discouraged him than ignoring him, at least this way she got to vent.

She tried to sidestep past him, James once again stepped into her way, and the two collided with each other, their hands accidentally slipping into her cauldron Remus had just mistakenly dumped his own potion into.

Whatever the concoction the two mixed together created upended the entire world.

At first though, nothing really changed. There was no marvelous flash of light, no force of nature that showed everyone outside of this room had vanished. Lily simply made a gagging noise as she pulled her hand out of the vat and glared furiously at the oddly pale teen, pulling her wand out at once with her less dominant hand she hadn't tried to catch herself with and banish the gunk off while hissing at him, "You are so lucky I turned that in already Lupin! What the hell did you even create? I've never seen this before," she finished with a critical eye at the now steaming mess, that vanished before their eyes.

"Wow Remus, you should do that more often, really makes cleanup easier," Peter chuckled while Remus looked rather concerned.

"I, err, I'll admit, I really screwed up my potion worse than usual. I think I added three things I actually wasn't supposed to, so you've got me."

James just flung the mess from his hand, which also vanished before it had even landed on anyone, and glanced back hopefully like he'd thought his source for this mess had left already.

He hadn't.

His face was turned in their general direction, like he'd been trying to subtly glance over and hope for the same, but now he was looking right through James. That wasn't uncommon lately, but the stunned look of confusion on his face was enough James grudgingly turned his head the other way to see what.

Back on the lip of the cauldron, was a slim red book with a golden one on the spine. It was just sitting there, like Evans had left it on purpose, but it certainly hadn't been a second ago.

Lily took his distraction as a chance to bolt from the room, Regulus gave his brother an awkward wave goodbye and went back out towards Slughorn's office since he'd clearly missed him, and Alice and Frank tried to casually step back out as well. Even being a year above those four had not left them oblivious to their fight. The whole school was aware of the fact the four Marauders had not been seen together in quite some time, and neither of them particularly felt like putting their nose into why.

James was still frowning in confusion at the odd title stamped across, which simply read Harry Potter Year One.

"Err, did either of you-" James looked at the two as if in some kind of explanation, but both gave a mystified shake to their head. James couldn't help it, he still looked automatically towards his best mate, and then he caught himself and realized they were the only four left. Sirius' eyes had still been locked in on the odd object, really ridiculous his mind supplied as James had no relatives named Harry, and wondered if this was some odd attempt at a prank?

Sirius didn't stick around to care, completely forgetting the rest of his things, he turned on his heel and finally exited as well, when they all heard a shriek.

As one, the four bolted up to the Entrance Hall, Alice and Frank right behind them as they hadn't wandered off far, to see Lily standing in the middle and stamping her foot in frustration upon seeing them. "Damn, I thought someone would have reacted to that."

"Err, Evans," James began in concern as if for her health.

"Where is everybody!" She demanded while gesturing to the Great Hall where there should have been a packed lunch crowd. Nobody was in there, and now that they were listening for it, the din of a castle filled with people, was deadly silent all around them.

As if given a signal, everyone began shouting all at once, sure the ruckus would cause someone to appear, but the only other arrival was Regulus coming up from the stairs as well, looking at all of them with great concern. "Geez, you lots shouting usually has a much greater audience."

"Thank you Regulus for that helpful insert!" Sirius snapped.

Regulus ignored that and seemed to look around himself and really acknowledge his own words, before realization slammed into him as well as he whispered, "What's going on?"

"We'd all like to know that," Frank put his hands up in frustration, this was what he and his girlfriend got for getting to class early.

"This is ridiculous," Lily seethed, stomping up towards the stairs. She was intending to barge into every crevice of this place and find someone other than these idiots to deal with. She didn't know what the school was playing at, but it wasn't funny.

Alice and Frank followed her as they still considered her the least craziest compared to the others.

Sirius still couldn't bring himself to look at the other three and bolted out onto the grounds for an exit, and Regulus couldn't think of anything better to do but follow him.

James waited until they were back alone before nodding to Peter, who pulled the Marauder's Map back out and cast the charm to activate it. On cue, the magical ink appeared, spreading through the tattered paper, but only revealing eight names instead of the several hundreds it normally housed.

"What the bloody hell?" Remus demanded, snatching it away as if sure somehow Peter had cast it wrong. He deactivated it and retried five times before looking up in exasperation, to see James flipping through the book. "Of all times, you chose now to pursue one of those!" Remus demanded.

"Remus, what the bloody hell was in that potion," James whispered to him.

Remus looked at him askance. "I told you I don't know, I was, well I-" it was hard to admit how thoroughly distracted he'd been, even more than usual in his potions classes. His past two attempts had been utter messes as well. Somehow without Sirius by his side and being a constant distraction, he'd found a way to blow up his more recent attempts, so he'd been rather proud this one had only changed the wrong color seven times. "What's your point?"

"This," James waved it around, his face still looking somehow detached as if he had no clue what he was really saying, "it's-" he broke off, and Remus huffed in exasperation as he snatched it away.

"Yes James, it has words, glory look at that they're even strung together with sentences! What's the big-" he stopped abruptly at what he saw quite clearly had Prongs so thrown off. Remus could feel it now, this book was giving off as if the most powerful magic to exist, certainly that he'd ever been around.

"This isn't, there's no way-" he tried to protest what his eyes weren't changing.

"What?" Peter demanded in exasperation of the two.

"That's from the future." James stated coolly.

Peter laughed, realized neither was pulling his leg, and then yanked the book to him as well.

"It, it's a joke or-" he tried to say, but it was the exact same to his eyes as well.

"Remus, what the bloody hell did you mix with Lily's Profligare potion?" James asked again like he'd have another answer!

"I, I told you, I have no clue!" Remus insisted, his heart restricting painfully in his chest.

"Why aren't their words in the rest of this book?" Peter asked curiously. There were an easy three hundred pages to this thing, but only the first sentence was visible. The rest was blank.

"Put that down," Remus suddenly yelped, slapping it away from him. It thudded to the ground and even skidded a few feet while Wormtail looked offended.

"Merlin Remus, James was holding it for a whole five minutes and he didn't explode."

"Let's prioritize for a minute," James insisted. "Ignore that thing and figure out where everyone is, maybe show that to Dumbledore-"

"That might be a problem, as there's no one else here!" Remus snarled.

"Well I'll say one thing, Evans sure can make one good banishing potion," Regulus commented as he stepped back into the Entrance Hall minus Sirius.

The question burst out of James before he could consider doing otherwise, "where's your better half?"

Regulus scowled hatefully, hesitated, but still answered, "still wandering the damn grounds, think he said something about checking the bottom of the lake. I don't know what you lot are fighting about, but for him to be saying that even as a joke really is something."

James flinched with the first spot of guilt he'd felt, and Remus looked away as if he hadn't even heard. Peter took the opportunity to shove the map back out of sight before he twisted his fingers together and just deciding to ignore that as well and said, "We might as well go find the other three and show at least them. Something Dark is going on around here, perhaps we shouldn't go wandering off."

"Oh that's nice, just leave him out on the grounds by himself then if that's what you're thinking," Regulus muttered as his two friends seemed to agree and took off up the stairs, Peter having to jog to keep up.

They found them already up to the second floor, and with every empty room they'd opened, they'd become increasingly more panicked. This just wasn't natural! Even during the holidays you were likely to run across someone by now! A ghost even! What was left of the Marauders caught up to them, and Lily's near hysterics weren't helped with their answer to this.

"Just come back downstairs!" James was trying to put his hands up in a comforting, surrendering gesture to the vivid redhead who hadn't stopped shouting for a solid minute, so her face was as bright as her hair. "We found something you lot really should see!"

It took a bit more persuading and Frank and Alice agreeing first before Lily conceded searching every room wasn't helping.

They went back downstairs and saw Sirius had rejoined his little brother, and the two were frozen in place over what had already been discovered with the book still open on the ground for all to see.

"You wanted to show me a book!" Lily demanded as she looked murderously at Potter. "How is that helping to find out what happened!"

"Just look at it," Potter insisted.

Without touching it, she went to where it had fallen on the floor, and then she too along with Frank and Alice saw.

Scrawled across the top was the title The Boy Who Lived, which meant nothing to anyone so their eyes skipped down to below that, which was just under the date 1981. Six years from now.

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

never quit while you’re ahead

“In an act of true love, Amy was on board.”

(read on ao3)

They should really have learned their lesson a long time ago: don’t base major life decisions on bets.

Amy reminds Jake of this after each and every one; after he moves into her apartment, when Hitchcock and Scully go to her bachelorette party, and when he wagers their car for some time off. Even, looking back on it, the bet that led to their first date and the bet with Holt that led to him proposing to her. Don’t forget your bet with Rosa during the Jimmy Jabs, she realizes aloud at some point after they find out she’s pregnant. We’ve just been betting everything for this whole relationship.

Amy reminds him of this, but it’s her who pulls out the final bet.

She starts to show - just a little bit, so little that Jake can barely tell, although she swears it’s obvious - three months into the pregnancy. A bit on the early side, her doctor tells them, but perfectly normal all the same. Amy curls up next to Jake on the couch when they get home with a crossword and a mug of herbal tea, one hand drifting down to her barely-perceptible bump every now and then.

“He’s probably going to be giant,” she says absently, picking up her pencil again to mark a word. The scrape of graphite on paper is familiar and soothing, a sound that Jake has come to associate with their before-bed routine so strongly that just the sound makes him a little sleepy. “All first Santiago sons are.”

He looks up at that, a smile beginning to tug at his lips. “He?” Jake echoes, one hand reaching to brush Amy’s hair back from her face. “You’ve magically discovered the sex of our baby six weeks early?”

“It’s just logic. Santiagos have sons,” she replies without looking up from her puzzle.

“And when Peraltas have sons, they don’t get along.”

“Hush and stop listening to your father. You and our son will be just fine.”

“I’m not saying we won’t be. Maybe I just think we’re having a daughter.”

She looks away and up towards him, her deep brown eyes narrowing. “Do you really?”

“I really do.”

“You and your puppy-dog eyes won’t sway me, Jake. I still think this kid is a boy.”

“Well, I guess we’ll agree to disagree, then.”

“That’s...very mature of you to say.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He demands, looking back down towards her. “I’m a boring adult now, and I’m just looking forward to meeting our little Holly Santiago-Peralta.”

She has the audacity to laugh at that. “We are not naming our child after Holly Gennero.”

“I think our daughter will be lovely as a Holly.”

“Oh yeah? How much are you willing to bet?”

Jake blinks. “We share money.”

Amy swats him lightly with the backs of her fingers. “I was joking, dork.” She turns her eyes back to her crossword, and Jake looks back to the television after a moment, satisfied the topic is dropped. But another moment passes, and Amy speaks again, her voice just a little too casual and calculated. “Of course, we could bet something else.”

Jake turns his head so quickly his neck cracks. After he curses and Amy hides a laugh behind her smirk, he takes the bait. “Alright, Santiago, I’m intrigued. What would this entail?”

“Santiago-Peralta,” she corrects, something she only ever does in the comfort of their apartment. “And nothing too drastic. But you’re certain the baby will be a girl, and I’m sure they’ll be a boy. If you’re right, you get to name her, and if I’m right, I get to name him. Within reason, of course.”

“Because our bets are always in reason,” he mutters, earning himself an eye roll. “Alright,” he says finally, the old, competitive spark between them lighting somewhere in his ribcage. “I like those odds. You have a deal, Santiago-Peralta.”

Besides, he’s certain he’s got the bet won already.

***

He does not win the bet.

It’s far from the first thing he thinks - mostly, he’s filled with panic over the fact that they’ve ruined the cake and his father and grandfather are about as far from getting along as they’ve ever been. He registers the fact that he’s having a son, and he feels all the excitement and anxiety at the prospect of a little boy that is half him and half Amy. It’s only when she repeats the words back to him in the breakroom of the nine-nine, her excited cry of “we’re having a boy!” and the gentle grip of her hands on his forearms brings the nature of their bet back to mind.

He should really have learned by now not to bet against her.

She doesn’t mention it, and so he doesn’t, either - their general policy on personal matters at work. He doesn’t mention it on the car ride home, although by that point he’s fit to burst with curiosity. As soon as they walk through the door, she announces she wants to get out of her uniform. He knows it’s become more uncomfortable for her to wear the longer the pregnancy goes on, so he resolves to ask when she’s more comfortable and more willing to accept his incessant questions.

“I didn’t want to ask you earlier, at the precinct,” Jake says as she re-emerges from their room divested of all police attire, “but what’re you thinking for the name?”

“Name?” Amy says, with an air of loftiness that assures him she knows exactly what he’s asking. She settles about as gracefully as she can with her newly-growing stomach on the couch, her legs crossed at the ankle. And because he knows her so well - has lost so many bets to her - he knows what she’s waiting for.

He collapses heavily onto the couch cushions beside her, nearly choking himself on his badge in the process, but it’s divested of nearly immediately by Amy and her nimble fingers warm on the back of his neck. He smiles at her gratefully before diving back into their post-bet rhythm.

“Any Santiago, love-”

“That’s Amy Santiago-Peralta,” she interrupts, a smile already curling onto her lips. Her tone gives none of it away. “You’d think that after three years you’d get it right.”

“Oh damn, the sergeant voice,” Jake replies, his own voice lowered. “Be mean to me.”

“Jake,” she says, widening her eyes a bit for emphasis. She pats her stomach.

“Right, right,” he mutters. “Gotta pay homage. Amy Santiago-Peralta, love of my life, mother to our future child, crossword connoisseur, and possessor of one bomb-ass butt - your sex-discerning skills on the topic of the said unborn child are unrivaled, and you have thoroughly outmatched me in every way.”

Her dark brows furrow together. “There was only one possible way to outmatch you.”

“And you did it, Ames! Every way!” Jake says, flashing a toothy grin up at her. “Now please tell me what you’re thinking of for a name because I’m going to implode.”

“Well, that’s a little dramatic.”

When she doesn’t continue, he stares up at her in disbelief. “Really? Eight years as coworkers, three years of marriage, and a few months separated from having created a literal human being, and now is the time you become averse to all my drama?”

“Well, I’m just not sure of the name yet, Jake,” she says, and the same loftiness is back in her tone.

“There are three binders.”

“You need at least five to get all the good contemporary names, and that’s before Santiago family trad-”

“Ames,” Jake says, reaching for one of her hands where it rests on her thigh. “Please. I wanna know how cursed this kid is gonna be.”

Her eyes soften at once, but her smile doesn’t. She reaches her free hand to trace her thumb over his cheek, and he leans into the touch automatically, feeling a bit like a little kid again. “This little Shrek could never be cursed,” she murmurs, and he laughs lightly. “You’re his dad.”

“A Peralta dad isn’t a good thing, Amy. I mean, we broke his sex reveal cake-”

“Your father and grandfather did,” she says, surprisingly sharp. “The Peralta dads. You didn’t do anything.”

“I never thought I’d be so glad to hear those words,” he says under his breath, not quite reaching her eyes. Her hand on his face guides his eyes there, and he swallows hard once. “I’m gonna be one of them, though. I tried to - to bring them together, so it’s my fault. I’m gonna be another Peralta dad with a son he can’t take care of.”

“Jake,” Amy says, firm again, although her eyes are soft. Her thumb traces over his cheek. “Not your fault. It was the Peralta dads. Jake Peralta-Santiago. Remember? Three whole years?”

He nods, hesitantly.

“You’re gonna be the best Peralta-Santiago father there could ever be,” she whispers against his skin and leans down to press her lips to his. It’s a quick kiss, but his eyes slide shut into it at the feel of her curved lips against his. She pulls away, and her hand drops away from his face.

“So?” he says, a little breathless. “Name?”

She smiles at him and reclaims both her hands to tuck her hair behind her ears. They drop to her stomach a moment after. “Mac,” she says, a definite hint of pride laced in it.

“Mac?”

“Short for McClane.”

He could swear his heart stops. “Oh my God.”

Jake might just be projecting, but he swears he can see his wife’s eyes growing misty. “Oh my God, Ames, are you - are you sure? You were so against all of that, I don’t want you picking a name you don’t like just to make me happy.”

She shakes her head. “That’s his name,” she half-whispers. “That’s what he's meant to be.”

He can feel his own eyes softening as they are so wont to do around Amy, the very thought of their little son - little Mac, like every dream he’s ever had come true - filling him with such a surge of emotion that he catches Amy in another kiss, her laugh spilling into his mouth. Her hands grasp at his shirt, and he raises one hand to cup her elbow, and he could swear that he’s never been happier with his life than he is at that moment.

Once he’s pulled back, he lets out a sudden whoop, and Amy jolts forward and grabs his hand to still him. “The neighbors!” She hisses, and they both go silent at once, waiting for the telltale banging from the floor above them that normally alerts them to the fact that their neighbor is pissed. When it doesn’t sound, Jake exhales the same breath he’d been holding from his exclamation.

“Mac,” he repeats. “It’s perfect.”

She smiles again, her cheeks flushed with everything from the conversation they just had. “If it’s good enough for you and your hero, it’s perfect for me.”

“I wish I could propose to you again,” Jake says, and this time Amy reaches for him, wrapping her arms around him for a tight hug. “I love you so, so much.”

“So much,” she echos into his shoulder. After a pause, she winces against him and Jake feels his heart nudge into his throat. “God, he’s kicking so much.”

Every time he feels the baby move - his son, his Mac, their Mac - every nerve in his body jumps into action, and his heart into his throat. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt a love so intense for anything in his life. He clears his throat, hoping Amy doesn’t hear how thick his voice is. “Yeah, I think I can feel it against my stomach.”

“Good,” she says. “This kid is 50% you. Take some of the brunt of the head butting.”

“Happily, Ames. He’s my kid, after all. He’s got to burn off energy somehow.”

(Amy was truly right on both of her original accounts - Mac is a large baby, despite being born a little early, and his parents wouldn’t have him any other way.)

[miracleboiz]

Making a Home Ch. 25

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her  foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but  still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to  make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 100k+

Relationships: Ojiro Aran/Kita Shinsuke, Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuseNot from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

*Mention of a nightmare and small panic attack*

Osamu was surrounded in black. Something soft was under his hands but no matter what he did he couldn’t see anything. He squirmed, chest tightening when he couldn’t speak.

He tried to cry out, tried to move, looking for his brother. He writhed, trying to get his body to respond as panic started to fill him. Still, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“Osamu?” A voice seemed to cut through the darkness but it wasn’t Atsumu’s voice. Osamu didn’t know who it was, he couldn’t see or move. He was always in bed by himself or Atsumu.

Where was he? Where was Atsumu? Why wasn’t his brother coming to help him?

Terror clawed at his heart and he struggled to breathe as the salty taste of tears hit his lips.

“Osamu!” The voice came again, sterner and Osamu jolted up, eyes snapping open. He stared at Aran’s face for a second without really seeing him, confusion and panic flooding through him.

Osamu spun, catching sight of silver hair from Shinsuke on his side and Lady on Aran’s right but Atsumu was nowhere to be found. He shoved off the hands trying to comfort him, desperate to find his brother.

Atsumu wouldn’t leave him right? Atsumu had promised to be there for him. He said he would fight anyone trying to take him away no matter what. Atsumu wouldn’t leave him for anyone, not Shinsuke, not Aran, not Shinji. Atsumu wouldn't. Atsumu wouldn’t.

“ ‘Tsumu!” The cry finally broke from followed by a loud sob. “ ‘Tsumu! ‘Tsumu!”

“ ‘Samu?” Atsumu’s voice yawned as his head popped up from between Shinsuke and Lady. He’d been tucked rather tightly against Shinsuke’s chest and seemed more than a little bit confused.

He crawled over Shinsuke as the man started to wake up himself. Osamu was flying at him the moment Atsumu was close enough to be tackled into a hug. Osamu sobbed as he held onto his brother as tightly as he could, only clinging harder at Atsumu’s yelp of his name.

“ ‘Samu? ‘Samu what happened?” Atsumu whined, looking close to tears himself and in a heartbeat he was sobbing too as he hugged his brother back.

“I couldn’t... move..” Every break was racked with another sob from Osamu, “then I couldn’t breathe… and I… I woke up… you were gone… I couldn’t find you… Thought you left me… Don’t leave me ‘Tsumu… Please don’t leave me.”

Atsumu clung to his brother, shaking his head and wrapping himself around him as if to help him hide from the world.

“ ‘m never going to leave you ‘Samu, never ever.” Atsumu promised, eyes pressed shut even as tears slipped out bit by bit.

“Thought someone… someone took…” Osamu choked on the words, rocking in his brother’s arms as the panic started to overwhelm him.

“Osamu, breathe in.” Shinsuke said, sitting up slightly as the fog in his eyes started to fade. “Seven seconds, breathe with me and Atsumu.”

Osamu gulped in a breath, barely reaching the full time. Atsumu tried to rub his back like he’d seen Shinsuke do, breathing in time with Shinsuke. Aran shifted slowly to sit up, but Osamu didn’t even seem to notice, too busy holding onto Atsumu like a lifeline.

Nearly half an hour passed before Osamu was able to blink open his eyes tiredly at Shinsuke. He glanced over his shoulder, staring at Aran’s concerned face for a moment before releasing his brother. He fell back against Aran’s chest instead, half on his lap.

“I don’t like bad dreams.” He mumbled, a yawn breaking from him. “I thought… Maybe…”

Guilt was written across his face and he shrunk down slightly, pawing for Atsumu’s hand to hold. He wouldn’t look at Shinsuke though, even when Shinsuke sat up more to watch him, stroking Lady’s back to keep her from tackling the kids and licking them to cheer them up.

“Maybe… Shinsuke had given Atsumu away to Aran when I fell asleep last night.” His head hung down low with shame. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh little one.” Shinsuke whispered softly, moving closer. “Is this alright?”

He waited until Osamu was nodding before he kicked out of the blanket and pulled Atsumu onto his lap so he could sit knee to knee with Aran. Atsumu instantly grabbed Aran’s shirt too, as if to keep him from going away.

“There’s no need to be sorry, Osamu.” Shinsuke soothed softly, “You had a nightmare, it’s okay to be scared after that. But there’s no need to worry about Atsumu being given away on his own-”

“I don’t want to leave you though!” Osamu blurted, freezing and patting with his free hand until it could wrap around Lady’s collar. “I wanna stay with Aran, but I wanna stay with you too but I don’t know if you w-want us or… or… or…”

Aran gently rubbed Osamu’s back, letting the child shake as he stared at Shinsuke. He gave Shinsuke a pointed look over their heads but Shinsuke didn’t need it. Seeing Aran in such a vulnerable spot with his kid on his lap though, definitely set Shinsuke’s heart to beat a little harder though.

“No, Osamu that isn’t what I meant.” Shinsuke explained softly, his hand not on Lady’s fur moving to stroke through Atsumu’s hair. The child sighed softly, flopping back against his chest and tilting his head up to stare at him with wide eyes.

“I was going to wait until breakfast time, but I suppose five am works too.” Shinsuke hummed softly, the slightest curve of his lip appearing at Atsumu’s almost timed yawn. “I know, when you spoke to Oomimi you told him you didn’t want to be adopted by me-”

This time Atsumu was the one to shrink down, his own guilt and panic overtaking the almost peaceful look he’d had on his face. He hadn’t meant to make Shinsuke upset then, he just thought that Shinsuke would be happier with them gone. He wouldn’t have been so stressed or busy.

“But, I also know that was a very stressful and bad day,” Shinsuke continued, leaning his head down just enough to press a kiss to Atsumu’s forehead. “And I wanted to ask you now.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened immeasurably as he stared up at Shinsuke. His grip on his brother’s hand tightened and both of the twins’ eyes were locked on Shinsuke.

“You and Aran are going to get married again and keep us!” Atsumu blurted before Shinsuke could open his mouth. Of course that was why Aran said he would keep them before! Because he and Shinsuke we’re getting back together after Aran moved to France and Aran was keeping it a surprise! Just like the birthday party!

Osamu had to let go of Lady to hold onto Aran’s knee as his chair started to laugh. Aran tried to hold it back, desperately pinching his lips shut but he couldn’t. Laughter broke from him as he wrapped an arm around Osamu to keep him from being bounced around, a wide grin on both of their faces.

“Keep you, yes, Aran and I….” Shinsuke said delicately, chuckling quietly himself. “I was-”

“ ‘Tsumu you dummy.” Osamu interrupted, moving to swipe at his brother’s face playfully. “They gotta learn to walk in their ice skates before they get married. They haven’t been skatin’ cuz they’ve been with us.”

“Ohhh, right! Can we go ice skating so you can get married and keep us?” Atsumu said, nodding his head to the clear logic of his brother’s words.

Aran was nearly wheezing with laughter, Osamu more than a little happy to be shaken as Aran tried to calm himself. It worked for a few seconds before he caught sight of Shinsuke’s unamused stare and raised eyebrow and the laughter broke out again.

Shinsuke’s lips quirked up in response and he pressed them together, looking away before Aran dragged him into a laughing fit. It definitely didn’t help the soft warmth slowly building in his chest as he looked down at his two boys clearly excited.

“Atsumu, Osamu, would you like to be adopted by me?” Shinsuke asked, watching in amusement as Lady started to crawl her way between them as if trying to hold Osamu down from the force of the still laughing Aran.

He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of two excitable six year olds launching themselves at him and trying to scramble up towards his face. He squeaked as he fell back, feeling two hands wrap around his wrists and tug him back up.

Aran’s smiling face greeted him as the boys scrambled over him, trying to hug his neck and each other at the same time. Shinsuke shifted, waiting for Lady to move herself onto Aran’s lap instead before he was leaning against Aran’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you have a few years to make me wait,” Aran teased him lightly, “You might have another forty five seconds before they start asking about ice skating again though.”

Shinsuke tossed him a fake glare, wrapping his arms around the boys and nuzzling the hair under his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, just taking in a breath to revel in the moment. His boys. All three of them. Right here with him. No one was going anywhere, they were a family even if the last bit of the puzzle was going to take some time to put together.

“I know you taught them that, what does it even mean?” Shinsuke grumbled, blinking when Osamu sat up suddenly and let go of Shinsuke’s neck.

“Oh! Oh! I know. Can I tell him? Please Aran?” Osamu begged, reaching over to pat at Aran until he was sure he was being paid attention to. Aran was going to have to talk to the Matsukawa’s about their cat teaching his kids how to beg for attention.

“Sure, darling, go ahead.” Aran hummed, settling in to hear what he assumed was going to be a ridiculous version of what he’d told the boys days ago.

“Okay, okay, so!” Osamu started, happily holding onto the collar of Aran’s shirt. “There’s lotsa steps to ice skate. Ya gotta go to the place, then you gotta walk around, then you gotta check your feet and make sure they’re… feet. Then you get your shoes, and you put them on and then you gotta tie them and that’s super hard, I needed help but ‘Tsumu was really good at it… and….”

He blinked, trying to remember what he had been talking about, then grinned again.

“Then you have to walk in them and ‘Tsumu isn’t good at that, then you have to step on the ice and it’s super super scary but since Aran-kun will be there it’s not so scary. Then you gotta learn to skate! And Tooru-san and Hajime-san and Issei-san and Taka-san all had each other and learned to ice skate like… a bajillion years ago, that’s why they’re married!”

Shinsuke kept the smile on his face but he had absolutely no idea what was just said to him.

“Ah… Thank you for that explanation, Osamu. Perhaps Aran and I will… try to go ice skating and… learn to walk in them?” He said cautiously but it seemed to be the right thing to do because Osamu brightened and Atsumu’s hold got tighter.

“Okay boys, if we’re not going to go to bed again, we need to eat-”

“Cake!” Atsumu and Osamu shouted together, making both adults wince.

“No.” Aran said sternly, watching them deflate with exaggerated pouts. “Cake is for after dinner, five… six thirty now, is time for breakfast. Why don’t you go get the rice started?”

The boys gasped, thrilled to be allowed to ‘make’ something on their own and scrambled to get off the bed. Lady leaped out of Aran’s lap, smacking him in the face with her tail, and followed after them cheerfully.

“.... Aran did you teach my kids about dating by using ice skating as a metaphor?” Shinsuke asked, quirking an eyebrow over at his best friend.

“... That… was perhaps something I did. Unless you wanted me to try and explain to a six year old that sometimes people aren’t ready to date. Because they’re six and they don’t understand the concept of ‘not ready’ for anything beyond dinner.” Aran said simply, but he still wasn’t looking Shinsuke in the eye. It only took a second for Shinsuke to realize that Aran was laughing.

“Are you-”

“When’s the wedding, Shin? I want to coordinate the boys’ outfits.” Aran teased, a loud laugh exploding from him at Shinsuke’s offended expression.

“I have seen the clothes you wear, you are not choosing the wedding outfits or colors or anything beyond food to be completely honest. You’d go with the ugliest colors just to see who died first, me or Tooru.” Shinsuke bumped their shoulders together, rolling his eyes at the second laugh that bubbled out of him. “Get out of my bed. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I’m telling the kids you died and we’re keeping Lady.”

Aran rolled his eyes, grabbing the blanket and chucking it over Shinsuke’s head. Shinsuke wrestled free, giving him a half glare as his hair stuck up in every direction.

“I’m going to help our kids make breakfast.” Aran said sweetly, copying Shinsuke’s attitude from the night before, already sliding out of the bed as a pillow was chucked at his back.

“Aran.” Shinsuke shouted after him, but Aran could hear his soft laugh. Relaxed and at peace, Aran knew that laugh and he’d missed it far too much.

“If we’re getting married, I want a divorce.” Shinsuke deadpanned as he was kicked in the shoulder on accident. Osamu gasped from his spot on Aran’s shoulders as they walked down the street, heading towards the park.

His small hands smacked Aran’s cheeks in an attempt to hold on and get his attention.

“Aran are you going to be okay? You’re still going to visit right?” He whined and Aran hushed him softly, reaching up to hold Osamu’s hands instead.

“Shinsuke’s just being cranky because I won’t let him hold Lady’s leash.” Aran soothed, squeezing his hand and looking over to where Atsumu was very carefully walking Lady beside him. Though from the way Lady kept her head turned toward Atsumu and nudged him carefully around any gaps in the road, Aran was pretty sure she was walking Atsumu.

“... That’s a good reason to be cranky.” Atsumu said, staring down at the sidewalk to keep from tripping and Lady tugged him away from a light post. Aran hummed in amusement, letting go of Osamu for a moment to tuck Atsumu closer to his hip instead of the edge of the sidewalk.

“I’m not cranky.” Shinsuke said, sounding mildly cranky but Aran could see the humor in his eyes.

“He’s very, very cranky.” Aran assured the twins, smiling over at Shinsuke’s eye roll. “But once we get to the park I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry Shinsuke-san.” Osamu chirped, waving Aran’s hands in the air theatrically. “We’ll have lots of fun and then you’ll smile- like that! Aran, Aran! He smiled.”

Shinsuke was indeed smiling, and this time he wasn't trying to suppress it. He let it grow until it was comfortable on his face, shaking his head fondly at the gasps from each of them. He took a few steps ahead of them, stepping into the gated park and checking for any other dogs. Like he suspected, there were no other dogs so early in the morning.

He could hear shuffling behind him and seconds later Osamu and Atsumu were running past, Lady jogging quietly behind them.

“Sorry, they got excited.” Aran chuckled, eyes already scanning the park and relaxing when there was no sign of anything that could distract Lady. She was well trained, but she was, afterall, a dog.

“I can see that.” Shinsuke hummed quietly, watching the boys as they made their way over.

“... Shinsuke, are you still grumpy I didn’t let you hold Lady’s leash?” Aran asked, voice soft with apology but as soon as Shinsuke turned to look at him, he could see the laughter in his eyes. Aran was struggling not to laugh and Shinsuke shook his head at him.

“Why do the boys think we’re married? You’re clearly just harassing me, there’s absolutely no love here.” Shinsuke said, keeping his face neutral.

“Don’t start that. The boys may think you hung the moon but I’m well aware you’re a devil. I’ve been with you since you were fifteen remember?” 

“Yes I do, every minute.” Shinsuke said softly, tilting his head up to blink prettily up at him. Aran’s cheek burned red and he gaped at Shinsuke for a moment before it settled into a half hearted glare instead.

“How you manage to be so sweet but devious at the same time blows my mind, every single time.” Aran sighed, shaking his head and bumping his shoulders into Shinsuke’s at the sight of the amused smile returning.

They walked a few more steps, eyes on the boys chasing each other around with Lady herding them away from the half frozen lake. They were laughing and cheering and Shinsuke couldn’t say he’d ever felt more at peace, more at home, then right now.

He stepped to the right, fingers dancing at the edge of Aran’s palm before Aran’s hand moved to intertwine their fingers. He flicked his eyes up to Aran’s, taking in the softness around his own eyes and the curve of his mouth in an easy smile. He looked happy, incredibly happy.

“Aran… Remember what I said before?” Shinsuke asked softly, finding himself unable to stare at him any longer until the words were out. “About… waiting...I know I need to, but I don’t want to raise these boys without you… If you are willing… to go… rather slow… probably unnaturally slow for most people… Why don’t we go ice skating next week? I have Thursday off next.”

Aran’s lips were curved in a smile when Shinsuke felt them press against his temple.

“Toldja before, Shin. I’m here, as long as it takes.” Aran said against his skin and Shinsuke could feel the affection in his words. “We can take breaks too, the boys come first after all.” 

Shinsuke didn’t disagree, but he also couldn’t help but think that they’d been rather glued to the hip since the break down last week. It didn’t feel like he was changing anything to be with Aran, nothing he wasn’t already changing for the boy’s atleast. Baby steps though, were just fine with him. Like Osamu had said, you had to learn to walk in skates before you got on the ice.

It didn’t have to be a date but Shinsuke wanted to spend more time with Aran regardless. Besides, ice skating gave him more excuses to hang off of Aran’s arm and guilt him into buying drinks.

“Shinsuke-san!” Atsumu’s voice made them both perk up, looking over at the child. His bruises had healed and he looked as cheerful and happy as any kid their age should be.

“We found a duck! Hurry up.” Osamu echoed beside him, pointing at the small herd of ducks settling on the icy water.

Aran and Shinsuke shared a soft laugh, picking up speed a little but not enough for the twins.

“Touchan!” They hollered together, pointing at the ducks with clear excitement.

Shinsuke stumbled on the snow but the hand in his kept him up and he moved a little faster, the warmth in his chest spreading throughout all of him. He almost thought he’d pass out from the overwhelming emotion but all he could do was hurry to his boys. His boys.

His family.

* This is the final chapter, but an epilogue will be up next week. Let me know i fyou'd be more interested in teen-adult epilogue or still young kids epilogue. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me, it's been an amazing journey. *

[the-a-word-2214]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raspberry Beret

Mars Blackmon x OC

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is the final chapter everyone! I’d love to write for Mars again in the future but this is where this series will stop.

Summary: The finale of Raspberry Beret. You’ll have to read it to find out the ending

1,537 words

Chapter 7: New Beginnings

Mars and Lourdes, aka LuLu, decided to take a spontaneous trip to Puerto Rico a year and a half after Mars and Scarlett had started dating. Scarlett obviously tagged along because their mom was dying to finally meet the girl her son was in love with. She sounded like a wonderful person from the stories that Scarlett had heard.

The pleasant smell of the ocean breeze was the first thing that Scarlett noticed as she stepped out onto the beach that was near the place where they were staying. The people that they had met had been trying to rebuild their homes from the hurricane that hit. They were some of the most passionate and hard-working people that she’d ever met. The street artists were incredible too. Mosaics and murals lined nearly every single wall that she came across.

One night while they were there, they spent most of the evening at the beach. The stars were beautiful and so the midnight star gazing commenced. In their bathing suits, they laid and stared at the stars. Their fingers intertwined. Mars turns his head to look at the woman, a smile on his face. “I love you.” He mumbled as he gently squeezed her hand. She smiled back at him and gently kissed his knuckles. “I love you too, Mars. You’re out of this world.” He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “You know it, baby. Baby, you know it and shit.” He trailed off as he leaned his head on her shoulder. She rolled onto her stomach so that she was hovering over him, his hand came up to cup her cheek. “What is it, Mami?” He questions her as her hands settle on his chest. “Nothing...I just- I love looking at you.” No words could express how she felt at that moment. She knew that he probably felt a swell of pride for his home island and the emotion of everything was getting to her.

Mars sat up with her and did the only logical thing. He kissed her, passionately. Butterflies fluttered in their stomachs as they felt an insane amount of genuine love for each other. The passion in their kiss was nearly unbearable. Once they needed air they broke apart.

The next day LuLu, Mars, and Scarlett stopped by Doña Lucy’s house. Yoruba religious symbols filled the area. The three of them sat down on the plastic-covered couch, both Mars and Lourdes cringing at the feeling of the slick plastic. “I hated this couch as a kid,” Mars said as he rubbed his hands over it. “I can imagine why.” Scarlett chuckled as she looked at the material. A short, older woman walked in who had on elaborate earrings and a white flowery dress. Mars stood up and let his mother pepper his face with kisses. “A’ight, mom! Mom cut it out.” He protested as his mom looked him over. “Look at you, you still look like my baby.” She had a thick New York accent. He laughed as he brought his hands up to her shoulders. “Ma this is Scarlett.” He says as he turns towards the blonde. She holds out her hand for her to shake. “Oh, you can do better than that.” She says as she opens her arms for a hug. Scarlett bends down to hug the smaller woman.

Doña Lucy then reaches up to pinch her son’s cheek. “I see you’re smitten with my boy. I hope you know that you’re a lucky lady.” Scarlett giggles as she nods. “Yes ma’am. I’m very lucky.” Lucy motions for her to take a seat as she goes into the kitchen. The awkward tension in the air could be practically cut with a knife. Lucy was banging around in the kitchen as the siblings and Scarlett sat in silence. Mars looked to the kitchen with a knowing look and wiped his glasses with his shirt. After she set out a bowl as an offering she motioned for everyone to sit at the table. Everyone obeyed as they sat at the kitchen table, eating out of clay bowls.

“So Scarlett, honey, do you love my son?” Mars practically chokes on the food in his mouth as his mother proceeds to grill her. She gives the woman a soft smile, “of course I do. He’s wonderful.” Lucy nods and motions towards her son. “You two are practically sewn from the same cloth. Their father and I were oil and water though.” Mars stops chewing and looks at his mother. Lourdes does the same. Their mother’s face softens as she turns her attention back to Scarlett. “You two seem as happy as you can be, though. I hope you hold onto that.” The rest of the dinner went very well. Doña Lucy turned out to be a lot like her son in the sense that she was hilarious and had just as much of a foul mouth as him.

That night in bed, Scarlett was half asleep when she felt the bed dip beside her. Mars was kneeling beside the bed, his hands together in a prayer position. “God? It’s me, Mars. I want to learn how to help these dope people. They work so hard at what they do. I’m down to learn if you’re down to teach me.” Scarlett had heard everything that he said. It was almost childlike, the way that he spoke.

The next day, Lucy called her son over for a conversation. It was more of a reality check, honestly. She called him over to sit next to her in her room. “Why’d you call me here?” He questioned as he turned his attention towards her. “I know that you love this girl but, Hijo, you’ve gotta grow up. If you ever wanna provide for her then you have to be strong. Be a man!” Mars acknowledges his mother’s words as he nods. “I know, I know. Lulu doesn’t have no trouble with tellin’ me that every fucking day.” He explains as he runs a hand through his hair. Lucy pats her son’s shoulder as she sighs. “I bet she does. Promise me that you’ll try, a’ight?” She teases as she speaks in his usual tone. He smiles, “cross my heart hope to die, mamá.” He says as he makes a cross over his heart. He never broke that promise. He had to do better for Scarlett. Mars had vowed that while they were there, with his family, he would propose to Scarlett. It would be the ultimate vow of commitment and it would show that he actually wanted to try for Scarlett’s well being. He picked a ring out with his sister one night when Scarlett was preoccupied with taking photos along the way. He had everything planned out, he would propose while they were on the beach surrounded by his family. “This is gonna be mad lit, LuLu!” He had exclaimed to his sister. The ring was perfect, the setup was perfect.

Their last night in PR was spent mostly on the beach. The Blackmon’s cousins were spending the day with them as they danced their hearts away to the music that was playing. Scarlett was stealing glances at Mars as she danced with one of his younger cousins. He watched in awe as she picked up the little girl and spun her around. The group began to gather together as Mars brought Scarlett closer to the middle of the beach. “What are we doing, Mars? Where are you taking me?” She asked as she looked around at the cousins who only smiled in response. “Trust, baby. We’re just gonna be right here.” He explained as he took her hands and began to kneel down on one knee. Scarlett had an idea of what was going to happen but she didn’t really think he would do it.

He mustered up all the courage he could as he looked up into her eyes. “Scarlett Lewis...you’re my whole world. You put up with all my shit and you don’t take anything from anyone. You’re great at what you do and there’s no one like you in this fucking crazy world. That’s straight facts.” He laughs as he looks towards his cousins who return the gesture. He looks back to her as tears threaten to fall. For the first time in his life, he’s intimidated. He begins to doubt his abilities to provide for this woman who had given him everything. She cared for him when no one else would. His voice cracked as he began to speak again, “I love you, baby. Y-You’re my everything. Now...will you marry me, Mami?” Tears were now streaming down Scarlett’s face as he pulled out a small box with a diamond-studded ring. The jewel itself was a pear-shaped sapphire. It was Scarlett’s birthstone. Of course it was. Everything about that moment was perfect. Scarlett ended up speechless as she vigorously nodded as he slipped the ring onto her finger. The surrounding future in-laws cheered and whistled as the couple shared a short yet passionate kiss. Their arms were tangled around each other as they shared a chuckle, their foreheads touching. They later shared champagne and danced the night away. New beginnings were headed their way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - XIX

A/N My posting schedule landed right on real life Zach’s birthday so happy birthday to him...you’ll always be sixteen in my eyes...

T/W Graphic descriptions of war violence and weaponry, blood, and death

The men were sent over the top again the following day around mid afternoon, Daniel with a new ranking patch crudely sewn onto his left sleeve. He definitely didn’t have the careful hand that his sister did when it came to a needle and thread. Despite his pride of the higher rank, Daniel still felt uneasy, not quite his usual self, and he found himself smoking another cigarette from Christian’s old pack after supper. Thankfully he slept that night, although not very long, but it gave him just enough energy to head into their next battle.

His rifle was freshly cleaned, wiped down of the mud and grime from their previous fight, enough so he could almost see his reflection in the metal. The rain still fell, lighter now but still intense and it only made the flooding worse, the water now up to their knees in the trenches. The battlefield itself was no different, the shell craters still filled with water and the mud soft enough to suck men under.

Corbyn had to lead the group so they lost sight of him quickly among the smoke, but Zach and Daniel stayed together, picking off the enemy one by one. They were certainly more efficient when they worked together, huddling behind the line of barbed wire and firing two on one.

They pushed forward together, Daniel taking lead as Zach followed behind him, covering each other when one would crouch to reload. The mud was terrible and they struggled to stand steadily as they walked, boots slipping thickly with each step. They were covered in it too, caked in mud up to their heads and the heavy rain did little to wash it away. Bullets zipped past them, landing stiffly into the ground as they managed to dodge them, eventually resorting to crawling along the ground to keep low. As each shell hit, they threw their arms over their heads to protect themselves the best they could.

They made it pretty far across the field, taking cover behind a half drowned German artillery that was still a good way away from their front lines, most likely from a prior battle weeks before. Zach pushed himself over to sit back against the cold metal, adjusting his helmet breathlessly as he started to reload his rifle. Daniel peered around the side of the half-destroyed gun, eyes scanning the German lines in the distance, raised slightly above them. He could see the shadows of the town of Passchendaele in the distance. The rest of their battalion fought around them, shells from both sides shooting mud into the air, a few not even going off as they lodged themselves in the mud.

Daniel wiped the rain from his face as he turned back to sit beside Zach.

“See anything?” Zach asked loudly over the hard gunfire around them.

“I can see the town.” Daniel replied, digging his finger in the magazine of his rifle to try and clear the mud that was starting to lodge itself in the crevices again. “We’re bloody close.”

“Christ…are we taking it today?” Zach gaped.

“We can’t take the entire German front just the two of us.” Daniel retorted.

Zach sighed and shifted onto his knees to peek through a gap in the metal. A stray bullet hit right next to him and he threw himself back, nearly landing on Daniel in the process.

“What do we do now?” Zach asked quickly as Daniel pushed him off.

Daniel looked back around the edge, the sun starting to set so the dimming grey skies only made it harder to see. He sat back again, pressing a hand to his head in thought, trying to think of a logical next step as a Sergeant but also keep his mind out of it as to not really process the death that was surrounding them.

“Seavey?” Zach tried again.

“I-I don’t know!” Daniel said loudly, angry at himself for not knowing and for constantly letting his emotions get in the way. He got to his feet, staying ducked behind the artillery they were hiding behind, trying to pull the bolt on his rifle. It was stuck.

Zach watched him fight with it for a moment, Daniel grumbling angrily under his breath, finally opening the gun and pulling out the unused bullets with shaking hands.

“Piece of fucking shit.” Daniel tucked the bullets into his pouch again and unclipped the bayonet before tossing the rifle into the mud.

“What are you-” Zach started.

“You better cover me.” Daniel ordered sharply, pulling Zach to his feet. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his anger only fueling it more. “We’re just killing as many as we can. It’s all we can do right now.” Daniel ordered.

“You can’t fight without a rifle!” Zach protested.

“That’s why you’re covering me, Herron!” Daniel snapped, grabbing the boy by the front of his uniform and pushed him out from behind their hiding spot. They both ducked quickly as a rain of bullets flew at them, hitting the mud messily with their heads down. They crawled quickly into one of the craters in the mud, keeping out of the water that would surly suck them under.

“This is your stupidest idea yet!” Zach screamed.

“Just start firing!” Daniel yelled.

Zach took position and watched as Daniel jumped back out right into the middle of the battle. It was like watching a hero, Daniel fueled by his emotions enough to use only his bayonet against a full army of loaded men. Zach made sure to carefully back him, eyes scanning the area and knocking off anyone who even looked at him for too long.

Daniel seemed to perfect the art of disassociating, digging the blade into man after man, watching them fall around him without a second thought. One put up a good fight as Daniel slung his arm around his neck from behind and dragged him to the ground, the older man easily pushing back. Daniel made it on top of him, straddling him, holding the man’s face down in the mud, his bayonet glinting in the moonlight as he pushed it right between the man’s shoulder blades.

“I need to reload!” Zach screamed across a few yards away, his last bullet finishing off the man that Daniel had pinned to the ground. Daniel came running back, sliding messily into the crater to avoid any gunfire from the German lines, panting hard as he regained his composure, tossing his well used bayonet to the side. Zach reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, eyeing Daniel who sat next to him, staring his hands that were covered in fresh blood. They didn’t notice the gunfire slowing.

Daniel let his hands fall into the murky water that filled the bottom of the crater, his boots keeping him above the pool as he rinsed the blood off. His hands were shaking with adrenaline, feeling his eyes fill with tears again as realization started to set in. Whose brother or father did he just kill out there with his bare hands?

“Don’t think about it.” Zach said as if reading his mind, clicking the rifle back into place, “That’s what Corbyn always tells me.”

Daniel didn’t reply, sitting back against the side of the crater and closed his eyes for a moment, setting his hands over his face as he took a few deep breaths.

“If it wasn’t them it would have been you.” Zach mumbled.

Daniel paused a moment before dropping his hands. Silence filled the air around them.

“Why is it so quiet?” Daniel whispered, turning around to peek over the side of the crater. The dark landscape was only filled with the sound of the light rain hitting the mud puddles, the torn-up land spanning for miles, empty. Everyone was gone back to the trenches, only the dead piling across the field.

“Bloody hell.” Zach said.

“Do you remember which way our front lines are?” Daniel asked quietly.

They two of them scanned the area, the darkness and emptiness of the fields making every direction look the exact same.

“No.” Zach mumbled. “What do we do?”

“Wait until sunrise.” Daniel sighed, sitting back again with a tired sigh.

“They’re going to think we’re dead.” Zach protested.

“We will be if we go wandering aimlessly into the German trenches.” Daniel retorted.

Zach nodded in agreement, resting his rifle against the side of the crater. Daniel took his entrenching tool from his belt and clipped it together, starting to dig a bit of a ledge for them to sit on. The crater they were in wasn’t very big, only about two meters in diameter, and the distance from the top of the water to the edge gave them a good three feet. They had to keep their heads down just in case they could be spotted by the German lines and their voices soft to not be heard.

When each of them had a small ledge to sit on in the mud, Daniel set his shovel in the side of the dirt and leaned back.

“I’m hungry.” Zach broke their silence first.

Daniel reached into his jacket and pulled out a small ration of crackers, passing half of them over to the boy. Zach thanked him with a wide smile. Daniel turned onto his side; arms crossed over his chest as he stared into space again.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get home?” Zach asked through a mouthful of cracker.

“I don’t know.” Daniel mumbled.

“You can’t honestly tell me you’ve never thought about it.” Zach retorted.

“I wanted to have a nice supper with my family.” Daniel whispered. “But I can’t do that anymore so…”

Zach broke the cracker in half that he had in his hand and he nibbled on the corner, “You still can.”

“Not without Christian.” Daniel bit his lip.

Zach stared at his back that was facing him, “I don’t think Christian would want you to be sad. Would he?”

“Probably not.” Daniel sighed. He turned over to face Zach, curling an arm under his head as he looked at him, “It just hurts terribly.”

Zach nodded, finishing the last of his crackers and he dusted the crumbs off his hands on his trousers, “I don’t doubt that.”

The two fell into silence a moment, Daniel digging his finger into the mud haphazardly, the rain falling softly around them in a list mist.

“I didn’t tell Elizabeth.” Daniel finally whispered. “About Christian.”

“Why not?”

Daniel sighed lightly, “I didn’t want her to worry about me. Didn’t want her to worry about when I was gonna end up like him.”

“You’re going to go home to her, you know?” Zach insisted.

Daniel shrugged, keeping his eyes down, dragging his finger through the mud.

“I swear it.” Zach added. “You’re going to get out of his hell and be home with your girl.”

“You are too.” Daniel whispered, glancing up at Zach through the misty rain.

The younger boy shrugged, his legs tucked up to his chest as he picked at the mud himself now between his boots, his lips set in a small pout.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daniel frowned, mimicing his shrug.

“I don’t know. I have nothing at home. No purpose. Wouldn’t matter if I died out here.”

“You’re sixteen, Herron. You have your whole life ahead of you.” Daniel sat up a little on his arms, narrowing his eyes with disbelief at what his friend was saying. “We both do.”

“I dunno. Maybe Christian was right...how am I supposed to look at my mother after what we’ve done out here? How am I supposed to tell her I love her every night after killing men in cold blood? What kind of son does that?”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Daniel tisked. “It’s the government’s doing.”

“Not for me.” Zach breathed. “I enlisted underage. Voluntarily. I did this to myself.”

“So did I. I enlisted voluntarily too. That fact doesn’t make us horrible people, it just makes us good patriots.”

“I dunno.” Zach leaned his chin on his arms that rested across his knees.

“Your mother isn’t going to love you any less because you were out here fighting. You’re out here fighting for a better future for everyone at home and that’s not something to be taken lightly.”

Zach ran the back of his hand under his nose and sniffled before leaning his head against his arms.

“We’re going to be okay.” Daniel said. Zach nodded lightly.

The nighttime air was brisk, and the mud and rainwater that soaked through their uniforms chilled them, both young men curling into themselves to stay warm. They sat there for a while in the shell crater, silent and forced to stay as still as possible. Daniel checked his watch for the first time in a long time, reading just past midnight and he sighed deeply, resting his head back agaisnt the dirt wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Can we keep talking?” Zach asked, his teeth chattering in the spring air as the water and mud they were soaked in was getting cold.

“Yeah.” Daniel turned his head to look the few short feet away to where Zach sat curled up.

“You gonna marry Elizabeth when you get home?” Zach asked, his warm breath coming out in light clouds as his mouth broke into a small cheeky smile.

“I plan to.” Daniel returned his friend’s smile, arms tucked around himself.

“Good. I like her.” Zach said softly.

“I’m glad I have your blessing.” Daniel chuckled.

“You definitely do.” Zach smiled, resting the side of his head against his arms again tiredly, facing him.

“Are you going to come to the wedding?” Daniel asked.

“If she says yes.” Zach teased, earning a kick from Daniel, making him smother his laughter into his sleeve.

“Bastard.” Daniel said through a light laugh.

“She’s gonna say yes.” Zach assured him.

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Daniel tisked playfully as he shoved him, making the smaller boy nearly topple into the water. Their startled gasps filled the nighttime air as they tried not to make a sound, Daniel grabbing onto Zach just in time so he didn’t make a splash in the water.

Daniel sat back as they got settled again, sharing silent laughter stemmed from their exhaustion. Zach shifted against the mud to find a more comfortable position, curling up the best he could against the ground and Daniel did the same, both trying to get some rest before daybreak.

They didn’t even get a moment to sleep before a loud explosion in the distance startled them both back up.

“What was that?” Zach asked, panic apparent in his voice. Daniel peered over the edge of the crater, Zach grabbing his rifle in the process.

Daniel held his hand up to tell him to hold back, watching another explosion go off in the near distance, mud and rain water splashing up with it. Two dark forms were walking through the battlefield, matching the pace of each staggered explosion as they slowly got closer.

“They’re bombing the craters.” Daniel breathed, turning to Zach, “Making sure they’re empty.”

“Germans?” Zach clarified. 

“Yeah.”

“What do we do?” Zach asked quickly.

“Shoot them. It will buy us time.” Daniel whispered.

Zach nodded, pulling the bolt on his rifle. It didn’t budge.

The boys looked up at each other with wide eyes and Daniel snatched the gun to try it himself, sure enough, finding it jammed with frozen mud. Another explosion rang through the air and they could feel it shake the ground below them as the two men got closer.

“They have guns, we can’t take them with just the bayonets.” Zach whispered, his voice shaking.

“I know. Stay against the side and whatever happens, don’t make a sound.” Daniel ordered quietly, kicking the rifle into the water to hide it.

They pressed themselves up against the side of the crater, staying as still as they could and simply praying for the best. Zach was trembling and Daniel could see him shaking through the dark, close enough to still make out his terrified and uncertian expression.

Another explosion shook the ground, a few loose pieces spewing into their crater and they could hear the two men walking behind them, their boots squeltching in the mud. Zach held out his hand and Daniel held his hand tightly, Zach’s cold and soiled skin sending chills up Daniel’s arm. The younger boy bit hard into his bottom lip, eyes finding Daniel’s as they sat only two feet apart and shared silent reassurance to each other.

The men’s walking stopped for a moment. Zach pressed his finger to his lips, making Daniel’s eyebrows furrow for a brief moment just before the German grenade was thrown into the crater right in front of them. The fuse was dissapearing quickly and before Daniel could even flinch, Zach was tearing his hand from Daniel’s and throwing himself on top of it.

It all happened so fast, Zach tucking his body around the grenade and hugged his arms over his head, and barely two and a half seconds later, Daniel was alone.

His ears rang with the impact of the explosion, warm blood dripping down his face and soaking his entire uniform in thick splatters mixed in with the freezing cold mud. Daniel didn’t move. He was frozen stiff, his mouth parted with intense shock and hands held out stiffly in front of him as if waiting for something. The blood trickled down his cheek, trailing over his bottom lip before falling in silent drops onto his lap.

The explosions got distant again and only a few short minutes later the battlefield was back into perfect silence. Daniel took a jagged breath, his body starting to shake violently and he reached a hand up to wipe the blood from his face. It was everywhere; smudged over his cheeks and hands and contaminating the muddy water with deep red. The dismembered hand laying across the crater was the tipping point, Daniel’s body heaving him forward and he threw up against the mud as he let out a wracking sob that he smothered into his uniform sleeve. Tears poured down his cheeks, finally letting out all the emotions of the past weeks in one go.

He bent forward over the mud, crying hard into his palm to try and smother the sound as to not give himself away. A glint of silver caught his eye and he reached out to grab Zach’s dogtags that were wedged in the mud a few feet off.

“Oh, God!” Daniel weeped, falling back against the side of the crater, trying the best he could to still keep quiet as he cried uncontrollably, clutching the thin metal tags in his hands. His whole body was shaking and he was shivering with cold, hugging his arms around himself to try and keep warm, his wracking sobs kept silent by his teeth that bit hard into his sleeve.

Zach’s dogtags clinked together quietly in the cool wind, held tightly in Daniel’s blood coated grip as he cried himself to exhausion, sleep finally taking over.

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

A Different Kind; Norman Bates x Male!Reader

Could you please do a Norman Bates x male!reader where the reader doesn’t think that Norman would ever like him because he’s a guy? (Reader is also unaware of Norman’s blackouts, like the half of the town that got straight up murdered)

Warnings: repressed sexuality, homophobia/biphobia, slurs, bullying, profanity, sex, mention of sexual assault/harassment, some minor OC characters for plot

Author/ A/N: this has a long build up, and is kind of bad and angsty until it isn't (and by 'bad' I mean most of the trigger warnings are in the beginning.), in fact, if you are interest in reading this, but don't want to read the parts with all the traditionally bad triggers mentioned, then under the asterisks is the fluffy love stuff. This might be the longest thing I've ever written.

It started when you were young, the toxic air around anything other than heterosexuality. You remember the kids on the playground yelling the godforsaken word at you. The 'g' word. No rhyme, no reason. You didn't understand what it meant until the summer you were fourteen, when you were sitting in the backyard at Jacob Smith's birthday party. By then most kids didn't care what sexuality anyone was, but there were still kids who felt the opposite. You had sheepishly asked what it meant when the discussion was on former president of the mid-1800's James Buchanan's potential homosexuality. It was an odd topic, but somehow that's how the conversation had flowed naturally.

You sat quietly in thought, knowing deep down you had some sort of attraction to boys. Or at least, you weren't repulsed by the thought of kissing one, or marrying one, or... more.

The next school year brought you into the cold grips of highschool, where you found yourself on new, unfamiliar ground. Second semester of freshmen year was your first experience with another boy at a senior's house party. The senior was a Saint of a girl, a cheerleader with the popularity of a popstar, but heart of an elderly neighbor who bakes all the kids on the block cookies.

You had been in the backyard with a sophomore named Connor O'Reilly. The conversation had been fairly deep, you were comfortable talking to him. As you sat in the cool, crisp spring air you dared to look at Connor through the dark. His eyes were on you, and before you knew it you were both leaning in until your lips touched.

Just as you were getting further into the kiss the door slammed open. Out walked the Varsity Quarterback, only a junior. He yelled inside to his friends, then at you and Connor. That was the first time ever being called the 'f' word.

Connor, who happened to live just down the street, bolted, leaving you to deal with the football players on your own. However, the was no way Steph, the cheerleader, would allow one of her freshman babies to deal with the football team on their own. After being ripped a new one by Steph, the jocks shuffled back inside with tails between their legs and blushes stained on their necks and cheeks. You cried in Steph's room the rest of the night.

The next day you were pushed around, but only in places your couldn't be protected. In the lockeroom you were spanked and whipped with damp towels, and one of the seniors made another freshman steal your underwear. The message was clear, so, like any logical kid with nowhere else to turn, you repressed your sexuality.

It didn't stop the abuse.

That summer was one of the best you've ever had. Your family went across the country to visit family, there you met many people like you, forming a few causal relationships. The first time you truly let yourself free, and god it felt great. And when you got back to school you stopped caring. Their words didn't matter to you, didn't cut like they had. You started seeing things for how they were, and how surprising to find that many of you oppressors were people repressing their own issues: sexuality, emotions, homelife. You started responding to their hate with love, and it worked. It worked well on the Quarterback, too.

His name was Mark Thatcher and it was one of his friend's parties where you saw him across the room. Summer had treated him well for his final year in highschool. Earlier in the week he had shoved you into the locker, yelling in your face. You had just muttered back a quiet, calm "It's ok, you'll be ok." He had blinked at you before letting you go and walking away, glancing back once before turning the corner.

He looked good leaned up against the wall, chatting with the coach's son. Mark shifted his eyes around the room before meeting yours and quickly looking to the side. Nearly half an hour later you had walked out of the bathroom and straight into a muscular arm. Mark had stopped you.

"So," he paused "are we doing this or not?"

You looked at him before pulling his face to yours, you let him push you up against the wall and deepen the kiss. It wasn't long before he lead you both into a bedroom. It started off desperate and hot and quick, but as it went on something deep within Mark broke and his actions got rougher. He was muttering slurs that were more self-directed, and you were telling him to stop. You felt tears hit the skin on your back and you pushed him off. He stepped off of the bed and backed himself up against the wall, head in hands and breath erratic as he slid down onto the floor. He was shaky as he sat on the floor and cried.

You got off the bed and walked to him, offering your hand to hold. He pushed you away, not in anger or disgust, but in pain. Pain with himself. You got up and cleaned yourself off, before getting dressed. By the time you were done Mark had calmed down and you helped him clean up and get his clothes on. You offered to let him walk out first and he just shook his head, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room. He didn't walk back to the crowd with you though.

The next school day there was a rose taped to your locker with a note reading 'I'm sorry". You never hung out with Mark again, and he never bothered you for the rest of high school.

After that senior class had graduated everything began to run smoothly, you had made new friends, paved new roads for the other kids who were different.

It was an overcast day as you walked down the sidewalk in front a couple shops, ducking your head down as your thoughts swirl through. You glance up to catch eyes looking at you.

After realizing it was Norman, you look back down and tense up, trying to ignore the feeling of your stomach twisting and fluttering with butterflies. You keep walking, not letting your head think too much on how his lips curved upwards when you met his eyes. You continue on your way. 

There’s no need in longing for something that will never happen. 

The next day is when you quite literally run into him. Norman steadied you with a small grin. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” he chuckled. 

“Oh, no!” you interject “I wasn’t either, its just as much my fault.” 

Norman’s smile only grew, “I guess both of our minds are elsewhere, huh?” 

You look down and lick your bottom lip, “I guess.” 

“Nothing wrong with that.” you hear him say, voice soft. 

You bit your lip and look up at him, shaking your head, cheeks pink. “Absolutely not.” 

Norman nodded and stepped to the side, releasing his delicate grip on your arms. You moved on, telling him to have a nice day. He wished you the same. 

You saw him a week later while he sat on a bench at a park just a town over. 

After a day of following Steph around while she was back from University, you finally ended up on a swing with her on another while she talked about her life in higher education. 

“And I just don’t understand how he could think we’re the issue when the entire class is doing poorly! You know? Like, I understand you’re considered an expert in your field, Dr. Smith, but no one else in your class is, so maybe you should consider teaching us better.” Steph ranted on as you looked across the landscape to find Norman’s nose tucked in a book. 

“Anyway, I’m just ranting, I’m so frustrated! I’m sorry, how are you, Y/n?” Steph’s empathetic voice moved your eyes back to her as she lightly swing back and forth. 

You feet were planted under you as you swayed left and right. You nodded to the bench across the way. 

“That’s the guy I was telling you about.” 

Steph’s head shot to the direction, hair whipping in her face. 

“Oh?” her eyes darted to find a person before landing right on Norman, “Oh.”

She slowed her swinging to a stop and stared for a moment, “Okay, I see.” 

You snorted, “What does that mean, Steph?” 

“I mean he’s cute! I understand why you like him.” 

“Yeah, right? It’ll probably never happen, though.” you sigh, kicking a rock to the side. 

“Um? Why not?” Steph had her eyebrows raised as she looked at you.

“I don’t think he like guys.” you shrug. 

Steph stared at you a moment, slack-jawed before laughing. “Dude, he’s literally been sneaking looks at you since we got here. He definitely like you, at least.” 

“Wishful thinking, but thanks.” 

“Are you joking?” Steph reached over and pushed you. “Who wouldn’t? You’re fucking hot!” 

You leaned forward, giggling as Steph nearly lost her balance and fell out of the swing. 

“I’m serious, Y/n! Anyone would be lucky to be with you; you’re a catch.” She said it like it was a straight fact. 

“I miss you, Steph, why’d you have to leave me here? My ego misses you even more!” you jape. 

Steph rolled her eyes and stood up, walking toward Norman. 

“Steph, where are you going!” 

“To the car, loser. Luckily, you’ll have to pass the love of your life to get there.” she walked away cackling. 

You were able to get back to the car with little issue. In fact, you managed to have a brief, pleasant conversation with Norman along the way. Steph couldn’t stop giggling the entire way back, muttering smug “he likes you”‘s to you throughout the whole ride. You just rolled your eyes until you got home. 

Weeks had passed since then and Steph was gone again, but you had managed to have many more pleasant--and not so brief--interactions with Norman in those weeks. You were finally in a place where your face wouldn’t get too red from the interactions. It was fantastic. 

Then the day that changed it all happened. The day Norman asked you out. On a date.

You had nearly spit out your drink when he did it, looking over to him with wide eyes.

“Why?” you asked.

Norman’s brow furrowed, “Because I like you. And I thought that maybe you might like me?” He opened his mouth to speak again, but you beat him.

“I do! And I will! Go out with you, I mean.” You look over to Norman and saw his wide grin, brow still furrowed.

“I just,” you pause a moment before continuing “I didn’t think you, you know. I didn’t think you liked men like that.”

Norman moved closer to you, “Well, I like you, Y/n.”

You looked back to him, eyes drifting about his face before smiling back and speaking.

“Okay. So, what are we going to do on our date?”

[cilldaracailin]

Hammer To Fall

Hello my Tumblr lovelys! And here are those few words I know you hate to hear from me, but this is the last part in this story. :( But don’t be too sad. I have another story in the Robyn and Taron series ready to go and I will be posting the first part here and on my AO3 tomorrow evening and its a good one if I do say so myself but then I am very biased and adore my characters (And Taron) a lot!

Thank you so much to all my new followers  *Waves hello*. Nice to meet you all and thanks for being my Tumblr buddy!

Thanks so all who read and click the heart button and comment. Makes me grin like a fool!

Anywhoo, moving on to the story. ( I am Irish and have kissed the Blarney Stone... I am good at talking and was good at it before I kissed the stone and in fact I actually missed the stone so now I am just rambling....... ;) )

3

“A meaningful apology is one that communicates three R's: regret, responsibility, and remedy.”

Taron quickly jumped over the barrier again and started to walk back towards the make-up trailer, not looking to the crew who stared him down as he moved past them, or even behind to see if Robyn was following him. He felt suddenly felt so ashamed of his behaviour and was disgusted at how he had spoken to Robyn and was mortified and embarrassed at his conduct, taking all of his frustrations with regards to the media out on Robyn, rather than being tactful with his rage and emotions. Reaching the trailer, the door still open, he walked up the steps and inside, hearing Robyn following him and the door closing. Turning around to look at her, hating how his heart thought she looked so beautiful when she was so angry with him, he was even more repulsed with his actions and knew a simple sorry was never going to fix the mess he had made.

“Well?” She asked as she stood with her hands crossed over her chest, her whole stance in defensive mode.

“Have you really been getting calls from parents?” He asked her, afraid of what her answer was going to be. He had no idea the words from the story printed online could have had such an effect on her work and job.

“Yes. It has not been very nice trying to clean up the chaos that the article and comments has left for me.”

“Does Emma really not know that you are here?”

“She really thinks I am at home sick in bed.”

“You really flew here to New York.”

“I needed to have my say.”

“Are you going to lose your job?”

“Not if I can help it. Still have a bit of a fucking disaster to fix. Thought maybe after our talk, it might have been easier, but I guess I will be back to fixing my problems by myself.”

Taron pulled the make-up chair out and turned it around so he could sit on it, facing Robyn who still stood with her hands crossed over her chest. He needed to sit down, his legs were shaking so much.

“You had so much to say yesterday, lost for words now huh?”

“Jesus Robyn.” Taron looked up to her and her features were still stuck in a wonderful beautiful outraged look, her blue eyes so dark in colour.

“You also only have about a minute left.”

“Robyn…”

“You expect me to go easy on you Taron? You want it to be nice and fluffy? For this conversation to go something like ‘Oh Robyn I am so sorry that I jumped to conclusions and made you fly all the way to America to fix my problem for me’ and I will reply ‘Oh Taron, that is ok. Let’s go back to the way things were’. I don’t fucking think so. You have hurt me Taron. Literally stabbed me in the heart with your fucking shit attitude.”

“Robyn…” Taron went to stand up but sat straight back down when she started to speak again.

“You immediately came to the conclusion that because my name was there in black and white, that I had to of been the one who wrote that comment. Let me just say, sure it looked very suspicious and maybe before all of this shit I could have understood why you would have thought it was me but if you had of just called me and spoken to me in a proper tone instead of coming at me with your arrogance. You never even gave me the chance to talk to you properly in a civil manner.”

“I know I should have handled it differently Robyn but I was just so angry and to read those words and have the reporters at my home.”

“And you think it was easy for me to see my name associated with those same words Taron? And then to have my best friend turn around and blame me for writing them? In the time you have known me Taron have you ever heard me use such crude and smutty words? Jesus Taron, I know you and I have crossed boundaries and but I have never spoken with such offensive language.” She watched as Taron couldn’t even look her in the eye, his focus on his hands as he played with them. “And that was just the start of it Taron. You said such horrible hurtful things to me. I was only out to get my name lights and I wanted my fifteen minutes of fame. That I fucked you over, causing so much shit for your family and Lyndsey? That I never cared for you?” Taron’s head fell into his hands as he heard Robyn repeat back what he had said to her and he was so humiliated. “All it would have taken Taron, was for you to call me yesterday and explain to me what was going on and ask me rather than shouting at me, accusing me, finding out if I was ok after what was being written online.”

“I am sorry Robyn.” He said, raking his hands through his hair.

“It’s not enough Taron and I don’t think it will ever be enough.”

Taron looked up to her. “Please don’t say that.”

“Can’t you see how one sided this relationship has become Taron? How you need me so much more than I need you.”

“Robyn please, that is not true.”

“In the beginning maybe but now? I don’t know Taron. I just… You are not the same person to me anymore and after all of this shit? I really don’t know where I stand with you. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Taron was on his feet in seconds and standing beside her. “Robyn, it was a terrible mistake. A stupid fucking mistake where I let my head get too deep into the situation and my emotions run wild, without thinking logically and I know I have fucked up. I know this is my fault, this whole mess and I should have handled it so much better, talked to you properly and waited for Lyndsey before I started all of this shit and I understand that I have really really hurt you so much but please don’t say you can’t trust me again.”

“I have been here before Taron and I have given someone a second chance and I learnt my lesson then. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Robyn…” Taron went to take her hands, but she avoided his and walked around him and down the trailer a bit so there was another gap between them. “The media just fucks with my mind Robyn and I let my own insecurities get to me and when they come for my family, I just don’t handle it well.”

“No shit sherlock but to believe, to truly believe that I would write something like after our conversation Taron. I know how much the media fucks with your head Taron, I was the one who held you tight against me when you had a near anxiety attack in my home. Surely that was enough evidence for you to believe I wouldn’t do something like this, especially when I saw how upset it makes you. Then after our conversation on the beach and the promise we made to each other. You think I was the one who broke it, but it was actually you Taron. You were the one accusing me of not only reading the comments but posting one too. I can support your anxiety Taron and I would always have been there for you with that, but when you attack me with no room for me to protect myself, well that is a different story altogether.” Robyn felt the tears start to drip down her cheeks, exhaustion from lack of sleep and fighting her case finally settling in. “It would have been so easy to avoid all of this. A simple two-way conversation.”

Taron moved closer to her when he saw she was now really upset, his natural instincts to comfort her, but once again she stepped away from him.

“I can’t Taron.”

“Robyn, please.” Taron stepped to her again but she took another step back.

“I can’t.”

They stood at opposite ends of the trailer, Robyn silently crying, Taron’s whole body slumped with defeat.

“I am sorry Robyn.”

“I know but sometimes it’s just not enough.” Robyn sat in the chair that Taron had vacated not moments before, while he took the one that was closest to him and sat on it, his elbows on the counter, his head buried in his hands. His whole body started to shake with soundless sobs and he let his arms cross on the table, his head laying on his arms, ignoring how the position hurt his lower back.

A knock on the door, didn’t even make him lift his head and Matthew opened it and walked up the steps of the trailer, his head poking in the door. “Sorry to interrupt Taron but your phone has been ringing non-stop. It’s Lyndsey. Thought you might like to talk to her.” Matthew hadn’t actually looked into the trailer until he had finished speaking and nearly slipped off the steps and fell backwards when he took in the scene in front of him. The space between the two inside was enough evidence for him to know how bad their chat was going and he placed the phone on the counter and slid it down beside Taron. “I will leave it there for you.” Matthew left the trailer quickly and closed the door, glad to have left the unbelievably tense atmosphere behind.

The vibrations made Taron’s phone make a loud humming noise against the counter and it travelled a little way before he decided to pick it up an answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey Taron.”

“Lyndsey.”

“Would you like some good news?” Taron grunted his reply to her. “Hey what’s with your best impression of a grouch?” She frowned when he didn’t answer her. “Taron?”

“Robyn is here.”

“Robyn is here? What do you mean Robyn is here?”

“In New York.”

“Wait what? Robyn is in New York with you.”

“Yep.”

“Taron what have you done?” She asked him.

“Oh, you really don’t want to know but probably fucked up the best thing I have ever had going for me.” Taron wasn’t bothered by the fact that Robyn could hear his conversation. As far as he was concerned, he couldn’t do anything else worse than he already had. “So, you said you had some good news for me?”

“We found the IP address of the comment and know who posted it. It was from someone in America and I have your legal team already working on it. We will have retraction of the comment within twenty-four hours.” Taron let his head bang hard off the counter, his entire body giving into defeat. “Hey Taron, this is good news. Maybe a little gratitude?”

He couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t even thank his publicist for sorting the whole mess out. All he could think of was that if he had of waited another day, one more day before he blew his cool, he wouldn’t be feeling so shit about everything right now. If he had of just kept his bloody temper, he would not only have his worries about the comment solved but still the love and trust from his best friend. He didn’t even notice that his phone had been pulled from his hand until he heard Robyn talking to Lyndsey but he was so caught up in his own self-interest and worries, that he wasn’t even listening to the conversation.

Robyn had seen Taron at his worst, when he was physically hurt and bleeding and she was still furious with him but watching his whole-body crumble against the table, her heart broke for him. She got to her feet and took his phone from his hand, answering Lyndsey’s calls of his name.

“Hey Lyndsey, it’s Robyn.”

“Robyn what on earth is going on there? Is Taron ok? Are you ok? Why are you in New York?”

“We are both ok.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Robyn sighed. “Just some shit we have to work through Lyndsey.”

“Robyn…”

“So, you found the person who wrote the comment?” She asked, ignoring Lyndsey’s warning tone. “You can get it taken down?”

“And the picture too.”

“The picture doesn’t bother me but the comment is unfortunate. Lyndsey anyway we can stop others from using my name like that? It has caused me nothing but grief.”

“I am working on it Robyn but I can’t promise anything at all.”

“If you could Lyndsey, I know I would very much appreciate it.”

“Has it caused you a lot of problems?”

“Quite a few. Especially with regards to my work.”

“Taron’s involved in it all too I am sure.”

“Plays a part in it.”

“He sometimes gets a little crazy and I am not trying to defend him Robyn. I just know how his brain works and sometimes he does stupid things without thinking.”

“Well when you hear what he has done, you won’t be too pleased with him.” Robyn heard Taron groan miserably from the table. “Lyndsey, I am going to go. You can call Taron later to explain all of this to him in more detail. Thank you so much for doing what you have done so far for me. I very much appreciate how you are trying to take my name out of it.”

“I will always do my best by you Robyn. I wouldn’t have Taron if it wasn’t for you.”

Robyn ended the call and left the phone beside Taron on the counter. As he rested his head on the table, all she wanted to do was put both her hands in his hair and scratch his head to help take his pain and ache away but she was still mad with him so instead she went back to the chair she had been sitting on.

They were used to sitting in silence with each other, enjoying each other’s company but now the silence was filled with so much hurt from both of them, it was unbearable for Robyn. Taron still had his head on the counter, his arms hung loose by his sides as he sat, and she watched as his back rose and fell with each staggered breath he took, his whole body convulsing every now and again with a long broken silent cry he tried to keep in. He lifted his whole body from the table and raked his hands through his hair, his hands covering his ears, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to catch his breath as some wrenching sobs filled his whole body from head to foot. He made himself take some deep breathes and lay his head back on the table, feeling completely at a loss because the last time he found himself in such a state of panic, Robyn helped him. Now she sat at opposite side of the trailer and she wasn’t even looking at him.

As she sat, she could feel her rage cooling down and all the resentment and flurry of furious emotions start to leave her. She was still unbelievably upset with him and his actions and wished he had of just spoken to her yesterday about everything instead of what he actually did. She stared at his perfect side profile as his forehead rested on the table and hated her heart for reacting with a jump. Everything was so complicated and Taron had made it so much worse but as Robyn’s temper quickly returned to the little dark hole it lived in, she started to try and think like Taron a little and understand why he reacted the way he did. She had never had to live her life in the direct eye of others who constantly judged him and although he conducted himself disgracefully and completely in the wrong way, he was trying to protect his family and himself from any sort of harm. He had told her himself many times when they had been together, that the media was the bane of his life and he would do anything to protect his family and when it came to the press, he lost all train of rational thought. Unfortunately, she had now been at the end of that foolish and unfounded behaviour.

Feeling tears slip down her cheeks, Robyn put her own head into her hands. She couldn’t forgive him for what he had done, the way he had treated to her and spoke to her but she couldn’t walk away from him, even if she threatened to do so. She still loved him terribly. She slowly wheeled her chair over to him so there was only a foot between them, slightly concerned at how upset he was making himself, his body still trembling.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have asked me Taron. You know you can talk to me about anything.” Her voice was quiet and low.

Taron lifted his head an inch off the table so his lay cheek lay on the cool surface instead of his forehead. His body had emptied of all of the energy he had and his head was pounding right at the bridge of his nose and behind his eyes. “I just saw red Robyn. I have no excuse for what I did. I saw the headline, I saw the comment and just lost it. There wasn’t a calm bone in my body that tried to stop me from ringing you and just letting my anger loose on you and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Just to have asked me Taron would have been so easy.”

“Easier than you flying to New York.”

Robyn closed her eyes, trying not to smile. “I needed to give you a bollocking.”

“You did a perfect job.”

“You were so out of line Taron. You have really hurt me, really hurt me. I thought what we had couldn’t have been broken so quickly. I honestly have given you everything I have emotionally Taron. I have taken so many chances and risks for you.” Robyn started to cry a little. “I just don’t know what I am going to do Taron. You honestly think I could write something so disgusting about us?”

Taron lifted his head from the table and turned his chair to face her. He had seen her cry before, but he absolutely hated that he was to blame for the tears now on her cheeks. “I am so sorry Robyn. I know it is not enough, it will never be enough for you and I cannot explain it or myself or my actions. I can only ask that you do not give up on me or walk away from me because that will just…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It will destroy me in so many ways.” Taking a chance, he moved his chair closer to her and reached out his hand to her and though he felt her pull away, their fingertips still touched. “I should have waited until Lyndsey called me back. I should have been a man and listened to my head and not my heart. I should never have spoken to you the way I did, said all those horrible things I said to you. I don’t believe any of them Robyn. I know without a doubt that I am here because of you, that I still owe you everything.” He slipped his hand a little further down hers, so his fingers rested on the inside of her hand. “You were absolutely right about me being selfish and thinking only about myself and how the media will perceive me and my family and it has been that way since we left the 7/11. Sure, I may have rung you to apologise when those nasty comments appeared but it really never occurred to me how much it could further affect you and for your job to now be at risk?” He linked his right hand with her left, relieved that she didn’t pull away this time. “I can help you fix that Robyn. I will make sure to fix it for you. I will get Lyndsey to help you with whatever you need and once this retraction has been made, I will make sure that the media are well aware that you have no connection with anything that is ever written online under your name. I am so sorry for the hurt I have caused you. I sorry for being a complete and utter tosspot.”

She fought so hard not to smile at him, but it was so hard when she could hear the genuine apology in his voice and his offer of help, her lips rose in the smallest of smiles and she reached out to link her other hand with his, feeling Taron grip her fingers extremely tight with hers. “I will not have you ever speak to me like that again, you understand Taron? If you have a problem with me or there is something we need to sort out, we will do it together as we always have in a civil manner with a proper conversation, like two adults. You will never, never ring me in such a rage again accusing me of doing something because I swear to God Taron and on my family’s life, it will be the end of me and you.”

Taron desperately wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks but didn’t dare take suck a risk when he had only just gotten her to talk to him so gave her hands a little squeeze instead. “I never want to see the hurt and pain in your eyes that I have caused ever again Robyn. I am so so sorry for all of this.”

Taron’s warm hands felt so nice on her cold ones, Robyn inwardly enjoyed the heat from them. “It cannot go back to the way it was either Taron. Not straight away. I haven’t fully forgiven you yet and I am still a little mad at you. We are going to have to work at our friendship and you are going to have to work very hard to build my trust back up again.”

“I will do whatever it is you need me to do Robyn.” Taron spoke quickly.

“The first thing you can do is compose a letter from you with help from Lyndsey and your team that I can email to every parent in my creche to explain the situation and what has happened and how it was not me and that my name, which has been associated with this comment, has nothing to actually do with me. I need some serious damage control back home.”

“It is done. I will call Lyndsey and get it done today and send it to you so you will have it by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.” Robyn took her hands from his and scrubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe falling tears away. “I need to get this mess sorted as quick as possible.”

Taron took her hands again and was so glad that she didn’t pull away from him once again, even allowing him to rub his thumbs over her knuckles. “You really flew all the way to New York to bollock me?” He asked her quietly.

“Couldn’t quite get you on the phone.”

Taron looked away from her face, still feeling such shame for his actions. “When do you have to fly home?”

“Nine tonight.”

Taron let go of her right hand and picked up his phone from the counter. It was just before four in the afternoon. He looked back to Robyn. “You actually came here for less than four hours to talk to me?”

“No, I came here to call you out for your shitty behaviour.”

Even though Taron knew Robyn was speaking to him, her words and body language clearly showed him that she was still completely pissed off with him, even if she let him hold her hands. “Robyn, I just… I have no words for you. I can’t even comprehend what I have put you through but I feel like I do need to say some sort of thank you for coming here to sort me out.”

“I came here for me Taron, not for you. I will never let anyone accuse me of something I haven’t done, especially even more so when they won’t let me defend myself.”

Closing his eyes, Taron lowered his head to his chest. He felt like an absolute fool. Robyn had been nothing but a friend to him and he had pushed her under a bus without a second thought. He really had never met a woman like her, who had given her all to help him and although he was completely ashamed and disgusted with his behaviour, he was glad he had a woman in his life, apart from his mother who was ready to reprimand him for this stupid actions and behaviour. It just stung him so much that his normal jolly Robyn was no where to be found in front of him. Letting go of her hands, he used his own to cover his face, so she couldn’t see the guilt in his eyes and the tears roll down his cheeks. He scratched at his face, raking his fingertips down his cheeks before covering his whole face again but he felt his hands being taken.

“You are going to hurt yourself.” Robyn’s voice was so soft and almost a whisper. “Promise me you will never do something like this again and if you are angry at something the media has said that you will talk to me. You cannot behave like this again Taron. I have a feeling that there are going to be so many more of these comments and posts, and you cannot react to each one in this way. I cannot fly across an ocean each time I need to give out to you. You need to call me. It is ok to be angry but make sure you are angry at the right people, not those who love you so much even though you are a fucking…”

“Tosspot.” Finished Taron. “I will and always will.” He looked up to her and sighed glimpsing at last a hint of love that he was used to seeing when he looked at her in her eyes. He closed his own as she raised her right hand to brush a finger down his left cheek, his whole body freezing and his breath hitching as the trail of her finger blazed with fire on his skin.

“You have scratched yourself.” She said simply.

“I don’t care.” He replied, taking her hand from his face. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“Robyn, I am really sorry and I promise.”

“I know Taron.” She held his hands in hers, and watched as his eyes, now back to their beautiful green colour, searched hers. “I know.” She repeated.

“Did you bring anything with you?” He asked. “Do you have a coat? Your hands are so cold.”

“I have nothing Taron. I literally came with myself, passport, phone and my debit card and my hands are always cold.”

Taron frowned a little. “I know but they are freezing cold and not just Robyn cold.” He placed both her hands together before moving his own in a backwards and forwards motion on hers to rub some heat into them. “I can get you a coat. It is cold in New York.”

She tried not to show it, but she enjoyed how Taron tried to generate some heat into her hands. Now sitting in the make up trailer with her adrenaline gone, she realised how cold New York actually was and she shivered a little. “You are just in a suit.”

“But I get wrapped in a big fluffy coat in-between takes Robyn.”

She smiled a little. “I like your suit.”

“Better than my midnight blue one?” He asked holding his hands still against hers for a moment before starting to stroke hers again.

“No. That was a fucking spectacular suit.” Robyn did her best with a Scottish accent, enjoying the small laugh Taron gave. “You look good, if not tired and I know you have a headache.”

Taron stared at her. She always could read him so well. “I have no excuses for how I look and the headache is my own fault.” Taron stopped rubbing her hands and linked their fingers again. “I will get something from the medical tent for my head.” Robyn resisted every urge to take her hands from his and reach forward into his hair to scratch his head for him, suddenly desperate to help lift his pounding headache. “And I am going to get you a coat too. You are going to freeze.”

“Thanks.”

“We are going to ok right Robyn?” He asked her so quietly, his eyes searching the floor and couldn’t help the obvious sigh of relief as he felt her right hand on his left cheek, the cold of her palm seeping into his skin and it felt so wonderful. He immediately nuzzled deeper into her hand, trying to steal any sort of comfort from her that she was willing to give him. He placed his hand on hers, keeping the connection on his face, making sure she wouldn’t move her hand too quickly away from him.

“With time Taron.” She gently stroked his cheek. “We will be ok with time.”

The door of the make up trailer opened and Matthew walked up the steps and into the trailer. “Sorry Taron. I have been knocking.” He felt his own relief as he took in the scene in front of him, so glad to see that the atmosphere was clearer, the two looking much more comfortable with each other. “Lunch is over and we need to get started on this scene. I really need to get it done before the light fades.”

Turning his head, Robyn’s hand falling from his face, Taron looked to Matthew. “Yeah sure of course. I will be right there.”

“Robyn is more than welcome to come and watch, as along as she doesn’t try to re-write my script for me. Though I must say, I wish that had of been scripted and I needed a serious confrontation scene because it was epic. Also, I picked up all of these for you.” Matthew took another step into the trailer and placed the yellow post-its on the counter. “Just in case you wanted them. You have two minutes Taron and for one of those Stephanie will be in here to fix up your make up.”

“Thanks Matthew.” Replied Taron, though was inside was cringing a little when his friend and director described the bollocking that Robyn gave him as epic.

The door of the trailer closed and Taron turned to look at Robyn. “You brought my post-its with you.”

“Dramatic effect.” She said simply shrugging her shoulders.

Taron reached over for the post-its. “You want these?” He asked her.

“Please. I will put them back in my scrap book.” Robyn took them from his hands and put them back in her pockets of her hoodie.

The door of the trailer opened and a petite lady with brown hair in a bob walked in. “Taron, heard you need a top up?”

“Please Stephanie. This is my friend, Robyn.”

“Nice to meet you.” The two women shook hands and Robyn went to stand up but Stephanie shook her head. “You can stay where you are Robyn. I am going to stand. Right Taron, let’s have a look.”

The make-up artist, pushed Taron’s chair back a bit so she could stand in front of him and with her hand under his chin, moved his head to check his face. “What did you do to yourself?” She asked him deciding he needed a complete overhaul and fresh face. “You have a scratch on your cheek.”

“Caught myself with a fingernail.” He answered.

“Gonna have to try and cover it Taron.”

“Whatever you need to do Stephanie.”

With quick professional movements, she cleaned Taron’s face of the smudged make up first, wiping the scratch with a cotton wool pad, before she quickly applied the required make up needed for the scene, adding a little extra to hide the redness from the scratch on his cheek and under his eyes. Robyn watched on a little intrigued. She knew he had to wear make-up on set but it was strange watching it being brushed and sponged onto his face and she got a little kick out of it. It took Stephanie about two minutes to get Taron prepped for the scene, fixing his hair into the slicked back Eggsy look with some hairspray and she stood back once she was finished.

“All done and you are good to go.”

“Thanks Stephanie.” Taron stood up and picked up his Eggsy glasses and phone and handed his phone to Robyn. “Would you mind this for me?” He asked her.

“Of course.” Robyn took the phone and followed Taron out of the trailer but stopped once he was down the steps and outside the trailer. He turned around to face her.

“Thanks for coming to sort me out. I needed it. Really needed it. I was a complete arsehole to you Robyn. You didn’t deserve any of what I did and I will swear to keep my promise and make sure that I talk to you and talk to you properly and only with the upmost respect and love that I have for you.” With a step closer to her, Taron placed a quick kiss on her forehead and then turned away from her and with a jog back towards the steps of the park where Matthew and his co-star were waiting for him, ignoring how his head was still pounding, feeling nothing but relief that he and Robyn were on speaking terms again and she had willingly given him a little bit of the comfort he craved.

Now that Taron was no longer in her presence, Robyn felt at a bit of a loss standing behind the scenes on a movie set after storming her way in and making a huge spectacle of confronting Taron on the steps of Bryant Park, in front of the whole crew and cast. She looked down to the ground, feeling a little embarrassed as she could feel many pairs of eyes staring at her. She had been absolutely set in her ways of coming to New York to take Taron to task for his behaviour and although it was still a tense between them, their issues had been talked through a little and she felt a lot better that she got to help him see sense about the whole situation but now that that was done, she realised that everyone had heard every word she had said to Taron and she knew they were a whole lot of people judging her for her own behaviour, even if she felt she was right to confront Taron. She didn’t know what do to now or where to go and looked at Taron’s phone in her hand, swiping the screen saw that it was just after four. She needed to be back at JFK by six to make her flight home, so she had about an hour before she needed to hail a cab to take her to the airport. She swiped the screen again and even though she didn’t want to, she found herself smiling at the picture Taron now had as his lock screen, one of her and him together at Elton’s, both smiling as Taron took the selfie, both of the wearing the same goofy grin on their face.

“Robyn?” He attention was taken from the picture as Matthew walked over to her and in his hands, he carried a large black coat. “Taron told me you needed a coat. You want to use this one that he has been wearing? We don’t actually have another one set.”

“He will need it.”

“He told me you would say that but he is going to be busy filming these scenes on the steps for a while. It’s a quick little fight sequence. It will keep him warm. You take the coat.”

Stepped closer to Matthew, Robyn turned so she could slip her hands into the fleece lined coat, pulling the sleeves up as they were too long for her hands. It felt so snuggly and warm inside and as she fixed the hood and collar, she inhaled, smiling as that all too familiar scent of Taron filled her senses. She turned back around to him. “Thank you. Erm, I am sorry for all the commotion on the steps Matthew. Really sorry. I kind of just barged onto your expensive movie set and took over and let rip and probably ruined thousands of pounds worth of tape or equipment as well as wasting precious filming time. I know your schedule has been so tight especially ‘cos you had to move the whole process because of what happened to Taron but I am just really sorry. Probably not the best time and place but he really pissed me off and he needed to know it.”

Matthew grinned. “Nothing like a woman to put a man in his place and no need to say sorry. I knew something was wrong yesterday and even more so today when Taron stepped on set and screwed up every take. Granted probably not the best place for an argument on the steps of a park in New York city.”

“Oh Jesus, it is going to be all over the news now.”

“Don’t worry Robyn. Completely closed set and everyone has already signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t exactly using a whispered voice. I am sure it travelled down the steps.”

“Hey we are filming a movie. It could have been part of the scene.”

“And me rushing away from the set. Oh, dear God, I have just caused so much more mess for us.”

Matthew took a step closer to her watching as she started to fret. “Hey now. Let’s not start that worrying ok? Like I said, it is a closed set and we are filming in New York on one of the busiest streets. It is really loud here and I doubt anyone heard. Sure, you were angry but you weren’t that loud.” Matthew watched as the young woman in front of him paled. He had complete and utter respect for her, for what she did and very much approved of Taron’s choice of his newest love interest, even if she didn’t realise just yet how her actions showed how much she loved him too. “Hey Robyn, don’t over think it ok? There was a reason you flew all the way here to talk to him and as far as I can tell, a lot of shit has been sorted right?” Robyn nodded. “Ok well look when the filming day is done, you know Taron will be on the phone to Lyndsey to talk to her about this and if you are photographed together, they can say you came to visit him. It’s Christmas in New York. It is easy to make up a story of Taron inviting you out to New York to soak up the atmosphere.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Let me put it this way, would you rather be photographed here with him and have the shit sorted, or still be at home still furious with him.”

“I would much rather be there.”

Matthew smiled. “Well then, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves ok? I know he can be a pain in the arse and be absolutely frustrating as hell, but deep down he would do anything for you and loves you more than you actually know. Right now, sure it might not look like it, but he does. He will sort it out just like he will sort out whatever else he promised you. So why don’t you come and have a look at the magic of movie making with me. We can watch Taron in action.”

“Yeah alright.”

Robyn followed Matthew to where she had met him first and stood behind the monitor. He called out a few directions to the actors and camera crew and once everyone was in place and knew where they were starting from, he shouted action, the scene on the steps finally playing out the way he wanted it.

It was a treat watching Taron work and although it did spoil a little bit of the movie magic, it was interesting to see how the scene was filmed and she enjoyed watching Taron hit every mark in perfect sync with his co-star. She felt herself gasp a few times as Taron’s character took a few hits, even though she knew it wasn’t real, it really looked like he had been punched in the stomach a few times as well as his face. The hour flew by and she knew Matthew was delighted with the scenes he had captured as he fist pumped the air and laughed and high fived his assistant when he yelled cut.

“That is what I am fucking talking about!” He turned to look at Robyn. “Can you please stay for the entire schedule of the movie to give Taron a good old tongue lashing before he films a scene. Haven’t had a string of scenes run so smoothly in two days.”

Robyn smiled a little. “If it is ok with you, the next time I come and visit him will be for a different reason. I don’t ever want a repeat of today. Also is there any way I can get a hold of Taron quickly please. I need to get back to the airport.”

“Wait you are going back home?” Asked Matthew.

“Yeah. My flight is at nine tonight. I have to be work tomorrow morning at nine thirty.”

“You really only came to talk to him.”

“Yep. Is it ok to take him away for five minutes? Just to say bye.”

“Yeah of course. I will get him.”

Robyn stood as she was behind the monitor, the crew busy running around her and she still really felt out of place, so she stood quietly waiting.

“Robyn!” Taron ran up to her, a little sheen on his face from the effort of acting out his hand to hand combat. “Matthew told me you need to go.”

“Yeah Taron, I have to get back to JFK and there is going to be a lot of traffic.”

He reached for her right hand and linking his left fingers with hers, guided her to a quieter part of the set, where there wasn’t as much activity and they were slightly hidden between two tents. Once he was happy that they had a little bit of privacy he turned to her. “I won’t ask you to stay because I know you can’t, even though I would give anything to have more time with you, just a night.” He slipped his other hand into her free one. “I will do everything and more to fix this Robyn and to stop it from happening again and I will email that letter onto you this evening, once I finish filming, asking my team to help me. I know I have let you down and I know I have hurt you and there is nothing else I can say to explain my actions. I can only offer another apology to you and hope someday you can forgive me for what I have done. I will keep my promise to talk to you as we have always done and not to over react in such a disgraceful manner. I can only hope that in time we can be as close as we were.” Taron let go of her left hand and brushed some strands of her hair that had come lose from her pony tail away. He fixed them behind her ear, lightly touching the hoop ear ring in her cartilage piercing. Last time he saw her it was a small round white diamond. His eyes wandered to her tragus piercing, smiling to see that the jewellery he had bought her was still in her ear. He then looked to her high pony and let his fingers run through the long strands, keeping some in between in thumb and index finger. “Robyn…”

“Hmmm.” She had her eyes on him the whole time, enjoying how he was trying to waste some time by playing with her hair.

“Did you dye your hair pink?”

For the first time she arrived in New York a genuine smile filled her lips. “Maybe. Just a little bit.”

“When did you do this?” He asked looking down to her, a grin finding his lips when he saw one on hers. He didn’t think he would see her smile before she left him and it was such a beautiful sight to see.

“A few weeks ago.”

“Is this because of the hair chalk?” He asked her, pulling the inch of pink hair from her pony tail.

“Possibly. When we were talking about it, I decided to just do it again.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks Taron.”

He brought his attention back to her face and smiled a little sadly. “You have to go.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Robyn?” Asked Taron.

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?”

It was a sentence she never thought Taron would ever have to ask her, as he generally just pulled her close for a hug when he felt like it but now he was asking her permission and that hurt her so much more than the pain he had caused from his phone calls and anger towards her. His voice sounded so sad and tentative, his whole body almost curling into itself after he had asked, ready for her rejection.

Without a second thought, she shrugged the big black coat from her body and almost flung herself at him, glad he was able to keep his balance and the two of them standing, his two arms squeezing her tight against him, as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his going round her waist. He buried his head into her neck, his cheek resting against soft skin that was warm and inviting. He really didn’t think she was going to say yes when he asked for a hug, and moved one hand to back of her head to squish her a little deeper under his chin, giving everything he had to the hug. He closed his eyes tight and sighed when he felt her fingers dip into the hair as his bottom of his head, enjoying as she gently ran her finger tips in soothing circles. He never thought he was going to feel this close to her so soon after everything that happened and every part of his body was tingling.

Robyn loved it when Taron tucked her under his chin and adored the little sigh she heard from him as she started to massage the nape of his neck. However discouraged she was by his stubborn mindset, she would never be able to refuse a hug from him, especially when he had been so honest about his intentions and promise to do his best rather than promising not to do it again. It was an answer she respected so much more than a promise that would have been too hard to keep. They were bound to have their disagreements in the future, but she knew Taron would definitely think before he spoke the next time. She moved her head a little so she could rest it over his heart, hearing it race under her ear, loving how he tried to hold her even closer to his body. With the coat off, she could feel the chill from the late afternoon air but Taron was his usually warm self and his body heat felt wonderful against her, even a little warmer due to the exertion of the scene he was just filming.

“Thank you for my hug.” He whispered into her neck, placing a small kiss on her skin. “Thanks for knocking some sense back into my head too.” He moved a little away from her but kept his arms around her. “I am sorry.” He said in the quietest voice, the words filled with every positive emotion he could find. “And I love you.” He added, dipping his head to kiss her cheek. He lingered a little with the kiss before standing up straight.

Robyn moved her hands from around his shoulders and to his face. She put a little gentle pressure on his cheeks to make him dip his head down. “Don’t you ever, ever treat me like that again.” She stood on her toes, leaned in and placed a kiss on his forehead. “And I love you too.” She replied just as quiet.

It was another tight hug that conveyed enough for them to know that although the air was clear, a lot more needed to be said between the pair when they had more time.

Taron gave her one last squeeze and then let her go. He reached down behind her and picked up the coat. “Bring this with you. It is still really cold and you can use it to sleep with on the plane home.”

Robyn accepted the coat and gladly put it back on, missing the warmth Taron’s body provided her. “You won’t need it?” She asked him as she took his phone from one of the pockets.

“Nah. I think Matthew is going to keep me pretty busy for the rest of the day. I have quite a bit of filming to catch up on.”

“Thank you.” She handed him his phone. “I had better go.”

“Yeah I know. I can walk you to the barriers, help you with the cab.”

“I got it Taron but thanks. You head back to Matthew.”

“Please text me when you are on the plane. I won’t be able to answer it straight away but I will as soon as I can and I will call you once I have sent the email.”

“Ok Taron. So, I will talk to you later?”

“Yeah you will.” Taron had almost called her ‘chicken’ but stopped himself, knowing it was not the right place or time or if that nickname would ever even come back into play. “Have a safe flight.”

Robyn turned and walked away from him, coming out of their little hiding place and making her way through the all the gear, wires, boxes and crew to head back towards the barriers. Even with their hug, their parting was a little strained and awkward and she sighed as she ducked under the barrier to leave the set and mingle in the crowd walking down sixth avenue. They had an understanding between each other and she knew Taron was completely shook by her appearance in New York and the way she had approached him. She didn’t know how it was all going to play out and she had no plan in her mind except to challenge Taron. What she did know was that she was glad he had actually listened to her and listened to her properly, finally understanding how he wasn’t the only one affected by what the media said about them. She was so grateful for Lyndsey and her quick response to the story and was so glad there was going to be a positive outcome for her and her work. A statement from Taron himself circulating to all of the parents would take the heat from her. She stood at the corner of sixth and thirty-fifth street and held her hand out to hail a cab, one stopping immediately. She opened the door and got in greeting the driver.

“JFK Terminal five please.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks.”

Robyn sat back in the car, snuggling into the coat Taron had given her. She closed her eyes and sighed. One thing she knew and knew for certain was that Taron Egerton was playing mayhem with her emotions and when she left JFK four hours ago she was absolutely sickened by him, but now as she made her way back, she found herself tingling with the usual spark that always appeared when she thought about him. The next time they met up would be a serious test for them and it would either bring them even closer together or push them further apart and away from each other.

[willow-salix]

I thought I'd share today's update, as I know @gumnut-logic and a few others wil appreciate the visuals. You can read the whole series here...

Day 41 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm never going to try to teach Virgil yoga ever again. 

Kayo and I were chilling out in the gym making good use of the quiet that was so rare these days. She was doing some Tai Chi while I was relaxing with some deep back stretches. All this sitting around doing nothing was playing havoc with my spine and I was feeling the need for a little exercise. 

I'm not really a cardio person, I'm more of a low impact type of girl, so walks on the beach or along the Island paths, hooping or yoga is the ones for me. I've found that the day starts off a little smoother if I do a few moves before I really get going, it helps to shake off the stiffness of a night's sleep. 

I began my routine with a short few minutes in what people call corpse pose, it's essentially lying flat on your back, legs stretched out and arms resting gently at your sides, taking some deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

I could feel the vibrations on the floor as Kayo moved smoothly from one foot to the other, shifting her weight and balancing as steady as a rock. 

Next I planted my feet and slid my knees up, so they were bent with my feet flat on the ground, and lifted up into a bridge. I like this move, I get to feel a nice stretch of my abdominals and my thighs, though the trick is to keep your forearms flat on the ground and your shoulders down. 

I kept my breathing as even as possible and tried not to wobble.

"What are you doing?" 

I opened my eyes to see Virgil looming over me. 

"Yoga. What are you doing?" 

"Real exercise."

"Excuse me, but this is real exercise. This takes strength and skill, " I wobbled and collapsed in a heap on my back. 

He snorted softly. "Yeah, you looked real skillful."

"I'd like to see you do it," Kayo taunted. 

"Easy," he declared. 

"Fine, get on the floor."

He laid down next to me and awaited his instructions. 

I then lifted my legs, hugging my knees to my chest and rolling slowly from side to side, relaxing my spine into a comfy curve, sighing in relief as I felt the vertebrae pop and release. 

Virgil watched for a moment then joined in, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

"Now rock gently," I instructed him. 

He rocked to the side but didn't stop at the rock, no he just rolled straight over onto his side. 

"Bit dramatic, but OK."

I then bent my knees a little and grabbed my feet, stretching my arms out and my legs apart as far as they would go in what is called happy baby. I didn't really need to do it, but it was amusing me to watch Virgil try to stretch out and wiggle like a toddler. I caught sight of Kayo, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter. 

Once I released my feet I dropped them back down to sit flat on the ground,  knees bent, then let them fall to the left, twisting at the waist, head turned the opposite way to which my legs were going. 

Virgil copied me, his knees thumping solidly against the floor. 

"Yoga is supposed to be gentle and fluid, Virgil," Kayo told him. 

I relaxed for a few breaths and moved my knees back to the center, before going the other way, and then back. Virgil huffed along with me. 

"Can we get off the floor yet?" 

"Fine, but do it as I do."

I lifted up slowly onto my knees and knelt for a moment, back straight as I twisted at the waist, this way and that, feeling the stretch. 

Virgil got awkwardly to his knees, which let out a couple of pops in protest, as did his spine as he twisted. 

"Now doesn't that feel better?" 

He groaned pathetically, I couldn't tell if it was a good groan or not. 

We slowly stood, stretching up straight and tall into mountain pose. Virgil lumbering to his feet. 

I flexed my hips, lifting first one foot then the other before dropping my arms slowly and bending at the waist, skimming my hands down my legs until I was bent in half, folded over, fingers touching my toes (or as best I could, being so tall and with such long legs, it's pretty much impossible as my arms aren't that bloody long) in a forward fold. 

My hands slid easily thanks to my soft yoga pants, but Virgil had a harder time in bending down and Kayo had to help him, massaging his back while he huffed and moaned his way through his bend. 

"You struggling, boo?" I asked sweetly. He didn't dignify it with an answer. 

I stayed like this for a few breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth and then half straighted into a flat backed bend, pushing my palms against a nearby wall to really feel the benefit of the stretch. Virgil straightened too although his back cracked at the effort, Kayo's hand in the middle of his back stopping him from lifting up too fast. 

I couldn't help a little giggle that escaped even though I was supposed to be all quiet and serene as I moved back and down into downward dog. 

"Come on muscles, get moving, on your knees. Then head down, bum up, legs and arms straight."

"Urghhh, I need to what?" He twisted his head to watch me as Kayo grabbed him around the waist and tried to haul his middle up into the air. 

"How much do you weigh?" she groaned. 

"Hey! That's personal. Besides, we've all gotten a little fluffy from being so inactive lately."

I ignored that comment but sucked my stomach in a bit, just in case and held it for a few breaths. Even though I was beginning to wobble and my arms were protesting a little I was nowhere near as bad as the wobbling wall of chonk next to me. 

"And down," I coached as I let my belly lower, sliding down into cobra, arching my spine as I stretched my neck out, legs straight out behind me, my weight resting on my forearms. 

He flopped down with less grace than a felled tree and Kayo had to help him again, sitting in his legs with her foot in the center of his back as he arched backwards. 

"Plank and then downward dog again," I instructed. 

"A whatward pup?" he huffed as Kayo rolled off his legs. 

"Downward dog," she told him. "Head down butt up." 

"Oh, that," he groaned but gamely tried his best, managing to raise up on his arms and legs without Kayo's help. 

I lowered myself down into a plank, and held it for a beat before raising to my knees and then into a forward lunge, arms straight above my head in warrior one. 

"Be a warrior with me!" I demanded, and Kayo joined in, copying the pose, Virgil sandwiched between us, wobbling madly. 

"That much bulk is not meant to stand in one place so long," she commented. 

"But he so pretty," I tossed back. 

"I am here you know." 

"We know," Kayo grinned. 

I lowered my arms and stretched one out in front and one back, in warrior two, before switching to the other side.  

Virgil's legs were twitching madly and he was sweating up a storm but he gamely locked his knees and soldiered on like the warrior he was trying to be. 

"Down again." 

Nearly done, I dropped to my hands and knees again. 

"Again? Can't we just stay down and do it all in one go?" 

"Nope."

"I thought this was supposed to be relaxing and calming?"

"Don't you feel calm? I feel calm. What about you, Kay?" 

"Oh, I'm so relaxed."

"I hate you both." 

"No you don't, you love us."

I arched my back on my in breath, tucking my head down until my chin touched my chest in cat pose, holding it for a few seconds. 

Kayo helped by shoving her leg under Virgil's belly and lifting. 

"Hey! Get off!" 

I relaxed my spine, pushing my stomach down towards the floor and lifted my head up and back, stretching my neck in cow pose.

Kayo swung her leg up to land on his back, pushing down. 

"Stop it!" 

I continued to cat/cow for a span of ten breaths, in and out, spine rounded then arched, relaxing more with each movement.  

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for my student who had Kayo still 'helping'. 

"How many more?" he grunted. 

"Last one but stay on to your knees."

Finally I lowered down to kneel, keeping my back straight, my hands in front of my chest in prayer pose taking a few more deep breaths. 

Virgil thumped down next to me. It sounded like it hurt. 

"Annnndddd relax." 

I finished off in child's pose, arms stretched out before me, curled in a kneeling ball, head bowed, forehead touching the floor, and breathed out. 

Virgil collapsed forward with a groan, tucking his knees up under him. 

"I think I broke a hip," he moaned pathetically. 

I counted us through a few deep breaths and then uncurled, standing up to stretch up high, reaching to the ceiling.

"There? Don't you feel amazing now?"

Virgil moaned, defeated. Kayo and I offered him a hand each and hauled him to his feet.

"You just need more practice. You did great," I praised. But he wasn't convinced.

"No thanks, I think I'll stick to the weights, they're a little more forgiving than you two."