#I’m not joking the last time I drew him was like 4 months ago

[mooseonahunt]

And there goes my Connor quota for the year. Say bye-bye. Not drawing him again until next year! /hj

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[spookysmujer]

Piensa En Mi, O. Diaz

Summary: The relationship with you and Oscars suddenly ends after he gets locked up. Now it’s 4 years later..

warnings: HELLA angst, heartbreak 

word count: 1.9K

a/n: I had an itch to write today, thank you for requesting babes! Sorry it took this long to get done. I hope everyone is doing okay these days. PSA: Stop the hate against Asians! Speak up for our brothers and sisters, please. I love you all! Please consider: following, heart/comment/reblog my content! Thank you <)

Requested by @boujee-bitches!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes)

You can remember the day you realized just how much you were in love with Oscar Diaz. It was a few months into dating, he had been in and out of town on Santo business, and yet still was able to check in with you. He even sent you doordash multiple times. And in that one moment, as the doordash driver stood at your door, carrying a bag of your favorite pastrami sub, you truly felt your heart bleed for Oscar. The feelings entirely mutual with him. You can remember that exact moment you felt it, just as you remember the moment your heart had been ripped away. 

The consequence of having such a pristine memory is the ability to remember not only the good days but the hurtful ones as well. Now, after years of being with Oscar, he’s gone. Things had been going so well with the Santos and moving up in the ranks for him. Then in a matter of seconds, all that changed. The moment those handcuffs linked his wrists together behind his back as he was  whisked away in the back of the patrol car was the day everything changed.

Change. 

They always say that change is a good thing. But whoever they are, they were wrong. Change is malicious, it’s life-consuming and does nothing but harm. In the beginning you were confident everything would be okay. Nothing could break this man, he has been through the highest highs and the lowest lows. He has endured things as a young child that no child should. Even when the judge has sentenced him to 8 years, the look he gave you said: It’ll be okay, mamas.

For the first few months, things were good. The money he would send to you, you’d put on his books regardless of his wishes for you not to do so. The phone calls that didn’t last nearly as long as you wanted it to. And the letters, even if you talked on the phone and visited him often, Oscar still wrote you letters, and he always drew something for you. 

But it began to get difficult. When school started up in the fall, your full-time job and now taking care of his younger brother, you started to miss calls, needed to reschedule visits. And when you would answer, Oscar would give you the cold shoulder. He realized that you were beating yourself up for trying to juggle everything. He hated himself for making you so stressed just to make it to him. So on a surprise call that you weren’t expecting, he broke it to you that dating while he is incarcerated is foolish of you. It’s a waste of your time. Please take care of yourself and Cesar, we’ll see where we are when I’m out. But for now, it’ll be just me.

That day replays in your mind. No more calls, rejected visits, ghost letters. It felt like he died, though you would have been notified of it if that was the case. But that was 4 years ago, everything had changed and according to Cesar, it’s about to change again.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You ask, after holding your breath. Spooky gets out tomorrow. 

Cesar shovels the rest of his cereal in his mouth and gulps down the remaining milk, rushing around the kitchen and gathering his school things, “Oscar. He gets out tomorrow. His sentence reduced to half the time, remember the hearing they had last week?”

Whenever Cesar would talk about his older brother, you would tune it out. Oscar breaking up with you over the phone without a thorough reason, then dropping you as a person all together really broke you beyond repair. But you had no choice but dust off your shoulders and keep going. 

You hum and nod, packing your lunch.Without saying anything else, you head back to your room to get your things ready for work. As you pass by the room that Cesar had taken residency in, you notice the packed bags. “Cesar!” 

But by the time you make it back to the kitchen, he has already left out the door. Was he about to leave? Did he want out now that Oscar will be out? Though the idea was to care for Cesar while his brother was locked up, to know he is already ready to up and leave, hurts you. But you shake it off, Oscar is coming home, shit. 

Your day goes by painstakingly slow. All you could think about is how it would go when you’d see him again, how will you feel? What about him, what will he feel?

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Cesars voice sounds from across the table, the two of you enjoying some take-out. The day has gone from slower than a sloth to as quick as sonic the hedgehog.

He stares at you, waiting for you to respond. “Now that Oscar is getting out, it’s time for you to head on back home. Yeah, I heard you. Just sucks is all, I feel like my daily routine will be all messed up.” You joke to which he grins at. 

The next day comes by in a blink of an eye. Here you are leaning against your car that is parked in front of Oscars house. You can’t bring yourself to walk up those stairs and face him. But he hasn’t exited the house yet, you wonder if he even will. After Cesar gets the last bag is when you hear the front door. He makes his way towards you, your breath getting stuck in your airways. 

Cesar hugs you and thanks you again, you squeeze him and ask that he doesn’t be a stranger. Then there stood, you and Oscar. He stares at you for a long moment, studying you. It’s been nearly 4 years since he’s seen you. You are the same with little differences here and there, “You finally pierced your nose.” He points out. 

You purse your lips and nod, scoffing and looking him in the eyes, “Almost 1,300 days of not talking to me and seeing me…. And my nose ring is the first thing you say to me?” 

It wasn’t the plan to argue, you wanted to ask him to be kind to Cesar and take care of him then be on your merry way. But being in his physical presence now, it’s made your blood boil. How could he stand there like nothing had happened between you? The history you two have was an epic love and heartbreak but by the look on his face, it’s as if you are a stranger in passing. 

He licks his bottom lip and digs his hands into his shorts pockets, “What you want me to say? I said all I needed to that day on the phone.”

Your arms uncross from over your chest and your mouth falls slightly open. But before you can let out the rage that’s been building up continuously over the years, “I miss you, querida.” He watches your face contort to confusion then back to anger. He nearly smiles to see that you are still the hot head you’ve always been.

The words weren’t coming out as you wanted them to. All you could do was stomp past him to leave but he grabs your upper arm to stop you. You look down to where his hand wraps around your arm then up to his eyes, the look you give him is loud enough for him to let go.

“Can you just listen to me? You think I wanted to break things off? That it didn’t hurt me just as much as it hurt you?” Oscar begins, standing directly in front of you and slightly craning his head down. “I fucking hated that I did that to you, mami. The last thing I want in this world is not being with you, to cause you pain and to have done that when I was locked up? I hated it. Every single day. But I needed to do it because all I was doing was holding you back. I couldn’t bare knowing that I was making your life hard.”

An eruption of laughter sounds from you, you hold your stomach and one hand clamped over your mouth, hunching over from how hilarious you find his last sentence. Though anyone else hearing it wouldn’t really laugh, seeing as it wasn’t a funny statement. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. But do you hear yourself? You thought breaking up would be better. I don’t know if there was ever a time during our relationship prior that I made you feel I couldn’t handle something like you being locked up, I am terribly sorry if I had but I thought I proved to you that I was more than in love with you, I was hopelessly devoted to you, I was willing to endure it all, every call or visit. I was ready to work hard to make sure you could make tienda… but what did I do or what did I say to make you think otherwise?”

Oscar feels the chains on his heart tighten with every word you say. He doesn’t know what hurts him more, the break-up or now knowing how worthless it made you feel. He knows you are an understanding person, but his intentions didn’t settle as he hoped it would. 

It takes all his might to resist pulling you into a hug, With how you reacted to his touch just moments ago, he knows a hug would only result in profanities being spewed out. As if a hug could magically glue the pieces back together and fix it all. “You didn’t do shit wrong, Y/N. You were the epitome of a down ass girl. But all I could see was the tiredness in your face when you would visit me because you were playing mother to Cesar meanwhile trying to juggle everything else. Trying to make sure you would always come to see me… so I thought ending everything would be better, I thought you would be better off.”

The rage and ache in your heart fights against each other. He is saying one thing but to you its processing as nothing but an excuse. You want to yell and thrash your fists against his chest so he can feel just a sliver of what you went through. 

“I was better off with you. It didn’t matter to me what we were going through Oscar… If it was something joyous or something scrutinizing, as long it was with you and we were together, I wanted it all with you. I was ready to go through this journey with you. But you just gave up on us like that.” You snap your fingers and blink away the tears that had begun pooling for sometime now. His shoulders cave in and he dips his head down, unable to keep his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Give me a chance to prove that I haven’t given up on you or us.”

You wanted to laugh again. To point and scream how silly he sounds and to catch the circus act before they leave town but the way he says it is the reason you didn’t. How low his voice is, how soft his eyes are and his walls had dropped to below sea level is what made you stand so incredibly still.

Do you take the chance? Should push aside all the vines and roots that have grown over the chest labeled: Oscar, to let him in again? 

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[flightlessangelwings]

Keep You Safe

Frankie Morales x gn!reader (no y/n)

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pining, mild angst, a shitty ex, a break in, brief panic attack (not overly detailed), protective!Frankie, bed sharing, happy ending

Notes: This sat drafted for weeks cause I just kept picking at it and I think I’m finally happy with it so I hope y’all enjoy it! Thanks to my wonderful partner @we-can-be-himbos​ for beta reading for me!

~

The little dive bar was full of noise and life. You stood around a high top with your brother, Santiago, and your shared friends Will, Benny, and Frankie. Technically Santi was your step brother; your parents married when you both were young, but you two grew up together and he never treated you like anything other than a sibling. He was always very protective of you and always looked after you even well into adulthood. The two of you even lived together in a shared little house since he was away a lot for his job.

You all gathered together because it was Santiago’s last night before he left for his deployment. It was always tradition before any of the guys left to have a night out as a send off, and you loved when you and the boys all got together. You were fond of the Miller brothers, but you had a special place in your heart for Frankie Morales. 

Frankie captivated you ever since the day you first met all those years ago. You hid it as best you could, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him for just a moment too long or the way your heart flipped in your chest whenever he laughed. And whenever you weren’t looking, Frankie’s eyes trailed down your figure as he shifted in his boots. He always smirked at your effortless charm that drew him in from the get-go.

There was an undeniable attraction between you and Frankie, and the rest of the guys could definitely sense it. Yet, no one said anything. Perhaps no one wanted to be the one to tell Santiago that you were interested in his best friend. Or maybe they wanted you and Frankie to come together on your own without more than a gentle nudge from the rest of the group. 

But what no one knew was that you and Frankie did hook up once. It was a couple of months ago after a night out at the bar, much like this one, and Frankie had offered to take you home. Santi had already left with a random person he had been making eyes at all night and trusted your safety with Frankie. One thing led to another and you ended up naked in his bed after several orgasms. The two of you agreed to never mention that night again, although it was always on your mind.

You had no idea that it was always on Frankie’s mind as well.

Glasses clinked as you and the boys all cheered to Santiago’s health and wished him luck on his mission. He would be gone for several months: the longest he would be away. You all chattered and laughed as you shared memories of good times. Benny let out a loud cackle and rested his hand on your shoulder as you told an embarrassing story about Santiago from your childhood and Frankie couldn’t help the way he frowned slightly. He wasn’t a jealous person, but he wished that he could be so casual in his touches with you as the others were.

“Hey Fish,” Santiago’s voice shook Frankie from his thoughts, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Frankie nodded as he finished his beer before he followed Santi to a quiet corner of the bar.

You watched the two men walk away with furrowed brows, “What's that about?” you asked as you took a sip of your drink.

“I bet he’s telling Fish to make sure Benny keeps his hands off of you,” Will joked, which made you burst into laughter as Benny gave him an exaggerated pout.

Santi and Frankie looked to be deep in conversation and they both had serious looks on their faces. You didn’t bother to try to eavesdrop, since the bar was too loud and you settled for just watching their interaction from a distance. But you were soon distracted when you felt another pair of eyes on you. A chill ran down your spine as you casually leaned back and tried to find the source.

On the other end of the bar you swore you saw Casey, your ex. His face disappeared into the crowd before you could be sure, but even just the thought made you uneasy. Things did not end well with Casey; he was very overbearing and made you uncomfortable with how possessive he was. Even after you ended your relationship with him, you found that he would pop up sometimes whenever you were out like he was following you. 

You shuffled closer to Will and Benny as you rejoined the conversation and tried to put your ex’s face out of your mind. The boys didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary and you convinced yourself that it was just your imagination as you put a soft smile back on your face.

The other two came back to the table within a few minutes, and you and Santi left the bar shortly after that. His flight was early the next morning and you wanted to get some sleep before you drove him to the airport. Even as you left with your brother, you still felt those ice cold eyes on you, but you didn’t say anything to Santiago.

Your little one story house you shared with your brother was cute and cozy, and was just enough for the two of you. You each had your own bedrooms and separate bathrooms, which was a must when you were house hunting. The car was quiet as he drove the two of you home, and though Santi usually pressed you about what was on your mind, he chose to stay quiet this time. 

“What time do we need to leave, Santi?” you asked though the wall as you got ready for bed.

“Six,” he shouted back.

Fuck, that was so early. But you always liked to be the one to take him to the airport whenever he left for assignments, so you sucked it up for one morning. You could always come right back home and go back to bed anyway. After you said your goodnights, you slipped into bed where you fell asleep quicker than you expected to with how full your head was.

But you didn’t stay asleep.

A loud bang at the front door jolted you awake and you scrambled out of bed to duck down onto the floor like your brother had taught you to. The noise must have woken Santiago up as well because you heard him shout your name as he told you to stay in your room. You heard an argument and you recognized the other voice anywhere: Casey. You gasped as you realized that was actually him at the bar and he must have followed you home.

You cracked your door open just enough to see into the living room where Santiago was locked in a heated argument with your ex. Panic raced through your veins as you fell back onto the floor. You didn’t even register that Santiago came back and was right in front of you. His hands were on your shoulders as he shook you gently to get you out of your head. It wasn’t until the third time he said your name that you came back to the present.

“Hey, hey,” Santi used as calming a voice as he could, “He’s gone.” He was just as frightened as you were, and he was ready to defend and protect you. Santi watched you in your relationship with him and he didn’t like the way the guy treated you at all. You were the only family he had left, and he would do anything for you, “You ok?”

You swallowed hard as you nodded weakly, “I’m ok,” you took in a big breath to steady yourself, “It was Casey wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he grit his teeth, clearly annoyed, “But you’re ok,” he pulled you in for a hug, “We’re ok,” Santi repeated.

You trembled but your brother’s embrace was calming, and the two of you stayed like that for several minutes, “I don’t think I can go back to sleep now.”

He let out a short laugh, “Me either,” he broke away to take a look at your face, “How about some coffee?”

“I don’t wanna stay here…” your voice was weak.

Santi nodded in understanding, “There’s a 24 hour diner, how about we load up the car and go there?”

Instead of leaving at six in the morning, you and your brother walked out of the door around 4:30. Santi tossed his bags in the backseat and offered to drive, but you insisted you could. You needed something to focus your mind. The two of you were the only ones at the diner save for the couple of workers, and you sat at the booth in silence for some time with a pot of coffee on the table between you.

“Go to Frankie’s,” Santi finally broke the silence. He desperately wanted to do something to help you, but he had no idea what.

“What?” you barely heard his voice, too lost in your thoughts.

“I don’t want you home alone after I leave,” he explained, “Go to Frankie’s for now and tell him what happened.”

You winced, you didn’t want to have to relive what happened in your head as you told the story to someone else. Even if it was Frankie. “Alright…”

“Hey,” he laid a hand on top of where yours laid on the table to get you to meet his gaze, “You know I’d stay if I could.”

“I know,” you sighed. You were quiet again for a moment before you changed the subject with a question that had been on your mind, “What did you say to Frankie at the bar last night?”

Santi grinned, “I asked him to take care of you while I’m gone. Because I know he will.” Frankie was the person that he trusted the most, and Santi could tell how much he cared about you. Frankie even confided in him how much he didn’t like Casey and how much he worried for you. If anyone would do anything to protect his family while he was gone, it was Frankie. 

You frowned, “He told you we slept together didn’t he?”

“Nope,” the shit-eating grin that came across Santi’s face was priceless as he leaned back in the booth, “But you just did.”

You sighed dramatically as you buried your face in your hands and collapsed onto the table, “Dammit Santi…” but you also couldn’t help but giggle when you heard his laughter. 

As the sun started to rise on the horizon, the two of you decided to leave for the airport. The talk with your brother and the several pots of coffee helped to ease your nerves, but you still fell quiet again as you drove. Usually, the car ride to the airport was full of chatter, but not today. And Santi hated that he had to leave right after something like this happened, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Santiago bid you goodbye with a tight embrace as you dropped him off at the terminal, and he made you promise to go to Frankie’s. You assured him that you would go straight there, even if it was still ungodly early in the morning. As you watched him walk through the doors and disappear into the small crowd, your heart fluttered as you thought about your next destination. 

It wasn’t that you meant to avoid Frankie since the night you slept with him. You just didn’t know what to do from there, so you only hung out with him in a group with the guys. Of course, you ended up spending most of your time talking to him anyway. There was just something about Frankie that you could not stay away from, no matter how hard you tried.

The sun shone brightly in the sky for how early it was as you drove over to Frankie’s house. You held your breath as you knocked at his door and hoped that he wouldn’t be mad that you woke him up. But, your breath caught in your throat when he answered the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung how on his hips. You had seen him naked before, but the sight before you literally knocked the wind out of you.

You temporarily forgot about everything that had plagued your mind for the past couple hours as you stood awestruck at Frankie’s front door. It took you several moments to even notice the grimace on his face as you obviously had woken him up.

But Frankie wasn’t mad; he could never be mad at you. He said your name to snap you out of your thoughts, and he couldn’t help the small chuckle at the way you looked at him. If he was honest with himself, Frankie would have liked to ask you out on an actual date after you two hooked up. But, you came up with the arrangement to keep your relationship under wraps for now before he could. 

“What are you doing here so early?” he asked in a groggy voice, “Everything alright?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s early,” a heavy sigh escaped your lips as the memories of earlier this morning flooded back, “Can… Can I come in?”

Frankie stepped aside and extended an arm to lead you in, “Of course,” he couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. Obviously something was wrong, and he immediately worried about you. “Did something happen? Everything good with Pope?”

You bit your lip and nodded, “Yeah, he’s on his flight. He’s good,” you sat down on Frankie’s couch and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes as he gently sat down next to you.

His eyes bore into your figure as he asked the silent question in concern for you. Frankie carefully placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a soft squeeze to get you to look at him. The way he looked at you made you melt, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Casey came by early this morning,” you blurted out, “And he and Santi got into it.”

“What?!” Frankie immediately went on high alert as questions poured from his mouth and he wrapped his arms around you without a second thought.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” you reassured him as you leaned into his embrace, “Santi told him off.” You felt Frankie tighten his grip on you and you swore you heard a growl from deep in his throat, “I just… I don’t know what to do now.” Frankie was the one person you confided to about how nervous Casey made you, and how you thought you had seen him pop up whenever you were out.

“You can stay here,” he said without hesitation, “As long as you want.”

You let out a deep breath. Frankie only had one bedroom, so that either meant you would share a bed with him or you would be just a few feet away on the couch. Either way, you knew what staying the night with him would most likely lead to, and though you wanted that more than anything else in the world, you were hesitant. You weren’t even sure why you were; obviously your brother was more than ok with the idea of you and Frankie together. Maybe you were too afraid to face your own feelings for him.

“I don’t want to impose,” you finally said, “Besides, I hate feeling like I’m scared out of my own house.”

Frankie was quiet for several moments. You were stronger than you gave yourself credit for, and you were stubborn to boot. Then, he had an idea, “How about this,” he started, “I’ll take you to get a new security system and an extra deadbolt for your door,” he stared at your for a moment before he told you the last part of his plan, “And I’ll stay over with you tonight.”

You didn’t need much time before you agreed to his plan, and you spent the entire day with Frankie. He packed himself an overnight bag and followed you in his car to your house to drop it off before he drove you to the store. He could tell that you were still uneasy, so he made a fun day of it and treated you to lunch as well.

The stresses of earlier in the morning melted away the longer you were with Frankie, and you were happy that you went to him. You had always felt comfortable with Frankie, even from the day you first met. And Frankie felt a connection and attraction to you right away as well. He would do anything to protect you, and he cared about you more than he could express with words. 

By the evening, Frankie had installed the new security system and extra locks and you had cooked him a big dinner as a thank you. As the two of you talked for hours, you felt more and more relaxed and the events of earlier this morning were pushed to the back of your mind. That was, until it came time to head to sleep.

“I’ll take the couch,” Frankie offered.

You stood in the living room as you fiddled with your fingers nervously. You didn’t want him to have to sleep on the couch, and you spoke before your mind caught up to your mouth, “Stay with me.”

Frankie stood dumbfounded as he stared at you, “What?”

“You… You can stay in my room. With me,” the last two words were just a whisper as you dropped your gaze down to the floor, “Please?”

A soft grin came across Frankie’s face; he couldn’t say no to you, especially when you asked like that, “Ok,” his voice was just as hushed as yours. 

The tension could be cut with a knife as the two of you settled into your bed. Luckily, it was big enough to fit you both, and as you laid on your side with your back to him, you found that you wanted nothing more than to turn over and nuzzle into his arms. And Frankie had to wrap his arms around his torso to keep from reaching out to you.

You didn’t know how long you laid next to Frankie, but you were sure he wasn’t asleep yet. Without a word, you gave in to your feelings and you rolled over and wrapped your arms around his waist and nuzzled into his back. You heard him gasp softly as he tensed for a moment before he also turned over so he could wrap his arms around you. Frankie pulled you in as close as he could and held you tightly and you smiled into his skin as you rested your head on his chest.

Everything felt right like this, and you would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for the way his heart pounded in his chest. You shifted so that you could look up at him, and the movement made him open his eyes. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes for several long moments before you hauled yourself up slowly and inched closer and closer to his face.

Frankie’s eyes never left yours, except to glance down at your lips once for a brief moment. He breathed your name as he gripped onto you tighter, as if he was afraid to let you go. Your eyes darted down to his own lips for a second before you closed the rest of the gap and placed a tender, soft kiss. He sighed into the kiss and held you as tightly as he possibly could.

He was about to deepen the kiss when a loud crash made both of you jump in surprise. There was a rattle and pounding at your front door, and you immediately panicked. Frankie, however, was quick to jump into action.

“You're ok, You’re ok,” he cupped your face and softened his expression for a moment, “Stay here. Lock your door,” he ordered before he grabbed something from his overnight bag and darted out of your bedroom.

Your hands shook as you did as you were told and quickly locked your door and scrambled back to the floor next to your bed. The sounds were muffled, but you could hear a fight just outside the door. Tears filled your eyes as you hoped that Frankie was ok, and your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you thought about how he did not hesitate for a second to jump in and protect you.

Then, everything got quiet and all you could hear was the sound of footsteps running away. You strained to listen and crawled over halfway to your door. You heard the sound of footsteps followed by running water from the sink before Frankie’s voice rang through the door.

“Baby, it’s me. It’s ok,” his voice was surprisingly calm and soothing, and you immediately jumped up and ran to unlock your bedroom door.

Frankie met you on the other side and you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest, and you let out a deep breath when he hugged you back just as tightly.

“Shhh, it’s ok. You’re ok,” he stroked your back in a soothing manner as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, “I got you. You’re safe.”

“Frankie…” you breathed as you pulled back enough to look at his face, “Are you ok?” you cupped his cheek with one hand as you clung to his shirt with the other.

He smiled at you, “I’m fine,” he paused as he just gazed into your eyes, “He tried to get away, but your neighbor heard us fight and came out to keep him down,” Frankie kept a tight grip on you as he spoke, “Casey won’t bother you ever again. I promise.”

“Thank you, Frankie,” your voice was so quiet that you weren’t sure if he heard you as you dropped the hand that cupped his cheek down to his chest. You were silent again as you stayed securely in his arms, “Frankie I…”

He cut you off with a chaste kiss. Unlike when you kissed him in your bed, this one was more intense and full of passion. It was a desperate kiss, as if he used it to make sure you were actually here and ok. Frankie did not regret beating your ex up for you; he’d do anything to keep you safe. He kissed you for what felt like hours before he finally broke away for air.

“I know baby,” he murmured against your lips, “Me too,” he kissed you again, much more slowly this time. You weren’t going anywhere this time, and he had all the time in the world now to be with you. 

“Pope gonna be ok with this?” he asked with a laugh when he broke away again.

“I’ll handle my brother,” you joined in his laughter, “But he’s ok with it, trust me.”

Frankie gave you a look that said you had explaining to do later, but for now he just wanted to enjoy and relish the time with you and keep you safe in his arms.

[sugar-bunii]

Adrenaline rush

You and Octane have been going steady for about 4 months now, everything has been perfect so far but something was missing. You’ve always wanted to be sexually intimate with him but he hasn’t been picking up on any of your hints.

First it was asking to shower together but he was too worried about taking off his prosthetics, next it was when you asked him if he wanted to try something new. He got exited but started going on about the new sushi bar that opened. Another time was just you walking into the room in a towel after showering, he quickly covered his eyes and left so you could get dressed.

As clueless as he was you decided to ask him directly once he got home from the arena. 9:47 rolled around and he opened the door excitedly, “Hey, you’re home early what’s up?” You ask him as he settled down next to you on the couch. “We got a flawless victory and the announcer said we deserved to go home early and take a break!” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and you put your head on his arm. You thought if you were going to ask it might as well be now.

“What’s up with that look on your face, are you thinking about something?” He asked, taking his mask and placing it on the table. “I was just thinking of a way to celebrate this victory of yours.” You strattled him and kicked your leg on the other side of him. “Woah what’s this about?” He said with a smirk. You whispered in his ear “how about we take this to the bedroom?” A look of excitement washed over his face. “I thought you’d never ask!” He said with excitement, picked you up and practically ran to your room.

As he placed you on the bed he switched the playlist you were listening to, “Why’d you do that?” Slightly joking but almost offended. “I’ve got a special playlist I’ve been working on” he states and sticks his tongue out playfully. He puts on a playlist called “bangers” and the first song that plays is The hills by “The Weeknd.”

“Kay, now where we’re we?” You take off your shirt and he does the same, he stares at your topless body for what feels like forever, “wow,,,you look absolutely stunning” you feel a blush come over you due to the unexpected compliment. He began kissing your stomach, slowly moving his way up planting kisses all over your body, your scars, and taking his time with your stretch marks. You can hear him counting with every kiss.

He hovers over your neck, hesitating before resuming with the kisses “67, 68, 69 hehe 69, 70, 71…” he giggles and continues. The kisses started to become more and more passionate, leaving hickeys on your neck “mine, mine, mine” he mumbled as he ventured from your neck, to your jaw, moving to your lips.

As he pressed his lips to yours he moved one of his hands against your cheek and another slowly moving toward your sweatpants, “is it okay if I-“ you cut him off “oh please help yourself” you say as you waste no time getting back to connecting your lips. You place a hand on his chest and break away from the kiss gasping for air.

Octane pressed his forehead against yours as you both pant, “god I love you so much” he says “I love you too” he smiles as starts working his way into your panties and rubbing circles around your clit. The sudden movement sent a feeling of sensation through your body, your heavy breathing triggered something in Octane to start moving his long now dampened fingers faster at an exhilarating speed.

“Let me hear your pretty noises my love” Octane says as he began kissing your neck once more, as you moan in his ear you receive what sounded to be a mix between a growl and a moan from him. “Please~put them in me” you beg, with a slight hesitation Octane slips two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. “God you’re taking me so well, mi amor~ don’t cum yet, we still have a few more rounds to go and I want to make it last” He says with a raspy tone into your ear.

He pulls his fingers out of you as you’re on the verge of your climax, you let out a small simper and Octane seems to have noticed. “Oh what’s the matter baby, did you want me to keep going?” He says tauntingly. Octane slowly moves down your body trailing his hands, wandering almost like they had a mind of their own.

Octane propped himself up as he was hovering above your pelvis, he slid your sweatpants down every so slowly that you thought you would lose your mind if he didn’t hurry up. For being one of the fastest legends he sure did like taking his time with you. “Oh my, you’re soaking wet just because of these little guys” he says licking his fingers clean of your lingering taste. “And you did say I could help myself.” He says with a smirk.

He stood up and pulled something out of the nightstand next to the bed, “I picked this little bugger up last week.” He says sticking his tongue out at you. “You’re really taking your time tonight, aren’t you?” You ask impatiently “I’m exited and I kinda like making you wait.” He stuck out his tongue and opened the package to reveal a vibrating tongue piercing. He replaced the bar in his tongue with the rubber covered piercing and quickly got back to his position.

“Are you going to be able to handle this?” He teases. “It’ll depend on how well you can use it, but we’ll have to wait and see” you say in response. “If you say so” Octane says as he turns on the little bug in his mouth, as soon as the vibrations hit your lower lips your back arches and your hips buck upwards. Octane steadies your hips and pins then to the bed, for having such a small build he’s so much stronger than you’d think.

As he’s slurping up every drop that drips from your pussy the piercing is perfectly hitting your sweet spot. As he focused more on your clit one of his hands teased the surrounding area of your dripping hole. “God your little hole is so pathetic, dripping just from this piercing, let’s see if you can handle three fingers this time. Just tell me if it’s too much for you, okay?” Octane says reassuring you, making sure you feel comfortable. “Okay, I~” you’re cut off by his fingers curling inside you, keeping a steady pace but fast enough to satisfy his constant need for speed.

Steadily Octane began going faster and faster, in and out of your pussy, the noises from all of your juices leaking out with the speed of his fingers. You run your fingers though his hair and your other hand grips the sheets as you teacher your climax. “Octane, oh god, I’m gonna cum” you desperately say, bucking your hips and arching your back more and more. “Good baby, cum in my mouth, you’re doing so good for me”

As you finally reach your climax you thought it would be over from there, but as Octane held your legs down and locked in, you know you would be there for longer than you anticipated. “Oh good girl, but we’re not doing this for your pleasure, we’re doing this for me, it’s so fun to see you squirm and moan just because of me” You could feel your body getting hotter and hotter, the room smelt of sex and “It wasn’t me” by shaggy filled the silence in the room aside from the sound of the piercing in Octane’s mouth buzzing away as he started to ride you over the edge.

As you moaned his name and gripped his hair he would continue to rub your clit and finger your dripping hole, he moaned praises into your pussy and spat on it from time to time. Soon tears started to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, he had been eating you out for what seemed to have been hours but he didn’t seem to have lost any stamina from fingering you as fast as he did.

Octane started to slow down the pace of his fingers, looking up at you. Your body was twitching, tears stained your face, and you let out small whimpers and he finally removed his fingers from your drenched hole and replaced the burnt out piercing with the original bar that was in its place. “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.” He said as he grabbed a wet rag from the bathroom. As he cleaned you up he praised you and told you how much you meant to him.

After he got you cleaned up he pulled an oversized shirt from the closet and clean underwear for you to put on. He placed you on the couch, put the bedsheets in the washer, and drew a bubble bath for the both of you.

He picked you up off the couch, undressed you and put you into the bathtub. “Are you gonna join me in here?” You ask with little energy. “Of course my love, I just need to remember if my legs are waterproof or not.” As he takes off his leg he looks at the small writing on the back of them: made for any type of terrain, adventure, and damage. “We’ll be fine”

He removes what little clothing he had left on him and slipped into the bathtub behind you, grabbing the shampoo and washing your hair. For how rough he was a few minutes ago he was quite gentle scrubbing the shampoo into your hair. “I love you mi amor, I really do mean it, you’re my everything and I would do anything to keep you happy” Octane rinsed your hair and planted soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “I love you too, we should do this more often, Ive been trying to drop hints but I didn’t think you were picking up on any of them.” You respond as you move your hair to make way for his kisses.

“You have? I guess you just have to be more straight forward with me, but if I think you’re dropping hints I’ll ask before I assume.” He says in response rubbing body wash on your shoulders and arms. “Sounds good to me, thank you again, I love you.” You say with a slight hum to your voice. “I love you too y/n”

End

———————————————————————

Thank you for reading!! This is my first fanfic and it took me just about two days to make. Expect more in the future unless I get flagged for inappropriate content.

I may or may not have had to look up if octanes prosthetics were waterproof, but I’d say I like how this turned out!

[goldenpogue]

Halloween Surprise

Warning: this is probably trash

Author’s note: I made this pretty quick and didn’t check for typos so yeah. Hope you still enjoy the read. Also, can you let me know if you prefer 2nd or 3rd person pov.

When you’re a kid, halloween is full of ringing doorbells, picking out candy, and skipping down the street back to your house so you can eat all your delicious treats. When you’re an adult, halloween is full of partying, drinking, and ultimately more partying. But one thing matters most to both kids and adults on this one spooky day and that one thing is-

“Costumes! We need to wear matching costumes.”, Madelyn cheers, holding up four cheerleading outfits. “Simple, but cute. Hmm?” 

“No, we need something a little more creative.” Laci takes the outfits out of Madelyn’s hands, putting them back on the rack. Finding unique group costumes is hard, as it seems like even the “unique” ones have been done before. Madelyn, Carlacia, Madison and y/n had decided to go searching for some last minute costumes for the halloween party they’ll be attending the next day. 

“What about something sexy and more spooky”, Y/n chimes in. “Like zombie nurses or something?” 

“Or, we could work with what we got... zombie cheerleader?” Maddison grabs the cheerleader outfit again and holds it up to her body. “I think it’ll work.” Everyone nods in agreement and heads to the cash register.

The next day, the 4 girls met up to get ready together.

“So, have you talked to you know who yet?” Madelyn teasingly nudges y/n’s shoulder. “I bet he’d be happy to know you're going to the party.” 

“Yeah, no. I think it’ll be better if I surprise him, right?” Y/n smiles, thinking about what he’ll say when finds out you're going. Y/n last talked to Drew a day ago and didn’t tell him that she had flown out to LA. The party was starting in a hour and the girls finished up their makeup awaiting the time to head out. 

“Is everyone ready?” Laci walked out of the bathroom straightening out her outfit. Y/n stood up excitedly, “Yep, let’s go.”

As they got closer to the house where the party was taking place, y/n got more nervous. She was excited to see him for the first time in months. Fixing her outfit to make sure it was perfect, she stepped out of the car. Even though she enjoyed hanging out with the group, when they finally stepped into the house she found herself only being interested in finding Drew. 

Finally spotting him, talking with Jd, she walks behind him and reaches to cover his eyes, “Guess who?”

Drew smiles knowingly, “hmm, I don’t know. Let me think for a second.” Y/n lowers her arms, disappointed. “Really?”

“I’m joking, baby.” He turns around lifting her up in a bear hug. “Why aren’t you that surprised?” Y/n whined, even more disappointed that he didn’t reacted how she had imagined he would. 

“Oh, um a little birdie kind of told me you’d show up.” Glancing at Chase, who’s half drunk dancing on the kitchen island. They both laugh, “Yeah, I should have expected that.” Y/n looked up at drew, wrapping her arms around him, “I’m just glad I could be here.”

“Me too. If it makes you feel any better I was pretty shocked and excited when he told me.” Drew leaned down and gave y/n a quick kiss. Y/n grabbed his neck, pulling him closer for another kiss. “How about we ditch this party?” Drew says while pulling away. 

“I didn't get to show off my costume.” Y/n frowns and looks down at her attire. “You’ll look better with it off anyway, come on.” Drew grabs her hand, y/n smiling as he leads her out of the party.

I made this off the top of my head so it’s probably all over the place. There is also probably a lot of typos but I hope that doesn't affect the reading too much. Anywho, I hope you enjoy and until my next post, bye!

[everlesslahote1]

“Hey! look at me, I’m fine!” (Paul Lahote)

-HI, I BEG YOU GUYS TO REQUEST SOMETHING , ANYTHING PLEASE. I don’t have any ideas other then re-doing ones I already saw but I wanna be more bonded with my readers so, Thank You Lovely’s.

Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

(warning; forced contact, aggressive touching)

ALSO! everyone as imprints okay and I mean everyone in the pack.

-Enjoy!

-

-

-

If you would have told Y/N 11 months ago that she would be a imprint of the most vicious tempered wolf in the Uley “gang” everyone tend to talk up at school, she would have called a doctor asap.

But no... Here she was. 

At a bonfire with the pack she now calls family and her hot headed lover on a Thursday night eating a hot dog and cracking jokes with Jared Cameron and Embry call, wrapped in Paul’s warmth.

“no seriously! Embry finally imprinted on someone!” Quil said patting his pack brother’s back and making Embry cheeks go pink.

“yea so now everyone has a imprint... even if they aren’t of age *cough* Jake, Quil” Jared choked out soon earning a rupture of laughter from around the fire.

It was all true though, every wolf in the Uley pack had imprints of their own.

Sam had Emily.

Paul had Y/N.

Jared had Kim.

Embry had a sweet girl by the name of  Ameila that he met at the book store.

Jacob had Renesmee.

Quil had Claire.

Leah had a girl she met on a walk by herself by the name Emma.

Last but not least Seth had a girl from his Math class named Ava.

“ha ha very funny” Quil said with a straight face just as his 4 year old imprint (Claire Young)  ran and jumped in his lap showing him a picture she just drew of him.

“Jared please remember I am stronger then” Jake spoke.

“oh yeah” Jared challenged slipping away from his imprint (Kim) gently hitting the back of Jake’s head.

Jake and Jared soon started horse playing in the grass as the other’s betted on who would pin who first.

“hey, imma go get a drink” Y/N whispered to Paul making him nod and place a soft kisses on her lips.

She stood up with pink cheeks, jumping over Jake and Jared and walked over the side of the house where all the drinks were.

She really didn’t know if she wanted juice that Billy supplied for the kids that were here or if she wanted to finally try a beer.

She tends to say she’s a big girl and that she can handle at least one beer, I mean how hard could it be? ‘Jared handles it’ and that’s the only reason she could come up with that she could handle it, so there she stood. 

“in a giffy?” a deep voice said from the side of  her, it didn’t feel right even hearing it so close to her but she didn’t wanna be rude. So she looked up to the tall raven hair man before looking back down at the drinks then speaking.

“uh heh, yea. does beer taste good?” She asked him.

“well how about we slip away and ill tell you all about it, hun” he said grabbing her forearm a little roughly.

Her breath was caught in her throat, Paul was never rough with her only if she asked him to be and even then he didn’t get as rough as this man.

Paul always made sure she was comfortable with anything he did around her because he knew how he could get if he wasn’t thinking 

“N-no thank you, please let me go” she grabbed his hand trying to remove it kindly but it only made him grip her tighter , she fought to get his large tan hand off her arm to avoid having a bruise so Paul wouldn’t see.

She hoped and prayed that the man would back down because if her wolf was to see the physical way the man was handling her ,he would be beyond pissed.

“Oh come on princess, lighten up a little” he said pulling her closer to him making her bump into his hard chest, it was then she smelt the strong smell of the alcohol on his breath.

She was scared, even if she didn’t show it. The man was two times her size almost as big as Jacob and was firm, not buff just firm.

“Let me go!” she said with a little more volume ad force only to be quickly pulled away from the intoxicated being and for the man to be almost mercilessly thrown to the ground by a buff figure.

A figure she hoped she wouldn’t see in this situation she was dealing with.

A figure she knew all to well.

It was Paul. 

Now beating this guy senseless like he had stole something and even though she didn’t agree with the man’s actions , she most certainly wasn’t pleased with her lovers actions either.

She’d been working with Paul’s control on his anger and even the pack could see the big change in Paul’s attitude, which they couldn’t lie kind of left everyone shook.

But when he saw this sick excuse of a man grab HIS Y/N so roughly after she asked him to let go, it caused him to back track and it set something off in the pit of him.

The trio was now being watched by everyone. It took Sam, Embry, Jared, Quil and Jake to get Paul off of the man before he killed him with his bare hands.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM” Paul yelled as Leah and Seth now dragged the bloody man to the street and left him for dead, they weren’t that type of people but hearing Paul’s thought on what he saw the man do to Y/N they didn’t care what happened to the man.

“Paul! Calm down now!” Sam said trying to calm to the younger boy but it’s like his inner wolf couldn’t he wanted to he just... couldn’t.

After almost breaking free Paul still couldn’t take a steady breath so Y/N took her stand in front of the yelling boy.

Grabbing his face , bringing it down to her small figure with both of her hands on each side of his face.

“Hey! look at me, I’m fine!” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes seeing the sparkle that was always there not dimmed not even a little bit making his breathing calm down.

Paul soon tried to get out of the packs grip to hold Y/N but they only gripped tighter in fear of him hurt their pack sister, like Sam did Emily.

Y/n looked sat Sam with a soft smile.

She knew how her lover could get when he was pushed the wrong way but she knew for a fact she was going to be fine.

“he’s fine” she said gently nodding as they let him go only for him to basically throw himself into Y/N small figure, wrapping his arm around her waist sticking his nose into her neck.

Smiling , she kissed his head gently while rubbing his back.

“I-I’m sorry Y/n I tried, I did but when he touched you I-I lost it and-” cutting her wolf’s words short with a loving kiss to remind him to breathe.

“It’s alright, I get it my love. Let’s get you home” she said gently making him nod pulling away from her but keeping hold of her hand and both saying their goodbye’s and sorry’s to everyone and the pack.

That night was ended with no words... just gentle actions, a relaxed Paul, and a warm Y/N.

- - -

[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It’s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn’t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[urmyonly-vision]

Tolerate it

Description: This series is very loosely based on Taylor Swifts ‘Tolerate it’. The lyrics and imagery in this song are amazing and thought this pairing would go perfectly. Unrequited love is a bitch amirite :’) Anyway, if this doesn't mention Brock as much, its because I want the focus to be on Steve and the reader. They both deserve each other wowowow.

Pairing: Brock x female reader, then Steve Rogers x female reader.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, self esteem issues.

Words: 1.5k

The dismal and misty rain poured outside the window of the dimly lit cafe. Every so often, the awning would shudder and rhythmically release the collected rain on the path below. Everyone outside seemed to be in a rush going somewhere and anywhere to avoid being drenched.

You began to feel more grateful that you were inside, warm and dry with your hands wrapped around your hot cup of coffee. Fiddling with the sugar cubes on the saucer, you heard the bell above the door tinkle. A rush of cold air swept through the cafe and you shivered, starting to rethink the booth you had chosen to sit in.

‘You do know that's the worst seat in this place’ a familiar voice said.

You looked up to see a tall man with blonde hair chuckling and shaking his head as he walked towards you.

‘Steve!’ you exclaimed with a smile.

You shuffled across the long seat and quickly stood to give your friend a hug. Steve smiled as he returned the gesture, pulling you close and wrapping his warm hands around your frame, inhaling your perfume. Unfortunately, drops of rain from his jacket had now sunk into the thin cardigan that you were wearing, leaving you with cold patches of rain water on your torso.

You made a soft gasp at the chill saying ‘Nooo, Steve! You made me wet!’’ You grimaced, wiping yourself as you sat back down.

Steve burst out laughing at your poor choice of phrasing as he said, ‘Aw doll, I’m sorry! But it’s not every day that I get to spend good time with my favourite!’.

As he began to shrug his jacket off, you thawed at the sound of his words. Steve had always said that you were his ‘favourite’. You remembered the first time he had said it and you scoffed playfully, saying, ‘you don't mean that’.

But his sincere face looking down at you suggested he meant the exact word he chose.

Everything about Steve was earnest and calm. You watched him as he patiently waited for the waitress to come by your table and take his order. You didn't know how, but even the way he asked for his coffee was deliberate but sweet. In the 5 years you had known him, you were convinced that he was a better person each time you saw him.

Steve turned around to catch you staring at him.

‘What’s going on with you, you seem like you have a lot to say y’ know’. He asked, narrowing his eyes playfully with a tilt of his head.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you smiled warmly, ‘Nothing… just reminiscing’.

You both fell into an easy conversation, taking time to ask him about his day and if he had crossed anything off his list of things to discover this week. He began to show you several memes he had thought you'd find funny, laughing more because you snorted into your coffee, leaving a foamy mess on the table.

‘Oh God, Steve, you’re getting better than me, where are you sourcing these from?’ you laughed.

‘C’mon, I’m Captain America, I have to know everything about everything’. He joked back with a wink.

You rolled your eyes in humour, saying ‘Alright hotshot’.

You loved the comfort you had with Steve. Everything was easy and calm. You didn't even have to explain yourself to him. Only sometimes when he looked at you like that. The ‘cap look’ you called it. How could someone so good be so beautiful as well? It seemed unfair. Regardless, you were more than grateful that you were friends. And close ones at that.

‘Anyway’, Steve interrupted your thoughts. ‘You would never ask me to meet you in this kinda weather unless there's something exciting going on’. He continued. ‘Wait… did you finally find the company papers that Brock hid?’

Meeting his gaze, you said, ‘Nah,... I just wanted to see you properly. I only ever see you at work.’

Steve’s heart leapt a little at the thought of you just wanting to see him. How easy would it be for him to have the choice to just see you all the time if you were together.

Reading your downcast eyes, Steve drew a breath in, muttering ‘Where’s Brock these days anyway?’

You looked up at Steve, sighing at his quiet persistence in his blue eyes. Pulling your hands into your sleeves, you said, ‘‘If I knew the answer to that I’d tell you’

Whether you believed it or not, Steve knew you very well. From the way you blew into your coffee subconsciously though it wasn't hot, to the way you bounced your knee when you were nervous.

‘Y/N, c’mon, you know you can tell me.’ He frowned with persistence, not knowing that you really did mean, that you had no clue. Steve continued. ‘Wait, are you serious? Didn't he do this last month?’

‘I dunno’ you replied, staring at the white foam in your cup. ‘He hasn’t been home since last Thursday.’ It was now Saturday.

Steve patiently waited, egging you on as he reached for your hand on the other side of the table.

A few moments passed and with a rush of sudden emotion, you started.

You began to explain how you weren't even sure if Brock was in the city, back from his work meeting in Chicago. It’s as if you knew that he liked to spend more time in the office than he did with you. God knows why someone would choose to live in the office. Despite him being the executive of the start-up company you had helped him create, nothing much kept him there for long.You guessed it was an active avoidance on his part. Or rather… someone was keeping him there. You thought you were going crazy.

….’Every time I’ve tried to call his phone, it gets redirected to his secretary Sharon’. You started to sob, saying ‘I feel so stupid… he treats me like a child and not his partner… and I’ve tried everything but it’s like I'm waiting for the worst...and Steve, I swear I can feel it coming and I don’t know what I should do... I know I heard Sharon stifle her laugh when I called again yesterday’. Tears were now streaming down your face and with a quiet whisper, you finished ‘It’s like everyone is laughing at me’.

Steve immediately frowned, responding ‘No, Y/N, they're not. I’m not laughing at you’. He began to stroke circles into your palm as an attempt to soothe you. ‘I could never’. ‘Unless you’re having a brilliant stroke of luck with your awful jokes’.

With a sobbing inhale, you countered; ‘My jokes are so good and you know that’.

As you exhaled, you began to shiver, not knowing whether it was because the rain had settled on your skin or because the sadness had buried itself in you.

Noticing your shaking shoulders, Steve picked up his jacket on the side, stood and shuffled to your side of the booth. As he placed his jacket over your shivering shoulders, you met his calm blue eyes with yours, quietly murmuring a ‘thanks’.

As Steve snaked his arm around your shoulders, you shuffled closer to his warmth, discreetly inhaling his fresh laundry powder and sandalwood scent. Suddenly, you felt so self aware, heat growing in your face as you realised you had perhaps crossed a boundary. You were still with Brock after all and in that moment, you truly wished you had with him an ounce of what you had with Steve. Maybe if the timing had been right with Steve you could’ve…

Drawing yourself out of your thoughts, you looked up at Steve, as he sipped his coffee, staring through the misted windows

You softly poked his side, asking ‘What’s America’s finest thinking about in there?’

Steve had been secretly seething at the mention of Brock’s name, yet again being the centre of your topics. Not because he was being selfish but because he thought you deserved better… dare he say even him.

For the longest time Steve had desperately wanted you for himself. You understood him and he felt truly seen with you. Something that he struggled with other people when they ‘reduced’ him to just ’Captain America’. Despite his herculean physique and good looks, more often than not, he still felt like the small guy he had tried to shake off all his life.

Whenever he imagined his future, it was impossible to not see you in it. You were what he needed and wanted. He felt he had missed the timing and he wished he had more confidence 4 years ago but then Brock came along and...

Steve snapped his eyes, focusing his gaze as he whispered ‘Nothing, doll… just, thinking’.

‘Oh yeah? What about?’

‘Well… I guess I was just… I was wondering if you’d want to spend the day with me tomorrow? Just me and you?’

Feeling warmer, you replied into the crook of his arm ‘Yeah.. why not. Let’s do it’.

Steve had a plan.

1/3

cont.. very soon

Once again. thanks for making it this far if you have! Let me know if you like what I've written so far / if you'd like to see anything else! Thanks :)

[writing-red]

The Emerald Manor | 5

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: major themes of physical and verbal abuse, maternal body shaming, nasty parents, mommy issues, daddy issues, jokes about suicide, I may even be missing some things

Word Count: 11k

A/N: self care is important if these warnings may trigger you please consider that chapter carries heavy themes, take care of your brain <3 also this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, she’s a beast

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

‘You and Draco shall be traveling from Hogwarts directly to Malfoy Manor. Since you will be meeting his parents before you see your father and I, I demand that you look presentable and remember the manners I’ve taught you. Your father and I will meet you at Malfoy Manor the night you return from school for dinner. As you will be staying with the Malfoy’s for the entirety of the Holiday, I will pack and send the clothing I find suitable for you to wear throughout this visit.’

The words from your mother’s letter rang in your head as the train pulled into London. As much as you hated everything she was putting you through for the sake of blood purity and her social status, you did not wish to incur her wrath. 

As you stepped off of the Hogwarts express and onto platform 9 3/4 on Draco Malfoy’s arm, you looked the part of the picture-perfect pureblood pairing. You were both matching in all black, your Gryffindor tie, and Gryffindor friends nowhere to be seen. If your mother were to see you, you could swear she would shed a tear. You were finally the young lady she had been grooming you to be since birth.

Draco led you out of King Cross Station to where a large black driverless carriage awaited both of you. Everything about the situation made you want to vomit off of the sidewalk and onto the street, but you took Draco’s arm as he helped you up the step and into the carriage. As hard as it was to admit it, you knew that Draco would be the safest person in your world for the next couple of weeks, and you would have to cling to that as hard as possible. You sat right next to him in the carriage, refusing to let go of his arm. You held his hand tightly in yours, reaching for any sense of security you could scavenge.

Draco knew you were afraid and that you would rather die than admit that to him, so instead of teasing or chiding you for it, he didn’t bother when you chose to sit next to him or when you refused to let go of him. He took the opportunity to make you feel safe. It’s all he’s really wanted to do anyway.

You had been to Malfoy Manor before, but it had been a while, every family takes turns hosting society events, and you were only ten the last time you attended one at the Malfoy’s. That had been the first year your mother had forced you into a corset, and that was about all you could remember about their estate. But when you rolled up to the gate, you wondered exactly how you could forget the lavish mansion. It was cold, looming, and dark, as was yours, the sharp wrought iron gates refusing entrance to anyone who didn’t make the cut. The stark white peacocks that stalked along the border of the estate offered more of a threat than any romantic reminder of nature, their cold eyes bored into as if to remind you that you would never fit in here.

Draco could feel anxiety rolling off of you as the carriage approached the manor, and he wanted with everything in him to cure it.

“Y/n,” he said in a whisper tone even though you were out of earshot from anyone who could be listening. “I know I haven’t been the best in the last month, but please know that I do care about you.” He could sense your disbelief. “I know you don’t believe me, I know that I haven’t given you a reason to, and I know that this doesn’t feel like the time. I’m sorry I don’t know how to say this. But, I am here for you through this. Please let me be.”

You knew that now wasn’t the time for an argument, that it wasn’t the time to ask why he hadn’t said this before you were walking in the doors of his house and not that morning in the courtyard when you had bared your heart to him, and he had ignored you, but as you were thinking, he interrupted you.

“Just nod, please, just show me that you understand,” he said, his tone desperate for some reason you couldn’t identify.

You nodded, maybe to placate him, or maybe, perhaps because this time you had heard him, even if it was just a little, it was enough to plant the prospect of trust.

“Alright,” he said and exited the dark, ornate carriage, offering his hand to you when he had landed on the ground.

You took his hand, more for emotional stability than physical. “Thank you, Draco,” you whispered into his ear, for his hand or his words from just moments ago, neither of you was sure.

Narcissa had been waiting for you outside of the entrance to the manor. She was clearly eager to see you and to see her son home from school.

“Mother!” Draco greeted, what seemed to be a genuine smile graced his face for just a moment. Narcissa took him in his arms and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was the briefest of interactions, but you could tell that she cared deeply for her son. “I know you have met her before, but this is Y/n, Y/l/n.”

“Yes,” her voice was kind and utterly elegant. “Darling, I haven’t seen you in years, you have grown into such a stunning young woman. Welcome back to our home.” Narcissa opened up her arms, and you welcomed the embrace, not remembering the last time you had received one from your own mother. You reveled in the short interaction even after she released you. “I am truly delighted to have you. And your mother sent your things yesterday, they are in your room.”

“Thank you for having me, Lady Malfoy. It is an honor to be invited into your home,” you said, speaking the words your mother had instructed you to say before.

“Please, call me Narcissa, there is no need for titles between us. And we are happy to have you,” she said, her features softening for a moment. “Now, come inside. I can’t risk you and Draco getting sick before the Holiday has even begun.” 

You followed Draco and Narcissa inside through the grand doors. The room was filled by cold light flowing in through the grand windows framed by black curtains, most of the stone floor was covered by an ornate rug, and there were two black stairways curving to the same location of the second floor, which from its spot far above you provided its own dark mystery. The manor was anything besides inviting, even the silver and green Christmas decorations were distressing in their coldness.

“We will be meeting down here for drinks at 7 tonight,” Narcissa informed you and Draco. “Y/n, that’s when your parents will be arriving. So Draco dear, why don’t you show Y/n up to the room across from yours, and you two can clean up before dinner.”

Draco nodded and gestured for you to take his arm again. As you did, you turned to thank Narcissa once more. “Thank you again, ma’am.”

She cut you off before you could finish, “Narcissa dear, please, I won’t have you calling me Lady, ma’am, or anything of the sort.”

You nodded and smiled, “thank you, Narcissa.”

Draco led you up the set of stairs to the right side of the entrance and down a dark hallway lit only by the occasional candelabra. It reminded you much of your own house, a dark museum dedicated entirely to your family’s great pureblood history. Draco showed you to a black door at the end of the hallway, across from another black door and near the only window in the corridor.

“Well, this is your room,” he said, gesturing to the door he had shown you to. “Apparently, you’re across from me,” he said, referencing the door not three feet away from you.

“I’m sure there’s some sort of underlying meaning there,” you said, trying to lighten the tension.

A smile graced Draco’s lips for just a moment before falling back into its usual stone near-scowl.

“I have to admit that I’m glad you’re close-by,” you said, so quiet he could barely hear you, quietly enough it was as if you weren’t even admitting it.

Draco hid the joy that bubbled in his heart when you muttered those words. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready for dinner. We should head back downstairs at five-till.” He advised, and you nodded before he disappeared into his room, the door closing behind him.

The room was more comfortable than you had imagined it to be, even more, comfortable than the one you had at home. The walls were covered in green tapestries depicting nature, a black fireplace with a fire roaring inside rested against the wall across from the four-post bed that had what looked like the softest comforter in the world and a plush bench residing at its foot. On the floor beneath your feet was a perfectly soft grey carpet that laid over dark wooden floors. On the wall that housed the fireplace stood another black door that was open and led to an intricate bathroom, inside of which was a closet. But what took your breath away was the wall covered in bookshelves and a vast collection of stunning books. You could even spy a few muggle authors, which surprised you. 

If you could spend the entire Holiday in this room and not leave once, you would be content, although, as that sadly would not be your reality, you hauled yourself into the bathroom for a quick shower. You still felt sick to your stomach with nerves, and you were hoping that hot water would soothe you even just a bit. You didn’t spend long under the running water, nervous about the time, departing out of the shower, drying yourself, and stepping into the closet, you found a dark emerald green dress labeled ‘dinner, night one’ in your mother’s script, of course, she didn’t even trust you to pick out your own clothing. You drew the dress onto your body, holding your wand in your teeth as you willed magic to help you lace up the corset the way you knew your mother would expect it to look. You used the same guide for your hair and makeup, everything exactly as she would want, even though you were sure that you would find some way to fuck it up.

Just as you finished, you heard a soft knock land on your door. You opened the door to Draco, who was wearing a variation of the black suit you so often found him in, although you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked in it. And part of you didn’t want to stop staring at him. Part of you wanted to skip dinner and pull Draco into your room by his tie.

“Y/n, you look lovely,” he said kindly. “Emerald is a stunning color on you.”

“Thank you, Draco,” you said, a bit of blush rising to your cheeks. “You are quite handsome yourself.” 

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Will I ever be?” You said.

He didn’t have to verbally respond for you to know that he understood. He just offered your hand, led you back down the long dark hallway and down the stairs, which seemed steeper now that you were wearing heels. But Draco’s steady hand assured that you were ascending the stairs gracefully. You let out the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding in when you realized you had beat your parents to the first part of the evening. You could only imagine the lecture on tardiness your mother would be ready to deliver had you arrived after her.

“Darling, you somehow look even more beautiful than you did earlier,” Narcissa said when she caught sight of you. “Draco, did you tell your fiancée how lovely she looks this evening?” Narcissa asked, glancing at her son.

“It was the first thing I heard once I stepped out of my room,” you assured her, your cheeks reddening even more at the sound of her compliment.

“Good,” she said and smiled.

Impeccable timing as always your mother and father appeared in the Malfoy’s grand fireplace, your Mother and Father had clearly not spent a second thinking of anything but these two weeks for some time, they were both dressed perfectly for the event at hand, their sour faces completing their outfits.

“Layah, William,” Narcissa greeted them as old friends, which of course they were, your mother had been friends with Narcissa and Bellatrix back in their Hogwarts days, and your father was on many of the same boards as Lucius.

“Narcissa, thank you so much for having us and for inviting our daughter into your home,” your mother said, false kindness wrapping around her voice like a snake. “I hope she’s remembered her manners,” she shot you a glare, causing anxiety to roar in your stomach.

“Merlin, Layah, you’ve raised the perfect daughter! She’s been nothing but kind and pleasant since she arrived,” Narcissa assured her friend, not catching the look Layah had sent you. “This is my son Draco,” she gestured to Draco who was next to you, just across from her.

“Lord Y/l/n, Lady Y/l/n, it’s an honor to meet you again,” he said as he politely bowed his head now.

 “Come now, let us start with drinks in the sitting room,” She said, showing the party into a somewhat smaller sitting room. The room was covered in silver, art, and luxurious furniture you were sure came from the 18th century, which was arranged perfectly for conversation. You found yourself sitting on a love seat with Draco on Narcissa's instruction, which didn’t surprise you much.

A house-elf came in and began handing out drinks as the conversation started, mostly between your mother and Narcissa, Draco, and your father. You didn’t mind being ignored. You simply held your glass tightly and tried to not be sick.

“So, Y/n, Draco tells me you’re a wonder at potions!” Narcissa said, startling you a bit as you weren't expecting to be drawn into the conversation.

“Well, Professor Snape has been a fantastic teacher, and I really spend most of my time at school studying anyways,” You could only think that if you were at the Burrow, Fred and George would be cackling at the lies you were boasting. You were more likely to spend time running around getting into trouble than study.

“She really just is modest, Mother,” Draco said. “She’s the reason I have such good marks in the class this term.”

You smiled sweetly, unsure otherwise of how to respond. It didn't help that you and Draco knew that Hermione was undoubtedly the best in your year, but that wasn't the point here.

“Darling, don’t sell yourself short. Coming from a family like yours, I am sure you are an incredible witch,” Narcissa said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you said and gave her a respectful bow of your head, intent on displaying the manners you had been taught and that were expected of you.

“Now, Draco, I am curious what you wish to do once you leave Hogwarts,” Your father interjected. You could only presume that he was uncomfortable with the compliments being offered to you.

The conversation continued on, you remained mostly ignored, and as your drink refilled itself a second time, you found yourself feeling a bit more at ease. While you weren’t aiming to get drunk, you were trying to rid yourself of those pesky nerves eating at your stomach. As you calmed yourself, the house-elf returned to call the party to dinner. You silently reminded yourself to get her name when you could. You were sure she experienced nothing but cruelty here.

As you rose from the love seat, you were sure to remember all of the perfect ladylike manners your mother had been sure to instill in you. Taking Draco’s hand when he offered it and leaving your glass on its coaster, you would most likely be having wine with the meal, and it would be considered rude to bring along a dirty glass. You knew that you would never forget these stupid little societal rules no matter what happened with your life. You sat at the incredibly made-up dining table next to Draco, which you knew was intended to encourage you two to make conversation. After everyone was seated, conversation resumed, but it wasn’t until the second course arrived that your mother finally mentioned the wedding.

“Narcissa, I do believe you’ve landed on a date for this summer?” Layah asked.

“Yes, I thought that the 22nd of June would be lovely seeing that it’s the longest day of the year,” Narcissa said. “Y/n, what do you think?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed. Of course, nothing about this wedding was perfect, but you knew better than to oppose. “Summer is my favorite season, and the Summer Solstice has always been special to me.” What you were saying was true. You had always loved the heat, joy, and magic of the day.

“Lovely, we’ll work on getting out the necessary notifications this week,” Narcissa said, and you nodded.

“You two have made quite the match,” your father said to Layah and Narcissa. Of course, he would approve of Draco, he was everything William wished his son had been. “Y/n, I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

Underneath the table, you clenched your nails into your palm, breaking the skin on your hand as you tried to brush off your father's remark.

“I’m glad you approve, sir,” Draco said, dismissing his second statement.

Dinner continued on, snide remarks occasionally coming from your mother after you would speak, and constant praise to Draco from your father. However, Draco and Narcissa acted as a barrier of sorts from your parent's attacks, which made the whole thing just a little bit more bearable. When dinner ended, Draco and your father left to smoke, which was expected, and Narcissa invited you and your mother back to the sitting room for tea.

“Y/n, Layah, I was wondering what you were thinking for Y/n’s dress,” Narcissa asked as you sat back down on the loveseat.

“I did not have anything in mind,” your mother said.

“Well, my family has a very old tradition where the mother passes her dress down to her daughter,” Narcissa started.

“Oh, Narcissa, I’m sorry to say I don’t have my dress any longer.”

“See, the thing is I still have mine, which had, of course, belonged to my mother, her mother, and so on, and since I don’t have a daughter, I was wondering if you would like to wear it Y/n?” said Narcissa, sure to direct the question away from your mother and towards you.

“Narcissa, I would be honored!” You chirped, your face lighting just a bit with a genuine smile, the motherly love she had extended to you in the last seven hours was more than you had experienced in your life, and you would be happy to have a piece of her with you in the ceremony.

“Dear, I doubt it will fit,” your mother said to you, that evil faux smile on her lips.

“I’m sure it will!” Narcissa said, her excitement shining through her smile. “Anyways, isn’t that what magic is for, Layah?”

“Sure, Narcissa,” your mother drawled as she shot her friend one of those cold snake-like smiles. “Narcissa, would you mind if I stepped out with my daughter for a second?”

“No! Of course, I forgot you haven't seen her in so long, please stay here. I’ll go check in on the gentlemen,” she said and left swiftly. 

You wanted to beg her to stay. You wanted to scream and cry and demand that she not leave you alone with your mother, but that would only end you in more trouble than you could possibly be in now.

“Merlin, Y/n, you’ve put on weight. Are you not exercising at school? Just because you’re betrothed doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself, foolish girl,” she said the second Narcissa was out of earshot.

“Sorry, mother,” you cast your eyes to the floor.

Your mother rose from her seat, she’s a tall woman with harsh features, and she loomed over you when she made her way over to the love seat. 

“Stand,” she said, and you did so instantly and with grace. “I’ve been told that you’ve been acting decently for once in your pathetic life,” the witch said as she inspected you, from the way you tied your corset to the curls in your hair, you kept your eyes on the floor, staring at the tips of your shoes. Suddenly she grabbed your chin with as much force as you believe she possessed and drew your face up so that you would be forced to make and keep eye contact with her. “If you screw this up, I promise you will not live to see the Summer Solstice, do you understand me?”

You drew in a breath, which was a mistake, a sign of weakness. 

She released your chin, and with the opposite hand struck you across the face. “I asked you a question, now answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you said, and you drew your hand up to cover the red mark that was forming on your cheek: your skin prickling and a headache seeping into your skull from the force of the strike.

“Good,” she said as she brushed her hands off on her skirt as if to rid herself of any filth she may have picked up from you. “Your father and are leaving for work for the next few days, although we plan on returning Wednesday for lunch, stay about your wits until then. Am I understood?”

You nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, she swept out of the room, her expensive black dress accentuating her exit. As she left, Draco came in the way she had exited. Seeing you holding your cheek with your eyes cast to the ground, he hurried over to you in concern.

“Y/n, did anything happen?” he asked, his tone as rushed as his entrance.

You shook your head ‘no.’ 

“Darling-”

“Draco, I’m fine,” you hissed, dropping your hand and looking up at him. The mark from the strike remained, and he saw it clearly. You took a moment to calm yourself. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty for your harsh tone when you caught his eye, the same eyes you had agreed to trust, at least while you were here, “I'm sorry, I just wish to go to bed if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head to give you a silent, yes. He had only seen you act like this up close and personal once when he pissed you off just that past week, but even in that, you had a beautifully bold and courageous anger about you that seemed to spark cherry red. This was different. Of course, he had seen you at events when you were both young, but you hadn’t attended them in recent years, and you acted far differently at Hogwarts. Even around him and his friends, you were yourself, even when he sought ways to piss you off. He thought back to the playful banter you had with Blaise just this morning, which felt like ages ago, or the fire you spat at him when he invaded dinner at the Gryffindor table. Here, in the presence of your parents, you were in a state of survival and fear. He was finally starting to see why you had been so afraid of him and this whole marriage. To you, he embodied everything you were afraid of, everything that kept you from living your life in fear of it being taken away. Should you say the wrong thing, wear the wrong dress, or use the wrong fork, befriend the wrong person, it would cost you. You were someone else here. He recognized the look of fear you had when the silver letter landed between you two, that night of the party all the way back in September, and even that morning in the courtyard when he refused to hear out your fears, preferring to remain ignorant to his own petty feelings. 

“Can I walk you up to your room?” He simply asked, now wasn’t the time to pry. He would have to prove to you that you could trust him, and that would take time.

You merely nodded and took his arm as it was offered to you. Draco showed you out of the room where your parents were all saying their goodbyes.

“You two should be heading up to bed now, especially after such a long day of traveling,” Narcissa noted.

“Yes, mother,” he said and gave polite nods to your parents. “Sir William, Ma’am, it was a pleasure getting to know you tonight. Thank you for joining us, and thank you for allowing Y/n to stay for the Holiday.”

“Please, Draco,” your mother started. “William and I are so often out of the house for work that she would have been alone most the time, and we can’t have that, can we?” She elicited a grotesque little giggle, to which everyone politely responded with smiles despite the thinly veiled insult.

You watched as your father took your mother's hand, “well goodnight Draco, Narcissa,” He said to the two, then his eyes landed on you, his tone shifting from polite to the one you were so used to hearing him use, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, father, mother,” you said as they disappeared into the grand fireplace.

“Well, I won’t keep you two. I’m sure you need to sleep after today,” Narcissa said. “Goodnight, both of you.”

“Goodnight,” you and Draco said together before you parted ways, and Draco led you back up the set of stairs to your rooms. You released his arm and disappeared into the darkness without a word, the effects of the day settling heavily on your shoulders.

Sunday passed with little activity. You mostly took the day to explore the manor with Draco as Narcissa was busy running errands throughout the whole day. You were excited to find the library in the manor filled to the brim with old books. They were, of course, all wizard-written, although most of them seemed to have not been opened in a couple of generations. The fireplace alongside the comfortable leather chairs and the grand windows made it the perfect space to read. It seemed to be the only other comfortable room you found in the space. It was the last room Draco showed you on the extensive tour, and you both spent the rest of your day in the library. You went between reading and writing out details of your break thus far in letter format to your friends. You were hopeful that you may find the opportunity to sneak them out some way, and you didn’t want to forget a detail when you did get a chance to recount the events of your holiday. Draco, who sat across from you in his own chair, had a spread of books and charts along with a notebook that was clearly well used. You didn’t bother him with questions about what he was doing as you enjoyed the opportunity to sit in peace. In fact, it was the first time the two of you were able to occupy a space together without finding your way to one another’s throats.

Monday morning, you awoke on your own despite the darkness of the room. You took your time getting ready, allowing yourself to remain in the peaceful space as long as you could. You found a casual dress your mother had packed for you. Of course, there wasn’t a single pair of pants in sight. God forbid you have an ounce of comfort over these next two weeks. After you got ready, you realized you weren’t entirely sure of what you were meant to be doing or where you were supposed to be. You decided to walk downstairs and find breakfast. You made your way downstairs and through the maze of the house, through the dining room and sitting room till you finally reached the kitchen. Already inside was a house-elf, different from the one who had served dinner last night, hard at work cooking, and beyond him, you could see Draco sitting in a breakfast nook, eating. You slowly made your way over to him and took a seat across from him.

“Good morning,” you said as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he said and smiled at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. I just figured I’d let you sleep.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. It was nice.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked, and you responded with a nod. Shortly a plate with toast, poached eggs, and fruit appeared right in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you began to eat.

The two of you sat in silence as you both ate your breakfast, you didn’t have anything to say, and Draco didn’t know what to say. This lasted about fifteen minutes and was only interrupted by Narcissa entering the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you two are here,” she said when she saw both of you.

“Good morning, mum,” Draco said, and you echoed him.

“We are going to Diagon Alley today, and we are going to get both of you fitted so that Madam Malkin can start adjusting your clothes for the wedding,” she explained. “Then, I thought the two of you could get lunch in London once we were done.”

You and Draco nodded, “Sounds lovely,” you said.

“Perfect, we’ll leave in an hour,” Narcissa said, then left the kitchen, likely to prepare for the trip.

You were excited to go to Diagon Alley. You hoped you would be able to sneak into the twins' store and, at the very least, see Fred and George, who you missed dearly now that you hadn’t seen them in nearly a year now. You also figured that you would be able to sneak them your Although, you limited your expectations, not wanting to get your hopes up if you couldn’t make it. The hour passed quickly, and at precisely 11:23 in the morning, the three of you utilized the grand fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley. The whole place was cold, so many shops had been boarded up, lights were out in many shops, although you found a slice of joy when you saw the lights up in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. You didn’t have much time to look as Narcissa quickly whisked both of you into Madam Malkin’s. It wasn’t until you were inside that you noticed the large black garment bag Narcissa had been carrying, something you could only assume to be the dress she was passing on to you.

“Draco, you go run your errand first while Y/n tries her dress on,” Narcissa said before you even went in and he nodded, clearly not wanting to argue with his mother on this one. While you wanted to see where this errand was taking him, Narcissa turned you around and gently pushed you inside of Madam Malkin’s shop.

“Ah, Lady Malfoy! I’ve cleared out my whole afternoon for you two. I take it we have a very special project at hand,” Malkin said as you entered. “Give her here,” she said regarding the dress, which she indicated by holding out her arms.

Narcissa softly handed over the wedding dress. Madam Malkin hung it up on a nearby garment rack, unzipping the black bag revealing a stunningly elegant white gown in impeccable condition. “Let’s get this on you, dear,” she said, ushering you over, and you complied quickly. 

It took both her and Narcissa to get the dress on you due to the sheer weight of the thing, but once it was on, it fit nearly perfectly. But Madam Malkin flitted around you, taking notes, making marks, poking you when you moved, and making suggestions to Narcissa about changes that would better accentuate your figure. You just stood there and let the two of them make the decisions. You didn’t feel that you had much of a stake in the wedding anyways. What more was the dress? Eventually, however, they separated you from the dress, Malkin placing it back in the garment bag and zipping it up so that when Draco returned, he wouldn’t see it, not that it mattered much. Your marriage had been doomed from the start.

“Dear,” she interrupted your thoughts. “I’ll schedule one more fitting with you when it’s done. Lady Malfoy was saying the wedding will be in late June?”

“Summer Solstice,” you said. “But Narcissa is doing most of the scheduling since I’m still in school, so it may be better to schedule the fitting with her.” You felt bad for deflecting, but you genuinely didn’t know much of anything going on with this event.

“Oh, of course, I’ll be sure to do that,” she said, and as you turned to leave, she stopped you. “I noticed you were quiet during the fitting, is there anything you’d like included in the dress? It is your wedding, isn’t it?”

“I love peonies,” you said, then turned to leave, not wanting to speak about the dress anymore, it playing to your anxieties for some reason. When you reached the front door of the shop, you were met by Draco and Narcissa, who had gone to retrieve him while you were changing. “I’m sure it’s just as bad for the bride to see the groom in his wedding ware,” you said to Narcissa. “Would you mind if I stepped out for a moment?”

“No, darling go right ahead,” she said, and as you exited, you caught Draco’s eyes. While you may have fooled his mother, you knew in that second you hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that he knew you pretty well, but you quickly made your way out of the shop and down the alley.

When you were sure they couldn’t see you, you slipped into a practically empty Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, devoid besides two quintessential red-heads.

“Y/n!” You heard Fred’s energetic and happy voice from the top of the shop.

“Come quickly, I haven’t long,” you urged, although instantly regretting your request as each of the twins apparated only a centimeter away from you on each side.

“What’re you doing here?” George asked.

“Getting Narcissa Malfoy’s old wedding dress fitted for my wedding,” you whispered as if you were worried that she could hear you.

“No,” the two whispered in unison, to which you nodded in confirmation.

“Draco is getting his robes fitted, and I used the whole bad omen thing as an excuse to sneak out. I just wanted to see you two,” you said. You had begun breathing easy again for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“We’re happy to see you, Y/n,” George said, all sense of humour aside.

You pulled four letters out of your pocket on the inside of your coat, “These are for you two, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione if you can get it to her.”

“Ron doesn’t get one?” Fred asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

“I figured he and Harry would share I didn't have all that much time,” you answered. “I had ought to be going. Please send letters once I’m back at school I’ve missed both of you.”

“We’ll send you half the store-” George started

“-A care package,” Fred finished his thought, and you pulled the twins into a hug.

“Stay strong,” they said from either side of you.

“Stick to what you know is right,” Fred said.

“We know William would be proud of you,” George said. The twins had known your brother well since he had been a close friend of their older brother Bill's. William had been a Gryffindor as well, and he played quidditch alongside Bill. He had been the reason why doing something other than what your family had set out for you could even be perceived as an option. 

“Thank you,” you whispered before disappearing out of the door. It was relieving to see them even for just that moment, and you were comforted when you noticed that Draco and Narcissa hadn’t ventured out of Madam Malkin’s just yet. You took the time you had left to rush into Flourish and Blott’s, a place they would expect to find you in. Of course, not long after you hurried in, Draco sauntered in, finding you in the potions section near the front of the store.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, not mentioning the look you had shared earlier, and you nodded.

“Call me predictable, but I do love books,” you again found yourself lying through your teeth.

“Well, my mother has returned to the manor. She expects us to go get lunch if you’re up to it.”

“Absolutely,” you said, the hesitance on your voice obvious.

“But?” He asked.

“Would you mind if we went and picked up a couple of pants, my mum didn’t pack me any, and I just really hate how cold my legs get in these dresses,” you said, gesturing to the dress and tights you were currently wearing.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said, and you perked up a bit. “I just don’t know where to go.”

“I’ve got somewhere you’ll love,” you said, and being that money is of no consequence to either of you, you showed Draco to Bond St. somewhere you only knew of because of a shopping-obsessed cousin of yours.

You found it surprisingly amusing shopping at muggle stores with Draco. You were both well respected in the shops you entered, which you assumed him to appreciate, along with the clothes' general quality and style. You enjoyed picking out clothing for him, finding a particular oversized black turtleneck and tight slack duo a bit enticing. 

Draco, while enjoying the fashion, also enjoyed seeing you loosen up. He was aware you had slipped into the Weasley’s shop, but it didn’t bother him as much now that he was able to see you relax just a little bit with him. Indeed he didn’t find it boring to watch you trying on incredibly beautiful clothing, and he loved sneaking money too whoever was helping you and surprising you with the purchase. At this point, he didn’t know how to express his love to you otherwise, and he wanted to do so; however, he possibly could.

This went on for longer than either of you anticipated, although it was more fun than tiring or boring. Eventually, once you had made it through your last store, you finally made it to the restaurant you had been meant to go to in the first place. It wasn’t long before you were seated, your many bags stowed in coat-check. 

“I have to admit today’s been more, well, fun than I assumed it would be,” you said as you opened the menu.

“I’m glad,” Draco said, an unmistakably kind smile on his face.

A waiter came to your table relatively quickly, “Good evening.” 

“Good evening,” you greeted kindly.

“I am afraid you will not be needing these menus as today you are being treated by the Chef,” the waiter informed as he collected the menus from you. “Any allergies we should be aware of?”

“None,” Draco said and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir, I’ll be back shortly with drinks.”

“This really is lovely, Draco,” you said as you settled into your seat.

“Anything for you,” he said and smiled at you.

You couldn’t help but question him again for just a moment, was this more of that image you had promised to maintain, but there was no one to prove your relationship to. Could it be genuine, could it be that he lied to you that morning in the courtyard?

The dinner continued on in the same pleasant fashion as your day had. You and Draco exchanging banter as you had earlier. You both took your time with each other and with the evening, allowing yourselves for once to truly enjoy the other's presence. It helped that the food was incredible and the atmosphere utterly romantic. The lights dim, and the sound of sensual jazz playing live, allowing your senses to fizz along with the music like the champagne in front of you. At the end of the night, Draco didn’t even consider letting you pay, although you promised to get him back, which he believed. Being that the coat-check was run by a very kind witch, you didn’t have to worry about your bags.

“I guess we have to go back now,” you said, clearly not too happy about that fact as you both exited the restaurant as you made your way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best to you in the past, but I’m here for you. Alright? Whatever you need, I’ve got you,” Draco said, the sympathy in his voice still slightly jarring.

You reached out, took his hand, and smiled weakly. Not only were thoughts of your parents approaching lunch on your mind, but you were beginning to believe him. “Thank you, Draco.”

“You two must have had an eventful day,” She said, referring to the bags that arrived before you along with your late arrival time.

“I thought I’d take my girlfriend out on a proper date,” Draco said, placing a kiss on your cheek, causing a soft blush to rise up.

“Well, I’m glad you two had a good day,” Narcissa said and smiled.

“Yes, thank you for the suggestion,” you nodded.

“So, tomorrow, a wedding planner will be here to meet with Y/n and I for the full day,” she said to you. “So Draco, you can work on those errands we had spoken about.”

There were those errands you had heard mention so many times, which you found never failed to make Draco tense up.

“Alright, well, I’ll be off to bed. I was just waiting up to see you home safely,” Narcissa rose, closing her book as she left the room, the tea following her up the stairs.

You were left in the foyer with Draco, and neither of you were sure what to say. 

“Well, it seems we both have another full day ahead of us,” he said after a moment of silence. “So, we should probably head upstairs.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nodded, still so close to him you were alarmed by the tension between you too.

“Today was nice,” he said. “I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

You nodded again. It felt like your brain was turning to mush as all you could smell was him, his musky cologne, and minty shampoo intoxicating. The darkness of the manor seemed to close around the two of you, lit only by the fire you were standing in front of. 

“Let me walk you up to your room,” Draco said, offering you his hand, which you kindly took, escorting you to your door, departing once you disappeared inside.

As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Here he was again, soft, kind, and caring, and so incredibly confusing. A part of you loved being around him, joking with him, throwing playful insults back and forth, and merlin you couldn’t get over his cologne or how badly you wanted to run a hand through his perfect platinum blonde hair. But another part of you couldn’t help but see the cruel bully who didn’t mind making your life as hellish as possible, who didn’t think twice before shouting your private life out for the entire school to hear, and you couldn’t help but question whether or not everything he said to you was a lie or was the truth. Not to mention those mysterious meetings and errands. Eventually, your busy mind found sleep, although you found yourself shooting awake every so often due to terrible nightmares. You couldn’t sort them out but images of your father standing over you while you sat in a pool of your own sharp red blood, a sea of well-dressed purebloods at your wedding with Voldemort looming over you and Draco. Every time you awoke, you were nervous that you had awoken Draco. Although you had no evidence, you had awoken the other girls in your dorm with your screams more than a few times in the past six years.

You awoke, absolutely exhausted from the sleepless night, but you dragged yourself out of bed, wanting not to be late for your appointments with Narcissa and the wedding planner, although, after yesterday, you were sure that the two of them would be making most of the decisions while you looked pretty and nodded in agreement on topics that made you feel sick. You donned a perfectly simple yet elegant black dress and headed downstairs in the hope of finding breakfast and, more importantly, tea. You found Draco sitting in the same spot you had found him in yesterday and the day before eating a green apple.

“Good morning,” you greeted as he swallowed the bite he had just taken.

“Good morning. Did you sleep, alright?” He asked, his voice laced in concern revealing to you that he may be aware of your restless night.

You resigned to nodding, unsure of how to answer, and not wanting to outright lie but also not wanting to reveal your nightmares in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I got this for you,” Draco said, sliding a book towards you. Your screams had awoken him a few times through the night, but he chose to ignore your dismissal of his question, trusting that you would come to him when you needed him.

“What is it?” You asked, picking up the old book and examining the cover.

“Open it,” said Draco softly.

You did as instructed, finding an envelope inside addressed to Draco from Theodore Nott. You were puzzled but opened it up to find parchment covered in Harry’s messy scrawl.

Dear Y/n

You peeked at the beginning of the letter, excitement raging in your stomach. “Draco, how-” you whispered, your tone shifting back to the one he was used to hearing from you.

“Read it later,” he said smartly, and you nodded, tucking the letter back into the book. “I’m sure there’ll be more, but that one came this morning.”

You caught his eyes and held eye contact with him, all sincerity falling over you, “Draco, thank you, I know this, that my friendship with them isn’t easy for you. You don’t know what this means to me, what you doing this for me means.”

Your words struck Draco, he knew you’d be happy, but he didn’t consider entirely what it would mean to you. He was so deep in his thoughts, he was deeply startled by the kiss you placed on his cheeks. Although momentary, he knew he’d never forget the feeling of your soft lips on his face. The moment absolute bliss, he simply craved another when you stood back up. He wished he would grab your hand, pull you down onto his lap and kiss you back properly, but he wanted to give you the time you deserved. This touch, unlike many you had exchanged, was genuine.

“Anything for you, Y/n,” said Draco. They were the only words that he could think to say.

“Oh no, am I interrupting a moment?” Narcissa asked, half-way through her entrance to the kitchen. 

You snapped the book shut, and straightened yourself up, the kiss you gave Draco affecting you more than you thought such a modest action could possibly affect you. 

“No! Don’t worry, Draco was just surprising me with a book I didn’t think I’d be able to get otherwise,” you said, your words thinly veiled to the boy sitting next to you.

Narcissa smiled, excited that you two were getting on so well. “Well, I am sorry to interrupt, but we have an appointment in the sitting room.”

“Of course,” you said before turning to Draco. “Thank you again, Draco, have a lovely day.”

“You as well, darling,” he said and smiled back at you, watching intently as you left the kitchen alongside his mother. 

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over him as he saw you redraw your walls as you walked away. This wasn’t the life you deserved, and he could only feel that he was locking you into it, but somehow at the same time, he was your last chance at survival, and as you had pointed out in September, it could’ve been several guys, but he was glad it had been him. He sat with his thoughts for a while longer before rising to get about the terror of a day he had ahead of him.

Your day wasn’t much better. The sea of colors, choices, flowers, linens, menu options, types of chairs, different styles of canopies, and the list only seemed to grow every time you thought you’d reached the end. At the very least, the planner was sensible and didn’t talk your ear off about how exciting it was for you to get married. It was as if she understood that you, as a sixteen-year-old, wasn’t exactly anticipating this nor expecting it to be the best day of your life. Nevertheless, there was a mountain of things to get done. Narcissa helped with it all, honestly, she was more excited about the whole thing than you were, but you didn’t mind. The woman had shown you nothing but kindness, and her happiness brought a bit of lightness to your dark world.

“And I have a list of Master Malfoy’s groomsmen, but not your bridesmaids, ma’am,” the planner, Alexandra, directed this statement to you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hadn’t considered bridesmaids, and the thought of having anyone but Hermione, Ginny, and Luna with you made you want to burst out in tears. But it was evident that you couldn’t have them. “I guess, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengrass,” you paused, entirely unsure of anyone else you knew who wouldn’t be murdered for stepping foot at this event.

“Well, your fiancé only has three groomsmen, so you really only need one more,” she noted, and you looked to Narcissa for help. 

“My cousin’s daughter, Ismelda Rosier, is coming, and I’m sure she’d love to be a bridesmaid,” Narcissa said, smoothly saving you, and you released a silent breath of relief which admittedly didn’t last long as the thought of spending your wedding celebrating with two girls you hated and one you didn’t know settled in your mind.

You continued sorting through the many tasks till darkness fell, and you were interrupted by your knight in shining armor, Draco. 

“I think eggshell linens would be lovely,” he said as he entered the sitting room, approaching the table the three of you had gathered at. “Pardon my interruption, but dinner is ready. Will you be joining us, Miss-”

“Alexandra Frey,” she introduced herself. “No, but thank you for the invitation. I’ve got lots of work to do, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ll be back next week, the same day?” 

Narcissa nodded, “Thank you for your time Alexandra, we’ll see you next week.”

You stood and made your way to Draco, excited to get away from the headache you’d spent your day dealing with. “You are my knight in shining armor,” you whispered in his ear. “If I had to talk about napkins for one more second, I’m going to find a window.” 

Draco laughed quite loudly, causing Narcissa to sharply turn around, “What are you two giggling about?” She asked although a smile was on her face.

“Mother, I’m going to have to confiscate my fiancée from you. I’m afraid you’re going to kill her with talk of napkins.”

Narcissa shook her head, she hadn’t heard her son laugh like that in years, and it brought light to her heart to watch you bring it forth with such ease. “You know, after today, I’m quite tired. I think I’ll take dinner in my room if you don’t mind. You two go ahead and eat,” she said, and neither of you offered any debate.

“Thank you, Narcissa,” you said sweetly, and she nodded as you both headed off into the dining room. You chose the seat next to the head of the table as was social protocol, although Draco swept around you, electing to sit closer to you.

“It’s just us, I doubt anyone will care,” he said as he sat down.

“Mister Malfoy, how incredibly improper of you, whatever will I do with such a mannerless man?” You teased, your exhaustion accompanied by this morning's gesture emboldening you.

“I guess you’ll have to find peace with the fact that you’re to marry a beast who does not know his table manners, Miss Y/l/n,” he teased right back.

“I may just faint,” you said breathily, mockingly wobbling in your seat.

That laugh, that vivid, rolling laugh that reminded you kindly of waves meeting the sand, returned to your ears.

“So, how is our wedding turning out?” He asked as drinks, and your first course appeared on your plates.

“For one, I think it is preposterous that the only reason I am apart of planning and you aren’t is because I am a woman, and you are a man,” You said, as you lightly touched his nose to emphasize your point. “You are most likely way better at these things than I am. And second, my bridesmaids are Pansy, Astoria, and your cousin Ismelda, so that’s exciting.”

“Merlin, Pansy is going to hate that.”

“How was your day?”

“Certainly not as interesting as yours,” he masterfully dodged your question, which you let drop.

You continued talking, going back and forth just as you had Sunday night, but tonight was slightly different. You had started to trust him, brick by brick taking down a wall just for him, and he was beginning to understand you. Again you found the time you spent with him to be incredibly pleasant, pleasant enough for you to occasionally notice butterflies rattle around in your stomach.

When dinner ended, and it was time for you to both get to bed, you somehow both rose from your chairs on the same side. Luckily Draco had some of his whits about him and gracefully caught you by the shoulders, holding you just far enough away so that you wouldn’t bump into him but close enough so that it felt like your stomach was being shredded, his lips just centimeters away and the dim light suddenly feeling very romantic. But you just stepped back and allowed him to show you up to your room.

You awoke Wednesday morning, the monotony of your routine beginning to set in. You found your way back into the closet and picked out another perfect little black dress your mother had provided you along with a corset underneath to cinch your waist and a matching sweater. You styled your hair precisely as she would like it and followed with your makeup, applying it with an expert hand. 

It was around nine when you made your way downstairs and into the kitchen to find that you were the first to arrive.

“Good morning,” you greeted the house-elf, whose name you still didn’t know.

“Are you talking to Zilsey, Miss?” she asked you.

“Of course, and please, when it’s just us, call me, Y/n,” You requested kindly.

She nodded, “Did Zilsey do something wrong, Miss?”

“No! No, I just wanted to say hello and good morning,” you said, softening your tone as much as you could.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Can Zilsey get you anything, miss?”

“No, thank you Zilsey, is breakfast out on the table?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss, it is.”

“Thank you, Zilsey.”

You sat down at the breakfast table. You weren’t hungry, in fact, you were mostly nauseous with nerves at the thought of the day that was ahead of you. You poured yourself some tea and found an apple. You sat with yourself and your tea for a while until Draco appeared in similar black attire.

“Good morning,” he greeted, another book in hand, and you perked up a bit.

“Good morning,” you stood to greet him.

“This is for you,” he said, passing you the book, and you took it.

“Thank you, Draco,” you said with the same sincerity you had the day before.

“Anything for you,” he said, kindness softening his grey eyes.

“Do you mind if I read it?” You asked as you both sat down in your respective spots.

“No darling, go ahead,” said Draco as he started placing food on his plate.

You opened the letter from ‘Pansy Parkinson’ underneath the table as a layer of precaution. Excited to see Hermione’s neat scrawl and your name at the top.

Y/n,

I miss you so much I hope that you are staying safe and everything is going well. Harry told me that Draco came to him and Ron on the train and told them to write to you through him. Did he come up with this on his own? I think you should ask him about the morning in the courtyard again, I have the feeling that there is more to what’s going on than what he’s told you. 

Everything is going well on my side of things, I still haven’t been in touch at all with Ron, but I know that Harry and Ginny are doing well, but if they haven’t written you yet, I am sure they will soon. Harry has a whole conspiracy theory going around Draco, and I’m positive he is going to ask your thoughts, although he may wait until we return to school. He said that he’s worried Draco is reading these, but I doubt it. I’ve got a wonderful Christmas present for you, but I’ll wait to give it to you until we return.

Please know that I’m here for you no matter what and that I love you.

Stay safe and write me when you can,

Hermione.

“Thank you for these Draco, I really can’t say it enough,” you said once you finished the letter.

He nodded, “Anything for you.”

“Hermione says I should give you the benefit of the doubt,” you said as you folded the letter back into its envelope. You knew exactly what you were doing with those words.

Draco swallowed the pumpkin juice he had just picked up. “Does she?”

Elegantly, you nodded, “She does.”

You knew this was enough to tell him that your feelings for him existed and that you were considering something real, something better than this game of tennis you had been playing.

“Well, she is the smartest witch in our year.”

“I thought that was me,” you smirked.

Draco smiled, and playfully shook his head at you.

Breakfast continued, full of banter and flirting, and as you were waiting for the events of the day, you moved into the sitting room. Although eventually, your parents arrived, and the second they were announced, you hastily reconstructed your walls and straightened your back. Draco, picking up on every little change in habit you exhibited.

While it wasn’t raining outside, it was quite chilly, although Narcissa had utilized magic to put up a sort of weather-proof bubble around the outdoor dining set, allowing the lunch to take place out in the Malfoy’s beautiful garden. Even in winter, flowers, vines, trees, and hedges thrived green, white, silver, and blood red. Despite this, the gardens seemed cold, lifeless, and fake.

You and Draco made your way through the fog to the transparent bubble that sat in the center of a clearing out past the maze and under a series of trees and vines where your parents were waiting.

“There are the love birds,” Narcissa said gently.

“We were waiting for you all in the sitting room when the elf announced your presence,” Draco explained, catching your mother's judgmental gaze on you.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t been out here for more than a few minutes,” said Narcissa.

You assumed your seat next to Draco and across from your mother as sandwiches and teas appeared on the table before you. The lunch went as the dinner before it had, your parents focusing entirely on you and your mother shooting snide remarks about your appearance or your attitude whenever she could fit them in, although this time, your respite was a glass of champagne and holding onto Draco’s hand under the table.

“Layah, I’m sorry you aren’t able to make any of the appointments with the wedding planner. I’m sure you’d love to see how it's all getting along,” Narcissa said.

“Oh, I trust you completely with all that Narcissa, it really isn’t in my area of interest,” she said.

You were surprised that she wasn’t, in fact, more controlling over this whole process, although it was likely because she just wanted rid of you. Lunch continued on, and as it did, you noticed the stares you were receiving from your father, typically, he would just ignore you. In fact, the only time you received this much attention from his was when you screwed up.

As tiny desserts and espresso hit the table, your father rose from his seat. “If you don’t mind Y/n and I are going to go on a walk, I’d love the opportunity to talk to her, Father to Daughter,” he said to gritted teeth, taking your wrist tightly in his hand, and departing, dragging you along with him before anyone could say anything.

He took you inside and upstairs, shoving you into the first open guest room he could find and instantly cornering you. 

“Your mother and I have been made aware that you’ve found yourself in the arms of Harry Potter more than once and that now he is writing to you here. Now usually, I would have your mother deal with such slip-ups. However, we have also been made aware that you slipped away in Diagonal Alley the other day to see some Weasleys. I thought you would’ve learned from your brother's mistakes.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say as the shock of him finding you out rose to your expression.

“Don’t think we don’t have eyes on you, girl. Now, what do you have to say for yourself, considering slip-ups of the same nature are what got your brother his early spot in the grave,” 

“Father, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll do better,” you recited the taught promise. You couldn’t think, the persistent reminder of William and the overbearing presence of your father overwhelming your mind. 

He glowered at you, “You know that promises are not enough. We really did expect more from you, Y/n.” 

“I know, sir, I apologize-” 

In order to shut you up, William raised his left hand and backhanded you, the sharp cold ring bearing your family crest cutting your from the bottom of your cheek to just under your eye.

“You will not be embarrassing your mother or me after we leave on the errand,” He said, spitting on the ground next to you as you pressed yourself into the wall as you clenched your eyes closed. “Look at me when I speak to you!” He roared as he pulled out his wand and held it to your neck.

“Yes, sir! Yes, I’m sorry,” you sobbed, but when you looked up at him, he silently cast a dark spell that began to open the scars that littered your back, one you had experienced twice just this past summer. 

As the curse started to take effect, you fell to your knees, and the man standing above, you stepped back in order witness to his work. When you were down, tears started streaming down your face from the pain, and you were focused on the screaming wounds on your back. He grabbed your hair in a fist and pulled your face up so that you’d have to look him in the eye as your blood seeped into the fabric on your back. 

“You’re just a stupid little girl unable to comprehend the world around her. You’re not to ruin the legacy our family has worked so painfully hard to craft, you’ll shut up and be a pretty little face. You’ll marry Draco, you’ll stand by as we win this war, and you’ll have pureblood babies. You’ll be the Malfoy’s problem, and you’ll bear their name, but I won’t allow you to blatantly write off everything this family stands for. Your opinion, your thoughts, that overactive brain of yours doesn’t matter. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” you croaked. 

“Ah, I’ve been looking for you sir,” Draco’s sudden presence caused your father to drop you and turn towards the entrance of the room where Draco was standing. He stood in front of you in an attempt to cover you considering your current state. “Would you mind if I stole Y/n for a moment? My mother wanted to speak with her. Although if you two-“

“No, no son, please go right ahead. I was just saying my goodbyes. Layah and I will actually be leaving now.”

Your father turned back to you, muttering the counter curse to the torture he had started, then giving you a terrifyingly venomous glare before striding out of the room. Not before giving Draco a kind nod. Once he was gone, you let out a sob you had desperately been trying to hold in.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Draco rushed over to you, dropping to his knees.

"The corset,” you murmured. You didn’t have nearly enough breath to allow for speech to come freely.

Draco pulled out his wand to unzip your dress and quickly undo your corset, ridding you of it as soon as he possibly could. Once he saw all the open scars on your back and the blood that had soaked through all of the layers of your dress, he muttered a nearly silent, “vulnera sanentur” which painfully closed the now fresh wounds. Every one of them turning into angry red scabs and flesh, and the cut on your cheek closing into a raised red line across your face.

“Can you stand at all?” Draco asked you, and you nodded, despite being unsure. “Here,” he muttered, and he picked you up, avoiding touching your back as best he could. He carried you down the hall and into his room, softly sitting you down on his bed. Draco disappeared into his closet, quickly returning with a plain sweatshirt and a pair of his boxers. “Let me help you put these on,” he offered, and you accepted, enveloped in pain you weren’t thinking of much besides your throbbing back.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you want to lay down?” He asked, he was rushed and worried, entirely unsure of how exactly he could help you.

“He knows Draco, he knows about Harry, about the letters, he knows that I went to see Fred and George,” you cried. “I don’t know how he could know.”

Draco sat down in the middle of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he laid you down from your sitting position so that your head was resting on his lap, “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

“He said that they’ve been watching me. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid to think I could get away with anything,” you said as another sob racked your body.

“I promise you that I’ll never let something like this happen to you again,” he said in a soft and gentle whisper.

“Do you love me, Draco?” you asked, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he could hear you.

This caught him off guard, but after a minute, you heard him respond, “Of course I do, I have for years.”

“Then, why?” you were referring to the last term and the hell he had put you through.

He drew a breath in, he couldn’t very well lie to you now, “I- well there’s just a lot going on and I. Well, I’m involved in something that could get you seriously hurt, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your death because I-” he looked up at the wall to collect his thoughts for a moment then looked back down at you. “I love you, and I didn’t want to tell you now, here, l really care about you, and I don’t know how to convey it because you- you’re perfect and I’m just an asshole, and I don’t know how to do anything but hurt you. You emerged from all of this, from the abuse and the lies about blood purity a better person, and I just let them turn me into one of their own, a pawn.”

It took you a while to think about what he said, the lack of blood, the exhaustion, and the adrenaline seeping out of your body, causing you to take longer than you might usually. You placed your hand over his, the one that was resting on his knee, your voice was lighter and lower than a whisper, “We can fight on the right side of this war, Draco, even in secret, but we’re all that we’ll have. You don’t have to be their pawn. I know your heart is in the right place. You just have to trust me.”

He folded down and stared into your eyes, inches away from your face. After a few moments, your lips met, exchanging a delicate and telling kiss. You loved him, you cared about him, you felt safe with him, and the two of you wouldn’t be your parents. You would make a better legacy for your families. You would change the tide.

-

Part 6 - The Onyx Ring

Tag list-

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[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror.  No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her.  So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List:  @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Dear Heart - Chapter 8

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this update! Sorry I left on the cliffhanger for so long!

Warning(s): stuff that resembles domestic violence at the end

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7

Chapter 8 here we go!!!

Mentally, Dick was kicking himself. He closed his eyes and tried to forget, but the image of Melanie being pulled from beneath the rubble was all he could see. Her watery eyes as she blinked them open, the soft way she said his name, and how he became absolutely helpless. Somehow, both relief and worry swirled around inside him. He was grateful she was alive but the blood oozing from her hairline couldn’t be good. He was filled with remorse as he recalled how it was Dr. Clarke - he’d learned the man’s name later - who leapt into action and began looking over Melanie. And Dick watched, frozen with the shock of it all. 

He opened his eyes again. The sight of the Bois Jacques replaced his shameful memory. Melanie was safe now, which was what he tried to remind himself. They had gotten her to battalion HQ, where Colonel Sink had given up his own billet so Melanie could have a bed. Another man who could do more for her than Dick could. 

Dr. Clarke determined that Melanie had gotten miraculously lucky. While the blow to her head looked bad considering how much she bled, she only had a concussion. And it was fairly mild. The rest of her body had come through with only scrapes and bruises. Dick was thankful, but still felt an inadequacy about the whole thing. With nothing to do for her, he returned to the line. It had been two days since he’d left her there. Two days of feeling like he failed her somehow. 

“Dick.”

Dick turned his head at the sound of his name. He knew already that it was Lewis’s voice, so he did his best to appear somewhat content. Difficult in this kind of cold, but Lewis was unlikely to pry regardless. 

“Hey, Lew,” he said. 

“You alright?” Lewis asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dick returned. “How’s everything back at battalion?”

Lewis almost smirked. Dick didn’t want to seem like he was asking about Melanie, but Lewis knew he was asking about Melanie. 

“About the same, as far as the war’s going,” Lewis told him. “At some point, we gotta take Foy, but who knows when we’ll get it together?” When Dick only nodded, Lew continued. “Melanie’s awake now. Properly awake. She was sitting up and eating when I left there.”

That piqued Dick’s interest. He faced his friend and tried not to sound too eager. “She was?”

Lew nodded. “She asked about you.”

Dick might have laughed if he weren’t feeling so torn. Of course Melanie didn’t care a thing for herself. But he hardly felt he deserved her concern.

“Did she?” he asked. 

Lew nodded again. “I think you should go see her.”

Dick wanted to see her. Desperately. He just couldn’t bear the thought of facing her when he felt like such a let-down. Then again, she had forgiven him for worse. 

“I probably shouldn’t leave the men,” Dick said, and it was partly true. He also harbored guilt for abandoning them for the sake of Melanie, something he recalled swearing back in Toccoa would never happen. But Melanie meant more to him now than she did back then. 

He realized just how much she meant when a future he had barely hoped to dream of seemed lost. When he thought she was dead, all those visions he had of a pretty white house with his beautiful wife and their children had been obliterated. He knew he loved Melanie back in Paris. Now he realized just how deep that love went. And all his inaction once again haunted him. 

“Go see her, Dick,” Lewis said. “The men will survive without you for a couple hours. Even if they are relying on Dike.”

Dick grimaced at that. He agreed with the sentiment, but he didn’t like to think about Easy in the hands of yet another incompetent CO. While Dike was a step up from Sobel, the improvement was meager.

“There’s a jeep back in the woods,” Lewis said. “It’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Nix,” Dick replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder. 

With that, Dick climbed out of his foxhole and made his way to the jeep. It was manned by Sink’s personal driver, which told Dick that Lewis was not the only one eager for Melanie to see the man she asked for. With a sigh, Dick took the passenger’s seat and prepared himself. 

When they arrived at HQ, Dick took a deep breath. The last time he’d been this nervous was when he asked Melanie to walk with him after what took place in Eindhoven. He wondered if she was upset with him. How much had Dr. Clarke told her about what happened, if anything? Her father’s pocket watch suddenly felt like it was lead in his breast pocket. 

HQ was relatively quiet. Dick nodded to the officers he recognized, but didn’t stop to say hello. Now that he was here, he only had Melanie on his mind. He needed to see her. His feet felt heavy as he climbed the stairs to her room. As he approached her door, through the wood, he heard her voice. It was sweeter than any music he’d ever heard in his life. It meant she was really there, alive and well, and his hopes for the future were not dashed. He knocked. 

“Come in!” she called. 

He opened the door to reveal her sitting up in bed, a tray of food on her lap, and - to Dick’s disgust - Dr. Clarke sitting beside her on the bed. Thankfully, her smile was enough to melt any bitterness. And she beamed at him. 

“Dick, hello!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you! Have you met Terry?”

She nodded at the doctor. Dick smiled at her. 

“Yeah, we’ve met,” he said. “How are you, Mel?”

He registered now the bandage on her head, and the other, smaller ones on her arms. She reached out a hand toward him, and his heart ached at the scabs he saw forming on her knuckles. He took her hand and let her pull him closer so that he stood beside the bed. 

“I’m alright,” she said. “You really are a darling to come and see me.”

It warmed him to hear her say it. She was happy to see him. Not disappointed at all. Hopefully, her forgiveness would help him forgive himself. 

“Melanie,” Terry interjected. “The check up.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she returned. “Is it alright if Dick stays?”

“Sure,” Terry allowed, looking at Dick. “Have a seat.”

There was a chair behind him, and Dick took it without releasing Melanie’s hand. Terry scooted closer to her, cradled her face in his hands, and looked her in the eyes. 

“Eyes are still lovely,” he said, and before she could offer any sort of rebuff, he continued. “And seem fairly focused. No glassiness, pupils are the same size, all good signs.”

He started to move his hand away, and Dick watched uncomfortably as the doctor slid his hand down her neck, briefly stroking her skin with his thumb before letting go. He glanced over at Dick for a fleeting second, meeting his eye. Dick swallowed every possessive impulse that was churning inside him. 

“Really, I’ve just got a terrible headache,” she said. 

“That’s to be expected,” he said. “Do you remember the accident or the events before?”

“Not really,” she said. “The last thing I remember clearly is…” She trailed off. This was her first significant stint of time awake since the collapse of the hospital. The last thing she could recall was her rejection of Terry on the steps. “Well, when you and I spotted the planes coming. Everything after is a blur.”

“Alright, so there is some amnesia, but it seems like it’s pretty minor,” he told her. “You really are lucky. Best to stay off your feet, relax, and come back to work in a couple weeks.”

“Weeks?!” she protested, and Dick gave her hand a supportive squeeze, which she returned. 

“That’s being generous,” Terry said firmly. “I’d like to have you resting for a month just to be safe, but I know how much you’re needed.”

He placed a hand on her leg, just above her knee, casting another superior look at Dick. To Dick’s immense pleasure she drew her knees in toward her chest, forcing Terry’s hand off. Terry frowned and cleared his throat. 

“Sure you can’t eat anymore, Melanie?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Here, I’ll take the tray for you,” he offered. 

Dick watched her hand over the tray, the food on it barely touched. He looked over Melanie again, and once more something new struck him. She was thinner than he remembered. Her cheekbones were more prominent in her usually round face. Her collar bones stuck out too from beneath the neckline of her shirt. 

Terry excused himself and left. Melanie turned her full attention on Dick, meeting his eyes. It felt like coming home. It had been far too long since they had seen each other and they were both eager to catch up. 

 “How are you, Dick?” she asked kindly. “And the boys?”

“We’re hanging in there,” he said. “The line is still spread too thin and we don’t have enough…” he trailed off. “Never mind. I don’t wanna burden you with all this right now.”

He wanted to apologize as well, but he knew she’d never understand what for. Nor would she blame him if he tried to explain himself. He held her hand a little tighter. Her brow furrowed with concern. 

“Are you alright?” she wondered. 

For some reason he was disappointed to not hear an endearment at the end of that question. He liked “darling” from the way she said it a moment ago. And now that she was in front of him, talking and holding his hand, those pictures of a post-war life returned to him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” she half-joked. “When those bombs started coming down I was so afraid I might not -”

Her pale cheeks flushed and she looked away. He swore to himself he’d never take that sight for granted again. 

“You might not what?” he pressed gently. 

“I might not ever see you again,” she blurted out. 

For a fleeting moment, he considered telling her everything - that he loved her, that he saw a life with her, and that he wanted to protect her until the last breath left his body. But he didn’t. He couldn’t overwhelm her just now, and besides, the war was not over. The argument he always had came up again - he could get killed, and where would that leave Melanie?

“I was afraid of the same thing,” he admitted. That much, he would allow himself to say. And the way she smiled at him told him she got his message. Loud and clear. 

“You’ve got no business worrying about me,” she said. “You’re running a battalion.”

None of them are what you are to me. More words he couldn’t speak. 

“Well, they mostly look after themselves,” he replied, forcing his tone to be light. “Y’know, with NCOs like ours.”

She smiled. “Very true.”

A beat passed and he decided to ask one more question on his mind. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Well, I’m afraid this bump on my head is making me pretty nauseated,” she said. 

“This kind of change didn’t happen in a few days, Mel,” he insisted. 

“Is it bad?” she asked. “I haven’t properly looked at myself in a while.”

“You’re just awfully thin, that’s all,” he said. “Didn’t they feed you at the hospital?”

“Oh, that,” she said dismissively. “Well, I gave away a lot of my meals. I didn’t need it as bad as the wounded did. And we were so limited.” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Mel, you gotta eat.”

“I will when I’m feeling better, I promise,” she assured him. “But please don’t fuss over me. I’ll be just fine.”

“Alright, I won’t fuss,” he returned. “Just look after yourself. For me, if not for you.”

“How the tables have turned,” she remarked with a smile. “It wasn’t too long ago I was telling you the same thing.”

He smiled back at her, remembering fondly how she tended to him. How could it be that Carentan felt like it was both years ago and only yesterday? 

“I’m just asking you to return the favor,” he said. 

“I will,” she said. 

He could see that her eyelids were getting heavy, but she fought to keep them open. He wanted her to rest if that was what the doctor ordered.

“Want me to let you sleep?�� he asked. 

She met his gaze again. “Are you going to leave if I do?”

He nodded sadly. “I’ve gotta get back to the line.”

Her mouth turned down in almost a pout. She moved her free hand then to cover his, sandwiching it between her palms. 

“Just one more moment, please,” she said, and he was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. “Being away from you has been more difficult than I imagined and I can’t bear the thought of it happening again.”

He wondered what was drawing all this brutal honesty from her - the concussion or almost losing her life. Whichever it was, he was moved with sympathy. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay right here.”

She blinked when she smiled, and a single tear fell down her cheek. She brushed it away as she settled back into her pillows. And Dick remained there with her until she could fight it no longer and she fell asleep. Her eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and she was peaceful. Dick almost wished he could join her. He was exhausted as well. With everything happening on the front and his worry about Melanie, he felt he’d aged about ten years. 

He stood up, slipping his hands carefully from hers, before pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She snuggled down further and let out a deep sigh. He allowed himself to stroke her hair, moving it off her forehead, before leaving. After one last look at her serene face, he closed the door. He was back out in the hall and dreading his next steps. Back outside into the cold, back to the line, back to his worry. 

Before he could make it out, he was stopped. Dr. Clarke stood in the hall, blocking Dick’s path. The doctor looked even less friendly than he did in the room with Melanie, so Dick braced himself for whatever this could mean. Clarke approached.

“Look, I don’t really know you, but I have to say something,” he began. “I think what you’re doing to Melanie is horrible.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “What am I doing to her?”

“Leading her on,” Clarke explained. “You’ve known her two years now and you haven’t committed to her. Which tells me you’re not interested, but you don’t want her to lose interest.”

Dick was shocked by what he was hearing. It was the first time since knowing Melanie that someone was telling him he didn’t have feelings for her. 

“Doctor, I don’t know what Melanie’s told you, but -”

“It’s not hard to put it together,” Clarke interrupted. “You’ve somehow convinced her you’re worth waiting for. At the expense of people who really care about her. So what is it? Have you...made love to her or something?”

Dick blinked. Several emotions happened to him at once. Further shock at the forwardness of the question. Anger at the suggestion that Dick was that sort of man. And annoyance. He was so tired. Why did he have to deal with this sort of juvenile jealousy when there was a war on? He took a breath to collect himself. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Clarke in the eye, fed up before he even started speaking.

“First of all, anything that’s happened between Melanie and myself is our business,” he began. “Second of all, Melanie doesn’t belong to me. She’s free to pursue any sort of relationship she likes. If she’s chosen not to be with you, that’s not my doing. If I had to guess, it’s because she sees through your bravado. And so do I.”

Clarke huffed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You march up here and accost me about a situation you’re only guessing at, putting on airs about protecting her,” Dick shot back. “When you were the one who put your hands all over her under the pretense of doing your job. This isn’t about Melanie, it’s about you.” 

“I love that girl,” Clarke insisted, and he took a step toward Dick, who did not step away.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Dick said. “But if that’s how you feel, take it up with her.”

“You really are a coward,” Clarke scoffed. “You won’t even fight for her.”

“Is that what you’re after?” Dick challenged. “Do you honestly think the two of us duking it out is going to make her love you?”

“She needs to know she has options!” Clarke insisted. 

“She knows,” Dick said levelly. “You’re just upset because she’s made a choice you’re unhappy with.” He was getting impatient now. This sort of thing was for little boys on a playground, not two officers in the US Army. Then, he said something that even surprised him. “I’m not going to fight you for something I already have.”

Clarke flared up at that, but he said nothing. Somehow, Dick defending himself made him realize the truth - that he did have Melanie’s affection, and he felt more deserving of it than before. He was annoyed by Clarke not out of jealousy, but because the man saw himself as more of a threat than he really was. And Dick truly, honestly did not have time or energy to entertain something of so little consequence. 

“And by the way, Lieutenant,” Dick said. “I’m a senior officer. The next time you address me, you will say ‘sir.’”

“Well, fuck you,” Clarke seethed. “Sir.”

Dick chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, and pushed past him without another word. 

***

Melanie healed up nicely in the two weeks she was out of work. She slept and ate as if she were making up for all the sleep and meals she’d missed out on the last month or so. Unfortunately, she didn’t get another visit from Dick. The death toll in the Bois Jacques was rising, and he couldn’t leave the men now. 

On January 9th, Melanie was finally free from her bedrest sentence. She had been issued new uniforms since the belongings she’d had with her at the hospital in Bastogne were lost to the destruction. Luckily, she’d thought to leave her valuables - including the dress from Dick - in Colonel Sink’s care, and they were safely in his billet. The fresh fatigues were surprisingly comforting to her. She preferred the dresses and heels, but they were no good in the cold and snow. She was getting ready to put up her hair when there was a knock on her door. 

“Who is it?” she called. 

“It’s Terry!”

“Come in!”

The door squeaked open and Terry stepped through, closing it behind him. She abandoned her hair and turned on her stool to face him. 

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I wanted to thank you again for taking such wonderful care of me. With all the wounded, I know it couldn’t have been easy.” 

“Nonsense, I was glad to do it,” he replied. 

He paused a long moment and looked at his feet, which caused him to sway a little, but he didn’t fall. Her brow furrowed as she stood up and went to steady him. 

“Are you alright, Terry?” she asked. 

He looked at her again and she realized right away what the problem was from the smell of bourbon on his breath. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand in her face. “Look, Melanie, before Bastogne got bombed to hell, you and I were talking about something.”

She held back a sigh. She had hoped that he’d gotten the message back then that there was someone she loved. But clearly he wasn’t letting it go. 

“Terry, I’m sorry,” she said. “But there’s no use in discussing that any further.”

“No, listen to me,” he said sternly. “I’m telling you, love is wasted on a man like Dick Winters. Especially your love. You deserve someone who is ready for you - right here and now. Someone who wouldn’t let something like a war stand in the way of loving you.”

She frowned, stung and affronted. “That’s a cruel thing to say. You don’t even know him.”

“I know you,” he returned. “And I know that he’s breaking your heart. That’s enough not to like him.”

“You’re sadly misinformed if you think -”

“I love you!” he cried. “And I could give you the life of your dreams after the war if you’d only give me a chance!”

She blinked. Such a confession should have been flattering, but the feeling she got from him made her hair stand on end. He was not saying it out of genuine feeling, he was saying it to win an argument. And that didn’t feel very much like love. 

“Terry, what you want from me are words I can’t say,” she replied gently. “Would you really have me accept you and live a lie?”

“You’d learn to love me, I know it,” he said. “I just want you for myself.”

There was a dangerous gleam in his eye at those words that made her take a step back from him. He stepped closer. Her stomach turned. 

“I think you should go now,” she said timidly. “You’re upset, you’ve been drinking -”

“Give the diplomacy a rest, Melanie,” he spat. “I’m going to say what I feel and you are going to listen!”

She sighed. “It won’t do any good, Terry. I can’t change how I feel.”

“God-DAMMIT!” he bellowed, shoving the dresser beside him so hard several of the knick knacks toppled off of it. Melanie gasped and jumped back, breathing heavily. “Do you see what you do to me, Melanie?”

“I - I haven’t done -” she stammered, but he cut her off. 

“Just the thought of you with him!” he growled. “With ANY MAN!”

To emphasize that point, he snatched a framed photograph off the same dresser and hurled it across the room, right over her head. The glass shattered against the opposite wall, drowning out Melanie’s yelp of surprise. She covered her face with her hands to protect herself from the shards. Before she could say anything in return, he picked up a small globe and threw that at her as well. She ducked to avoid it, and the base snapped against the wall. The globe rolled under the bed. 

“Terry, stop it!” she cried. 

He moved even closer to her. She tried to recoil, but he snatched her by the wrist and yanked her towards him. With his free hand, he took hold of her face, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks as he pulled her within inches of him. She could feel his breath on her skin. A whimper escaped her at the pain of his grip, but she couldn’t look away. She was frozen, trembling at the thought of what he might do next. 

“I could crush your skull, you know,” he warned. “Right against that vanity. Would that get Dick Winters out of your mind?”

Her eyes went wide, but because of his hand, she couldn’t answer him. His palm covered her mouth. She couldn’t even call for help. She could only shake her head and plead with her eyes. He moved his hand and she drew breath to scream, but he was too quick. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. She winced and prayed for someone to hear the commotion and put a stop to this. 

For a brief moment, she remembered when Corporal Biding tackled her that night in Toccoa. She recalled how frightened she’d been before she realized he was no real threat, he had just made a drunken mistake. Nothing like now. While Terry had been drinking, he was far from drunk. And she was so much more afraid. This was an intentionally vicious attack. She saw in his eyes something sinister and heartless. And of course now, Dick and Easy Company were not going to come to her rescue. 

Her vision got blurry as he cut off her air. She thought of Dick and how much she’d relied on him after the Corporal Biding incident. She wished he was here to help her again. But he wasn’t. And she was not that scared little girl she was in Toccoa. She had survived D-Day, Market Garden, the bombing of Bastogne, and she’d be damned if she let this pathetic excuse for a man get the best of her. 

With all her might, Melanie shoved her knee between Terry’s legs. He groaned at the impact and released her as he doubled over. She took a moment to gulp in fresh air before she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked like a whip. His head lurched back, throwing him off balance enough to stumble. Melanie, adrenaline coursing through her, wasn’t satisfied, so she shoved him, which made him fall to the floor, landing on his rear with a grunt.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again!” she yelled.

While he licked his wounds - and his pride - Melanie gathered the last of her things in silence. Rage compelled her every move as she shoved her belongings into her bag. He was still on the floor when she marched for the door. She opened it to reveal Colonel Sink behind it, fist raised, about to knock. He shot her a confused glance as he took in the scene - Melanie, stormy and furious, and Terry in the fetal position on the floor of her room. He noticed as well, the broken trinkets from the unfortunate family who lived here previously. Sink’s eyes flicked between Melanie and Terry. 

“Everything alright up here?” Sink asked. 

“It’s fine,” Melanie said shortly. “Get me out of here, please.”

“Certainly,” he assured her. 

He put a protective arm around her shoulder and led her away. When they made it down the stairs, she stopped him, turned into his chest, and burst into tears. He held her close, patted her on the head, and let her cry. He didn’t ask her what happened, and she was grateful. She never wanted to relive that scene if she could help it. She looked up at Sink with desperate eyes.

“Please don’t make me go back to the hospital, Colonel,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything else, but I can’t work with him again.”

“Actually, I was about to offer you a change of scenery,” he said. 

“Like what?” she sniffled.

He sighed and looked away, which told her she wouldn’t like it. “The Bois Jacques.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon Epilogue

Jason is a CEO: Epilogue

When i started this fic (around 9 months ago-- holy hell we could have had a whole human in that time) i didn’t expect it to go in the directions it did or to produce the characters and story it did. While it’s not one of my more action-packed fics it is still very special to me because 1. it’s my first jason centered fic (of which we don’t have much of); 2. it’s my first really long multi-chap (the longest before this was 10 parts); 3. i got to explore so many of my crackships and dynamics of friendship i may not have been able to if we (for example) stuck to canon; 4. most importantly i love this fic because it started out (the very first chapter) as an original story that just was not going anywhere but when i decided to make it a fanfic, suddenly ideas were pouring from my fingers like wine from a split barrel. these characters feel as much mine as they are Rick’s (which is a dangerous path to go down and i’m not actually claiming they’re mine-- gods please don’t sue me). in short i love this fic dearly, i’m so proud of how far all these little babies have come (especially jason) and i hope you feel even a smidge the joy i feel over this, as you go on to read the very soft conclusion to Jason Grace as CEO.

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

There was something almost magical in the gleaming silhouette of the Manhattan skyline. There was something hopeful about it too. 

Jason Grace stepped out of his car, relishing in the sound of the gravel crunching under his feet and the babble of people all around him. His suit—  a deep blue, dark enough to look black, and glittering with tiny silver diamantes that looked like stars— clung to his shoulders and hugged his legs. The theme of the evening was “Starry Night”. He figured coming as the actual night was accurate enough. Drew and Silena had done a beautiful job on his outfit, to no-one’s surprise. He would see them here tonight, along with their husband, and the rest of his friends. And tomorrow, oh tomorrow, he would be off to Rome, with the man that filled his life with overwhelming light.

“Jase,”  Someone called out from the darkness, “Are you hiding from us because you put two different shoes on again and are too embarrassed to say?”

“Shut up Annabeth,” He laughed, “I’m coming.”

He walked towards the group of silhouettes, making out Leo and Annabeth, and Nico and Will, and coming from behind them were the dressmakers and their Charles. Hazel and Frank would be making an appearance later in the night.

“You all look beautiful.” He smiled, hugging them, kissing cheeks and foreheads, relishing in their closeness and their comfort, as he has always done. And they did in fact look beautiful. Annabeth in a dress of blue swirling around her and pooling at her feet— the colours matched the sapphire on her ring finger; Leo in a matching floor-length skirt and a sheer polo-neck that showed off every clean brown line of his skin; Nico and Will, in contrast, were complete opposites, the former in a black suit with silver jewellery, and the latter in an off white with gold accents; Silena, Drew and Charlie all had on suits with various parts of the galaxy embroidered in gold, threading a spectacular tapestry through the emerald green. All in all, his friends were really hot.

“Y’all ready?” Will drawled, tilting his head to the entrance of the hotel a little way away.

“Let’s go celebrate!” He winked in response.

And then they’re walking towards the bright lights, launching into conversations and updates and work and jokes. It was familiar in the way driving home after a long time away was, or catching a waft of the specific smell of your elementary school art room, or seeing someone from your childhood and slipping into a comfortable back-and-forth.

“Jase,” Charlie scooted next to him, breaking away from his conversation with Nico, “How’s the construction for the new section of the outdoor center going? I heard you hit a snag last week with the design?”

“Yea there was a few centimeters off with one of the structures and it caused the whole area to be off balance,” He scrunched his nose, remembering the horror from last week. “I’m just grateful we caught it in time.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since that center went up,” His friend marvelled, eyes wide with the disbelief of time. He knew the feeling well.

“It’s crazy. I came back from my holiday and then everything was just on fast forward.” He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy though, with the progress and how far we’ve come.”

“You’ve just burst and grown and brightened,” There’s that soft smile, the one that made all of Jason’s insides turn to mush. The one that told him he was loved in every capacity.

“I know.” He felt the blush creeping up his skin, pale after the long winter months. “I don’t owe it to myself though. All of you guys have—” 

“No way mister,” Annabeth chimed in, “You absolutely owe it to yourself. You got yourself there, we just cheered you on.”

“Yea,” Leo nudged his arm, a gentleness shimmering in his brown eyes. “You were the hero of your own story.”

He muttered thank you’s and tried to embrace the blush but their love and joy and pride still drowned him. Before anyone else could pile on the sincerity they were walking into the lobby and being ushered to the large, elegant ballroom three doors down.

There was a collective gasp from their group, audible even above the low hum of chatter, and the soft jazz drifting through the speakers. The entire room had been made to look like they were standing inside the middle of “Starry Night”. Like they were the townsfolk parked outside their houses witnessing the strange and magical sky above them. Swirls of blue in the draping curtains and circles of yellow in the chandeliers and wisps of the cypress trees growing from the walls as if the very room had been built around a tree.

“This is—” He didn’t even have the words to fully express his awe. If he were an art major he would have died from the beauty of it all. As it stood he could barely keep himself up.

“I know,” A voice said quietly from behind him. “It’s almost divine.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even turn around to see who it was. He simply stepped back and let arms envelope him. He didn’t need to check, because he knew, he would always know. In the heat of their skin, and the hum of their voice, and the love that radiated between them like scorching summer sun.

“Moró mou,” He sighed, tipping his head back to rest against a shoulder. From this angle he could see blazing green eyes and jet-black curls, and impossibly high cheekbones, and a jaw sculpted by Michaelangelo.

“Hello my love,” Percy Jackson smiled. “How are you?”

“Happy.” He muttered, lips brushing against his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Good,” The man nodded, squeezing his waist where his arms still wrapped around. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I will not just survive through it,” His eyes crinkled at the corner as pure joy washed through him, “I will live through it, and I will enjoy every minute of it.” He knew the reason for the question, for the concern. But tonight it was not needed. He was nothing but excited and elated for the hours, and then days, weeks, years to come.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

A glass tinkled somewhere to their right, grabbing their attention. And then Zoe and Reyna were stepping together and drawing people towards them as if they were gravity, magnets, the center. They looked it certainly: Zoe in a stark white dress, hugging her figure, shimmering like stardust every time she moved; and Reyna in a watery blue, gauzy and flowing in time with her body, where she goes it will ripple behind her.

“Thank you,” His lawyer started, giving them a dazzling smile. “For being here. All of you.” She looked them each in the eye, her own filled with love and… were those tears? From his no nonsense, boss lady lawyer? Oh he was so going to give her a hug and then tease her endlessly about it. 

“We have a thousand people to thank for all of this,” She gestured to the room, “And a thousand more to thank just for being here, but that will come in the form of surprise take-me-homes at the end of the night.”

“However,” Zoe’s voice, still as strong and quiet as ever, rang out across the room. “There are two people we would like to thank right here, right now.” Her smile lit up the world as her eyes landed on them. “In typical us fashion, it’s a little out of the ordinary but please can both our ex-boyfriend’s come up here.” 

The crowd burst into laughter, him and Percy with them, as they detangled themselves from each other and walked hand in hand to the front of the room.

“As you can see,” Reyna grinned. Jason held in the groan he knew would accompany her next words. “We did a Partner Swap.”

The laughter only loudened, people whistling, and clapping in time with their amusement.

“I will spare you the sordid details,” Zoe’s own giggling softened to a smile, “But two years ago, after Jason and I had broken up, I called him in a panic asking for help. And despite being on a much needed holiday where he happened to meet a certain someone,” She winked at them, eyebrows waggling comically, “He listened to me, then made use of his contacts and connected me with Reyna.”

“And after I charmed the suit off of her, and won her lawsuit,” Reyna stepped in, grinning wildly, “She agreed to pop open a bottle of champagne and celebrate our win.”

“I’m not quite sure about the charming part, angel.” Zoe quirked an eyebrow, “But yes one champagne bottle and the rest was history.”

“In conclusion to this whole ordeal,” His lawyer turned to them, “Jase, Percy, we have a present for you, to thank you for loving us, and for loving us enough to let us go, and furthermore for bringing us together.”

Zoe handed them an envelope but before they bothered to open it they pulled the women in for a hug, thanking and congratulating them. He would not change what they had for the world. He will be grateful forever. He will love them even longer.

Percy ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and read with him.

The universe has a funny way of pulling stars together but we know with certainty that the four of us are born from the same constellation. Thank you for everything. We know we can never really repay you but please accept this as a start. 

Tucked into the last fold of the paper were two plane tickets to Japan. The holiday they had discussed once, a Saturday game night that ended with the four of them huddled around the fire in Zoe’s apartment, chattering softly about this and that. Printed in small font at the bottom of the page was a cherry blossom branch and more text that read,

Get married losers, we want joint holidays so we can get the couples packages.

He bubbled with laughter at that, and looked up at his friends, tears pooling in his own eyes.

“Alright everyone!” Reyna clapped her hands, gathering the attention of the humming crowd. “Let’s get this engagement party started.”

And then music filled the room and people dragged each other to the middle of the space and there were cheers as the song came into focus and truly Jason understood the meaning of life that night.

After they had thanked Reyna and Zoe again, and chatted with their other friends Percy pulled him to the dance floor.

“Jase,” His boyfriend cupped the back of his neck, arranging their bodies into a work of art. “We have wonderful friends.”

“The very best,” He agreed, swaying their hips in time with the beat. “We have built an empire with them by our side.”

“Will you be the emperor then?”

“There is no monarchy in this kingdom,” He smiled, blue eyes glittering and bright. “It is just us, and our love, and everything beautiful the world has ever had to offer.” He saw oceans reflecting back at him, wonder soaking in his words, happiness pressing against his lips.

His boyfriend pressed their foreheads together, bodies still moving to music far away. “And if we look further?” Percy breathed, “Past the empire, to the horizon beyond?”

“It is all home,” Jason Grace smiled. “We are home, my love.”

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

Okay there are so many people to thank and you best believe i’m going to thank them all because this fic would literally not exist without them.

@nishlicious-01​​ my favourite person, my biggest supporter and the only person who gets to shout at me when im writing fanfic at 1am because i’m not sleeping but also because ‘why am i not reading it ciara????’

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​ for every comment, every like, every complaint you took when the writing demon was on strike. you have my heart. id be lost and a little lonely without you.

@leyontheway​​ your comments on this fic were golden and i often came back to them just for that extra burst of motivation and serotonin. i found a friend in you and now i can’t imagine my life without you.

@msdrpreist​​ Sky, mi cielo, you are one in a billion and i cannot believe i found you (and you me) across all this space and time. thank you for your unwavering support and your wonderful thoughts.

@larrikin-is-a-himbo​​ when we started this fic i believe you were @/queenbrunnhilde (or something to that effect) but although your username has changed your loveliness and endless support hasn’t. Thank you for sticking along for the ride

@spoopylucy​​​ Lucy... what do i even say to the person who singlehandedly changed my day, week, mood every time i saw a reblog from them? your tags were the start and the end. they made every upload an exciting task. and i knew no matter what happened in the fic or how long it took as soon as i got a notif from you i couldn’t be anything but happy. thank you my Luce, you’re an angel!

@not-hiesenberg​ for being my ‘ciara what the fuck even does this say? do you know how to spell?’ checker when i was too tired (more like too lazy) to do it myself.

@lesbian-peanuts​​ thank you for the love! you were one of the first people interested in this little universe and i can never thank you enough for that​

@legendary-cupcake​​ your spam when reading this was such a happy moment in my life and im ecstatic that you stayed for the ride! thank you​

to all the people on my tag list, who have liked this fic, and especially those who have commented: i see you, i love you, and i thank you with a heart full of happiness. you changed my world.

[alt-rose]

a trip to syracuse - colson baker

colson baker imagine

a trip to syracuse - a trip to syracuse leads to a cameo and a heart to heart.

word count: 4.9K (someone stop me)

the scene is in big time adolescence. if you haven’t seen it, i highly recommend. it’s on hulu. 

(this could be considered a part 2 to 21, but it could be read alone)

(GIF from tenor)

it was July. you had spent your last few months working your ass off at SNL before staring as a lead in your first comedy film after your second season of SNL had ended. you had been all over the country in the last few months. you were in New York for work. then, you traveled home to your hometown to visit your family during your first week of the summer hiatus. then, you had to ship out to LA to work on your movie. then, you somehow ended back in your hometown.

you were everywhere. busy. never had time for yourself, or the time to do what you really wanted.

you hadn’t seen Colson since a few weeks after your birthday weekend. you texted back and forth. you called occasionally when you both had time. he made you laugh, and you, of course, enjoyed hearing about all his crazy stories. you looked forward to the random pictures he sent you from the studio or from set. he liked having something to share with someone, or rather, someone to share things with.

the two of you were like two best friends that could share everything with each other without needing to be physically there for each other. you could go days without talking because of your busy schedules, yet whenever you caught up with each other, it felt so natural. your relationship felt impossible to explain to anyone that asked. you felt connected to him somehow, but you couldn’t place the feeling.

--

             colson baker: you should come visit me

that was the text you got at 3 am on a Wednesday, well technically Thursday.

you smiled at your phone as you stared at it. the light blinded you as you laid in bed in your dark bedroom at your parent’s house. it was 4 am in New York. what could he have possibly been doing? you learned not to ask that question often when it came to Colson and Pete. they were night owls and tended to drink or smoke anything they could get their hands on. for your sake, you’d rather not know what they were doing. it helped keep your nerves at bay.

however, 4 am in New York tended to worry you a bit. you opened your phone, squinting as the light grew brighter. you began to type back.

             you: I should?

             you: please tell me you are being safe

you scrolled through your phone as you waited for a response. your phone buzzed with a notification. you opened the message.

             colson baker: safe at pete’s place

ah. Pete’s place was their new hangout. Pete was staying with his girlfriend, AG, as you called her, and it was technically her place. they were getting ready to head to Syracuse in a week or so for Pete’s new movie that Colson was making a cameo in.

             colson baker: you should visit

             colson baker: call me a pussy but I miss you

you smiled at that text. he missed you. your heart thumped in your chest.

             you: I miss you too

             you: text me tomorrow when you are sober and it’s not the middle of the night.

             you: let’s see if sober colson wants me to visit

you watched as the typing bubbles appeared before the message appeared.

             colson baker: sober colson said yes

             colson baker: but, I’ll text you tomorrow about it

you laugh at his message before typing back.

             you: goodnight cols

             you: get some rest

your eyes began to lull shut, but you were determined to stay up for the next ten minutes in case he wanted to text you.

you fell asleep to one finally message from him.

             colson baker: goodnight velcro monkey

somehow the velcro monkey joke always made an appearance when someone was drunk or high. it made them laugh at how the reserved, independent person you were could turn into the clingiest drunk on the planet.

you smiled one last time before shutting off your phone and going back to sleep.

--

the next morning, you sat in your parents’ kitchen answering emails on your laptop. your attention was occasionally pulled away from work as you watched your dogs play in the family room. it was good to be home for a bit, but your parents and dogs were a bit distracting when it came time to work.

             “your phone has been buzzing for the last 20 minutes,” you mom said setting your phone down at the kitchen table. “you left this upstairs.”

             “god, thank you,” you tell her not looking up from your computer.

             “a lot of messages from a Colson Baker,” she gives you a look, raising her eyebrow.

             “who’s Colson Baker?” your dad asked butting into the conversation as he made his way into the kitchen.

you moved to quickly snatch you phone from them. you were an adult now with an adult job, yet they still treated you like a teenager.

             “a friend,” you reply as you opened your phone.

you had four messages and a missed call from Colson.

             “seemed like they really wanted to get a hold of you,” you mom hummed as she moved to make her third cup of coffee that day.

             “why do they want to get a hold of you so badly? seems important,” your dad chimed in.

             “guys, it’s fine. please chill,” you reply. “just a friend. anyway, I have to take this call.”

you got up from the table before taking your dogs out to your back patio. you took a seat on one of the outdoor lounges as you called Colson.

             “hey,” his raspy voice rang through the phone.

             “hey,” you sigh. “what’s up with Syracuse?”

             “you should come visit me in Syracuse.”

             “I know, but why Syracuse?” you laugh.

             “Pete’s doing his movie, and we’re both making a cameo.”

you went silent for a bit.

             “we talked to the director this morning. they need background for my cameo scene, so I suggested you to Pete, and he was cool with it. the director said it was cool if you wanted to join the project for a cameo.”

             “are you serious?”

             “deadly. come spend the rest of the summer in Syracuse with me.”

             “I’ll have to check my schedule-”

             “shut up,” he laughed. “I know you’re free.”

             “you’re right,” you sighed. “my family isn’t going to be happy with me leaving again, but they can just visit when SNL starts back up.”

             “so you’ll do it?”

             “sure, what else do I have to do?” you asked adjusting the phone to your ear. “plus, a week or two in Syracuse with you and Pete would be fun.”

             “YES,” you heard him shout over the phone. “aight, cool,” he finally calms down. “I’ll let Pete know.”

             “alright, Cols. sounds good,” you sigh into the phone.

             “what’s wrong?” he asked after a beat.

             “nothing. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain why a Colson Baker was blowing up my phone earlier to my parents.”

you heard him let out a laugh from his end. you heard him murmur something to someone. you heard him laugh once more before he addressed you.

             “Pete said to tell your parents that I’m your dealer.”

             “tell Pete that my parents might have a heart attack.”

you heard him mumble something before you heard a roar of voices.

             “tell your parents that Colson works as a janitor for NBC,” you heard Pete yell into the phone.

             “you guys are ridiculous,” you sigh into the phone as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

             “but you love us,” Pete sang into the phone.

             “yeah, I do.”

you heard them laugh.

             “you could just tell you parents the truth,” Colson suggested. “I don’t mind your family knowing. the whole reason we were keeping it quiet was to keep you out of the spotlight.”

you thought about it for a minute.

             “and what exactly are we keeping from her family?” you heard Pete in the background.

             “that I’m her best friend now. I replaced you,” Colson quickly replied.

             “HEY,” you yelled sitting up in your seat. “I never said that.”

             “it’s okay,” Pete said louder into the phone. you can only assume he was closer to the phone. “I know you love him more than me.”

             “that’s not true,” you said in a defensive tone. “I love you both equally.”

             “RIIIIIGHT,” Pete drew through the phone.

             “right,” Colson agreed.

             “it’s okay. I know who you text when you’re supposed to be working, (y/n),” Pete slyly said in the phone.

             “knock it off, Pete,” you growl into the phone, causing the guys to laugh. “where’s your girlfriend? can’t you go bother her?”

             “oh shit,” you heard Pete say. “I forgot to bring her the food we made. bye (y/n).”

you laughed at him before you heard Colson.

             “I took you off speaker. he went back into his room with the food.”

             “you guys made breakfast?”

             “yeah, our post-mushroom pancakes,” he said. “totally came down from them a half hour ago. the food’s probably cold as shit now.”

             “RIP to AG’s kitchen.”

             “RIP, indeed.”

you laughed.

             “I can’t wait to see you, Cols,” you smile into the phone.

             “I’m excited to see you, too. I’ll send you a plane ticket.”

             “I can pay for my own plane ticket. it’s okay,” you reply. “you can save that up to buy me dinner when I get to Syracuse.”

             “(y/n) (y/l/n), are you asking me on a date?”

             “too forward?” you laugh.

             “not forward enough. maybe, I could buy you breakfast too?”

you laugh and cover your mouth with his suggestion before you finally calm yourself down.

             “maybe you could,” you reply coolly.

             “NOOOO,” he whined into the phone. “can you come to New York now?”

you laughed together before the conversation lulled into a gentle silence.

             “can I tell you a secret?” you whisper into the phone.

             “shoot.”

             “I’ve been listening to your music.”

you paused waiting for his reaction.

             “oh boy, have I converted you to hip hop and rap?”

             “no, I made an exception for Machine Gun Kelly,” you smile.

             “really?” you could hear him shift around. “got a favorite?”

             “27,” you reply too quickly. “I’m a sucker for the piano. Kiss the Sky and Habit are pretty good too.”

             “next show I have, you’re gonna be in the crowd. I want to perform for you.”

             “for me?” you ask in a posh voice. “you could always give me a private show.”

             “I just might.”

suddenly, your attention was pulled to your mom who was standing at the back door. you raise an eyebrow at her as you listened to Colson mumble through the phone.

             “hold on, Cols,” you tell him. “what’s up?” you ask her.

             “we’re leaving in a half an hour to go to dinner at your grandparents. you need to get ready,” she replied.

you nod to her. she stood in the doorway waiting for you to get off the phone. you raised another eyebrow at her. she wanted to eavesdrop on your conversation.

             “alright,” you sigh. “Cols, I have to go. I have dinner with my grandparents.”

             “fine. fine. call me later?”

             “yeah, I’ll call you later.”

             “bye (y/n), love you.”

you smiled at that. even though the love was platonic, it felt good to hear it from him.

             “bye Cols, love you too.”

once you hung up, you gave your mom a pointed look.

             “love, huh?” she smiled.

             “just a friend,” you mutter before calling the dogs in.

             “just a friend that you love,” she teased.

             “so who is Colson Baker?” your dad chimed in once the two of you made it inside.

             “he’s a friend of Pete and I,” you reply heading to the stairs.

             “what does he do?” your dad asked looking up from his phone.

             “just look him up. I have to get ready.”

once you safely made it up the stairs and away from their questions, you began to rummage through your closet for clothes. you were pulled out of your search by your dad yelling up the stairs.

             “MACHINE GUN KELLY. YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH MACHINE GUN KELLY?”

--

a week and a half later, you were on a plane to Syracuse. your parents weren’t super hip about you leaving so soon, but you argued that it was for work. and, it was. you weren’t lying.

they also were not so happy about your friendship with Colson, or Machine Gun Kelly as they knew him. your mom argued for the tattoos, which made no sense, since they liked Pete, and he had tattoos. they were also not so impressed that he was a rapper.

maybe, you shouldn’t have let them read all the articles about him.

he was heavily misunderstood by the media, and Colson was not ‘Machine Gun Kelly’. he was Colson Baker. you tried to explain that he was so much more than what the media portrayed, but your parents were more of the seeing rather than believing type.

with that all said, you were happy to be out of the house. you were tired of constantly arguing for and defending your friendship. anytime you got super defensive of Colson, your family accused you of being in love with him. were you? hell yeah. but, you weren’t going to admit that to anyone. you ran from your feelings, remember?

once you finally landed at the airport in Syracuse, you texted the guys.

             colson baker: in line waiting for you

             colson baker: north pick up line

             colson baker: black escalade

when you finally made it out the doors with your baggage, you searched for the black escalade. you attention was pulled to the sound of doors opening, and you found Colson on the passenger side of the car as Pete climbed into the backseat. you smiled as you watched the guys. you made your way to them.

             “hi,” you smile.

             “hi,” Colson replied looking down at you.

you kinda forgot what it was like to be around six-foot giants. Colson moved to take your bag from you before putting it in the trunk. after you helped him load up your bag, he took your hand and led you to the passenger seat.

before you could hop in, he grabbed you and kissed you. you moved to grip the fabric of his jacket as you kissed him back.

             “did you just kiss her? what? did he just kiss you?” Pete asked dumbfounded from the backseat as he looked back and forth from you and Colson.

you laughed to yourself as you buckled your seat belt while Colson made his way to the driver’s seat. as he hopped in and buckled up, he turned to you. you laughed before turning to Pete.

             “anyone want to answer me? did you kiss her?” Pete said slapping Colson’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

             “yeah, I did. what are you going to do about it?” Colson raised an eyebrow at him.

you laughed picking at the skin of your lip.

             “what the hell? am I third wheeling this whole trip?”

             “dude, you would have had me third wheeling this whole trip if we didn’t invite her.”

             “how long?” Pete whined. “how long has this been a thing?”

             “since my birthday,” you reply quietly.

             “since your birthday,” he said dropping his jaw. “that was months ago.”

             “I know,” you laugh. “to be fair, we haven’t seen each other much since. we’ve been talking and stuff, though.”

             “what the hell, guys.”

you and Colson both laughed as he pulled out of his spot in line and drove toward your hotel.

             “oh, I told my parents about you, and they googled you. they aren’t very happy.”

             “fantastic.”

--

you spent your first day on set waiting around for the guys in Pete’s trailer before your call time. you and Colson sat and talked, just being close to each other after months apart. once it was finally your call time, you got your makeup and hair done, which wasn’t much considering you were just an extra in a scene.

the director had you placed at a bar table with two other girls. drinks were all placed in front of you. you fixed your hair a bit before the director called action. the scene began and you just kept your head down, while you waited for your cue. one of the guys walked up to your table and began talking to the three of you. the camera panned over to your table, and the guy began his lines. you smiled and laughed at him.

             “I already have a tab open so if you want another-”

             “hey,” Pete yelled catching your attention. “I’m sorry about our friend. we found him in a dumpster. he’s a rescue. sorry”

             “it’s okay,” the girl next to you yelled.

             “aw don’t worry. he’s got all of his shots though, so he won’t bite,” Pete called back.

             “oh,” the girl laughed. “what about your puppy?”

             “who? Mo?”

             “yeah, he looks a little young to be in here.”

             “you look a little old to be in here,” Pete shot back. you had to hold in your laugh.

             “CUT,” the director yelled. “let’s do it one more time, just in case, and then move on.”

you repeated the scene once more before everyone moved on to the next part of your scene. the guys all crowded around your small table. Colson stood behind Pete, who was sitting on one of the barstools.

             “you guys look great. can we get another girl on the other side of Griffin please?” the director asked, gesturing to the second lead in the film. “(y/n), can you move?”

             “yeah,” you reply before hopping out of your seat to sit on the other side of Griffin. you then realized that you were directly in the camera’s line of vision.

you looked up at Colson who was across the table from you. he sent you a wink before taking a drink of whatever liquid was in his glass. you smiled back at him before Pete reached across the table to fist bump you. you laughed at him before getting ready for the scene.

the director moved back and called “Action.”

             “Mo actually got back from the army,” Pete started his lines.

             “yeah?” you respond.

             “yeah, he was there for 16 years,” Pete replied to you.

             “let’s not talk about, yeah,” Griffin responded giving Pete and Colson a look.

             “anyway, yeah, he hasn’t been laid in 16 years. how crazy is that?” Pete said before Colson could interrupt him.

             “aye, to Mo,” Colson said bring his glass in.

             “to Mo,” the table responded crashing the glasses together.

             “welcome back brother,” Colson said.

             “yeah, man.”

             “hoo-rah, right?” Colson said clinking his glass to yours.

             “hoo-rah,” Griffin cheered back.

             “hey, may we all make it to heaven before the devil knows we’re dead, baby,” Colson yelled.

             “YEAH,” Pete cheered back beating his chest like a frat boy.

             “cheers,” Griffin called before clinking his glass to yours.

             “wait. what does that mean?” Pete asked.

             “like, we’re sinners and-and-” Colson nodded his head. “and, bad motherfuckers, and he’s coming to suck us back…” Colson paused to do a little motion before continuing. “he wants us.”

             “isn’t that, like a Buzz Frontier song?” the other guy asked, and Colson looked up at him.

             “who wants us?” Pete interrupts looking at Colson. “what did he do? what did we do?”

             “Satan, motherfucker, wants us,” Colson said moving his head to emphasize each word.

he then bent his head back up before making eye contact with you. one of the other girls began to laugh, which caused the table to laugh with her. Colson sent you another wink, and you smiled back at him.

             “Cut,” the director called. “that was good. let’s do it one more time.”

--

you were sad that your scene was over. you liked working with Pete and Colson. after you finished getting out of your costume, you put your clothes back on before heading to Pete’s trailer. in there, Pete and Colson were lounging on the furniture.  

             “what are you two doing?” you laugh as you close the trailer door behind you.

             “waiting for you,” Pete shot back.

             “what’s the plan?” you asked taking a seat on the couch next to Colson.

he wrapped an arm around you.

             “I have to shoot for a few more hours, but we can meet up later,” Pete suggested.

             “do you want to go out?” Colson asked you. “while we wait.”

             “sure,” you nodded. “what time do you think you’ll be done?” you asked Pete.

             “not sure, but I’ll text you.” Pete stood up from his seat. “I have to get back, but I’ll see you later.”

             “aight,” Colson replied reaching to dab up Pete.

Pete took his hand before patting you on the head.

             “bye Pete,” you call to him as he leaves.

             “bye, be safe,” he laughs back at the two of you.

as you watched the door of the trailer shut, you felt a pair of eyes on you. you turned to find Colson staring down at you.

             “what?” you laugh at him. “do I have something on my face?”

             “no.” he gave you a small smile.

             “then, stop staring at me like that.”

             “staring at you like what?”

             “like that,” you said pointing at his face. “making me feel self-conscious.”

             “can’t help that you’re really pretty.”

             “and that’s my cue to go,” you say starting to get up from the couch.

Colson laughed behind you before pulling you back onto the couch.

             “do you want to go to the mall?” he asked smiling at you. “then I can take you out for that dinner you promised me.”

             “ohhhh, I guess I did promise you a dinner,” you hum. “let’s go then.”

--

             “try it on.”

             “no. did you see how many zeros were on that tag?”

             “jesus, just try it on.”

             “no.”

             “get in that goddamn dressing room and try on the goddamn dress,” Colson mutter quietly to you.

Colson had dragged you into some fancy boutique to “buy you a dress.” you resisted, of course, and the fact that he was so willing to buy you an expensive dress scared you. you were very responsible with your money, and you never splurged on yourself. this, of course, was not going over well with Colson now that you were refusing to even try on a dress that was more than a hundred dollars.

             “Colson, it’s really expensive,” you softly say looking up at him.

             “so?” he shrugged. “please let me buy you something nice.” he gave you the closest thing he could to ‘puppy dog eyes.’

             “jesus, fine,” you breathe pulling yourself from his eyes. “I’m trying it on, but if I don’t like it, you’re not buying it.”

             “scouts honor,” he said holding up his hand.

with that, you snatched the hot pink mini dress from his hands and marched toward the dressing room. you could hear Colson lightly laughing at you as he watched you.

once you made it into the dressing room, you took a seat on the bench. you put your head in your hands before taking a breath. were you doing this? yes, and it went against every bone in your body. after you settled yourself down, you began to take off your clothes before trying on the dress.

once you began to slip on the dress, you couldn’t get it to zip up. you tried every angle possible, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. you let out a heavy sigh before collecting yourself. you peeked through the sliver of the door to see if Colson was outside the dressing room. you found him browsing at a rack of clothes a few feet from your dressing room.

you opened the door by a crack before poking your head out.

             “Colson,” you whisper-yelled to him.

his head perked up before finding you. he began to stalk closer to you.

             “how does it look?” he asked when he got to you.

             “I think I need a bigger size,” you admitted to him.

             “I’ll go grab the next size up, but can I at least see it?”

             “no, it won’t zip up,” you shot back.

             “can I try?”

             “can you try?”

             “jesus christ,” he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “just turn around.”

you opened the door a bit more before turning around. you felt him place his hands on your hips before finding the zipper.

             “this should totally zip,” he whispered in your ear. “the zipper’s just stuck.”

you felt him move the zipper down before pulling it back up. the dress finally zipped.

you sighed once the dress finally fit properly. as you glanced in the mirror, you fell in love with the dress. you looked good. it was almost as if the dress was made for your body. it didn’t gap in weird places, and it wasn’t too snug. it felt perfect, and for its price, you were glad it was perfect. it would be a rip-off if it wasn’t.

             “damn,” Colson whispered.

             “damn,” you nodded.

             “you’re getting it.”

             “I’m not going to fight you on it,” you reply turning around to face him. “now, get out so I can get dressed.”

             “at least, let me unzip you first,” he laughed.

--

four hours and a shopping trip later, you and Colson were sitting in some fancy restaurant together. he was in a fashionable shirt and jacket while you sat in your hot pink mini dress.

             “thank you for dinner,” you say reaching across the table to take his hand.

             “you’re welcome,” he smiled at you after he handed the paid check back to the waitress. “I promised you a dinner, didn’t i?”

             “you did,” you laugh.

             “you wanna get out of here?” he suggests nodding toward the door.

             “sure,” you nod back.

with that, he moved to help you out of your chair. with his hand in yours, the two of you headed to his rental car. he opened the passenger door for you. before you could get in the car, you turned and placed a hand on his cheek.

his eyes met yours, and your heart melted. his hands landed on your waist, and he pulled you close before planting his lips on yours. you leaned up to kiss him back. and there you were, standing in the parking lot of a fancy restaurant making out like a bunch of teenagers.

--

at sunset, the two of you were sitting at the private rooftop patio of your hotel. you were both laying on one of the daybeds watching the sky change colors. you were deep in thought.

             “I’m scared,” you admit staring up at the sky.

             “scared?” Colson quietly asked you from where he was laying next to you.

             “yeah,” you breathe. “I don’t do relationships. I run from them. maybe it’s my fear of rejection or my fear of getting hurt.” you pause for a moment. “I really like you. like really, really like you. and part of me is scared because I don’t want to get hurt, but I want a relationship. I want love, you know?”

             “I get it,” he murmured next to you.

you were both at the point of the night where deep conversations were rolling. should you have been so honest with him? who knows. would you regret it tomorrow? maybe. but, right now, it had been said.

             “and, I want a relationship with you.” he rolled over on his side to face you. “I’m just scared because I don’t want to be just another girl for you. you buy me a pretty dress and take me to dinner with the hopes that I land in your bed tonight, and it makes me wonder,” you whisper.

you could feel his gaze. he took one of your hands and placed a kiss on the backside of it.

             “you and I both know my track record with relationships kinda suck,” he starts. “but, I want this to work.” he brushed a peace of hair from your face. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone, and I’m going to be completely honest when I say it scares the shit out of me. and, if it makes you more comfortable, we can take this relationship at whatever speed you want it to go. I just want to be with you. I want to make this work, and I want to be a part of your life. I want this relationship to be more than just texts at 4 am and kissing you once every three months.”

you were both quiet for a bit. you were processing what he had said. he wants this to work. he wants to be with you. he wants this relationship, and he wants it to be more.

             “I’m gonna fall in love with you if you keep saying shit like that,” you whisper after your moment of silence.

             “good,” he smiled placing a hand on your cheek. “because, I’m falling in love with you.”

your breath caught in your throat. you wrapped your arms around his neck before pulling him down to you. he placed his lips on yours and kissed you. laying there in the daybed, you kissed him back.

             “be my whatever,” he whispered.

             “be your whatever?” you ask raising an eyebrow.

             “yeah, whatever you want to call yourself. just be mine. be mine, baby.”

             “okay.”

and you kissed him once more.

.

.

.

not sure how i feel about this. hopefully, this does justice for a part two, anon. i hope you enjoyed. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

- Chapter 4 -

Meng Yao learned all the same things as Nie Mingjue, clearly being groomed to for position as Nie Mingjue’s counselor along with several of Nie Mingjue’s cousins – a great honor, he supposed.

Still, it meant that he knew what a Discussion Conference was, and knew to fear its imminent arrival.

Everything was going so well, after all.

His mother was dressing properly now, settling slowly into acting like a proper lady no matter that she was only a concubine – she’d even started to warm up to Nie Huaisang, taking the small child into her arms and singing to him the way she used to sing to Meng Yao, spoiling him a little out of what Meng Yao suspected might even be guilt at her initial plans for him, finally recognizing what Meng Yao had long ago realized: that he was good luck, not bad. A person, her son, and not merely a tool.  

Best of all, Meng Yao’s little schemes on her behalf seemed to have been rather effective: Lao Nie had grown quite fond of buying Meng Shi little trinkets whenever he returned home from travel, burnished combs from Gusu, golden earrings from Lanling, even a hairpiece adorned with the Yunmeng pearls that Meng Yao knew she’d always envied.  Her courtyard did not go unvisited, and the household begrudgingly unbent enough to let her give orders, the servants and retainers expressing through their service, through their willingness to overlook her origins, their appreciation of how her skillful playing and witty conversation helped ease the worst strains of Lao Nie’s vicious temper.

But now the time had come for the Discussion Conference to be held at Qinghe.

It was one thing when the conferences were held elsewhere, like the one in Yunping that had brought Nie Mingjue into Meng Yao’s life and Lao Nie into Meng Shi’s, because in those situations Meng Shi could be safely left behind at home – but not in Qinghe.

For the first time, Meng Yao almost wished that Lao Nie did not like his mother so much. After all, as a general rule, concubines were not allowed to host strange men, not even on their husband’s behalf, but when the concubine was favored, as Meng Shi was, when there was no first wife available to run the kitchen and do the welcoming, to greet the guests…

For anyone but Meng Shi to do it would be an affront to her dignity, and it would never occur to Lao Nie to be ashamed of her like that, even with her having been a prostitute before. It made perfect sense – and if she were anyone but herself, it would be fine.

A compliment, even; a willingness of Lao Nie’s part to show her off to his peers.

But Meng Yao knew, as Meng Shi knew, that there was a pit waiting for them.

After all, a Discussion Conference would bring in all the leaders of the major and minor sects – there was no way that Jin Guangshan, Sect Leader Jin, would miss it, and he had visited Meng Shi often enough through the years that there was no way he would fail to recognize her.

Asking Lao Nie to ignore that Meng Shi was a prostitute was one thing; men since time immemorial had taken on prostitutes as concubines, even those that had borne sons for other men. But to ask him to ignore that she had borne a son for one of his political rivals, for a man he despised as a cringing coward, for him to be exposed as raising one of what Meng Yao now knew the entire cultivation world snidely called the Jin bastards…

Meng Yao worried.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand why Meng Yao was so worried, of course, but how could he? He’d never been told the details; Meng Yao would have said, trusting his discretion enough, but Meng Shi had stopped him each time.

And so Nie Mingjue thought it was only nervousness ahead of Meng Yao’s first Conference – he himself had skipped the last two Discussion Conferences, despite being old enough to usually have no choice but to come along, on the excuse that he had to care for Nie Huaisang, now a lively if lazy toddler whose favorite words were “da-ge”, “er-ge”, and “no”.

“If you don’t feel comfortable, you can go back to rest after the welcoming ceremony,” Nie Mingjue assured Meng Yao, earnest and well-meaning as always. “You don’t even have to stay for the banquet if you don’t want. I have to stay since I’m the heir, but that’s not applicable to you. If you’re worried about face, don’t be; you can take Huaisang with you – that’d be a good excuse, no one would question it.”

Meng Yao dredged up a smile for him. “I may do that,” he said, but knew that by that point it would be too late.

If they’d been better people, they would have warned Lao Nie of what to expect – but for all that he seemed to be a good man, he still had that unpredictable, explosive temper that was the Nie family inheritance as much as all the rest of it, and Meng Shi was determined that Meng Yao get as much of a cultivator’s education as possible before they were cast out – and she was sure they’d be cast out, no matter how well things had gone so far.

Meng Yao had argued with her that the few months extra he got weren’t worth the Nie sect’s loss of face, that they were better off telling him in private lest he be taken by surprise, that if he knew he could take measures to protect them both, but she had refused.

(Meng Yao loved his mother, but sometimes he thought all her cunning got in the way of being smart. He’d never thought that before Qinghe, before he realized there were more ways to do things, to move people, than by playing tricks – before he realized that the truth about the tricks you played coming out might cost you everything you had gained and more.)

The worst of it, though, was that he still had hope.

Hope for his own sake – hope for Jin Guangshan, hope that wouldn’t go away no matter how he tried to quash it.

It wasn’t like he was still the naïve child he’d been before, dreaming of a rescue – he’d gotten that! – but only the hope of every fatherless son that the man who sired him was worth something, that his blood was an inheritance he could be proud of.

A swiftly fading hope, given everything he learned from the teachers about the way the cultivation world worked. As a future counselor to a sect leader, he was privy to all the gossip, all the stories, the judgements on personality and proposed solutions on how to deal with them, none of which were very kind in their analysis of Jin Guangshan – and yet.

And yet.

Qinghe Nie had a tense relationship with Lanling Jin, owing both to personality clashes between their sect leaders and historical precedent, for all that they’d recently become closer allies given the aggression of Qishan Wen; Meng Yao knew that there would still inevitably a negative slant to what he learned, ancient prejudice influencing their judgment. And so he still hoped –

It was not a hope that lasted long.

Sect Leader Jin looked impressive from a distance, in his gold robes and golden adornments, but once he drew near the hints of dissipation on his face were obvious to a boy that had grown up in a brothel: the sort of man that liked women and drink too much, the sort that was a good mark because and not in spite of how inconstant he was.

His eyes skimmed over Meng Yao as if he were nothing, despite there being at least three or four points of similarity between them – Meng Yao resembled his mother more, but not entirely – and stopped at Meng Shi. A brief moment of surprise, and then his lips curled up into the disdainful smirk of knowing something that others did not; his eyes flickered over the crowd and this time landed on Meng Yao directly. Their eyes met for a moment that seemed to last forever, but in truth it was only a few heartbeats before Jin Guangshan’s smirk widened and he turned to whisper something into his aide’s ear, and then that man laughed…

Meng Yao felt a rush of shame fill him from head to toe.

It had been a while since he’d felt that familiar feeling, pain and hurt and rage all mixed together. It wasn’t that Qinghe was some paradise that forgot about birth, there were plenty of people who would sneer at a prostitute’s son, who would refuse to deal with him or call him names – fewer, since Lao Nie had started allowing Meng Shi to help run things in his name, letting her act almost as if she was the first wife – but he hadn’t felt shame about it in a while.

At the beginning, when it happened, Lao Nie told him that people would undoubtedly talk cruelly about him all his life but that good conduct would let him ignore them. It wasn’t especially helpful advice, though Nie Mingjue seemed to believe it (they had names for him too, for all that he was the heir, and not all of them appreciative), but perhaps it would be something he’d understand when he was older.

Certainly Nie Mingjue cited the folly of his youth for why he repaid each insult against Meng Yao with a beating, if the offenders were in his generation, or a beating for their sons if they were older. Folly of youth or not, though, Nie Mingjue’s beatings had reduced the incidents more than any of Lao Nie’s words and Meng Yao had been able to hold his head up high and proud.

Not so now.

In a single instant, he was no longer the second young master of Qinghe, Lao Nie’s ward; Jin Guangshan’s haughty look and laughter reduced him back to being nothing more than gutter trash, a prostitute’s mistake, the leavings of a sect master so high above him as to not even bother to redeem the mother of what, to him, was merely yet another son.

He hated it.

For the first time, it occurred to him that it might have been Jin Guangshan himself that sent his mother to Lao Nie’s bed all that time ago – that he’d been playing a nasty joke on a man he hated, a man he knew hated him in turn, by getting him so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to tell that the woman he had taken to bed was Jin Guangshan’s former lover, no matter how obviously she was throwing herself at him. It would make sense, Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan each wanting Lao Nie out of the way for their own reasons…

He hated it.

(He hated even more that even after this humiliation he still somehow wanted the man’s approval, wanted to show him that he was wrong about him, wanted to be taken home by him the way he should have been all along, to seen as critical and necessary and important – but how could that ever be, now that he’d already sworn loyalty to another sect?)

The welcome ceremony was quickly poisoned, whispers spreading and a growing frown on Lao Nie’s face – that explosive temper again – and Meng Yao didn’t need the pointed glance from one of the sect deputies to know it was time for him to leave, using Nie Huaisang (who was being perfectly well behaved) as an excuse for why he had to go.

Nie Mingjue gave him an encouraging nod, because of course he did, oblivious as he was to most social undercurrents, and Meng Yao wondered as he left how long it would take for the whispers to reach him – how long before Nie Mingjue knew that Meng Yao and his mother had lied to them, albeit by omission, that they’d deliberately hidden the truth and made them lose face in front of everyone.

He wondered how Nie Mingjue would react to that.

At least Nie Huaisang was too young for any of this, babbling away happily in something half intelligible and half fragmented pieces of thought that made no sense to anyone, clutching at Meng Yao’s hair as if he was considering trying to eat it again the way he had when he was younger.  

In his anxiety, Meng Yao put him down for bed earlier than he would normally, and true to form Nie Huaisang woke up deep into the night crying for a snack. Meng Yao gave him some dried fruit from the stash he always kept in his pocket and promised to get him something more substantive from the kitchens, and Nie Huaisang snuggled contentedly back into bed (Meng Yao’s bed, which was probably his actual goal the entire time, the devious brat).

Even though Nie Huaisang would probably be fast asleep by the time he returned, Meng Yao still turned his feet towards the kitchens. A Nie kept his promises, no matter how small, and at least for the moment he was still a prospective junior disciple of the Nie sect, ward of the Nie sect leader and responsible for upholding his honor – even if he might not be so tomorrow.

The banquet was still going, though presumably it was finally reaching its tail end, and Meng Yao couldn’t help but wander over in that direction on his way to the kitchens to see if people were still talking about it. About him, him and his mother…

A figure stumbled out of the main hall into the unlit corridors, and two years of familiarity allowed Meng Yao to identify Nie Mingjue at once even before he staggered back against the wall for support, moonlight shining on his face. His eyes were strangely vacant, his mouth slack – was he drunk?

It seemed bizarre to even think it. For all that Qinghe Nie spoke big about how picking up your saber was the step into adulthood, no one would ever allow a boy of Nie Mingjue’s age to drink enough wine to become intoxicated, much less to such a degree. He shouldn’t have even had wine served to his place setting, and previous experiments had revealed that stealing a single cup wasn’t enough to cause any effect on Nie Mingjue’s top-rate constitution. So why..?

Meng Yao hesitated, wondering if he should go and help him. Yesterday he would have done it without thinking, but that had been before the events of the day…

A shadow covered the face of the moon, casting Nie Mingjue’s face into darkness.

No, he was wrong – it was only that there was a man in the hallway, standing now between Nie Mingjue and the open window, and he stepped forward to catch Nie Mingjue in his arms, helping him stand once more.

Someone else had gotten there first, it seemed, and Meng Yao was about to leave when the man smiled, a glint of teeth, and suddenly he recognized him, for all that he’d only seen him briefly years before.

Wen Ruohan.

Sect Leader Wen, the only thing that could make Jin Guangshan and Lao Nie forget their enmity for each other – a poisonous snake, a terrifying tyrant, a pestilence on the cultivation world that constantly tested Qinghe Nie’s borders and tried to lure away its affiliated sects, all the while smiling and denying that it was doing any such thing.

The man who had once chased Nie Mingjue into hiding himself in a brothel, and thereby changed Meng Yao’s life forever.

Meng Yao did not feel especially grateful to him for it. The scene before him suddenly took on new light: Nie Mingjue was no longer merely drunk, leaning on a friendly hand for support and making a nuisance of himself as he did – he was frowning almost as if he were having trouble realizing what was happening, trying to push Wen Ruohan’s hands away but with fingers too weak to put up much resistance, and Wen Ruohan smiling all the while. Meng Yao knew that the brothel had had drugs like that, dizzying intoxicants that sapped the body’s power and the mind’s stability; the owners used them on vulnerable women who tried to resist their offers, knowing that after they had lost their virtue once it would be easier to coax them into giving it away again.

If he’s disgraced, your brother is the heir, something deep inside him whispered, sounding almost like his mother. Lao Nie can’t cast out the mother of his heir, not the way he could a concubine and her shu son, and it’s not as if you have to do anything. You were already in bed, and no one would ever know that you saw anything –

He’d know, though. Wen Ruohan would probably be able to figure it out, too, with his high cultivation, and he could use it against him in the future.

So what? Even if you did see something, what could they expect you to do? It’s not as if you can do anything. Who do you think you are, some whore’s trash son that doesn’t even have a saber yet? You’d never be able to stop the mighty Sect Leader Wen who strikes fear even into the heart of the likes of Lao Nie. Better to just let it happen…

Nie Mingjue made a small sound, a tiny whimper that was barely audible and soon muffled by the fingers Wen Ruohan put on his tongue; the older man had pressed him against the wall, a leg pushed in between Nie Mingjue’s thighs, Nie Mingjue’s weak attempts to push him away translating as little more than gentle tugs on his robes. Using his body to keep Nie Mingjue pinned in place, Wen Ruohan’s free hand slipped down –

Meng Yao gritted his teeth and went away.

The kitchens still had lanterns lit, and skewers to carry a flame from one place to another – it hurt Meng Yao deeply to set fire to a store of rice, knowing it would have been enough to feed him and his mother for an entire season without going hungry, but it didn’t hurt as much as the thought of a future in which all those slandering tongues treated Nie Mingjue as if he’d never been anything better than Wen Ruohan’s whore.

“Fire!” he shouted once it has spread enough to be a threat. “Fire!”

One of the kitchen servants rushed in and saw, immediately joining his cry to Meng Yao’s, and soon enough everyone was rushing around frantically, more and more people drawn over by the noise. In the frenzy, Meng Yao slipped out and with a strong pinch made his eyes fill with tears.

“Da-ge!” he cried, throwing himself into Nie Mingjue’s arms the second he saw him – Wen Ruohan would never have feared discovery by a single person, easily discredited, but when all the sect leaders in the main hall had started coming over to see what was happening he had had no choice but to step away. “Da-ge, I went to get some snacks for Huaisang and there was a fire!”

Even drugged and assaulted, Nie Mingjue’s first instinct was to comfort; he awkwardly patted Meng Yao’s shoulders and back, slurring out an “it’s okay, Meng Yao�� that barely sounded anything like it.

Meng Yao pulled back away from him and allowed disgust to twist his face, all the disgust and disdain and hatred that had been churning in his gut the entire evening – how dare they all judge him, those sect leaders who’d never known a day of hardship in their lives, how dare they say things about his mother, as if they knew anything about her simply because of the role she was forced to play…

“Meng Yao, is it?” Wen Ruohan said, and Meng Yao widened his eyes in a burst of panic as if he hadn’t realized anyone was there, hadn’t intended for the feelings on his face to be seen by anyone.

“Sect Leader Wen!” he said. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you there – please forgive my shixiong, I don’t know how he’s managed to get this drunk, to shame himself like this…”

“Think nothing of it. He’s still young, after all,” Wen Ruohan said generously, as if he had nothing to do with it. “You’re – the ward, yes? The concubine’s son?”

Meng Yao nodded, putting his best version of a coward’s smile on his face – the one that was gentle, the way he preferred to be, but with shades of weakness that brought out disdain and condescension in stronger men. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you any longer, Sect Leader,” he said sweetly, making it obvious that he was trying to pander. “I know you’re far too busy to be dealing with the stupidity of youth…”

Stupid, rather than foolish – meaning he thought that this reflected a judgment on Nie Mingjue’s character, rather than a momentary lapse. A cruel thing for a shidi to say, and to say that to a stranger, to Qinghe’s rival, was positively unpolitic; it would absolutely be a loss of face if it was called out.

But when such obvious weakness was displayed before a predator, it could also be seen as something else: an opportunity.

Wen Ruohan looked intrigued, as Meng Yao had hoped he would be – what would-be conqueror didn’t like the idea of recruiting a spy in another sect’s camp, especially one so highly placed? Especially one placed so near to something he wanted.

With a glance at the crowd that was growing rather than shrinking, he made his decision.

“Take him back to bed,” he told Meng Yao, who nodded eagerly. “And come see me tomorrow – you seem like a bright boy.”

“Of course!” Meng Yao chirped, looking as if he were overwhelmed by the extremity of Wen Ruohan’s favor, as if he could be bought with some pretty words and a little bit of resentment. He’d go, too, the next morning when the Unclean Realm was bustling with servants and a single shout could bring them running; he’d play up his young age, greedily gobble up the treats Wen Ruohan was sure to set out, and complain about how no one respected him, how everyone sneered at him, Jin Guangshan’s bastard – he’d whisper his fears about how Lao Nie would react – he’d puff himself up when Wen Ruohan inevitably flattered him.

It’d be easy enough to convince Wen Ruohan that he was weak, conniving, and greedy, the sort of person could be easily bought. The sort of person who would be happy to help a stranger sneak into his brother’s bed just to make himself feel better about being born the son of a whore.

If Wen Ruohan believed that that was who he was, what he was like, he would try to use Meng Yao to achieve his aims next time, and that would in turn mean that Meng Yao would be properly position next time to stop him – by accident, of course, or while trying to help him avoid notice, or whatever. Men like Wen Ruohan never really paid attention to their pawns after the initial coaxing period: once they considered someone to be theirs, once they’d judged someone too afraid to ever betray them, they got lazy and put down their wariness.

Meng Yao had met plenty such people in the brothel.

He carted Nie Mingjue off to bed – his bed, not Nie Mingjue’s, to reduce the danger – and Nie Huaisang (who was woken up by all the fuss) didn’t even notice the absence of the snack he’d been promised when it meant that he could sleep the rest of the night between his two brothers, his favorite place in the world to be.

He slept, and Nie Mingjue slept, and on the cold edge of his side of the bed, Meng Yao spent the rest of the night planning how to convince Lao Nie to let him and his mother stay. He had to stay, because if he left, if he left and Nie Mingjue had no one by his side, no one but Nie Huaisang who was too young –

Meng Yao didn’t know how long his da-ge’s carefree generosity could last in this cruel world, but he was determined to find out.

In the morning, as he’d hoped and feared, Nie Mingjue woke with no memory of the events of the night before.

It was good, because it meant that Meng Yao didn’t have to explain; bad, because who knew whether Wen Ruohan had tried a similar trick before with more success. The thought left a bitter taste in Meng Yao’s mouth, and it spilled from his mouth like poison when Nie Mingjue tried to ask him how he was feeling – “Don’t you know what they’re saying about me? All of them – my father.”

Nie Mingjue fell silent. “Meng Yao…”

“What? Can you stop their tongues? No one can change the facts of their birth, and yet I’m the one who keeps having to pay for it.”

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, and his eyes were hurting. Good – let him hurt, let him feel one iota of what Meng Yao had always suffered, let him – “If I could make your father love you, I would.”

Meng Yao’s breath caught in his throat.

“If I could force him to honor you,” Nie Mingjue continued, voice solemn. “I would send you with him gladly, although I would miss you very much. I know it doesn’t mean anything just for me to say it, but…I would.”

It did, though. It meant quite a lot to know that the hurt in Nie Mingjue’s eyes had been for him, not from him. To know that he had heard all the stories, all the whispers, and in the end his only priority had been to think of how Meng Yao might feel.

To be angry, because Meng Yao wasn’t getting something he though Meng Yao should.

No, Meng Yao decided – no matter who he had to fight, whether Wen Ruohan or his own mother, he would find a way to stay by Nie Mingjue’s side.

(That was when he realized that he’d messed up his mother’s instructions even more than he’d meant, because he was never supposed to be the one that fell in love.)

[90spumkin]

A Case of the Supernatural

Next

Summary: Can Spencer move past your death? What happens when he starts to see your ghost?

A/N: Not me starting another series when I haven’t finished the first. This is a crossover between Criminal Minds and Supernatural. I wrote this mainly because I am denial that either show ended. This will be a slow updated series because of finals next week and it took me four days to write this because I want it to be perfect. I hope you all enjoy and please leave your thoughts in the comments. Don’t forget to like and reblog! Also thanks @criminalmindzjunkie for the banner inspiration!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Ghost! Reader

Warnings: criminal minds talk, supernatural talk, swearing, some angst... I think that’s it

Word Count: 3028

Numb. That is all Spencer felt as they lowered your casket into the ground. With every shovel of dirt tossed into the whole in the ground was like stab to his heart. He accepted every pat on the shoulder and heard every ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, but he couldn’t feel any of it.

You were never going to be a mom, you were never going to have the chance to finish all those crazy art projects that scattered your shared apartment, and you were never going to hear Spencer tell you how much he loves you ever again. Hot tears stung his eyes and began to run down his cheeks.

“Reid it’s time to go.” JJ’s voice brought him out of the spiral his mind had started to descend into. He looked around and realized everyone was gone and your final resting place was now filled with compacted earth. He nodded in agreement but could not seem to move his feet.

You were really gone, and Spencer blamed himself.

-----

The BAU team was taking the loss of a valued team member and a precious friend extremely hard so Emily gave everyone a few days off to mourn. Spencer was a different case; it had been almost three weeks since your funeral and he had yet to leave the apartment.

He looked around at all the carry out containers and laughed to himself as he imagined what you would say: Spencer you’re living like a damn cockroach. At least you’re cute.

Spencer began to clean the three weeks’ worth of mess when he saw the bag containing your items from the coroner. He had been wallowing in mourning and self-pity that he completely forgot JJ had dropped it off.

Spencer disposed of the trash and sat down at on at the bar in the kitchen. The bag laid in front of him and all he could do was stare down at it. He took a deep breath: Okay Spencer you can do this.

Spencer slowly opened the bag taking deep breaths as he did so. He pulled out your phone, your set of keys, your… Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. In his hand on a silver chain was the engagement ring he had given to you three months ago. He smiled at the memory of you explaining why you wore it on a chain to work. You simply shrugged your shoulders I don’t want to lose it while chasing down psychopaths. Plus, this way it’s closer to my heart. You kissed him on the cheek ending the discussion there.

He placed a hand on his cheek while he wished he could feel the softness of your lips one more time. Spencer took a ragged breath and clasped the chain around his nick. He smiled at the thought of having something that was once close to your heart now close to his.

The good doctor decided then that he should probably put your things away and get some rest before his first day back at the BAU. As he was going through the apartment turning out lights, that he had not realized he had even left on, Spencer could have sworn he saw someone walked into the hall.

Spencer grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and crept towards the hall. With his back pressed against the wall, he turned the corner quickly ready to take down the intruder. But what Spencer was faced with was nothing but his empty hallway. Spencer ran a hand through his hair and thought to himself: Well genius you are officially losing your mind.

He made his way into his bedroom and laid the kitchen knife on his dresser deciding he’ll just put it away in the morning. He walked to his window admiring the lights from the height of his apartment when he heard a laugh. He spun around so quickly he was sure he’d give himself whiplash.

There you were. You looked exactly the same as the last time he saw you, the moment you both decided to split up out in the field. Spencer was in absolute shock.

“I honestly doubt the knife would have worked. I am kind of already dead. It would’ve been funny to see what happened though.” Y/n joked as though this was all completely normal.

Spencer just screamed. Once he ran out of breath and gasped. There was stomping from the apartment above and very unpolite things directed towards Spencer. But he could care less, you were here. You were… a ghost?

Y/n looked bored and asked, “Are you done?” Spencer didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded. “Good because I was expected a little more class from you Mr. 187.”

Spencer tripped over his words as he tried to run every logical explanation through his mind, “How the actual hell are you here? Am I dead? I’ve lost my mind, haven’t I?” Spencer began to pace the floor, running his hands through his hair.

“I think the term is ghost and no you are still perfectly sane. For the ‘how am I here part’ I am not quite sure. I can’t remember anything past the last 5 minutes.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders at that.

Spencer’s mind seemed to stop trying to apply logic to the situation and just except it. Because he began to relax, and tears brimmed his eyes. “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I am so sorry. I should never have left you. If I would have stayed with you then maybe you’d still be alive.” Spencer choked on a sob which caused y/n’s no longer beating heart to break.

“Oh Reid. My death was not your fault at all.” She reached out a hand to caress his face, but it was like putting your hand through water. Her whole body glitched as if she was part of a malfunctioning video game.

“What was that? What’s happening?” Spencer’s face was pinched in confusion and worry.

Y/n seemed almost frantic, “I’m not sure. I feel like I’m being pulled away.” And with a blink of an eye she was gone. It all happened so quickly Spencer could almost say it was a dream, but it had been so real. Had felt so real.

-------

To say Spencer was tired was an understatement. He could barely sleep with the hope you would appear going through his heart and mind. It was around 4 am when exhaustion won, and he fell asleep gripping the ring that lay against his chest.

He was on is fourth cup of coffee for the day and he had only been there for one hour fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds to be precise. He was stirring his mountain of sugar into the dark liquid when he felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder and the smell of expensive cologne filled his nose.

“Kid you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Rossi told the young doctor as he leaned against the counter. Spencer snorted at that comment and just took a sip of his coffee, accepting the burn in his throat.

Before Spencer could even attempt to continue a conversation there was a loud gasp and the clicking of heels as his favorite human rainbow rushed towards him. He was instantly pulled into a bone crushing hug and it took every ounce of the little coordination he had not to spill his coffee all over his friend.

“Hi Penelope.” He simply said with a chuckle at the woman’s urge to always show her love in the most dramatic way.

She pulled away and started on one of her fast-spoken rants, “Oh my God you’re here! I missed you! I know I just saw you a couple of days ago when I visited your apartment, but this is different. Why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming back today? I should know these things!” Penelope slapped Spencer’s arm at that last part which drew an ‘ow’ from him and a light chuckle from Rossi who was watching the whole interaction.

“I’m sorry Penelope. When I got here, I went straight to Emily’s office and then dove into the paperwork required for my return.” Spencer explained.

Penelope smiled and let out a little huff, “Oh the love of paperwork. I will let this slide boy wonder, but it will not be forgotten.” Penelope gave Spencer’s arm a squeeze before making her way to her bat cave.

Spencer turned to Rossi, “I honestly expected that to be kind of worse.”

Rossi chuckled, “Luck my friend, luck.”

Spencer was about to launch into a rant about the statistics of how much of something good happening has anything to do with luck. That was stopped short when Spencer saw you perched on his desk like you use to do every morning waiting for him to bring you a cup of coffee. He gasped which wasn’t missed by the profiler who had been keeping an eye on him since he walked through those glass doors.

“Kid you alright?” Rossi asked with his voice laced with confusion.

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off you or the spot you had been when you glitched and disappeared just like the night before. “Huh? Oh. Uhh... yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

Spencer sat his half drunken coffee down and walked as fast as he could towards the bathroom hoping not to draw any attention towards him.

Once he was safely in the bathroom and the door was locked behind him. He stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath.

“Well that was interesting.” Spencer jumped and whirled around to only be met with an empty bathroom. He turned to splash water on his face and when he looked up again, and saw you behind him through the mirror.

H returned to look at you and whispered, “What the actual hell y/n? Where have you been?”

“I’m not quite sure. There were times I could see you, but you couldn’t see me which was very aggravating may I add. The rest is just blank.” Y/n seemed very unphased by everything as she spoke. This made Spencer feel uneasy.

“Why couldn’t anyone else in the bullpen see you?” Spencer’s brain was still trying to put science behind it all.

“I’m not quite sure. I don’t exactly have this whole ghost thing figured out. Being a ghost is hard.” Y/n pouted, and it made Spencer’s heart twist into a what felt like a knot.

“I- “Spencer was cut off by a knock on the door. When he looked back at y/n she was once again gone, and Spencer had an overwhelming need to try and understand a part of the world his brain rejected every day. He needed to understand the supernatural.

------

Spencer had been to three different libraries and five different bookstores, all within a week. He would read any chance he got. The concerned looks he got from his team didn’t go unnoticed, and any time y/n would appear she would let her opinion be known that she believed no one could really understand the supernatural of the world.

Emily pulled up a seat next to his desk causing Spencer to glance up from his book that was only repeating what the last three books had said but in a different language. The look Emily was giving him convinced him it would be a good idea to put the book down. So, he closed the book and placed it on his desk, giving Emily his full attention.

“Spencer what has came over you? You’ve been nose deep in this folk lore and demonic looking books for days now. It’s just unlike you.” Emily’s voice was soft, and Spencer could hear the worry in her voice.

Spencer thought of a lie when he first started digging into all this for this exact reason, “I’m writing a paper on how science and physics can prove that the supernatural does not exist. I’m reading all of this so I don’t miss anything in my paper”

That simple explanation made the tension in Emily’s shoulders completely disappear. She huffed a sigh of relief before saying, “               Ahhhh I see. Well Rossi invited us all to dinner at his place. He’s going to attempt to show us all a new recipe.” This mad both Emily and Spencer giggle.

Spencer knew if he turned down the offer it would only cause suspicion to arise once again. “Yeah sure I’ll be there.”

Emily smiled and patted his shoulder as she stood, “Great I’ll see you there.”

Spencer hadn’t realized it was the end of the workday till Emily said that. He hadn’t seen y/n all day so maybe he could get through this dinner with little to no awkwardness… well more than usual.

He was the last to arrive at Rossi’s. He sat in his car and took a deep breath. He had to convince his team that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Just when he was about to get out of his car all the lights came on and the alarm started blaring.

“What the he- “Spencer was cut off by the appearance of y/n in his passenger seat. She looked so sad and before Spencer could say anything else, he heard her say a quiet “sorry” and she was gone. The alarm and the lights stopped all at once, just in time for his team to come out to see what all the commotion was about.

Spencer got out of the car and quickly made his way to them, “Sorry about that. I really hate cars.”

This made his friends laugh and usher him inside. Once they were all in the kitchen surrounding Rossi and all his steaming pots and pans Spencer relaxed slightly.

Rossi tends to talk with his hands when he is demonstrating what to do while cooking. So, when he accidentally knocks over the saltshaker it’s not a surprise to anyone.

“Ah don’t want any bad luck.” Rossi says as he tosses some salt over his left shoulder. Spencer was about to launch into a spill of how salt was once believed to ward off evil spirits, but he didn’t get the chance. He was caught off by the appearance of y/n and her yelling, “What the actual fuck Rossi!” The salt seemed to arm y/n, but Spencer wasn’t able to dwell on that fact long due to the chorus of gasp throughout the kitchen. Luke was the first to speak, “Y/n? Is that really you?”

“In the fl-… well spirit?” Y/n laughed at her joke; she was the only one. Everyone just stood there staring until Rossi yelled “My pasta!” and rushed to save their dinner.

Everyone turned to Spencer, they all started talking over each other. He could make out a few questions and a few other statement. They all came to the same realization though: Spencer was definitely was not writing a paper.

It took Spencer ten minutes to get everyone quiet enough to even attempt to talk and then fifteen minutes to explain everything while they all stared at y/n dumb founded. Y/n just stood there smiling the whole time Spencer talked.

“So, what does this mean exactly?” JJ asked tears in her eyes and a sad smile playing on her lips. Your death hit her hard, not as hard as Spencer or Penelope but still hard. He saw you move closer to her but stop knowing that you wouldn’t be able to show her any physical comfort.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Is all Spencer was able to say.

-----

It took a few weeks for the initial shock of y/n being a ghost to ware off. Spencer would sometimes see members of his team jump at the sudden appearance of her. It was hard for them not to talk to her while in the office. Especially since she seemed to finally have gotten better at the ‘whole ghost thing’.

Spencer was nose deep in another book on folk lore when y/n appeared sitting on his desk. He looked around to make sure no one was paying him any attention.

“Hello love. Who’ve you been haunting today?” They always joked and laughed about how easy it was for her to scare Luke. Spencer was pretty sure JJ, Emily, and Tara had a bet going on about it.

Y/n didn’t laugh though instead she looked more ghost like then ever and said, “Spence, somethings wrong.” Then she was gone.

About that same time two men walked in the bull pen. He saw them ask Matt something and then made their way to Emily’s office.

Spencer watched through the window as Emily and the two men talked for a few minutes and then shook hands. She led them back out to the bull pen to introduce them to everyone.

“Everyone this is Agent Smith and Agent Jones from the New York branch. They have asked for our assistance on a case that has brought them here.” Emily explained.

The shorter gruff man spoke first, “You all can call me Dean and him Sam.” The taller one gave a tight-lipped smile and a wave that matched Spencer’s own very similarly.

“It’s an honor to work with you all.” The taller one, Sam, said.

After a few more greetings and polite conversations they all started to make their way to the round table room for debriefing. Spencer was just about to get up from his desk when words started to appear across the paper scattered on his desk: ‘They’re not FBI.”

Spencer looked up to see the two new agents whispering quietly. They noticed him staring and gave him a nod and smile. Spencer had an unsettling feeling in his stomach as he made his way towards them.

He debated between bombarding them with questions till they broke or just watching them knowing their behavior would tell eventually. He decided on the later because he knows he’ll do anything to make sure he can keep y/n around and if these two men were a threat to that then they wouldn’t be able to conceal that truth for long.

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