#I’ve spent six days in bed if I had been upright for three hours that was a lot

[hobisexually]

x

[mandoalorian]

Like Father, Like Daughter [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: A 4 a.m. fiasco in which your newborn daughter wakes up the entire Lord homestead.

Word Count: 2800>

Rating: PG

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff. Just a newborn baby that won’t settle, a big brother who wants to protect his younger sibling at all costs, and pure familial love. ALSO LADY LORD THE CAT MAKES A RETURN… She's the real trouble maker of the family.

Author’s note: This is SO self indulgent. I cannot stress that enough. I was clearing out my ask inbox and one of the most common requests I get is a) more Lord family and b) more Soft!Max... so here we are.

Masterlist

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No matter what, she just didn’t settle. It was three in the morning and you’d put her back down to bed only twenty minutes ago. Just as you managed to close your eyes and feel yourself begin to fall back to sleep, her cries erupted once more and echoed throughout the house. You had no idea how Maxwell could sleep through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and although he made you promise to wake him when you needed him to take over with the newborn, you couldn’t bear to. He was so busy with work and his career, the last thing he needed was to be up all night with little Aurora.

In practically every way possible, Aurora Lorenzano was like her father. It was funny, really. She was only three weeks old but you could already see the same mannerisms in her, that you did Max. She made a habit of shaking her fists or pointing her little tiny finger at you when she wanted something. She was loud, always wanting to make her voice heard. Her big brown eyes sparkled like starlight and you always wondered how you managed to create something so beautiful. She was a product of you and Maxwell and you swore that you had never loved anything as much as you loved her.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow as you heard her scream with anguish. You were exhausted, and completely at a loss. You’d held her, fed her, changed her diaper -- what more could she want? You couldn’t remember the last time you got more than an hours worth of sleep, and even then it was broken up into intervals. You looked over at Max who was sleeping next to you, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath he took. And you envied him. This was ridiculous. Just for once you wanted to sleep. Just once.

“Max,” you said, prodding your index finger into his bicep. He didn’t move an inch. “Max,” you said again, a little louder this time, but even Aurora’s wails were overpowering the sound of your voice. You said his name a few more times but he didn’t even stir.

You sighed, climbing on top of your boyfriend and straddling his hips. You leaned over him and clasped his cheeks, squeezing them together. “Maxwell Lord!” you shouted in his face, and watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His sudden movement knocked you backwards slightly but you couldn’t help but laugh at the way you had shocked him into waking up.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed, rubbing his tired eyes and shooting you a joking glare. “Why are you on top of me?” His gaze flicked from your face, down to your body, and his confused glance turning into something a little more sultry. He snaked his arms around your waist and gave your hip a playful squeeze. “You do know Aurora is crying, don’t you?” he quizzed, with an eyebrow quirked. You had to hold back from punching him.

“I know she’s crying, dumbass,” you spat back, rolling off Max and dramatically throwing the pillow over your face. “Please, please can you check on her? She’s fine. I know she’s fine. I’ve checked on her five times already tonight. But she just-- she won’t stop-- and I don’t--”

Sensing the way you were getting worked up, Max tore the pillow from your face and shushed you. He pressed a soft yet chaste kiss to your forehead. “Say no more, I’m on it.” he whispered, rolling out of bed.

You watched Max grab his robe and shuffle into his slippers as he padded out of your shared bedroom. Well, you were awake now. You sighed and closed your eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could earn a few more hours of deserved sleep.

Maxwell flicked on the amber night light in Aurora’s nursery, the dim embers burning bright enough to force Max adjust his eyesight in the darkness. “Hey hey baby girl,” he cooed, rubbing his tired eyes again and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. He peered over the side of the crib and his heart ached when he caught sight of his daughter, all snotty and teary eyed. “What are you crying for, huh? Why is my little princess crying?” he asked Aurora, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. She sniffled slightly, her eyes fixating on her father. “Tell daddy what’s wrong, and I promise you I’ll fix it. What do you need, hm?”

You could hear Maxwell talking to Aurora, ever so faintly. His voice always soothed you, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find it settling her as well. You smiled to yourself, counting your blessings. You had gotten so lucky with your little family.

Aurora made grabby fists and reached out to Maxwell, her big eyes glimmering with desire.

“Oh,” Maxwell hummed, catching her message almost immediately. He reached into the crib and picked up Aurora, nursing her in his warm arms. “You wanted to be held by daddy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Aurora scowled and Max pinched her cheek. “Listen to me, my little princess. Your mommy does everything in her power to take care of you and protect you. We love you so much, but, you keep her awake all night. So let’s make a deal, okay Aurora? Let’s agree that from now on, you only wake up mommy once a night. If that. Can you do that for me?”

Aurora’s scowl deepened and she furrowed her eyebrows together.

“Don’t pull faces at me, young lady,” Maxwell chastised. Aurora’s face softened and she squeezed Max’s thumb. He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, good. I knew you’d understand. See, me and you are on the same wavelength. We get each other.”

Aurora’s lips curled into a smile that matched her father’s, and Max continued to smooth out her hair. You had overheard that part of the conversation, and you wished that you could’ve only been there to witness the interaction. Maxwell made a habit of talking ‘business’ with Aurora. It was funny, but in a strange way, it was like she understood him.

Now that the crying had stopped, you figured you could at least try and fall asleep.

“Daddy?”

Maxwell crooked his head slightly and looked over at the nursery door, where his six year old son, Alistair was standing. “Hey buddy,” Maxwell said quietly, ushering Alistair to come over. “Why are you awake?”

“Aurora was crying,” Alistair mumbled, dragging his comfort blanket and one of his soft toys further into the nursery. “I brought her my comforter and my Ewok.”

“Your what--?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“My Ewok.” Alistair repeated, offering no further explanation.

“Well Ali, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you put your… Ewok in her crib, and pass me your comforter. We can wrap her in it,” Maxwell instructed, and Alistair obliged. “Why don’t you wrap the blanket around her, hm? But be careful.”

Max lifted up Aurora ever so slightly so Alistair could fit the blanket around her tiny body. “I think she likes it.” Alistair grinned, completely chuffed with himself, and Max nodded his head in affirmation.

“She does,” he smiled, squeezing his son’s shoulder so he knew that his father was proud. “Now she knows her big brother will always look out for her.”

“I will daddy, I promise.”

The two boys spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, gushing and fussing over Aurora.

“Why was sissy crying? Is she alright?” Alistair pondered out loud, the concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah, of course, she’s fine. Look, sometimes we just need to be held. We just need to know that there’s someone out there watching over us. And that everything will be okay.” Max said softly, tracing his finger along Aurora’s delicate face. Alistair stayed quiet for a moment as he took in his father’s words. That feeling resonated with Alistair all too well. He knew what it felt like to yearn for the attention of a parent. And Maxwell understood it too. He had an awful relationship with his own father, which is why he swore to be the absolute best for his son and daughter. “Ali, could you do me a favour?” Max questioned, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Could you quietly go check on mommy and see if she’s sleeping?”

Alistair nodded and tip-toed out of the nursery and into your bedroom. Low and behold, you were finally sleeping. Alistair got a little too close to you, and pushed your hair out of your face so he could check to see if your eyes were closed. His brash movement (even though he’d tried his hardest to be gentle) woke you up. Alistair gasped when he saw what he’d done and smacked his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“Oh no, were you asleep?” Alistair questioned, his dark eyes going wide. You yawned and nodded your head. “Did I wake you?”

You offered him a tired smile and pulled him into the bed so he could curl up next to you. “It’s okay Ali. Did Aurora wake you up too?”

“Yeah.” Alistair mumbled tiredly, nuzzling into your chest for comfort. He was immediately put at ease in your arms.

He’d never had a relationship like this with his biological mother, no matter how much he’d wished for it. But now he finally had you. You loved Alistair like he was your own blood and you treated him as your own since day one. You loved him unconditionally, just as much as you loved Aurora. Alistair was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and your bond with him was unbreakable. Maybe wishes could come true.

“She’s a little trouble maker.” you yawned and Alistair stifled a giggle.

“Like daddy.” he muttered and you grinned.

“Exactly. Just like daddy.”

After a few intimate moments alone with Aurora, Maxwell stood up. She’d settled down a lot and had even fallen asleep in his arms. Max didn’t want to put her down to bed though, at least, not yet.

Maybe he could bring her to bed. That would be nice.

Cradling Aurora, he carefully stood up from the oak wood rocking chair and padded out of the nursery, only to hear a series of thumping footsteps venture up the stairs.

Oh no.

The jingle of her pretty pink collar was unmistakable, as the fluffy white cat, Lady Lord, came bouncing up the staircase. She purred and circled around Max’s feet, rubbing her soft cheeks over his legs.

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked, glaring down at the kitty.

Lady just looked up at him and meow’ed, her blue eyes wide and awake. If she wanted anything, it was to be fed. She loved her biscuits.

“Lady, it’s almost four in the morning. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

She meow’ed again, this time louder, and followed Max by his heels as he walked along the corridor.

“I don’t care, Lady,” Max sighed. “We fed you before we went to bed and you’ll get something in a few hours. I’m not feeding you now.”

Maxwell swore this cat was like having a third child.

Lady wailed and raced past Maxwell once she sensed he was heading to his bedroom. Lady Lord jumped onto the bottom of the bed, by your feet, and curled up. She looked like a snowball.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Max approach. He tilted his head and frowned when he entered the bedroom and noticed you were still awake. His frown deepened when he saw that Alistair was laying next to you.

“I thought he’d gone to bed,” Max confessed, gently passing you Aurora so you could hold her while he discarded his slippers and robe. You smoothed out Alistair’s dark hair and watched him as he slept peacefully by your side. “And why are you still awake?” Max questioned.

“I was listening to the conversation you were having with your business associate-- I mean, your daughter.” you joked and Maxwell rolled his eyes, sliding under the covers. He took Aurora from your arms so he could nurse her again.

“She gets me.” Max assured you and you had to stifle back a laugh. You leaned your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and looked down at the newborn.

“That’s great honey, but if her first words end up being ‘Life is good, but it can be better’, I’ll not be happy.” you quipped and Maxwell smirked.

In this precise moment, Maxwell swore that he had never been happier. He spent much of his life believing money and materials would satisfy him, but he was still left with an empty, gaping hole in his heart. He always wanted more, he wanted to try and somehow fill that void, but he just didn’t know what to look for. He was never searching for love, and yet you still found him. And you filled that hole in his heart. You completed him, and made him into a better man. He could never fault you for that, and he’d always be grateful for everything you did for him. Everyday that was spent with you and his growing family was a day well spent.

If he could change one thing, it would be that he realised this sooner. But you taught him that he shouldn’t regret anything. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so does everyone, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person. What inspired you the most about Max was that he consistently worked on himself and tried to better himself for his family. And you saw his progress every single day.

“Do you want me to take Ali to bed?” Max asked, kissing your shoulder softly.

“No, he’s fine here,” you replied quietly, feeling the utmost contentment with your family being by your side. “This bed can easily fit five people.” you acknowledged.

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide at your comment. “Five?!” he wheezed, and you pointed your finger down towards the edge of the bed where Lady was sleeping. Max hadn't even noticed her joining. Clearly, it was a family event, at 4am in his bed. “She follows me everywhere!” Max exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Lady opened her eyes and glanced up at Max, recognising the mention of her.

“She loves you.” you cooed.

“She’s annoying.” Maxwell frowned, but you knew, deep down, he adored that cat. He had never been an animal person, and he wouldn’t have adopted Lady if it wasn’t for you, but he truly did love her. She was loyal and compassionate and despite the trail of cat hairs she left all over his three piece power suits, he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“And you love her too.” you corrected him.

Max sighed and shook his head in defeat before returning to his previous statement. “You know, this bed might actually be able to fit more than five people. Maybe six. Or seven…” he trailed off, his free hand caressing your thigh as he sized up the double king-sized bed.

He wasn’t subtle. You could read him like an open book. You knew exactly what he was implying.

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Max’s smirk only grew upon seeing your reaction. “Wait… are you saying we can get more cats?!”

And just like that, his smirk fell from his lips. “I--”

“Oh my gosh Maxie!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. Maxwell blinked as he tried to process what just happened.

“I didn’t mean--”

“How long had you been planning this?” Teasing Max Lord might have been one of your most favourite hobbies. If only you could snap a photo of his face at this very moment.

He said your name, slowly and looked slightly disconcerted.

You grinned and cupped his cheek. “I know,” you laughed. “I know what you meant.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I do like cats…” Max told you eventually. You leaned over him and turned off his bedside lamp.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, rolling over so you were snuggling into him. He was still on his back, nursing Aurora.

“I’m just saying…” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “I think we’re pretty good at this parenting thing. And I like… having kids with you…”

You smiled in the darkness.

“Go to sleep Maxie.” you whispered.

“I just think--”

“Go to sleep.” you giggled, and you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Goodnight,” he uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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[dixie12]

secret!sub!jonny, and pat finally finds out!

Jonny is acting weird. Like, really weird. They won the cup less than three weeks ago- Jonny should barely be sober, should be reaping the rewards of captaining the team to a second cup: free drinks, the admiration of the entire city, and the bevy of subs quite literally throwing themselves at his feet whenever he steps out of his front door. And sure, Jonny had seemed to enjoy it all for the first week or so, going out with the guys, letting them douse him in champagne, giving throaty victory speeches at the parade and chugging beers that adoring fans tossed at him. 

But the fun seemed to melt away pretty quickly after that, with Jonny getting tense and twitchy. He’d still go out with the team, probably because he knew Pat would physically drag him out if he tried to bow out this early in the celebrations. But he was distant, constantly checking his phone, eyes taking on a faraway look that was almost familiar to Pat, though he couldn’t figure out why. And despite the gorgeous men and women who approached Jonny every night, Pat didn’t think he’d picked up even once. 

It was one thing to hold off during the playoffs; Jonny was big on focusing and not being distracted, and “not wasting unnecessary energy, Pat.” Sure, planning a scene could take a little work sometimes, which Pat never minded, even during playoffs, but he understood that Jonny had always felt differently about that. But it was the off-season now, and they had weeks until they needed to start thinking about upping their training or even going to the convention. Now was the time to indulge. Pat certainly was; day-drinking, golf and baseball games during the hot summer days, a different sub in his bed most nights. 

Jonny had never really talked about his hook-ups in the locker room, not the way some guys did, visceral play-by-plays of all the paces they put their subs through, but Pat had always assumed he was just a gentleman, didn’t want to kiss and tell. Or, well, spank and tell, or whatever. But he’d never have predicted that Jonny would turn celibate when his popularity in the city had never been higher. Last night, an actual Playboy model, one who Pat recognized immediately, spent close to an hour hitting on Jonny, standing close, looking up at him adoringly through her lashes, stroking his shoulders and snuggling herself under his arm whenever Jonny moved. Instead of taking her up on the incredibly obvious come-on, Jonny looked even more awkward than usual. Pat watched as Jonny shifted himself away from her, putting distance between them, angling his body away from hers, eyes wary and back rigid. The girl gave it her all but finally realized it wasn’t going to happen tonight, walking away from Jonny in her four-inch heels and showing off an ass that nearly made Patrick cry with envy. 

Even from across the bar, Pat could see how tightly Jonny’s jaw was clenched, the tension radiating from his body. Pat watched as Jonny threw back the rest of his drink and turned, walking right past their table and out of the bar. He didn’t even throw a glance in their direction, heading straight into the street. Pat exchanged confused looks with the rest of the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer for Jonny’s behavior. Pat pulled out his phone, looking for a text from Jonny to at least say he was heading out. He had a lot of offers to party, and text threads with most of the team that just amounted to them texting “we won the cup!!!” back and forth every day, but nothing from Jonny. Pat sent him a quick “everything ok, man?” but then let himself be distracted by the boys.

In the morning, well, afternoon, to be honest, when Pat woke up, he still hadn’t heard anything from Jonny, and seriously, that was enough. Whatever was going on with him was getting worse instead of better, and Pat was sick of it. He had nothing on his schedule for the day, and he decided that he was going to drag the truth out of Jonny one way or another. He usually texted Jonny to let him know he was coming over, but at this point, he was worried Jon might actually throw the deadbolt on him. No, the element of surprise was definitely what he needed.

He thought about bringing food as a peace offering, but if Jon was already feeling off for whatever reason, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Providing like that was something that doms did for their subs, and while Pat and Jonny didn’t really let that stop them most of the time, Pat didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. Better to make sure Jonny felt comfortable in his own space before Pat started digging for answers. 

Pat walked the few blocks to Jonny’s apartment, rolling over possibilities in his mind on the way. Jonny definitely wasn’t seeing anyone, so relationship trouble wasn’t on the list. He’d just seen Jonny’s family when they were in town for the parade, and they were all doing great, his parents enjoying their retirement and David back in school studying sports management. They shared the same agent, and Jonny had been on fire during the playoffs, so their contracts shouldn’t be a concern, either. By the time Pat arrived at Jonny’s apartment, he was no closer to an answer than when he started, but starting to worry even more. If it wasn’t something obvious, but it was still stressing Jonny out this badly, maybe it was serious. Could Jonny be sick? A wave of horror washed over Pat as he remembered a few hard hits Jonny had taken over the six weeks of playoff hockey. Maybe the concussion was back? He hurried in the front door of Jonny’s building, unable to wait any longer. 

Jon’s doorman waved at him, asking if Pat wanted him to call up to Jon, but Pat shook his head, grateful when the doorman just nodded and pointed towards the elevator bank. Pat had to stop himself from pacing back and forth in the small space, focused on taking a few deep breaths, fighting his growing sense of panic.

He barely waited for the doors to open before he was off, half-jogging down the hallway to Jonny’s apartment. He grabbed his keyring, flipped to Jonny’s and unlocked the door, giving a quick knock as he walked in.

Jonny was sitting on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between them. He looked… fragile, almost, like he was struggling to hold himself together. Small, in a way that Jonny never was. 

“Hey, man,” Pat started, and Jonny’s head bolted upright, clearly surprised. Jonny’s apparent shock made Pat even more uncomfortable; a dom should never be caught by surprise like that in his own space, should always be acutely aware of his surroundings, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. Admittedly, Jonny’s high-rise, protected as it was by a 24/7 security desk and locked door, wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Jon’s inattention still made Pat’s skin crawl with unease.

“Pat,” Jonny said, looking away quickly, and that, too, was unusual, the lack of eye contact a startling departure for Jonny. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he continued, and his voice was quiet, projected towards the floor rather than Pat.

Pat was at a loss for words, unsure of what to say and unsettled at Jon’s behavior. He waited for Jonny to fill the silence, but Jon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even get up to offer Pat a bro-hug or a drink, just kept hanging his head, fidgeting with his hands so much that Pat longed to go over to him, grasp Jonny’s hands in his own and settle him down. He shook his head once, trying to get a handle on himself. Doms didn’t need “settling down,” not from other doms, at least, and Pat didn’t know where the urge had come from. Jonny just wasn’t acting much like a dom right now, and it was messing with Pat. 

The silence hung in the air for a few more moments, and then Jonny visibly gathered himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Pat. 

“Sorry, man,” he said, voice flat but sounding a little more like himself. He gestured down at his phone and continued “just got a text from Dan. His grandfather died, and he has to go to France for a few weeks, handle the estate.” His voice trailed off at the end, eyes taking on that same familiar look Pat had been noticing recently. Pat waited for more of an explanation, but none came. He knew that Dan was Jonny’s childhood best friend, that they usually hung out when Jonny went back to the Peg over the summer, but he had no idea why his grandfather’s death was hitting Jonny so hard.

“Sucks, man. You guys were close, then?” Pat guessed, unable to come up with another reason why Jonny seemed so upset.

“No. I’d never actually met him, he moved back to France like thirty years ago.”

Pat was even more confused now, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for an explanation. Jon’s shoulders hunched down even further, like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore.

“I just... usually, Dan and I..” Jonny was struggling, words forced out a few at a time, breath coming more quickly, “we.. he.. He helps me out,” Jonny finished, and his voice broke on the last word. He turned to look at Pat, then, and he looked impossibly young, expression crumpled and miserable. His eyes were wide and lost, filling with tears, and Pat saw fear there. Fear that he knew he would never see from a dom, but that his hindbrain recognized right away.

Later, he was so incredibly thankful that he moved on instinct, ignoring six years of etiquette, decorum and careful boundaries. Ignoring all of it in his haste to get his hands on Jonny. At the time, it felt impossible to do anything else. He was at Jonnys’s side in just a few steps, dropping onto the couch next to him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and pulling Jonny down into his chest. Soothe, his mind insisted. Make it better. Make him safe. And Pat did, holding Jonny close, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles on his back.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” Pat whispered. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, for Jonny to fight him, maybe, jerk away and ask what the fuck Pat thought he was doing. Pat felt the strong muscles of Jonny’s back tense under his hand for just a few seconds before his entire body melted, letting Pat take his weight. 

Pat kept them there, pet names and praise falling easily from his lips, as he felt the world snap into place. It almost made sense, now. Jonny rarely picked up, never talked about his hook-ups. He flushed red in the locker room sometimes, and darted his gaze away when reporters complimented him. He was unusually touchy with his family, letting his mother muss his hair and kiss his forehead, letting David push him around. Taken together like that, and stripping away the underlying assumption that Jonny had to be a dom, it painted a pretty clear picture of what Jonny had desperately been trying to hide all of these years.

Fuck.

A sub. Jonny was a sub. A sub who was desperate for a kind touch and a sweet word right now. Pat remembered that strange phone call from last summer, when Jonny sounded so fucked out, calling him ‘Patrick’ before Dan took the phone away, and the last piece slotted into place. Dan must be Jonny’s dom, or at least a dom that Jonny felt comfortable submitting to, probably the only one. It explained why he always disappeared to Winnipeg right after the season, virtually unreachable for a week. And it explained why Jonny was so upset that Dan would be out of the country. Pat figured Jonny had been getting by on sheer determination, willing himself to just make it back to Winnipeg where he could finally let go, finally be himself, and finding out today that that wouldn’t happen must have broken him.

Shit, judging by how easily Jonny was accepting his touch, he probably hadn’t submitted for close to a year now. Pat couldn’t imagine getting up every day, making it through four brutal rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs, playing his heart out and leaving it all on the ice the way that Jonny had done while fighting down the instinct and desire to submit. Never being able to let go the way his body would have been demanding, yearning for. Never being able to let his guard down for an instant, always vigilant against people finding out. Pat was filled with pride at Jonny’s strength, but there was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, and Pat recognized it as the feeling he got when he’d let his sub down. When someone had put their complete trust in him and he was found undeserving of it. Jonny wasn’t his sub, but Pat still felt responsible for him now. He knew Jonny better than anyone, and he’d been blind to this secret that seemed so obvious now.

Jonny stirred against his chest, and Pat stroked a hand under his chin, tilted his head up to look at him. Jon’s pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy, cheeks a rosy, delicious pink. Pat had never seen a sub look more beautiful in his submission. 

He wanted Jonny to get whatever he needed out of this, knew it was what was right for Jon’s physical and mental wellbeing to let him stay in subspace, but the couch was getting uncomfortable. He looked around for a kneeler for Jon before realizing that there weren’t any. Weren’t any accessories, actually- no cushions, no cuffs strewn around, no paddles or crops, and his heart broke again at what Jonny was depriving himself of for hockey. For the team. For Pat.

Pat reached behind him, hands grabbing for a pillow from the back of the couch. He found one, dropping it on the floor, and nudged Jonny gently. Jon’s eyes opened slowly, eyelids fluttering like he was dragging them against a heavy weight, and his breathing was slow and deep. His brow creased as he looked up at Pat.

“Patrick?” he asked, and that one word came out in such a honey-sweet reverent tone that Pat knew immediately he never wanted to hear anyone else say it again.

“Yea, baby, I’m right here. Just want you to be comfortable,” Pat answered, gesturing down at the pillow at his feet.

“Is,” Jonny cleared his throat, “is this ok?”

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 8

A/N: I know I said I was going to jump ahead about 6 months but decided to put the events that occurred during that time here for context later. I hope you enjoy what I've done.

One month later, in Copenhagen, Denmark, the Barden Bellas had become the first U.S. team to win the World Acapella Championships.

"I can't believe we won," Stacie said as the Bellas gathered in Beca's room.

"I can't believe DSM was a no-show," Flo said. "I wonder what happened to cause them to drop out."

"Who cares?" Jessica said. "We won and the Bellas live to sing another day!"

The Bellas started yelling and cheering.

"Um, guys!" Beca yelled over the noise. "I love that we won, but look at this."

Beca turned her laptop toward the girls and they all quieted when they saw the news article on the screen.

"Members of the award-winning German singing group, DSM, were arrested during a drug raid in New York," CR read aloud. "Beloved leaders Kommissar and Pieter were killed during a shootout with the FBI. Wow!"

"Oh, my stars," Emily said, reading further in the article. "They were drug smugglers."

"Do you think Chloe was involved in killing them?" Fat Amy asked.

"Why is that the first thing you'd think of?" Beca asked, glaring at Amy. "Chloe isn't the only FBI agent out there."

"It just seems fishy to me," Fat Amy said. "Although, if she was, we might just have to send her a nice gift for eliminating our only real competition."

"You don't think we could have beaten DSM if they had been here?" Ashley asked, looking at Fat Amy.

Before Amy could respond, Beca spoke up.

"I think we would have won no matter what. We had a great set, precision choreography, plus an original song and some of the old Bellas performing with us. There is no way we could have lost."

"Beca's right," Aubrey said. "And I for one think we should celebrate the fact that the Bellas are the World Champions."

"Woo hoo!" Stacie yelled out, causing the Bellas to start cheering and yelling again.

Beca stood off to the side, watching the celebration unfold. While in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Chloe had been involved in taking down the leaders of DSM.

~~ My Spy ~~

The Bellas had been back home in the U.S. for two months. The pomp and accolades from the win had died down after a few weeks, and the Bellas had moved on to other things.

CR had gotten married in Maine and all the Bellas managed to attend.

Jessica and Ashley were living and working together in Atlanta.

Emily was preparing to be the Captain of a new crop of Bellas.

Flo had found a job working on a juice truck in the hopes of someday owning and operating one of her own.

Stacie was a fitness instructor in an up-and-coming gym near Barden University.

Aubrey had returned to run the Lodge of Fallen Leaves, even though she still hated it.

Nobody is sure what Lily was doing, and none of them had the guts to ask.

Beca and Amy had moved to New York together and were sharing a one-room apartment in Brooklyn.

Beca was walking home from her job at the recording studio when her phone rang. She was shocked to see Chloe's name on her caller ID.

"Chloe?" Beca questioned as she answered the call.

"Yeah, Beca, it's me," Chloe said. "It's so good to finally hear your voice."

"You, too," Beca said, stopping at the entrance to her apartment building.

Beca sat down on the step but didn't say anything; Chloe could hear her breathing.

"So, I understand congratulations are in order," Chloe finally said.

"Congratulations?" Beca asked.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "I heard the Bellas won the World Acapella Championship."

"Oh, right," Beca said, looking around. "We did."

Beca's heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe she was actually talking to Chloe after so many near misses and almost conversations; she was hearing Chloe's voice for the first time in a little over three years.

"So, um, what are you up to these days?" Beca asked, mentally face-palming herself.

"I'm actually on another assignment," Chloe said.

"Oh, um," Beca said. "Were you involved in that whole DSM thing? Never mind, you don't have to answer that."

"I kind of was," Chloe said. "But, I can't really talk about it. The AG still has to prosecute those arrested."

"AG?" Beca asked.

"Attorney General," Chloe responded.

"Oh, um, I see," Beca said and went silent

Chloe could hear the sounds of traffic and the hustle and bustle of people on the streets.

"Beca?" Chloe asked after a few minutes of Beca not saying anything. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Beca asked, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, yeah. I'm, uh, I'm good."

"Is it always going to be this awkward between us?" Chloe asked with a sigh; she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

Beca sighed, too. "God, I hope not," she said, laughing at herself. "I've really missed hearing your voice, seeing your face. Hell, who am I kidding? I miss everything about you."

Chloe chuckled softly. "I feel the same way about you."

Beca smiled and relaxed back against the door.

"So, I was wondering what you might be doing two weeks from Saturday?" Chloe asked.

"Nothing that I can think of," Beca said. "Why?"

"I'm coming back to the U.S. in two weeks for some meetings in New York," Chloe said.

"You're coming to New York?!" Beca asked, sitting upright.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "I was, um, wondering if you'd let me take you out. On a date. We can talk and maybe start fresh on a relationship."

"Hell yeah!" Beca responded, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'm in. Just tell me where and when and I'll be there."

Chloe chuckled. "I'll figure out a place and let you know."

"Looking forward to it," Beca said sincerely.

"Me, too," Chloe said.

Beca heard a muffled voice call for Chloe in the background.

"I'm sorry, Beca," Chloe said. "I have to go. But, I'll call you again once I figure out where to take you on our date."

"Okay," Beca said. "I still, um, lo-." Beca quickly swallowed what she was going to say and cleared her throat. "I, uh, am looking forward to seeing you. Um, for our date."

"I still love you, too, Beca," Chloe said, smiling as she ended the call.

~~ My Spy ~~

Amy came home to find Beca sitting on the fold-out bed, staring at her phone with a goofy grin on her face.

"What's going on over there?" Fat Amy asked, looking over at Beca.

"What do you mean?"

"You have a goofy grin on your face," Fat Amy said. "What's that all about?"

"Chloe called me," Beca said.

"For real?" Fat Amy asked. "What did she have to say?"

"She's coming to New York and asked me out to dinner," Beca said.

"She asked you out on a date?"

"Yep."

"That's amazing, Beca," Fat Amy said. "How does she sound? What else did she say?"

"She sounds good," Beca said. "She said she was on an assignment out of the country and was coming back in 2 weeks. That's when she asked me out. I was going to tell her I still loved her, but I chickened out at the last second. But she did say she still loved me before the call ended."

"She did?"

"Yeah," Beca said. "I'm really excited to finally get to see her in person. I wonder if she's changed?"

"Will you actually get to see her is the real question," Fat Amy said "She always seems to be canceling on you because of her job."

"Not this time," Beca said, with more confidence than she felt. "This time we're really going to be together."

"Then I really am happy for you, Beca," Fat Amy said. "And I'll be here for you if she cancels again."

Beca sighed and shook her head. "I'm hungry. Want to order something for delivery? My treat."

"I'm hungry, too," Fat Amy said. "Can we get pizza?"

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe called Beca a week later to confirm their date.

"I hope you still like Italian food," Chloe said. "I made a reservation at a place called Terre on Fifth Avenue. One of the guys from work recommended it. I checked them out online and the food looks and sounds amazing."

"I do still love Italian food," Beca said. "And I've heard good things about Terre. What time is the reservation?"

"I made them for six," Chloe said. "Is that okay?"

"That's perfect," Beca said. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, too," Chloe said. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

"That's okay," Beca said. "It's not that far from my apartment. I'll walk."

"Okay," Chloe said. "So, how's work? Did you have a good day?"

Beca chuckled and proceeded to tell Chloe about her job, and her day. They spent close to an hour catching up. When the call was over, Beca realized she had done most of the talking; she didn't learn anything about what Chloe had been up to.

"I guess I'll find out more when we have our date," Beca thought.

~~ My Spy ~~

It was finally date night and Chloe was really nervous as she got to the restaurant early. She was sitting alone at her table, watching the door, hoping each time someone new came in, it would be Beca. She started looking at the menu and was startled when someone plopped down in the seat across from her.

"Jason," Chloe said when she saw him sitting in Beca's seat. "What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Director Collins asked me to join you so I can speak to Beca," Jason said.

"What the actual fuck?" Chloe whisper-yelled, slamming down her menu. She looked around to make sure no one could overhear. "I told the Director I did not want Beca involved in the investigation at all."

"He thinks she's our only option to get to Patricia Hobart," Jason whispered across the table. "Which in turn will get us to Fergus Hobart."

"There has to be a better way," Chloe said, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you take Amy in and question her? You don't need Beca for that."

"Because we don't have an evidentiary reason to," Jason said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I get you don't want to involve Beca, but I've been ordered to explain everything to her and find out if Patricia Hobart has mentioned anything about her father's dealings."

"That's unacceptable-"

"Hey, Chloe."

Chloe jerked her head up to see Beca standing at the table. Her heart started beating faster and she quickly jumped up to pull Beca into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're here," Chloe whispered in Beca's ear. "I've missed you so much."

Beca pulled out of the hug and looked at Jason. "So, um, who's your friend?"

Chloe couldn't stop the warm feeling that went through her when she noticed a hint of jealousy in Beca's eyes.

"He's nobody," Chloe said, turning to glare at Jason. "And he was just leaving."

Jason stood and held out this hand. "Miss Mitchell, I'm Agent Jason Parker, Chloe's partner. I have a few questions I need to ask you."

"No!" Chloe said, looking at Jason. "Not here and definitely not now."

Jason looked around and saw a few people looking over at them. He sighed and looked back at Chloe.

"Then where and when?" Jason asked.

"How about never and nowhere?" Chloe retorted.

"Um, what's this all about?" Beca asked.

"It's nothing," Chloe told Beca. She turned to Jason, saying, "You can go now. You're in Beca's seat."

"Miss Mitchell," Jason said, ignoring Chloe. He lowered his voice as he spoke directly to Beca. "What do you know about Patricia Hobart's father?"

"You mean, Fat Amy?" Beca asked.

"Yes."

"She said both her parents were killed before she came to the U.S. to attend Barden. What's this all about? And why are you asking me about Amy's father?"

"We are helping Australian authorities investigate Mr. Hobart," Jason said, keeping his voice low. "And we believe his daughter may know something about his illegal enterprises."

Beca stared at Jason for a moment before turning her eyes to Chloe. Chloe's heart broke when she saw Beca's eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"That's why you wanted to see me?" Beca said. "To use me to get information from Amy on her father?"

"No, Beca," Chloe said. "I wanted to see you because I've missed you. I wanted nothing to do with dragging you or Amy into any part of the investigation. You have to believe me."

Chloe reached out for Beca and Beca moved away from her.

"I. . .can't," Beca said, holding up her hands. "I'm don't with whatever this is. I have to go."

Beca turned and started walking away. She wiped a tear from her cheek as she went.

"Beca, wait!" Chloe cried out.

Beca kept walking and Chloe started after her. Jason grabbed Chloe's arm to stop her.

"Let her go," Jason said. "I'll try again later when she's had a chance to calm down."

"No!" Chloe pulled her arm away from Jason. "You've done enough. Now, get the fuck away from me!"

Jason sighed and let Chloe go. Chloe ran out to try and catch up to Beca.

Chloe got outside the restaurant and looked up and down the street, hoping to spot Beca. She didn't see her anywhere.

"Fuck!" Chloe screamed up to the sky.

Jason walked out of the restaurant and heard Chloe. He walked over to her.

"Chloe?" Jason said, getting Chloe's attention. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," Chloe said.

"Okay, I deserve that," Jason said. "If you're done cussing me out, we should really go back to the office and give the Director a report."

"You and the Director can kiss my ass," Chloe said.

"Come on, Chloe," Jason said. "I was just following orders. Come with me and help me explain what happened. I've been your partner for over five years, that should account for something."

"Fine," Chloe spit out. "I'll go with you, but don't expect to be on your side in this."

~~ My Spy ~~

Beca stormed into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. She threw her bag on the sofa and toed off her shoes, leaving them by the door.

"You're home early," Fat Amy said. "What happened?"

"She, he, they, ugh!" Beca sputtered. "I'm so mad I can't even talk."

Fat Amy got up and led Beca over to sit at their dining room table. "I'll get you some water."

Fat Amy reached over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water, handing it to Beca.

Beca removed the top and took a large drink from the bottle.

"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."

"Can you tell me what happened with Chloe?"

"When I got there, there was some guy sitting with her. I greeted Chloe and asked who the guy was. She said he was nobody, but the guy stood and introduced himself as her partner Jason."

"I thought Chloe was gay," Fat Amy said.

Beca looked at her with furrowed brows. "No, not that kind of partner. Her work partner."

"Oh," Fat Amy said. "So, why was he there?"

"He said they had some questions to ask me about-." Bec stopped herself, unsure of whether she should tell Amy that the FBI was working with Australian police to investigate her father.

"Ask you questions about what?"

Beca remained silent and played with the label on her water bottle. Beca let out a sigh and looked at Amy.

"About, um, you."

"Me? What about me?"

"Actually, they wanted to know more about your father and what you might know of his illegal activities."

"What?" Fat Amy said and looked down at the floor. "Why are you mad about that? I told you my father was dead."

"I know," Beca said. "And that's what I told them. But, they seem to think he's alive and that you know something."

Fat Amy didn't say anything as she continued to look down at the floor, unable to meet Beca's eyes.

"Oh, my God," Beca said, staring at Amy. "You do know something. I told Chloe I was done with whatever was happening because I thought she only wanted to see me so she could use me to get to you." A tear made its way down Beca's cheek. "I accused her of lying about why she wanted to see me. I thought I was protecting you from her, but instead, I may have just lost the love of my life for good."

"I'm sorry about all that, Beca," Fat Amy said. "For what it's worth, I don't really know anything about what my dad might be accused of doing. I just know he's a bad man who does bad things. And as far as I'm concerned he is dead to me."

"Would you be willing to talk to the FBI and tell them that?" Beca asked, sniffling and wiping away more tears.

"If it will help make things right between you and Chloe, I'll do it."

~~ My Spy ~~

Jason and Chloe arrived at the office. The Director was standing in the middle of the room, talking to another agent. As soon as Chloe saw the Director, she marched up to him and got in his face.

"How dare you!" Chloe yelled. "You sent Jason to interrogate Beca while we were on a date. I told you I didn't want her to have anything to do with the investigation. If you wanted Amy to answer questions, you should have had Jason get her and bring her in, not blindside me by going after Beca while we were on our date."

"Chloe, calm down," the Director said, looking around at the other agents in the room.

"No, I will not calm down," Chloe said. "You knew what this date meant to me. How important it was. I've given up so much for this job. Why couldn't I just have this one thing, Uncle Matt? Why couldn't you leave Beca out of this?"

"Because we firmly believe Beca Mitchell is our best option at getting Patricia Hobart to tell us everything she knows about her father," the Director said.

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it!" Chloe yelled.

"Chloe," the Director said through gritted teeth. "I am the Director and will not allow you to talk to me like that."

"You don't like the way I talk to you, Director?" Chloe said, her voice rising. "Well, you're going to really hate this. Go fuck yourself because I quit!"

With that, Chloe turned and started walking away, leaving a shocked Director standing stone-faced as he watched her walk out the door and disappear into the hallway.

Jason called after Chloe but didn't make a move to follow her.

Chloe heard Jason but did not stop or turn around.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Don't hate me.

[sailtoafarawayland]

Entwined: Family Outtakes Ch. 2

Summary: An outtake that centers around some worries and family feels for Hook and Emma as they confront something we all must at some point, and the first appearance of Hope Swan-Jones in our little universe. 

Rating: All chapters range G - T (to be safe)

AO3 - FF

For @teamhook

Chapter Two: Falling Behind

Bleariness clouded Emma's vision as she woke, eyelids blinking away the late morning sunlight that streamed through the window and lit the soft whites and creams of their bedroom. She rolled the kinks from her neck and stretched, enjoying the crisp coolness of the sheets against her sleep warmed skin.

She must have overslept – the house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Sunday, and even though it had been years since Storybrooke had been disrupted by anything more villainous than teenage rebellion, something about the peacefulness pushed her into abrupt wakefulness. She lurched upright in bed, snatching her robe from the back of the door and wrapping it around herself as she stepped into the hallway.

The sound of something sizzling in the kitchen soothed any immediate worry, but still, she peeked into Hope's room to make sure everything looked normal – her comforter made and folded neatly below the pillows, as it always was when either of her dads oversaw the morning routine. It was definitely a far cry from when Emma was in charge and the entire wad of blankets and sheets was left knotted at the foot of the bed, a tangle-haired little girl hopping up and down on one foot while pulling on socks and trying to brush her teeth.

She let the smell of bacon lead her quickly down the stairs, the floors cool against her bare feet. Her eyes caught the clock and she frowned – it was earlier than she expected her husbands to be back and making breakfast on a Sunday. Usually they were somewhere between Granny's and the docks with Hope until at least nine.

“Hey,” she murmured, coming around the corner into the kitchen and seeing Hook bent over the stove, the last pieces of bacon dropping onto a paper towel lined plate from the fork in his hand, neither Killian nor Hope anywhere in sight. “Just us this morning?”

“Aye,” he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes in the way that Emma loved.

“What's wrong?” she asked, concern rising up the back of her throat as she moved behind him, standing on her tiptoes and resting her chin on his shoulder, her arms encircling his waist – taking what reassurance she could from his solid presence.

“Everything's fine,” he insisted, his smile broadening as he flicked off the stove and dropped the fork beside the spread of bacon and eggs, turning in her arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her hair before meeting her eyes. “I just thought today I'd stay in and take care of breakfast. Killian and the wee lass should be back from 'pirate practice' soon enough.”

“Well, I'm glad you're here,” Emma teased, her hands traveling along his sides and sweeping upward to find the open edges of his button down, her fingers curling around the fabric and settling in his generous chest hair, silver and dusky against his tan skin, “and I'm not gonna lie, bacon that's already made is a bonus too.”

She pressed her toes against the cool floor and sought his lips, humming against them when she tasted the salty sweetness of maple bacon.

“Look's like someone was stealing pieces out of the pan again.”

“Pirate,” he reminded her, his brace and fingers pulling her more firmly against his chest as his mouth slanted hungrily over her own, their tongues rolling together with practiced ease – what Emma had intended to be a lazy, morning kiss stoking that familiar need in them both.  

He backed her insistently against the kitchen table, fingers tugging at the drawstring of her robe as she pushed into him, thoughts of breakfast fading as she considered the other things they could be doing on the table, but her movements stopped suddenly when the press of her hand against his shoulder was met with a hiss of pain. Hook stepped back from her, his own fingers moving to soothe the hurt she hadn't known was there.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he sighed, an edge to his voice that she didn't often hear. “Simply a stiff neck this morning, love.”

“I'm sorry,” she faltered, wanting to simply place her palm against his hurt and make it disappear, her intention clear enough in her face that he pulled back, taking her hand in his own and giving it a squeeze. “You should have woken me up. I can just – ”

“No, Emma, it's fine. I can't have you –” he paused, placing a breath of a kiss against her knuckles, looking for all the world as if he wanted to pull her into his arms again, but was afraid of what moving too swiftly might do. “Perhaps I'll just set the table and the strain will work itself out on its own.”

Letting her hand fall back to her side, she watched as he crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulling out plates for the four of them.

“Is that why you didn't go with Hope and Killian to the docks?”

It had become something of a longstanding tradition for Hope, Sunday morning with her dads. They would stop at Granny's hot cocoa and then take in the cool sea air, some mornings spent sharing stories and others spent sparring – something their daughter lovingly referred to as 'pirate practice', all three of them armed with blunt wooden swords.

It was the first time she'd ever seen Hook miss one.

The plates clinked against the table as he sat them down heavily.

“Aye,” he rumbled, fingers scratching behind his ear before running through his mop of hair, the black holding much more silver now than it had six years earlier when he'd tumbled into their lives and hearts.

“You know that Hope doesn't care how she spends time with you. You're her father. That's all that matters. She just wants to be with you, whether you're swinging a sword or not,” Emma pointed out softly, watching him carefully as his jaw tightened, insecurity warring with what he knew in his heart. It wouldn't be the first time that Emma had seen it – the way he'd started frowning at himself in the mirror, silently mourning the slow march of grey across his head and scruff. “It doesn't make a difference to any of us.”

“It makes a difference to me, Emma,” he ground out, turning abruptly and gripping the edge of the counter as he stared unseeingly out the window into the yard beyond.

“Jones,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and pressing her body to his back, feeling every tight cord of tension running through him, “Killian...”

She didn't call him Killian often – the three of them had decided early on that it was simply too confusing for everyone – that Jones would do, or Hook – but every now and then Killian would slip from her lips when he needed to be called back to them, when he needed reminding of who he was and who they both saw and loved.

He exhaled heavily, letting his worries fall from his lips as he relaxed into her.

“I know it doesn't make a difference to our little girl, Emma, but...this was the first morning that I woke and truly felt the age that I see in the mirror – and then I watched Hope bound down the porch with her sword already swinging, Killian at her heels and I just...I don't want to fall behind. I feel like I'm falling behind.”

“Hey,” she murmured, urging him around to face her, palm against his rough jaw, “that's not possible. We're family. We're in this together, and that won't ever change – whether you're running after her or not. One day she isn't going to want sword fights and treasure hunts, or someone to draw a smiley face on her pancakes with whipped cream – she's gonna want a shoulder to cry on when her heart gets broken...”

A low growl hummed in the back of his throat, his jaw twitching beneath Emma's fingers at the thought of anyone hurting his little girl.

“...or someone who can look over her shoulder when she paints and tell her just the right shades of purple and red to use for a sunset. We're all gonna get older and change, but that doesn't mean anyone is falling behind – we'll just be moving on to new adventures...together.”

“And what of us, Emma? Five years from now when there's only gray hair and wrinkles, when I've grown softer than I used to be, what will you and Killian think then?”

“None of that is going to change how much I want you, how much I love you...” her fingers found the place where his heart was beating solidly in his chest, pressing firmly and reminding him of just how they'd gotten here. “None of that is going to change how much Killian loves you.”

“Aye,” he murmured, fingers looping with hers as they both remembered the fear that day had carried – the day they put an end to his curse entirely – all of it washed away by hope and love and leaving them standing here. “You'll have to forgive the insecurities of an old pirate, darling.”

“Our pirate,” she chided. “Besides, did you want me any less after I'd added a few more stretch marks to my stomach and my hips got wider – when my boobs sagged a little more after years of nursing?”

“Your breasts, Emma, are still perfect works of art,” Hook promised, looking affronted at the mere notion that they were any less beautiful than they'd once been.

In fact, he loved them all the more for having watched her nurture and care for their child, feeding her through the long hours of the night and comforting her when the trials of the day were simply too much for a little one to stand. That type of love – a mother's love – it was something Alice had never known as a baby, and he worshiped his wife a little more each day for having given that gift to Hope. There wasn't a mark left on her body that he didn't cherish, that wasn't a reminder of the depth of her heart.

To him, she was a goddess.

“If you can still look at me and see beauty in all these stretch marks – then you can't doubt it's the same when we look at you – and some more gray hair and a rum belly won't change that, not ever.”

“Well, let's not allow things to deteriorate to that point, shall we?” Hook muttered, his cheeks reddening at the remembrance of Emma's story – of her meeting with aging Captain who no longer existed, a future that he'd thankfully avoided by following the Seer's advice and seeking out a small town called Storybrooke, a town that held not only the promised end of his curse, but the rest of his happiness for days to come.

“I'm just saying,” Emma whispered, her fingers dragging along his skin as she pressed the smile of her lips to his own, “it still wouldn't matter, Jones.”

He swallowed her surprised gasp as his hand slipped into the loosened folds of her robe, calloused palm glancing along the warmth of her skin before the sound of the door flying inward had them both pulling apart – the stillness of the house shattered by the return of their yet-to-be-tired-out daughter.

“Hope,” Emma sighed, tightening her robe and turning just in time to catch the tornado of long, dark locks and flailing limbs running headlong into her arms, barely leaning her head out of the way in time to keep from getting whacked with an errant wooden sword. “What have I said about not throwing the door open? You're gonna break it down one of these days.”

“And you know the rule about swords in the house, my love,” Hook reminded her, plucking the wooden toy from her hands and placing it on the counter. “Now, where's Dad? Did he make it home, or is he still outside bemoaning the loss you surely handed him?”

“Let's not be hasty – I wouldn't go so far as to call it a loss,” Killian insisted, stepping through the door and easing it closed behind him, his own wooden sword dropping into the umbrella stand near the entrance. “Our little lass put to use some very impressive evasive maneuvers – quite insistent on hurrying home this morning.”  

“Did she now?” Hook laughed, “and what could have been the cause of that?”  

“We missed you, Papa,” Hope explained, reaching out and squirming until Hook plucked her out of Emma's arms, jogging her into a seat on his hip. “And bacon.”

“Ah, now we get to the truth of the matter,” he murmured, placing a lingering kiss on their daughter's curls, nearly as dark as he and Killian's, though her face was the tiny, spitting image of Emma. “I suppose it's a good thing I made bacon then – because I missed you as well.”

“It was a quiet morning without you,” Killian added, still shucking his jacket as he met Emma's cheek with a kiss and then leaned over their daughter to brush his lips against Hook's as well. “Despite this one being up well before the sun, I seem to have failed at running her ragged even in the slightest – we'll have to take her out for some more sparring this afternoon.”

“Aye, that we will.”

“That all sounds great,” Emma agreed, grabbing the abandoned stack of plates and placing them down neatly in front of the chairs at the table, “but I woke up to the smell of bacon and still haven't gotten to eat any – so let's make plans after breakfast, sound good?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Hope yelled, her words devolving into a stream of giggles that she buried in Hook's chest as both her fathers protested that Emma certainly didn't hold the qualifications to captain a ship.

“Mama's captain of the house – the house!” their daughter squealed, trying desperately to bat away Killian's fingers as he tickled her sides, eventually settling for throwing herself out of Hook's arms and running to the other side of the kitchen, the table a staunch line of defense against any further onslaught. “I've heard her say it, so it's true,” she insisted, blue eyes glimmering with the type of conviction only a four-year old can muster.

“Well, you must be right then, lass,” Killian relented, raising his hand and hook in surrender before pulling out a chair. “Now, come, sit and eat – before the Captain has us all walk the plank. You know how grumpy your mum gets when she's hungry.”

“I do not get grumpy,” Emma growled playfully, the mock indignation in her voice doing nothing to quell the smile lines around her mouth or the soft crinkle at the corners of her eyes.

Hope jumped into the seat Killian had pulled aside for her, eyebrows raised halfway toward her hairline as she watched Hook carry over the plates filled with fresh eggs and bacon, her feet kicking the underside of the chair in a steady rhythm.

“Can we go to the park this afternoon?” she asked, two pieces of bacon already gripped tightly in her small hand before any of her parents had even noticed her snatch them from the plate. “I want to have a treasure hunt.”

“Of course we can,” Hook smiled, sitting down and watching as their daughter munched happily on her bacon, his gaze drifting to Killian as he doled out eggs and Emma as she made her own plate, stealing some bacon from the pile that had somehow doubled in size on Hope's plate.

Emma's eyes lifted, meeting his own over the table – her green gaze so filled with warmth and love that he immediately felt foolish for the fear that had overtaken him that morning, for thinking that something so simple as time could ever make them drift apart, could somehow make them less than what they were and had always been destined to be – a family.

END

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[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time Of Magic Chapter Two.

This AU is so much fun to write! And I'm glad people are enjoying it so far 💜 Here is the next chapter!

Taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships @spicycreativity (Hope this is okay, Spicy- just thought this would be the easiest way to keep you up to date!)

If you would like to be added to this taglist- let me know! 😊

Summary: ‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Virgil's second day in Camelot is even more eventful than the first. Can he get through it without getting into danger, or trouble?

Tags: Mild language, threat, death mention, weapons, food. Merlin/Human/Fantasy AU.

Word Count: 3,047

Read on Ao3!

Chapter Two: A Dark Warning.

'In a time of magic, the destiny of the mythical land of Camelot rests on the shoulders of a young warlock. His name… Virgil.’

Virgil heard the bells ring out within the castle walls and sat bolt upright. As it chimed six times, he realised how early he fell asleep yesterday. He needed to go and apologise to Logan for not being a very good guest. He closed his eyes and listened to see if Logan was awake. Luckily he could hear bottles bubbling and the sound of Logan humming a tune, so he got dressed and headed out of his room. He looked around, but Logan was nowhere to be seen, Virgil frowned in confusion since his bed was freshly made, but where could he have gone?

“Logan? Are you here?” He called out into the seemingly empty room. He jumped as he looked up and saw Logan perched on a ladder re-organising a bookshelf up a small balcony.

“Ah, Virgil! You’re up early. Good mor-“ His chipper greeting was cut short by an excruciatingly loud snapping sound as the ladder Logan was standing on caved in and he was sent flying backwards over the banister, hurtling towards an unforgiving floor.

Virgil acted immediately, without a word his eyes began to glow a rich, deep purple. Logan was suddenly moving in slow motion, buying Virgil more time. He frantically began to search around the room to find something, anything that could cushion the fall. His eyes glowed one more time and he dragged Logan’s bed across the room, he sighed in relief knowing it would be okay. Virgil smiled as he blinked and let the scene run in real time. Logan cried out before landing in a crumpled heap onto the bed . He stared in shock for a moment before patting himself over, relieved that he was not injured. Logan leapt up and stared at Virgil in fascination.

“How… did you do that??” He stared at Virgil, almost looking right into his soul. There were no words, Virgil just stammered trying to desperately come up with an answer that didn’t sound completely crazy.

“Did you express the incantation in your mind?” Virgil was trying not to panic, he knew that Logan wasn’t angry with him, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Uther about his magic… but he couldn’t explain why he could do everything he does, it just… happens.

“Where did you study?” Logan’s last question stunned him into silence. Study? You can study magic? Virgil had never heard of that before. He took a deep breath and finally got an answer in before Logan’s next question.

“I… I was just born this way.” His voice was timid, and Logan continued to stare at him, stunned at the unexpected answer. Hunith was right, Logan thought. Virgil really was a gifted boy. He glanced over at the open letter on his desk surrounded by vials and strange looking chemicals.

‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Logan sighed, believing his word to be the truth. He put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder gesturing for him to sit down at the table for breakfast. He walked away before returning with a delicate bowl of fresh berries and Virgil began eating them enthusiastically. He smiled with gratitude and when Logan sat down with his own bowl, his face had a serious expression on it, and Virgil couldn’t help but panic slightly.

“While I am completely and utterly fascinated by your powers. I need not remind you that you will need to be incredibly careful, especially while you are in the castle grounds. If anyone was to catch you, you would be executed without a second thought.” Logan’s voice was laced with worry, but Virgil couldn’t stop a bitter laugh escaping from his mouth.

“Believe me, Logan. I am well aware. I watched it with my own eyes yesterday.” Logan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but he shook it off and just nodded sympathetically. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it from Virgil, but he hoped that he could have explained it to him in his own way. Virgil had only been part of Logan’s life for roughly one day, but it already felt like he was the son he never had, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him already. He made a silent vow that if anything ever happened, Logan would try to protect Virgil in every way he could, no matter the cost to himself. Enough of that now though, he needed to create a distraction.

“Well, as you’re up. You can help me with my rounds! I have several draughts and medicines that need to be delivered to people who live in the castle grounds. They are all labelled, and I’ve put in a map with their quarters marked out. Make sure you tell Mr. Duill to not drink the vial's contents in one go… he tends to do that.” Virgil was nodding along in agreement as Logan began pottering around adding liquids to different bottles while watching them bubble and change colour. Virgil grabbed the basket and headed out, it would give him a good chance to finally acclimatise to just how large this castle was.

“Oh and Virgil. Stay out of trouble.” Logan called out as the door slowly came to a close.

Virgil took his time wandering around the castle, he explored the different passageways and climbed multiple staircases to look out at the town. Virgil stared in awe at some of the stained glass windows and the stories that were being told within the glass. He was surprised that he managed to find everyone on the list considering how much time he had just spent procrastinating. As he reached the final door of Mr. Duill, he remembered what Logan had told him as he knocked loudly. The man swung the door open violently and Virgil guided his hand to the medicine. He heard a pop of the cork on the vial as he turned to the man.

“Oh, Logan said don’t drink it all at on-” but it was too late. The man drank the small vial’s liquid vigorously like it was a tankard of mead and Virgil just stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” The man looked at him confused and Virgil just smiled as the man closed the door in his face. He sighed and slowly wandered down a corridor.

It was only eight in the morning, but Virgil was already exhausted. He sat down in one of the corners of the castle to take a breather. Despite the constant coming and going of the castle staff, it was actually quite peaceful. It must have been about an hour later when the same bugles from yesterday began to ring out across the courtyard, and Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly increase. ‘Not again.’ He ran out and sighed in relief when there was no stage and chopping block greeting him. Many people began to flock around facing the balcony as the King, Uther strolled out, that same smug look on his face. The feeling of dread was indescribable.

“As I announced yesterday. Twenty years ago today, we banished the Great Dragon from Camelot and lived in peace, free from the evils of magic. We also executed one more sorcerer who deceived you all and committed evil acts in Camelot. Because of this; I have decided to declare not one day of celebration, but three days. Preparations will begin shortly and there will be a grand feast in the castle tomorrow evening, everyone is invited. Let the festivities begin.” He clapped his hands together and everyone began to cheer at the news. Even Virgil couldn’t help but feel excited, it would be great to see inside the Great Hall.

A horrific wail shattered the joy instantly and Virgil looked around trying to find where it was coming from. A window opened and Logan looked down on the courtyard searching for the noise too. Even Uther showed a hint of concern. The crowd parted and there was a woman standing, staring at Uther with tears streaming down her face, the sorrow in her eyes was apparent. She was hunched over, wrinkles covered her face and her skin was sagged. Blonde, wire-like hair blew around her and the brown torn dress she was wearing accentuated how thin she truly was. She cried once more, and Virgil immediately felt sympathy for this woman even though he wasn’t sure why.

“There is only one evil in Camelot, Uther Pendragon, and it is not magic. It is you! I promise you that by the end of these celebrations, you will be shedding more tears than me. An eye for an eye... A son for a son.” Virgil’s eyes widened as he realised that she meant every single word. She must be Peter Robert Sclator’s mother, the executed man from the previous morning. He had to admit, he couldn’t blame her for being heartbroken… but threatening a King like Uther Pendragon was a terrible mistake. He looked up and was surprised to see fear pass through Uther’s eyes too.

“Seize her! She cannot be allowed to leave.” He roared while pointing down at the woman. Several guards attempted to approach her but she let out a shrill scream and they were thrown backwards onto the ground. She grasped a necklace securely fastened around her neck and her voice broke into a low and vicious tone.

‘Uranun caripe baglen ol. Gemeganza de-noan chiis gosaa. Zamicmage oleol ag-sapah arphe. Oresa ethamz taa tabegisoroch.’ Her arms were thrown backwards as she levitated off the ground and began to disappear. A harsh wind surrounded her body and lashed at anyone who attempted to come closer. As the final fragments of her ragged dress faded from view, Virgil smirked ever so slightly at the fact that she had left Uther looking powerless, but he recognised that incantation. It was Old Magic. Worse than that, it was Dark Magic. This woman was dangerous and she wanted revenge, he hoped he wouldn’t have to intervene… but if she harmed anyone, especially if any harm came to Logan, he would have to protect them, even if it cost him his life.

Uther stormed inside the castle, and Virgil glanced up to see the same window open with the same face timidly looking out. His eyes filled with worry. They looked at each other for just a moment, before the man looked away and he reluctantly closed the window carefully due to the cracks made by anger during the execution. He looked over to the next set of windows and saw an equally worried expression on Logan’s face too. Did he know her?

Virgil ran back to Logan’s quarters, and nearly collided into him in the process. Logan put his arms on Virgil’s shoulders, it immediately helped him calm down. They sat down and Logan waited patiently for questions.

“Who is she, Logan? Why is Uther afraid of her?” Logan put his hand on his head looking for his glasses, but he realised they weren’t there. So he sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.

“Her name is Mary. She used to be something called a High Priestess of the Old Religion. They were incredibly powerful, and during the Great War… Uther was powerless against them to begin with. Only brute force allowed Uther to win, so she has many reasons to hate him with every bone in her body, but executing her son… that was the final straw.”

Virgil nodded, he could understand how Mary felt. He started to try and formulate plans in his head about how he could fight her if he needed to.

“I know what you’re thinking. You cannot face her, Virgil. We have not even discovered how your powers work. It’s too dangerous.” Virgil nodded again, he was right. It would be too reckless, he couldn’t risk being caught. He smiled, a silent promise was made between the two of them.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you today?” He had to admit that he enjoyed running errands for Logan, it gave him a chance to be nosy and look at areas of the castle others are not allowed to.

“No. Everything is done for today, but thank you for the offer. How about you have another wander around the castle? Have you seen the training grounds yet?” Virgil shook his head and listened as Logan gave him directions. He stood up and waved as Logan as he headed out the door once again. He walked down the now familiar corridor and walked towards a spiral staircase he must have missed this morning. Before he walked down, he peaked over the wall to check that he was definitely going the right way this time, he didn’t want another incident like yesterday. Virgil could clearly see the training grounds below him, and as he looked closer, his blood began to boil.

There were a group of knights, roughly Virgil’s age crowding around a young serving boy. One in particular dressed in a loose red shirt with silver armour on his shoulders and brown trousers with what looked like new brown shoes was spearheading the entire event.

“Where is the target?” The leader demanded.

“Over there, sir.” The boy pointed to the large target timidly, while the leader raised his arm in front of his eyes dramatically blocking the sun.

“It can’t be there… The sun is in my eyes.” The boy who was clearly used to being treated like rotten fruit just sighed and he walked over to move the target by picking it up. The guy smirked and turned to the others while saying he’ll teach him a lesson. As he was handed some daggers by one of the entourage, Virgil decided that he had had enough and stormed down the staircase to the training grounds. When he got there, the serving boy was running around with the target in front of him, desperately trying to avoid being hit. The guy kept throwing dagger after dagger at the target while the others laughed at the boy’s expense. As the seventh dagger hit the centre, the boy tripped and the target rolled away with a loud clatter. Virgil put his foot on it, before taking a deep breath and letting a fake smile grace his lips.

“Hey. Come on now, that’s enough… You’ve had your fun, my friend.” The leader looked at the others and pointed a thumb at Virgil like he had grown a second head.

“Do I know you?” He swaggered over until he was standing directly in front of Virgil. Virgil had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid showing his disdain for the arrogance in this guy’s voice.

“Oh, I’m Virgil.” He held his hand out for the man to shake, but he just looked at it in disgust before rolling his eyes.

“So I don’t know you… and yet you called me… friend?” The guy paused waiting for an answer to his audacity. Virgil knew that he should have just walked away at that point, but he was too riled up, and this man needed to be taken down a peg or two.

“That was my mistake…”

“Yeah, it was.” The man thought he had won, and Virgil knew he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth… but this guy was a pompous prick, and he deserved it.

“Yeah… I’ve never had a friend who could be such an ass.” He mustered all the sarcasm he could and poured it into every word. The guy stopped short, and Virgil winced as he realised that he had absolutely gone too far. When the guy began to chuckle and readjust the armour on his shoulders, Virgil gulped, but he had gone this far... so he needed to roll with it and hope that he would give up soon.

“Tell me, Virgil… Do you know how to walk on your knees?” He was getting in Virgil’s face now, his arrogance really was overpowering.

“No.”

“Would you like me to show you?” He took a step towards Virgil and he stepped back so he couldn’t be grabbed unexpectantly.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Virgil shook his head, he shouldn’t be making threats but he couldn’t contain his irritation any longer. The guy laughed loudly in his face, and his entourage joined in boosting the guy’s ego even more.

“Really? What are you going to do to me?” He held his arms out in an antagonising fashion, encouraging Virgil to make the first move. He had to clench his fists to ground himself, Virgil knew he couldn’t attack this guy, not if he wanted to live.

“Oh you have no idea.” Virgil muttered with a smirk.

“Come on, hit me! Weakling.” That was it. Virgil saw red and lunged at the guy, but he misjudged the distance between the two of them. There were gasps from spectators as the guy grabbed Virgil’s arm and twisted it harshly behind his back.

“I could have you thrown in jail for that.” The guy spoke directly into Virgil’s ear as he tried to free himself from the grasp.

“Who do you think you are? The King?!” Virgil shouted mockingly. Who did this guy think he was anyway?

“No… but I’m his son… Prince Roman.” Roman called for guards and pushed Virgil into their path. They bowed at the Prince before grabbing Virgil’s arms to restrain him. They dragged him through the castle and down a broken staircase leading to darkness.

The walls constantly dripped with water and the smell was repulsive. The guards opened a heavy metal door and shoved Virgil unceremoniously onto the straw floor before slamming the door shut behind them. He got up and shook the metal bars before angrily kicking them. He’s only been here two days, and he’s already made an enemy within the monarchy. Virgil sighed, he knew he wouldn’t get out today, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders before trying to sleep.

As the sun set and darkness seeped in, Virgil was sound asleep, but a low growling voice began to call out.

“Virgil… Virgil… VIRGIL.”

He shocked himself awake as his eyes glowed purple, he looked around frantically but there was no one there.

Who was calling out to him?

[lunnanunna]

Needs to Stop Pt. 3

STRAY KIDS Extra Member AU

Summary: Ollie’s problems are finally ending.

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of past abuse

Taglist: @hyunmijung​ @galacticstxrdust​ @giant-puppy-yunho​ @kimonmars​ @soobinssmile​

A/N: Okay, so this is the final post for Ollie’s stalker arc. I’m not happy with this ending, I feel like is was rushed and anti-climatic, but I’ve dragged out this arc for too long, and I feel like people and lost interest in it. I do have other arcs for her planned, but as for now I’ll just give filler posts for her as I focus on Miyoung’s arc. I need to focus one girl’s arc at a time. Anyways, I really do hope you enjoy!

Requests are open! Please let me know what you think.

Ollie sat alone in the living room watching the end of the music show and munching on some peanut butter cookies. The boys were doing their final stage to God’s Menu and Ollie had stayed behind to rest, though she was pretty sure that her injury was also a perfect excuse for JYP to keep her home and away from Jisoo.

The dancer turned to face the door, knowing that there was a security guard posted outside of it. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked back at the TV. Ollie hated the fact that she had to be babysat like this, but she knew that there was no other way.

After Chan found Ollie when Jisoo had attacked her, he quickly rushed to get their manager who drove Ollie to the ER. She had spent a total of six hours there between waiting to see someone, waiting to get x-rays done, and then waiting for the results. The results being, a moderate concussion and three fractured ribs.

When she came home it was mid morning the next day, and the boys had all apparently stayed up the whole night waiting for her. She was touched, but also felt extremely bad for worrying them.

They sat her down on the couch, offering her some breakfast, which she gladly accepted, then they began to bombard her with questions from “What happened?” to “What did the doctors say?”  Her head was about to split in two.

Chan was the first to notice Ollie’s discomfort, and quieted the boys. He sent them each to their rooms and helped Ollie to her’s.

Upon entering Ollie snorted as she found both Jeongin and Jisung sitting upright on the latter’s bed, waiting for her. Chan shook his head at the sight, but he was happy to see that he could trust Ollie with them.

The three of them helped Ollie into an oversized hoodie and shorts, quickly turning away when she began to strip without warning. She laughed at their flush. Then they helped her into bed and she watched as Jisung and the maknae argued over who got to sleep with her. Jeongin won, and Chan had to drag a grumbling Jisung out of the room.

The maknae crawled into bed and carefully sat sideways, his back against the wall. Ollie smiled as she rested on her back with her head on his lap. She placed her arms over her chest, and Jeongin held onto her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her skin. She felt safe.

Now Ollie just felt like a burden. It had been almost a week since the incident, and she was beginning to go stir crazy. They preferred if she didn’t go out, unless it was absolutely necessary (Though she was able to convince them to let her go to the music show to cheer the boys on and visit Miyoung.) But when the boys came home they were exhausted, and Ollie felt bad to even ask them if they wanted to watch a movie or something.

She felt like she hadn’t seen them all week. Which obviously wasn’t true, seeing as she lives with them, but they’ve been so busy with promotions, that she’d be lucky to get to sit with one of them for at least five minutes before they crashed.

Now don’t get her wrong, she wasn’t complaining or whining. She understood all the stress that the boys were under and her situation definitely didn’t help, but Ollie hated being alone. There was a reason she was deemed the social butterfly of the group. She was one of those people that needed to be constantly surrounded by people. Not to be the center of attention, but to feel like she belonged.

Ollie knew that it was a messed up way of thinking, but she couldn’t help it. She had always been like that. Which is why these last few days have been some of the hardest she’s ever dealt with. And because of all the stress the boys have been under. Ollie didn’t feel it right to worry them with her separation anxiety.

A sound came from the door, the beeps of the passcode being entered. Looking at the clock on the wall, Ollie knew that it’d either be the bodyguard or the boys, but she still tensed at the possibility that it was neither of them.

“Noona?” came a voice from the door. It sounded like Changbin.

Ollie had let go of the breath she was holding and turned to the rapper as he walked in. Soon the rest of the boys filed in.

They looked exhausted, but each of them had smiles plastered on their faces. Ollie smiled back at them, opening her arms wide.

“You boys did so well! I’m so proud of you!” Ollie cheered, beckoning the boys over. Jeongin made a beeline for her and carefully sat next to her, wrapping his arms around the eldest.

“Hi.” He smiled at her and she squeezed him back.

“Hi.”

“It felt weird finishing our last stage without you,” Felix pouted as he sat by her feet. He rested his head on her knees.

She reached for his hair, carding her fingers through it. “Well, hopefully I’ll be up and kicking for our next comeback,” Ollie said, smiling at the boy. He didn’t need to know just how bummed out she was about the whole thing. Though she had a feeling that they all knew.

“You have to make sure to rest up until then,” Minho said, sitting on her other side, and placing his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the embrace. It was obvious that the boys had noticed how touched-starved she’d been these last few days.

“Well, we actually have great news, Ollie,” Chan said, grinning as he looked at Ollie. She perked up at his words, smiling slightly as all of the boys smiled at her.

“What?” she breathed out, looking at each boy.

“Manager-hyung got a call from JYP, and…” Chan began, but then took a pause.

“I’ll kill you if I have to wait any longer,” Ollie threatened, but smiled as the words left her mouth. They all laughed at her then turned to Chan, waiting for him to continue.

“They caught her.” Ollie froze at the whispered words. Her eyes traveled to the leader, searching his face for anything that said that he was joking. He wasn’t.

“Really?” Ollie asked, the disbelief evident in her voice.

He nodded his head, a soft smile on his lips. “Yep.”

“Yeah, the detectives were able to track her down and JYP is pressing charges.” Ollie turned to Jisung as he spoke. “You’re okay now, Noona.”

Ollie looked down at her hands, her vision becoming blurry. It was over. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder anymore. She didn’t have to worry about the boys being in possible danger because of her. It’ll finally stop.

She felt Jeongin’s arms tighten around her, his hand rubbing circles into her back. “Thank you,” she whispered. To who? She didn’t know.

Soon she felt more arms wrap around her, hands squeezing her hands or legs. Someone was petting her head. She smiled at all the love that was surrounding her, and for the first time in months, Ollie relaxed.

“And now that promotions are over, I say we celebrate.” Everyone pulled away and turned to Hyunjin. He smiled at Ollie, and she almost did a double take, because the warm smile on his lips was one that had never been directed to her before.

A smile broke out onto her own lips, slowly taking up her whole face. “I think so,” she said, turning to look at Chan for the okay,

He gave a nod, and quickly everyone got changed to comfortable clothes, ordered takeout, and popped in a movie. The rest of the night was spent talking and laughing, the movie playing in the background, and when it came time for bed, they brought out their mattresses and placed them on the ground, making one huge bed.

Ollie was the happiest she had ever been right in that moment.

Ollie’s Masterlist

[soft-thrills]

I got a prompt! Mulder and Scully are ar the beggining of their sexual relationship, learning each others kinks and preferences. Mulder starts to notice Scully gets wetter when he's rougher with her, and decides to try some Dom moves. Extra points for a little spanking and fucking her from behind. Love your work!

Here you go, anon! Thanks for the prompt, hope you enjoy it.

Surprises

Mulder/Scully; smut; an unofficial part of my “Scully liking it rough is canon” crusade

*

They are new to this -- to one another. No, that’s not quite right. The truth is they are extraordinarily familiar with one another. They know each other better than most people really ever know anyone. But they have only recently come to know one another in the, er, biblical sense.

Fucking. They’re new to fucking. Well, new to fucking each other. Mulder’s had some experience before and, though he hasn’t asked for a resume, it’s clear Scully is also more than proficient. 

While they’ve spent the last six years in a long-running conversation, they haven’t talked much about what they’re doing. About the fucking. But that’s ok, because Mulder is a man who notices things unsaid -- that is his job, after all. He mentally catalogues every tidbit he gleans from their early encounters. Some are expected, or at least, have long been imagined: the way she clenches her thighs against his ears when he’s between her legs working her clit like a sunflower seed; the way she says his name in bed, a lot, a breathy whisper so close to the way she’s said it before but just a tiny bit different; the way she has a doctor’s unashamed comfort with nudity.

But, you can know someone very well and still be surprised by them. And there were surprises. The way her breath seemed to catch in her throat when he pushed her from sitting upright to flat on her back on the bed. The moan, the kind that seemed to be urging him on without words, when he pulled the hair at the back of her neck. The quickening rise and fall of her chest when he had playfully pinned her to the bed during a joking wrestling match. 

Scully might have told him that the human mind naturally seeks meaningful patterns and configurations in things that don't inherently have any. 

But Mulder knew a pattern when he saw one.

Scully -- Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D., she of the ice-cold, steely-eyed stare, the fuck-you heels, the woman who could take down men twice her size and not muss up her makeup -- liked it rough.

He was pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent. The one percent of lingering doubt was rooted in his concern that he’d simply watched too much porn in his life, which, of course, he most certainly had. But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

Scully always pressed him to really test his hypotheses, to find evidence. The scientific method had never been so fun.

It was a spring Friday. They’d had a day filled with paperwork and bullshit from Skinner, and, to blow off steam, they’d gone out for a couple drinks at happy hour at a Mexican place in Georgetown, not far from Scully’s apartment. They had margaritas -- good ones, not the sickly sweet kind you get at loud chain restaurants. He stared, unabashedly, whenever her tongue swiped over the salt on the rim of her glass.

“Should we get dinner?” he’d asked after margarita number two.

“Mm, let’s stop home first, regroup,” she said, her tongue emerging again around the edge of the glass, her eyes meeting his as she licked at the salt. It reminded him of how she’d look up at him when she was running her tongue over something else.

Yes. They had better go home and regroup.

The bill was paid in record time. It was still light out, the trees were in bloom, the sidewalks were crowded with college kids and tourists. It was lovely but also the longest three-block walk of his life. 

Emboldened by the tequila, eager to shake off the stressful day, seduced by Scully, he was prepared to test his theory.

As soon as Scully had closed the apartment door behind her, Mulder was there, backing her up against it, leaning down to kiss her. He pressed his body against her, one hand on her cheek, the other in her hair. A gentle pull, and there was the moan again.

“Is this what you meant by regroup, Scully?” he asked.

He kissed along her jawline while he waited for a reply.

“Because I think this is what you had in mind,” he teased. Then, bolder: “I think that what you really wanted was to get fucked.”

Her eyes were wide. He hadn’t been shy in bed so far, but he hadn’t been quite this direct, either. It felt like an eternity that he waited for her to respond, and there was some part of him that was afraid she might hit him.

She nodded. He rewarded her with another kiss, hands on her breasts through her shirt. God, how he wanted her naked already.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, but it would not be enough again.

“Tell me,” he said again, emphasizing the first word.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said. Then, having said it, she seemed to feel bolder, too. “I’ve wanted it from the moment we left the office. Maybe before.” A grin.

“Good,” he said. “Because that’s what I want, too.”

He took her hand insistently, and while it was her home, she let him lead the way to her bedroom. 

Upon getting to her bed, Mulder wished he’d thought of more of a plan. He was starting to feel more certain that Scully did indeed want him to take charge, and suddenly the thought was paradoxically intimidating to him. He forced himself not to overthink it. 

He undressed her, which centered him a bit. It was hard to feel anything but desire as he unbuttoned her shirt, slid down her skirt. She was not wearing hose -- though he was nearly certain she had been wearing them at the office. Must’ve slipped them off and into her pocketbook at the bar. Full of surprises. 

She was in her bra and underwear, a light green matching set he’d never seen before. Mulder was still dressed when he kissed her again, pressing his body -- and, most particularly, his erection -- against her soft skin. He gripped her perfect little ass, gently at first, testing, then, a hard squeeze. She moaned, arching her pelvis against him.

He pulled away to remove his own clothes, stripping naked, watching as her eyes were drawn to his cock. 

He backed her up against the side of her bed, and ran a finger along the strap of her bra. “I like this. Did you wear it for me, Scully?”

“Yes,” she hissed, and leaned up for a kiss. Instead, he flattened the hand that was stroking her bra strap and pushed her down onto the bed.

Mulder often forgot how much bigger than Scully he was -- she’s quite a presence, after all -- but was reminded when he easily moved her lithe body to where he wanted it on the bed. Maybe Scully wasn’t the only one who got off on the idea of him being a little rough.

Before he knew it, he was on top of her, all over her, nudging her legs open with his knee, lifting her breasts out of the dainty cups of her bra. He bit one nipple, pinched another, harder than he’s done before, and she cried out. A good cry.

Time to seek out more conclusive evidence. Mulder reached a hand inside of her underwear. 

“You’re so wet, Scully.”

He knew she had probably noticed this herself, but still, he liked saying it. It seemed she liked hearing it, too, as she arched up against his fingers, wordlessly asking him to keep touching her. He worked his thumb in fast little circles around her clit. 

“God, Mulder, I want you inside me,” she said, squirming underneath him. 

“I think I can give you what you want,” he replied, summoning up the confidence he’d felt falter earlier. 

Instead of sliding off her panties, he moved them to the side. Just felt sexier, dirtier. Then, he slid into her -- one hard, fast, stroke. She threw her head back and cried out. In that moment, he felt indestructible. 

“Careful what you ask for, Scully,” he practically growled into her ear. “Because I’m going to give it to you -- nice and hard.”

She whimpered. He made Scully whimper. It goaded him on -- he grabbed her hair and gave it another pull. He could feel her tighten around him. He’d never felt her this wet.

“You like this?” he asked.

She nodded, hiding her face against his shoulder as he thrust in and out of her, over and over. 

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you, Scully?”

She moaned. He wanted more. He took her hands from off his biceps and pinned her dainty wrists down to the bed. He stilled his hips.

“God, Mulder, don’t stop.”

“Answer me. Do you like it when I’m rough?”

“What do you think?” she shot back, sassy even pinned beneath him.

“I think,” he punctuated with one sharp thrust. “That I want to hear you say it. After all, I wouldn’t want to hurt you if you don’t like it.”

He waited a bit. Another singular thrust. 

“I like it,” she whispered. “I want it -- I want you to be rough.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled out and she looked stricken.

“Turn over for me, Scully. Get on your hands and knees.”

“Yes,” she breathed as she scrambled to get there. When she was ready, she turned to look back at him.

He pressed his cock up against her clit, teasing. She arched back and, before realizing what he was doing, he gave her a little slap on the ass.

She froze. So did he. He’d never done that to her before -- he’d never done a lot of this to her before, but he was more worried about how the slap would be received. 

“Mulder.”

Oh crap oh crap oh crap.

“Mulder, do that again.”

He exhaled. Full of surprises. 

Relieved, he brought his palm down against her ass again, just a touch harder. Then again. 

“Please,” she said, turning to look at him again. “I need you inside me.”

He couldn’t deny her anything in that moment. And, ok, he couldn’t deny himself one more minute, either. He thrust inside her and set a steady rhythm. He hadn’t fucked her like this before. But watching his cock slide in and out of her wet pussy, gripping -- and, occasionally slapping -- her ass, catching her eyes as she stared back at him, her elegant back arched, her dirty little secret tattoo on full display… it was a lot. 

He’d better make it good for her, quick, because he didn’t have much left in him.

Another slap and then his right hand moved to her clit.

“Oh, God, Mulder, yes,” she urged him on. “Harder, I can take it.”

He moans. Hearing Scully -- his Scully -- ask him to fuck her harder? The stuff of dreams. He’s not entirely sure what she wants harder, so he errs on the side of caution, or abandon, however you look at it, and he gives her all of it -- a firm slap, speeds up his fingers, snaps his hips harder. It works. 

She was close, he could feel it.

“Yeah, Scully, that’s right. Take it. Come for me,” he urged her on.

A moment later she did, crying out, tightening around his cock, trembling. He didn’t ease up -- chasing his own relief now, free to take it from her willing, perfect body. Her upper body slumped down but he gripped her hips and surged into her, lasting only a few sublime thrusts before he followed her over the edge.

When he caught his breath, he pulled away and she sank down onto the bed. He flopped down on his stomach beside her, exhausted, but desperate just to look at this beautiful, sexy, surprising woman he was somehow lucky enough to share a bed with.

“Wow,” she said, simply. 

He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. 

“Wow is right,” he said. “I’m never going to be able to hear the phrase ‘let’s regroup’ again without getting hard.”

She laughed. They basked in the afterglow; he basked a little extra in the afterglow of knowing that his hypothesis had been correct, that he had read the enigmatic Doctor Scully like a book. He was, all in all, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

And then.

“So I guess I left you enough clues about wanting you to be a little less gentle?”

A lightbulb. Those clues he’d happened upon had not been so happened upon after all.

He turned to see her grinning at him. 

“I thought I’d pulled off my best bit of profiling yet, Scully. Why not just tell me?”

“Oh, it’s more fun this way. I’m only sorry I was so easy to read.”

He slid across the soft sheets of her bed to get a little closer to her.

“You are full of surprises, Scully, and I’m going to discover every one of them.”

[sarahwyland]

92

Still got a few more prompts sitting in my inbox - here’s another one for you! 

"I might've slept with your shirt when you were gone."

It’s from the ‘Free Pour’ world. Nick’s been off traveling for his Ph.D. program and Sabrina’s been at home in Greendale, dancing and waiting for her guy.

Everything part of Nick’s body was exhausted. He had been on a plane for nearly twenty-four hours, not counting layovers, as he traveled from Uganda back to Greendale. He wasn’t sure what he was more desperate for - a hot shower or a long stretch of sleep. 

Whichever of those things he did first though would only happen once he had managed to kiss his girlfriend. He hadn’t seen her in six weeks and the spotty connection that allowed them the occasional FaceTime call was not good enough. She hadn’t been able to join him this time having spent the entire summer with him in Rwanda for the second summer in a row. She had gone back to the States at the end of the two months while he had gone on to Uganda for a short term project. He was immensely grateful to be back on the same soil as her. 

He thanked the cab driver and tipped him well despite his rather substantial bill to transport him from the Hartford airport to Greendale in the wee morning hours, then dragged himself up the stairs to the apartment he now shared with Sabrina. He let himself in and didn’t bother with lights as he toed out of his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. He tossed it over an armchair, thinking Sabrina would likely fuss about it in the morning. 

He paused in the door of the bedroom and smiled. Sabrina was buried under blankets, the top of her white blonde hair barely visible. Sheer gratitude flooded him. They were approaching two years together and he still marveled at the fact that she had given him another chance.

As quiet as he could, he slipped into bed with her. He didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t not wrap his arms around her and pull her into his chest. She sighed softly. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

She startled awake. 

“It’s me,” he said as she tried to spring away from him. “It’s me.” 

“Nick?” Sabrina turned in his arms. Her eyes widened. “Nick!” 

She lunged for him. He laughed as he fell back on his back, allowing her to tackle him to the bed. 

“Miss me, Spellman?” 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re not supposed to be here! I’m supposed to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.” She crinkled her nose as she spied the clock. It was just after three in the morning. “Or today. Later today. Like dinnertime today. Fifteen hours from now.” 

“I got an earlier flight,” he said. “I missed you too damned much.” 

Sabrina kissed him deeply. He kissed her back with just as much passion. 

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she breathed. “It’s been too long. Way way too long. Six weeks? Too long.” 

“Too long,” Nick agreed. He knew it wouldn’t be the last time they were apart. He still a ways to go in his Ph.D. program and his field work would take him away from Greendale, away from Sabrina, again in a few months. But he hoped this time she would be able to go with him, at least for a little while. “God, it’s good to be home.” 

Sabrina kissed him again, this time a long, slow kiss. When she pulled away again, still laying on top of him, she made a face.

“You smell awful.” 

Nick chuckled. 

“I’ve been sleeping in a tent in Uganda for six weeks,” he reminded her. “Our hut in Rwanda was a palace in comparison.” 

“Never mind the fact that you spent most of that six weeks digging around in the dirt,” Sabrina said. “I love you, Scratch, and I know you’re exhausted, but I strongly recommend a shower before you sleep. And not only because I just washed the sheets in anticipation of your return.”

“I’m already on the sheets,” Nick said. “It’s too late to salvage your sheets, Spellman.” 

“If I’m going to sleep on your chest, I’m going to need you to shower,” she informed him. “Your choice. Sleep with a pillow barricade between us or take a shower and have me in your arms.” 

“You run a hard bargain,” Nick sighed. “But fine. I’ll take a shower. That’s how much I missed you, Spellman. I might drown in the bathtub because I’m too tired to stand upright, but I’ll do my best in an effort to have you sleep on my chest.” 

Sabrina laughed as Nick kissed her before tossing the blankets back and getting out of bed. 

“If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll come check to make sure you haven’t drowned.” 

“Fifteen minutes?” Nick repeated. “I only need five.” 

“You need more than five,” Sabrina assured him. “Not only because you smell horrible. That first hot shower you’ve had in a long time? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that.” 

"Not when I’ve got you in bed waiting for me.”

“Trust me, Scratch, that hot water is hard to pull away from.” 

Nick chuckled and disappeared into the bathroom. 

It turned out Sabrina was right. The hot water felt damned good as he washed away what he thought was close to becoming a permanent layer of dirt. He returned to Sabrina just shy of fifteen minutes later, if only to prove a point. 

“Told you so,” she mumbled, already near sleep. 

“To be fair, you were wrong,” he said. “It’s been three and a half months since I had a hot shower. Two months in Rwanda with lukewarm water on a good day, six more weeks with cool water at best. That shower felt damned good.” 

He got back into bed and moved so he could spoon her. 

“You smell better,” she informed him. She turned her head so she could kiss him. “Welcome home, Scratch.” 

“Are you teaching tomorrow?” he countered. 

“In a few hours, actually,” Sabrina confirmed. “I took the afternoon off though, back when I thought I was going to drive to Hartford to pick up my boyfriend.” 

“Fantastic,” Nick determined. “I’m going to attempt to sleep off jet lag while you teach and then we’re not leaving this bed for a very long time. But we will not be sleeping.” 

“I approve of that plan.” She snuggled closer. Nick shifted his body to hold her still closer. His hand slid under her pillow in an effort to get comfort. He frowned. “What’s this?” The moonlight was enough for him to identify the object as one of his t-shirts. “Spellman?”

"I might've slept with your shirt when you were gone,” she confessed. She was also wearing one of his t-shirts. “I missed you.” 

Nick kissed her soundly. 

He wouldn’t reveal that until he had gotten into the shower, he had wore one of her hair ties around his wrist. 

“I missed you too.” 

[sunflowerstache]

Falling pt.2

What do you do when the person you pictured your entire life with, suddenly seems to have fallen out of love with you?

Word count: 3.2k A/N: Hi y'all! We’re back with part 2 AND I'm really happy and excited with this piece! I can’t wait to hear what you think and I just really hope you enjoy! It’s not as action packed, but it is nearly as emotional... and yes, there will be a part 3(:

The beige walls in front of you had always brought you a sense of comfort. It wasn’t because of the trees hiding the inside from any prying eyes, or the welcoming, bright blue door, or even the best chicken avocado blt wrap you’d ever had. It was the simple idea of spending time with the love of your life within the four walls. The four walls that held too many memories count; the release date of Harry’s first album, when you told him about the job at Gucci you’d accepted, Bella explaining what she learned at school, plans for future photoshoots, and talks of the future. It was the kind of place that gave you the chance to experience normality - or the closest you’d ever come to it again. Inside the Beachwood Cafe, you got to just be the Styles family, not the Styles family.

But were you even that same family anymore?

How could you consider yourself the same when things had gone so horribly south since the last time you’d stepped through the door? When you hadn’t seen Harry in five days and that idea alone didn’t make you feel sick. Not once since you first met him, were you okay with being so far from him for more than a day. You always felt your body had a magnetic pull towards him and the second you seperated, it knew something was wrong. But not this time. The second you walked out of your front door, you didn’t feel that pull, that need to go back in and be near him. It was like the invisible string pulling the two of you closer together had been cut the second you saw that magazine cover.

However,  you didn’t just have yourself to think of. Long gone were the days that you could stay cuddled in bed all day and wallow in self pity, eating tubs of ice cream, and thinking about all the ways Harry had hurt you. Because the little hands on either side of your face every morning didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know that the entire world was speculating if you and her father had split up, or that daddy wasn’t actually away for work. All she knew was that the two of you were having a girls vacation at Auntie Steph’s and she missed her dad.

“You can’t avoid him forever, babe.” It was late one night when Steph spoke up, the two of you watching your second film of the night, coated in blankets and a bowl of popcorn nestled between you.

“Steph -”

“You can’t and you know I’m right. You heard what Jeff -”

“Steph I don’t care. I can’t go and sit with him and pretend that he didn’t sit back and just accept that he slept with someone.”

Obviously you knew she was right, there was no way you could stay at her house forever and simply never see him again. Not only was it not logistical - considering your job and your shared daughter - but emotionally you weren’t strong enough for that. Before he was your other half, he was your best friend. He was someone who was always in your corner, ready to give you the pep talk you needed or make a stupid joke to make you laugh. After everything you’d been through, and as hurt as you were,, you knew that you couldn’t cut him out of your life completely.

“I’m not telling you to accept anything, Y/N. I’m telling you that you need to hear what he has to say, and you need to bring your daughter to see her father. What you do after that if up to you, and you know I’ll back you up whatever you decide to do.”

Cher Horowtiz had begun her debate on refugees while you listened to Steph talk some sense into you. Five days was the longest you’d spent apart since becoming a couple five years ago, and you knew in order to either move past this or move past him, you needed to see him.

“So what, I just ask him to meet up for lunch? Like we’re sixteen year olds going on a first date?”

“No, you ask him to meet up for lunch like you’re twenty five year olds who have a lot to discuss.”

Having only sent the message a few hours prior to when you wanted to meet with him,you were a bit surprised that Harry had immediately agreed to lunch. He was right in the middle of creating his second album and the hours of free time he had could almost be counted on one hand, so getting a response only seconds after initially asking was a bit of a shock to you.

Then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised; Harry was never one to put work over family. From day one, he made it extremely clear that he would drop everything if someone he cared about needed him. And you finally responding to him after so long, on top of saying his daughter needed him, was something you should have known would take precedence over whatever he had planned for the day.

“And I have to give him my drawing! You have it right mumma?” Bella’s sweet voice sounded over the bell above the door as you walked into the cafe. She had picked her own outfit to see Harry; a pair of dungarees and a white shirt, her hair tied up in two cute little space buns so that it wouldn’t get in her face all morning.

“Of course I do, love. He’s going to love it.”

There was no guessing as to where Harry would be waiting for the two of you, because it was the same table you’d been sitting at for years. Just to the left of the service counter, was a smaller, more private room filled with tables. It was separated by a large wooden entryway which opened up into the bright yellow room you’d grown to adore. And as soon as you shut the front door, there was no trouble finding him. His head was upright, clear he had snapped it up the moment he heard the bell ring, almost indicating that he had been there for some time and had done the same with everyone who entered before you, and he stared right at you.

“Daddy!” it was a soft shout, her being well aware of not drawing lots of attention to your family, and Bella quickly let go of your hand so she could run towards her father.

In an instant, Harry was at his sliding off of the bench and bending down so she could run right into his open arms. His stood in stark contrast to the yellow wall; a black bottom up and cream colored trousers adorned his body; a look that he had recently grown to love. It was a look that had the fans making comments that left the two of you in hysterics, but also leading them to recreate in their own fashion sense. And it was a look that he was happy and comfortable in, so you enjoyed it.

“Hello little love! I’ve missed you!” you heard him coo into the side of her head once you joined the pair. The room was oddly empty, leaving the three of you to have some sort of privacy while in the bustling business on a Monday afternoon.

“Missed you too, daddy! How was work?!”

The question caught the two of you off guard. Logically, you knew Harry had to have known you told Bella some sort of cover up as to why he wasn’t around, but the look in his eye informed you that he hadn’t even thought about it. His body had stiffened and eyes shot up to meet yours immediately, heartbreak seeping through his lashes.

“It was great, sweetheart.” he replied, pulling back so that he could pick her up. “But never as much fun as being with you.”

“Good. I don’t like when you leave, daddy.”

You swore, it was like the universe was out to make this lunch as painful for you as possible. There was no other reason for why today was the day your daughter decided to be the sappiest version of herself, or why Harry very clearly had tears in his eyes that weren’t noticeable by anyone but yourself.

“I don’t like it either. But doesn’t it make being together so much better?” his voice was thick, and if you had to hear one more second of it, you were going to explode into a puddle of your own tears.

“How about we get some food, huh?” you cleared you throat, earning a concerned look from Harry.  “Weren’t you just complaining to me in the car that you feel like you haven’t eaten in six years?” trying to make jokes with Bella to avoid having to talk to Harry wasn’t something you were proud of, but you just needed a few more minutes before you could talk with him like everything was fine. At least until Bella wasn’t paying attention.

“Six years? My god, we need to get some food in that belly then, huh?” Harry feigned shock as you sat down, his arms moving Bella to let him bring her torso up to his face, his cheeks expanding with air so that he could blow onto her belly.

“Daddy!”

“You’re going to vanish with no food! My baby’s starving, we need a grilled cheese stat or she’s going to disappear!”

The two of them together was like watching the sunrise; beautiful and warm. The bond that they shared was stronger than anything you could have ever expected, and hearing them giggle with one another was infectious, a smile spreading to your lips before you could even realize what was happening. But you couldn’t help it. They had so much love shared between them that it made every other problem in the world seem so insignificant.

“How’s Steph?” this time, his attention was pointed at you. The green in his eyes seemed to be glowing in the rays of sun that shined through the window. But that’s where the brightness ended. Unlike the last time you saw him, he had bags under his eyes and his forehead was home to the red bumps you hadn’t seen litter his skin in years. Clearly, this was not what the two of you wanted or needed to talk about, but getting past the awkward initial conversations and making the day comfortable for Bella was the first and foremost.

“She’s good. She has a meeting with some people in Hollywood next week, so she’s pretty excited to start expanding again.”

“Wow, good for her. She stopped by Jeff’s the other day, was having dinner with Cam I think, but she looked good.”

“Oh I - I didn’t know they were - well I should have figured though when she came back with Il Fornaio leftovers.”

“I don’t think it’s anything serious, but they’re funny. Both of ‘em are the weirdest people I’ve ever met so…”

As always, Steph had given you advice that you didn’t instantly regret, and you made a mental note to thank her once you got back to her house. Whether it was because of your mutual need to make sure Bella was none the wiser to what was really happening behind closed or how much you had grown to pretend nothing was wrong, lunch went perfectly. For hours, the three of you sat in the yellow room and enjoyed time as a family. You laughed at the nonsense Bella was spitting, reminiscing on how the last time you were seated at that exact table, you were getting ready to head to New York for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as well as listening to Harry talk about what kinds of cities he would like to go to on his next tour - whenever he finished his new album. But just as you learned in the recent days, some things that are so unbelievably good, inevitably have their downfall.

“‘M tired, mumma.” Bella had managed to leave Harry’s iron grip after everyone finished eating, and found her spot in your arms; her arms wrapped about your neck while she complained into the soft spot where your shoulders and neck met. Because of your unplanned lunch, she missed her nap for the day, so it was a ticking time bomb until it caught up with her and she either passed out in your arms or had a complete meltdown inside the quiet cafe.

“I know, B. Gonna go back so you can have a cuddle with Mr. Jeff, yeah?”

“Mhm. And daddy will come too, right?”

With her head tucked and hidden in your shoulder, neither you or Harry worried about containing your looks of worry at her comment. Harry because he didn’t know where the situation stood and you because you knew she’d wake up without her dad there.

“Daddy’s really busy, love, so he has to go back to work. But he’ll be back soon.”

Realization spread across Harry’s face at your words, understanding what the meaning behind them truly was, and his gaze fell to where his hands held an empty coffee mug. It seemed that the two of you would make it the entire lunch without bringing dirty laundry up, but now that Bella was fully asleep in your lap, there was nothing holding you back. It was time to have the conversation you so deeply wanted to avoid.

“Harry -”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

Just as you did some nights ago, he spit out the one thing that was plaguing his mind, unable to hold back the information he was dying to tell you. But if he was going to replay the night that started all of this, you would do the same. So, just as had made no shocked movements at your accusation, you didn’t act shocked at his admittance. Because you weren’t.

“Jeff has videos of me spending the night with him and Glenne. Alone.”

In fact, you knew he was going to tell you exactly that. But hearing it come from his mouth gave you some sense of relief. Because as much as you appreciated hearing it earlier, nothing could compare to hearing it from Harry directly.

“I know.”

“Y/N I swear I can show yo- you know?”

You had to admit, seeing the look of shock cross his face was something you didn’t know you needed. His eyebrows furrowed which caused his eyes to squint, and he simply stared at you, waiting for an answer. But you didn’t immediately do so, instead, you rubbed your hand over Bella’s back in attempt to keep her asleep despite your wild heartbeat.

“Jeff sent them to me a few days ago.”

“A few - a few days ago?” This was one of the reasons you had thought about having this meeting in private; the tone of his voice started to go up at your confession, which you knew would happen. He was someone who couldn’t contain himself when his emotions got the best of him. “And you didn’t think to tell me? You just let me think everything was crumbling while you knew the truth?”

You didn’t have to tell him what you were thinking, because the second he said those words, you knew he knew. That was almost exactly what you had accused him of days ago. Asked him how he could let you think your relationship was one way, when in reality, it was something completely different.

“I didn’t not tell you to spite you, Harry. I didn’t do it to make you feel the same way I did, because we aren’t sixteen and this isn’t just some fling I don’t care about ending.” you worked so hard the entire day to not show the emotions you had bubbling around inside of you. But just as every other time you’d been around Harry, there was no hiding them. He brought out the vulnerable side of you, and the tears couldn’t be kept at bay. “I love you so much, Harry. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about someone the way I do about you. And these last few days… I’ve missed you more than I ever thought possible.”

“So why are we doing this, Y/N? Why are you going back to Steph’s and why are we not fixing this?” his thick voice was pleading, reaching across the table to grab ahold of your free hand. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“But you thought that you did, Harry. You thought that you had slept with someone else, and lied to me about it.”

“I didn’t lie! I told you that I didn’t know if I did, and that was the truth!”

“I know, but you lied to me every day after that night. You walked around every day thinking that you did something so horrible and vile that I would leave you if I ever found out, so you kept it from me. That’s what hurts, Harry. Not the girl or what you thought you did. The fact that you would rather lie to me than work together and find a solution.”

His mouth hung open and you realized that he had nothing left to say, because he knew you were right. Every minute of your relationship had been built on trust and knowing that you each had the other’s best interests at heart, so what did you have when those values seemed to dissolve?

“Don’t leave me.”

Three simple words made your entire facade crumble. In all five years you’d known the man in front of you, never had you heard him sound so small and scared. And it hurt to know that it was directed at you, but just as you did five days ago, you needed to do what was best for you.

“I’m not. Harry I don’t think I could ever. But I just need some time. A few more days, a month, I don’t know. I just need to get out of the mindset this whole situation put me in, and when I do, we can do this again. But that time, we can leave together.”

It wasn’t ideal and it wasn’t ever how you thought your relationship would go, but it was reality. Sometimes the things you hold dearest in life are tested and the only way to see the light at the end of the tunnel is to go through it. But you had faith in Harry. You had faith that no matter what happened while you apart, that you would find your way back to each other. Because there was no way, after five years together and five as friends, that you would lose each other. He was the one part of fame that you’re glad no one warned you about. The ride the two of you had taken wasn’t something you wanted to be one step ahead of, as living in the moment with him was the happiest you had ever, and will ever be. He was the brightness your life needed.

But that bright, happy, yellow room would forever be tainted with the day you walked away from Harry.

[quarantined-with-bucky]

If The World Was Ending

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 5,000

Summary: Your world was ending.

Warnings: Angst, but not as angsty as usual, I promise!

A/N: “If the World Was Ending” by JP Saxe & Julia Michaels :)

...

I was distracted And in traffic I didn't feel it When the earthquake happened But it really got me thinkin' Were you out drinkin'? Were you in the living room Chillin' watchin' television?

It was five-thirty on a Friday. The rush hour traffic backed up all the streets of New York; the brewing storm not helping the situation in the slightest bit. He’d regretted his choice to go for a calming drive three hours ago; it left him surrounded with rumbling cars and angry taxis. What had started out as a relaxing drive outside the city, had now become the root cause of his newly sprouted headache.  

The rumbling in his head became rumbling in his stomach as he noticed the man at the newspaper stand calling out to people on the streets. On the front page, there you were, headline calling out: “Newest Avenger Saves the City,” complete with a blurry photograph, face smudged with soot and debris from the fire, hair whipping around your face in the twirling winds – but it was you none-the-less.

His heart dropped six feet below him and that’s when his world began to shake: all it took was the sight of you. Not even in person; it was a photograph. He hadn’t seen you in person in days. He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks (more like you hadn’t spoken to him) – only hearing others talk about you; yelling your name to sell newspapers. He shook his head, imagining the thoughts spilling from his ears as he desperately tried to get his mind off of you. He hadn’t noticed the green light before him until the drivers behind him began to lay on their horns.

Raindrops spattered on his front windshield at an increasingly fast pace; they didn’t show any signs of slowing down, either, as the sky turned dark grey, casting shadows across every street. He thought about where you might be in that moment. A clap of thunder and lightning ripped through the sky. Were you out at the bar, celebrating your most recent victory? He could see it: Natasha dragging you out for an early happy hour, buying you shots to congratulate you on your conquest from the day before. You were probably wearing that skin-tight black dress, enjoying the attention from your friends (and the guys at the bar chasing their post-work buzz).

But as more rolling thunder shrouded his ears, he couldn’t help but feel that scenario was completely wrong for the current circumstances. You’d hated thunderstorms (and you hated the fact that he was able to tell that about you). There were plenty of people who enjoyed them: the sound of rain tapping against the window – white noise. He thought it was endearing that you got scared, like a child curled up in her blanket, tucked away in the safety of his arms. It wasn’t technically ironic, but when he found out that someone with the power to cultivate flames in her bare hands is afraid of thunderstorms, he couldn’t help but laugh and coo.

Then he found out why you hated them.

And that shut him right up.

Now he imagined you sitting on the couch in the living room, wrapped up securely in your numerous blankets, watching the television in front of you. He knew you’d be boiling underneath that much insulation, but, hey, you were always a fan of the heat (also unironically). And it was with this thought, that Bucky pulled the car into the complex, parking it in the seemly-never-ending row of Tony’s cars.

The whole ride up the elevator, he’d pictured you in your blanket cocoon, calm and quiet night interrupted by the loud storm outside. He figured you’d bury your face into the couch cushion, waiting for someone to sit with you – someone to reassure you: everything would be okay.

And when the elevator doors opened and he nearly jogged into the living room, that’s exactly the sight he was met with. You looked tired; tired from yesterday, tired from not sleeping, tired from the incessant fear the thunderstorm would bring you, tired of not having peace. You whipped your head around towards the doorway, taking notice of Bucky’s still figure. As he took one step closer, you stood up, securing all of your blankets over your shoulders.

You strutted out of the room to your bedroom without a word and without looking back at Bucky behind you.

I tried to imagine Your reaction It didn't scare me when the earthquake happened But it really got me thinkin' That night we went drinkin' Stumbled in the house And didn't make it past the kitchen

You shut the door quietly and locked it behind you. Letting out a deep sigh, you pulled up the edges of your blankets and fell onto the bed, snuggling your way into a swathe of warmth. You shut your eyes, trying to think of anything except the rolling thunder outside your window and the man downstairs.

You could only get one off your mind.

It was probably the loudness of the storm that brought it out in you; brought out your innate need to seek others out for comfort. There was so little warmth in your life: any sort of comfort you had ever received had to be made by you either in the form of fire or blanket-cocoons. It was fine for a while, until you’d met Bucky Barnes. Being with him is better than anything you’d felt before; more reassuring and comforting than anything you’d ever experienced. Between his supersoldier body heat, his strong arms holding you so tight you thought he might squish you – you’d loved it – and the feeling of his breath against the back of your neck, there was no better feeling in the world.

Him holding you was one thing. But him touching you was a whole other animal. Your hands burned each other; they left imprints on each other’s chests, hips, thighs, necks. Both of you were too hot – the two of you tangled up in bedsheets made you catch a fever every damn time. But that’s how you liked it: gasping for breaths, bodies slick with sweat, a painful groan as he pressed his burning palm to the small of your back, pushing your arch deeper.

But that’s all it was at this point: a fever dream.

It was the most vivid memory you had, yet also the haziest. The two of you spent the night at the bar, drinking your weight in any kind of alcohol you could get your hands on. The whole three hours spent at the bar, your hands were all over each other, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You’d ditched the rest of the avengers after you’d put your hand on Bucky’s upper thigh under the table, sliding it up slowly until he pushed his way out of the booth (dragging you with him). It started off as a joke, you’d thought it would be funny to see his drunken reaction as he tried the obvious discomfort of your teasing from everyone else at the table. It wasn’t funny anymore when he pushed you up against the cold brick of the building outside the bar, holding one hand to your hips and the other to your neck, cutting off your laughter and tilting your head up to meet his lips already en route to yours.

Your hands found their way around his neck, eventually grasping at the tips of his long hair, drawing them near you to bring his body closer to yours. He moaned into your mouth, breaking apart the sloppy kiss to smother a line of licks and love bites and kisses to your jaw and neck. But as soon as you shut your eyes and dropped your head against the wall behind you, he grabbed your hips and pulled you upright, snaking his arm around your hip and escorting you toward the tower.

As soon as Bucky swung open the door, his hands were all over you. He grabbed your head, cupping your jaw in his huge hands, pulling you into a kiss, forcing you to walk backwards into waiting the elevator. The doors closed and he once again shoved you against the wall, fingers finding the bottom hem of your skin-tight black dress. He’d been dying to get it off of you all night. He only broke the kiss to pull the dress over your head, discarding it in the corner. You’d been fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, your buzz from the alcohol combined with your complete intoxication from Bucky’s lips not making it any easier.

The elevator door dinged open and he grabbed the back of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders (shirt still half buttoned), then throwing it alongside your dress. Before you even had the time to look him over, he scooped you up in his arms, swiftly taking you out of the elevator and through the corridor towards the bedroom.

Your lips connected with his neck, working your way up to the spot where his jaw meets his ear: the spot that drives him absolutely mad. You licked the shell of his ear and sucked on that spot on his jaw and you felt his knees buckle. He groaned, setting you down on the counter – not before an obligatory slap to your ass that made you yelp against his neck. He chuckled, grabbing your face and giving you another proper kiss as his hips ground against yours.

As soon as your hands began working on his belt buckle, it was safe to say neither of you made it past the kitchen that night.

Think I've figured out how How to let you go and let communication die out I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

It was day nineteen of the mission he was on and Bucky was close to calling it quits. He’d told Steve countless times that their presence wasn’t making a difference, that they should just pack up and head home. Steve would not relent, thus the mission continued on. They’d spent the past two weeks laying low, trying to complete a stealth mission to obtain information and take out the target. The duo laid out every day for fifteen hours, holding their elevating position in the forest.

Every night, Bucky would get comfortable in the makeshift tent he’d set up and stare at his phone for hours. At the innocent texts you’d send telling him about your day, the not-so innocent texts you’d send confessing him everything you wanted to do to him when he gets home; the innocent pictures you’d send of the cute puppy Wanda brought him, the not-so-innocent pictures of yourself in that red lingerie he loved so much.

You brought him enough peace to be able to get a few hours of shut eye in before Steve’s early wake-up call. Then, he’d spend the whole morning talking about you and what you’d sent him, only stopping when Steve told him to shut up. But he couldn’t help but laugh just simply thinking about you, everything you were doing, what you were wearing. At that exact moment in time, Bucky was sitting behind his sniper rifle, starting straight ahead waiting for the target. After analyzing his routes for just shy of three weeks, they knew exactly where he’d be and when – and today was the day. Today in one hour and fourteen minutes.

“And after that she – ”

“Buck,” Steve huffed, interrupting the other man. “Okay, I get it. I don’t need every single detail of your lives.”

Bucky’s head whipped to the left at the blond. Steve remained still, staring at through the binoculars pointed forward. “What?”

“You heard me,” he mumbled back, still not moving an inch, suddenly losing the nerve he mustered up to speak just seconds ago.

“Damn.” Bucky dropped his head and exaggeratedly shook it, picking his head back up with a sick grin. He let out a snarky laugh, cracking his neck before speaking up again: “Here I was, thinking we were friends and we could talk, just like we used to y’know?” His tone raising as he teased Steve. “But.” He shrugged, looking back through the scope of his rifle. “Things change I guess.”

“Jesus, Buck, what’s wrong with you?” Steve snapped, dropping the binoculars.

And, to be clear, Bucky hadn’t known what had gotten into him. It could have been the lack of sleep: getting only four hours of shut eye each night for three weeks, the fact that he’d eaten nothing but canned beans, crackers, and various dehydrated meats, or the fact he’d been missing his bed – and you – and you in his bed – enormously. But he couldn’t drop the façade now, it was just starting to piss Steve off. Plus, Bucky had to address some points with him, anyway: “There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you? You’re the one who’s always asking about what I’m thinking and how it’s going with her and – ”

“Yeah, I did want to know how it was going with her but now it’s too much. Like your sex lives — TMI, Bucky. And, look, don’t get me wrong, she’s a great girl and a strong team member and all, but it’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth. Besides that, you share ­way too much.”

“Aww, Stevie,” Bucky cooed. “Are you jealous?”

Steve’s eyes flitted to the brunet’s if only for a second, before returning to their original position. “Don’t be stupid, Bucky. I’m trying to look out for you. You haven’t been able to get your head out of your ass for the past two months. You’ve been slipping up. It’s about time to get your mind straight.”

“Mind straight? Mind straight?” Bucky kept repeating to Steve (and himself). Was that’s what was wrong with him? His mind was preoccupied most of the time with you, sure. Who’s wouldn’t be? You were gorgeous, intelligent, kind, intimidating (to normal men). Bucky’s eyes dropped to the ground, shaking the thoughts out of his head again. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Steve. You brought me to the middle of Austria for this fucking mission – that, by the way, is taking weeks longer than expected – for what? If you don’t trust me so much, then why are you making me suffer? God, you should’ve just spared me the misery and – ”

“Take the shot.”

“Left me at home. You know so I can be with (Y/N), who apparently you don’t even like as much as you let on, and – ”

“Take. The. Shot.” Bucky looked up at the man: Steve’s eyes did not move from the binoculars, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, his jaw clenched tight.

Bucky’s hands nearly slipped on the rifle, repositioning himself so he could finish the job. And then, as Bucky pulled the trigger, he was fucked.

Absolutely, in no other sense of the word, fucked.

The bullet grazed the arm of the target, nailing the guy behind him square in the chest.

“Time to go,” Steve yelled, jumping up and sprinting towards the rendezvous. “Emergency extraction! We have hostiles hot on our trail!” He shouted into the radio.

Bucky grabbed the rifle and shot up, catching up to Steve.

They ran in the forest for hours, trying to hide from the small army that right behind them, searching endlessly for the two. But once they reached the safety of the jet, Clint swooping in at the perfect time to pick them up, the fight wasn’t over. While Steve was giving Bucky the silent treatment, updating Clint on the situation at hand in the cockpit, Bucky was fighting a mental battle with himself.

So, Steve was right. Bucky was totally screwed. Not only did the target get away, he killed someone else in his place, just another one to add to the list, he thought to himself, dropping his head in his hands. This had never happened before – whether his mind was being controlled by someone else or not. He’d lost his composure, he lost sight of the mission. He’d turned on his best friend of over one hundred years, over a girl. Bucky was no stranger to constructive criticism, but when it came to you, he lost it. As soon as Steve mentioned you clouding his vision, he lost it.

And after a three-hour long flight home, he knew what he had to do.

Bucky strutted off the jet, slinging the heavy weapon over his shoulder, eyes fixated on the hangar exit about fifty yards ahead of him. He looked nowhere else, not at anyone else. Not at the group of Avengers welcoming them home. Not back at Steve as he called after him. Not at you as you jogged alongside him to keep in stride with him.

He heard you, calling his name: “Bucky, Bucky, James, James.”

He kept his mind clear and jaw set. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t think anything. He was focused: this was his new mission.

Steve obviously told you what happened, later, about Bucky’s mind being totally fucked and filled with thoughts of only you. Bucky was sure that he had phrased it differently – to make it sound like it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t – it was Bucky’s fault for being so infatuated with you that you consumed his every thought. He had to end it, before anyone else had to die.

He didn’t talk to you that night.

He didn’t talk to you the day after.

He didn’t talk to you.

Think I've figured out how How to think about you without it rippin' my heart out I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

It was years after you’d met Bucky before the two of you started dating. It was months after that before you were seriously dating. It was another year after before you told him what happened to you.

That night, it was storming, as it usually did in July. It made the room feel humid, like you could feel the rain and sticky air outside on your skin. You rolled around all night, taking hours for you to finally fall asleep beside Bucky. Nights like these, when you didn’t want to be held – it was too damn hot ­­– you didn’t want to be spoken to, you didn’t want to be touched, he just let you be. He watched helplessly from the sidelines as you tossed and turned, fumbling around with the sheets before foregoing them altogether.

But you’d finally fell asleep, four hours after you’d originally settled down for bed. You were plagued with nightmares of your past. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Bucky woke you up that night, taking a hold of your shoulders, shaking them violently until you woke up. And when you did, you gasped for air, hands instinctively grabbing his wrists, palms burning his skin. He snatched his flesh hand away, watching as sparks flitted from your fingertips. However, Bucky kept his metal hand against your burning skin, twisting your hand around, holding it gently in his. He rubbed his cool metal thumb against your knuckles, shifting so that he was sitting up next to you.

“Come here,” he mumbled, pulling you into his lap, arms curling up so you could tuck them under your chin, head resting on Bucky’s lap. He combed his fingers through your hair, gently tugging any knots out. “Tell me about it this time?” He asked softly.

You gazed into his blue eyes, barely lit up by the lightning shining through your window. You blinked away the remaining tears for your own eyes, rubbing your cheeks with the back of your hand to rid them of tear-trails. “I discovered my powers when I was little, like, maybe five or six.” You barely spoke at all, voice coming out softer than a whisper, cracking, broken. “And my parents didn’t really know what to do.” Clearing your throat, you had to give them the benefit of the doubt, to clarify: “I mean – they were both normal. They didn’t know what else to do. But then I started setting things on fire. It took them a while to figure out it was me, actually.” Bucky nodded along to your story, listening quietly, never interrupting, his hand never falling from your hair. “By the time they figured out it was me, they didn’t know what to do. They wanted to help me.” The last sentence came out quieter than the rest, voice barely audible at all. “When it rained a lot, they mad me sit outside in the yard.”

The memory flashed across your mind, the first time they sent you outside. There was thundering and lightning, and you couldn’t hear your own childish screams over the loud rain and claps of thunder, you couldn’t tell your tears apart from the rain that splashed on your cheeks. They put you out in the rain with the hopes it would put out all your fires, break your constant fever, wash away your powers. “It burned. The cold water on my burning skin felt like an acid rain. It felt like hot oil was spilling all over my arms and legs.” You shuddered at the thought of it, the skin on your extremities now suddenly itchy and scorching hot.

…

But that was all gone now. He wasn’t there to hold you, calm you down. You didn’t know what it was, actually. First, he disappeared. You didn’t even see him for days; you couldn’t find him at the gym or in the kitchen. One day you saw him in the hallway, walking with Steve, speaking in very hushed tones. As soon as you swung the corner and made eye contact with him, he was gone. He completely dropped the conversation he was having, turned on his heel, and strutted towards his bedroom.

Steve looked at you with sorrow-filled eyes. All you could do was offer him a small, fake smile and shrug; he saw right through it. But you were out of questions to ask, tears to cry. There was nothing left to do.

He wasn’t in your life anymore.

Now the only thing you could do was stop wondering what happened, why it happened. You chose to remember the good times with Bucky. The times he held you in his strong arms, shielding you from your past memories and your nightmares.

He may be out of your life, but the memories of the times you shared would live on with you forever. Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant The sky'd be falling while I'd hold you tight No, there wouldn't be a reason why We would even have to say goodbye

The sky was falling, technically.

Chunks of building tumbled down the walls around you. Smoke clouded the air and debris filled your lungs. There was shouting all around you – you think – you couldn’t make out any real sounds through the sounds of the bombs exploding all around you. You were trapped in a maze; it had to be a maze, you thought. You felt like you’d walked around the same hall for hours. You were sure it had been hours at that point.

The buildings started to shatter around you, bright light blinding your vision. The clouds of smoke appeared more frequently, meaning the attack was only getting closer. Were they landmines? Or were they coming from the sky? You didn’t have time to think about it. The wall next to you burst beside you, knocking you off your feet.

Before you made contact with the ground, an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up, dragging you to a nearby room. You were tossed into a cold porcelain bathtub, the sides of the tub caked with dry dirt and chunks of plaster. Once you were dropped into the tub, a heavy weight fell on top of you – a body.

Bucky’s body, to be exact.

You clung to his leather clad, torso, hands shaking, gripping the buckles and straps. His hands and head shielded yours, the rest of his body resting on top of yours to break the fall of any dropping debris and pieces of ceiling.

You were so close. You were breathing the same air, the same dirty air, struggling to breath, gasping for breath. You’d lost track of how many days you’d spent apart, how many days it’s been since he’s stopped talking to you.

And then it was over. Just like that. “We should stay until the bombing ends.”

His voice was raspy, almost as if he hadn’t used it at all since he stopped speaking to you. Your heart raced at his words, at the sound of his voice. You could feel his heart racing, too. But you couldn’t find the words to say and, at that point, you weren’t even sure there were any words to say, anyway.

You shut your eyes tight, waiting for it to end. This time, you definitely lost track of time. It was just you, him, and the sky falling.

…

The room had grown cold around the two of you; but you sat holding each other.

You keeping him warm, him keeping you warm.

You’d nearly fallen asleep in his arms, the feeling of him next to you – on top of you – holding you so close – protecting you – bringing you a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in so long. He moved his hands from where they were resting on your head, placing them on either side of the tub, lifting himself off you. He kicked away the chunks of wall and ceiling, clearing the rest of the tub out before offering you a hand to help you out.

When your hand touched his, he wasn’t sure if he felt a spark, or if your hand was genuinely sparking. He didn’t care, he had missed the feeling of both.

You’d followed him out of the tub, walking beside him as you both made your way out of the building, no other words being spoken between you than those earlier. Meeting up with the rest of the team followed suit, as did the plane ride home.

The jet doors opened, you shot to your feet and headed towards your room. You had a goal in mind: make it to your room. Heavy footsteps with a purpose: that’s all your ears could hear. You listened to the pattern of your heavy boots slamming against the floor, echoing throughout the hangar.

“(Y/N)!”

Your stride stuttered.

But you pressed on. Clenching your fists at your side, you huffed out a breath and carried on.

What would you gain from talking to him?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Its what you kept telling yourself. You didn’t want to not talk to him. God, you’d give anything to be able to go back to normal with him. For what? So he could do it all over again?

…

He tried to run up after you. He could easily catch up to you, but his legs stopped moving after the third time he’d called your name. He stood in the hangar, watching as everyone started heading your direction, each of them heading to their own destination.

Bucky didn’t have anywhere to go. Or anything to say.

I know, you know, we know You weren't down for forever and it's fine I know, you know, we know We weren't meant for each other and it's fine

But if the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over and you'd stay the night Would you love me for the hell of it? All our fears would be irrelevant The rain was hitting the window hard. You laid on your bed on your stomach, holding your head propped up on your palms as you gazed out the window across from you. You watched the raindrops race each other down the glass, trails interrupted with more raindrops falling ahead of them. Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating your bedroom in a grey hue, hurting your eyes as you stared directly at it.

You pulled the blankets over your head, groaning over the loud clap of thunder that followed the light, trying to drown it out. Flipping yourself over on your back, you shoved all the blankets off of you. There was no way you were going to sleep tonight.

Your phone said the rain wouldn’t end until ten in the morning. Rolling off the bed, you paced back and forth in front of your bookshelf, perhaps reading could take your mind off it? But you weren’t in the mood to read. You’d decided on something that did not require as much mental effort. Settling on TV, you hopped back on your bed, wincing as the bright screen lit up the room, squinting until your eyes adjusted. You flipped through the channels and found nothing but infomercials – it was barely one in the morning. Tony paid for one thousand channels and there was nothing appealing. Shutting it off, you fell back onto the bed.

There was only one place to go.

If the world was ending You'd come over, right? You'd come over, you'd come over, you'd come over, right? If the world was ending You'd come over, right?

Those were the words you kept repeating to yourself.

You stop in front of Bucky’s doorway, blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders.

Your knuckles rap lightly against the door.

It swings open, revealing a frightened Bucky, who releases a held breath as relief washes over his face. He breaths your name in a shaky exhale, almost fighting the small smile that is pulling at his lips. And it’s you who gets lost in his cloudy blue eyes, it’s you who can feel the heat radiating off his naked torso, it’s you who holds back tears.

“My world was ending.”

[onceuponastory]

Coming Back Home Chapter One: Hometown (Nick x Y/N)

Plot: Six years ago, Y/N left her hometown and all its bad memories behind, and never looked back. But now, she’s come back to be the maid of honour in her sister’s wedding. Returning ‘home’ means she has to confront her past, the last thing she wants to do. When she meets the handsome best man Nick, she feels more comfortable...until her sister asks her to show Nick around town...a town that Y/N fell out of love with a long time ago.

Can Y/N fall back in love with the town she left behind, and maybe find love of her own along the way? Important: This story is based on a prompt by @orphicodysseywrites​. It’s a mix of prompts one and two from this post, so full credit for this idea goes to them! Warnings: None A/N: My first fic based on one of Dacre’s characters! I hope you all enjoy it. I’ve checked it for spelling issues and stuff like that. However, I’ve been working really hard on this, and working in real life, so I may have missed some issues. In that case, if you see any issues, no you didn’t, lmao. Also, although this fic has Nick in it, it has no spoilers for The Broken Hearts Gallery! To be honest, Nick is in this just because the plot fits him the best! let’s be honest, this prompt does not fit Billy lmaooo

Special thanks goes to my best friend Jo, aka @thesundrop​, who made this banner, and helped so much with planning this fic. Some of you may know her as @staticscreenwriting​, where she writes Billy fics. Check them out, they’re amazing!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Nick or his character! Like I said, I just used Nick bc he’s the only character of Dacre’s that fits this prompt. Again, aside from Nick being in this, this fic has NOTHING to do with The Broken Hearts Gallery. But you should all go see the movie because it’s adorable!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent towards the airport. Please place all tray tables and seats in the upright position, stow away any laptops or other electrical equipment, and remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened.” The flight attendant chirpily announces over the intercom, and I let out the sigh I didn’t even know I was holding. In a short while, I’d be on my way back to Saint Chase, the place I thought I’d never set foot in again. I had left that place behind years ago and moved to New York City, hoping that the bad memories from that town didn’t follow me there. And for the most part, they didn’t. However, since my younger sister was getting married there in three weeks, and I was the maid of honour, I obviously couldn’t turn it down. I love my sister, of course I do, and of course I wanted to see her again and take part in such a special moment of her life...I just wish she’d picked somewhere else to get married. Sooner than I’d have liked, the plane lands, and after collecting my luggage, I walk into arrivals. I don’t even have to look around the room before I hear:

“Y/N!!! Hi!” My younger sister Katie calls across to me. She bounds up to me and wraps her arms around me before I can even react. I immediately smell her fruity perfume. It smells familiar. It smells like home. “How was your flight? I hope it was good. I thought we were going to be late getting here, but thankfully traffic wasn’t too bad.” She continues chattering away, and I smile. Katie was a ball of energy in a 5′4 tall body, and that’s partly why I love her so much.

“Katie. Breathe.” I giggle, and she stops.

“Sorry! I know I get carried away sometimes. Anyway, you remember Adam, right? He-”

“Yes, Katie, I remember your fiancé. The same fiancé that you’re getting married to in three weeks.” I tease, and she flashes pink. “Hi, Adam.” I hold out my hand for a handshake, but he pulls me into a hug too.

“Come on Y/N.” He tells me, giving me a warm smile. “We’re almost family, you can give me a hug.” Weirdly, hugging Adam felt like home too. As they both lead me out of the airport towards their car, holding hands and chatting the entire way, I can’t help but smile. They really were perfect for each other. They were the typical high school sweethearts, who had been together since they met seven years ago. And now here they were, about to get married. I used to think true love, that sappy kind in movies where the guy is so squeaky clean that there’s nothing wrong with him, and who’d drop everything for the girl he loves didn’t exist (and the boyfriends I’d had over the years definitely helped me believe that). But when I saw how happy Katie was with Adam, how she gushed about him constantly, and just how happiness beamed out of her every time she was near him or talking about him, I began to realise that maybe that kind of love did exist after all. If only I could find it.

~~~

“We’re almost here, girls.” Adam announces, and I feel my stomach turning into knots. Is it too late to leap out of the car and make a run for it? But then I see Katie’s face in the rearview mirror, and I know I can’t do that to her. So I grimace and say how wonderful being so close is instead.

“So, are the three of us staying in the hotel then?” I ask, taking a gulp of my tea. I was going to book a room there myself, but Katie and Adam had told me they’d take care of accommodation, and despite my initial misgivings, I decided to trust my sister.

“Well, we actually have a surprise...” Katie begins. “We’ve done up Nana’s house, and that’s where we’ll be staying! Isn’t it great? It’s going to be such a great bonding experience!” I almost choke on my tea. Maybe I should’ve listened to my gut and just booked into the hotel after all.

“Wh-What?” I ask, spluttering a little.

“Yeah, Adam and I thought about it, and we thought it would be better. I mean, it’s cheaper for a start, and it’s so nostalgic! Getting married in the town Adam and I grew up in and staying in the house you and I grew up in!” She squeals excitedly.

“Katie, no...I didn’t even-”

“Ooh, we’re here!” Katie cuts me off and looks out her window. “Look! There’s the diner! And the library! Remember when Nana used to read to us there every day after school? Aw, it was so cute.” She grins, and I sit back in my seat, trying to avoid glancing out of the window. “And there’s the bakery! They’re making the cake for our wedding, so I know it’ll be sublime. Y/N, remember those chocolate cupcakes they have? So good right? Oooh, we should get some later for dessert babe!” She tells Adam, who nods. I should’ve known that we’d be staying in Nana’s old house. But typical me seemed to block that part out with every other thing I wanted to forget about this town. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the buildings of the town begin to fade away and become replaced by pine trees. Nana’s house was on the outskirts of town, before the forest, so I knew that we were close.

After a few more minutes, the car turns, and I hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels. Nana’s house had a gravel drive, so it was obvious that we had arrived. The car stops, and we all get out. Nana’s house looked almost the same as it did when I left four years ago. The roses around the door were still there, as well as all the lavender bushes in her front garden. All that looked different was the colour of the front door. Katie did a good job. The house still looked like something out of a fairytale storybook, somewhere where seven dwarves or three bears could live comfortably for many years...or maybe where a grandmother raised her two granddaughters. But how familiar the house looked did little to quell my unwillingness to stay there.

“Good to be back, right?” Adam asks, giving me a smile. Trying to avoid showing my unhappiness, I nod and force a small smile. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t seem to notice. He walks up to Katie, picks her up, and carries her over the threshold of the house.

“No! Adam! You’re meant to do this AFTER we get married!” Katie giggles and squeals, squirming about in Adam’s arms. “Y/N, help!” she calls, disappearing into the house.

“Sorry, Katie, you’re on your own!” I call back. And then, I’m alone, staring up at the house where I spent most of my life...and where I swore I’d never go again. A cold chill spreads across my body, and I can’t tell if it’s the wind or my nerves.

It’s going to be a long three weeks.

~~~

A Few Hours Later 

I was settled into my old bedroom from when I was younger, and was laying on my bed, scrolling through my phone. Suddenly: “Knock knoooock!” A sing-song voice sounds from the other side of my bedroom door.

“Come in, Katie.”

“Aw, how’d you know it was me?” Chuckling, I open the door. Katie stands there, pouting.

“Well for a start, that’s what you did when we were kids, and you wanted to show me something...and you did it when we were teenagers too. I’m your big sister Katie. I know you.”

“You’re only two years older than me!”

“That still makes me smarter than you.” I tease, winking. Sighing, Katie laughs.

“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Nope! Anyway, what’s up?”

“Nick’s almost here. We’re all going to pick him up from the train station and get dinner, so you two can get to know each other before the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Ah, it’s going to be great!” She squeals excitedly. Meanwhile, I’m just confused.

“...Nick?”

“Y/N.” Katie is suddenly more serious, which is totally unlike her. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten who Nick is!” My blank stare makes her sigh. “You know, Nick!” She stresses his name like I should know it, and like I’ve committed a felony by forgetting it. But nothing springs to mind, so I stay silent. Katie huffs. “Nick is Adam’s best man. They met in college. They were roommates. He’s coming down early to help set up, and so you two can get to know each other. Sounds like you two getting to know each other is desperately needed.”

“Oh...right.” I respond, and she rolls her eyes. It was quite strange, seeing my ordinarily happy and energetic sister be so serious.

“Anyway, he’s going to be here soon, so you better get ready. And remember, you two are important parts of this wedding, AND you two are dancing together too, so please be nice to him.”

“Well, there go my plans to punch him in the face as soon as I meet him.” I joke.

“Y/N!” Katie whines. “That’s not funny! It’s my wedding at stake!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” I give her a hug. “I love you. I know how important this is to you. I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.”

“Thanks sis.” Katie replies. “Anyway, come on, we’re leaving in ten minutes.” She orders, walking towards the door.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you! Nick’s going to be staying here too, so you’ll be seeing each other a lot more!” She announces happily.

“...He’s WHAT?!”

~~~

The sounds of the radio fill the car as the three of us sit in silence. I think the song they’re playing is by ABBA....or maybe Fleetwood Mac. Actually, I wasn’t really paying attention to whatever song was playing. Shocking, I know. Instead, I was sitting tapping my leg, waiting to see if I could notice Nick. Nick. The man  I thought I would just be dancing with at my sister’s wedding, and making pleasant conversation with, not sharing a space with for the next three weeks. I love my sister, I honestly do...but god, I wish she’d tell me things in advance sometimes.

But that’s who Katie is. She’s spontaneous, I’m not. She’s an extrovert, and I’m the introvert. She’s wild and fun...and I’m boring. In some ways, we’re polar opposites of each other. But that also draws us closer together. Yes, aside from our genetics, we weren’t that alike...but we were still sisters, and the best of friends.

“There he is! I see him!” Katie pipes up excitedly, cutting off my thoughts. She and Adam immediately get out of the car and start waving him over, leaving me in the backseat. Immediately my cheeks flush. Oh god, he’s going to have to sit next to me, isn’t he? Shit. I glance out of the window and see Nick is close by. Sighing, I decide I better get out and greet him. If I was going to be spending three weeks living with him, I better make a good first impression.

“Hi Katie!” His voice greets her, and he pulls her into a hug. “I’ve not seen you in forever!”

“I saw you like two weeks ago!” She giggles. Nick then turns to Adam, and greets him. I stand back a little, watching them. The three of them look happy and natural together. Like a proper family. While I feel like the one who doesn’t belong. The puzzle piece that doesn’t fit into this happy family dynamic. Of course, I couldn’t tell Katie that, that would make her feel even more worried, and she didn’t deserve this stress. Not now. I take a deep breath. All I need to do is make it through these three weeks until the wedding. “Nick.” Katie begins, gesturing towards me. “This is my sister Y/N, the maid of honour!” Deep breaths Y/N. You can do this. It’s just a guy. After all, it’s not like he’s a Greek God or something. And then he turns around.

His blue eyes sparkle, and he grins. “So this is the girl I’m going to dance with, huh?” He holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Nick.”

Oh my god, he’s gorgeous. What I said about him not being a Greek God? I was wrong. He looks better than that. Oh god, I’m so fucked. Oh god, he’s staring at me, and I haven’t said anything to him. I quickly grab his hand and shake it. Hopefully he doesn’t notice my sweaty palms.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nick.” I flash a smile, hoping to every god there is that I don’t have lipstick or food on my teeth.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” I...wish I could say the same. Katie really needs to tell me things in advance...including whether or not her fiancé hangs out with Greek God lookalikes.

“All good, I hope!” I chuckle awkwardly. Nick smiles again.

“All great things.” The two of us stand there, just staring at each other. Katie’s voice calls over:

“Come on, you two, I’m starving! Stop eyeballing each other and get in the car!” My eyes go slightly wide, and I quickly get into the car, desperate not to make a fool of myself, even if it seemed Katie was trying to.

“Oh, sorry Nick. Just move my bag and jacket from your seat.” I tell him as he opens his door. “Actually, just pass them over here.” He passes them over, and as I reach out to take them, our hands brush against each other. Shivers run up my spine. This isn’t normal, right? No, it isn’t. You don’t usually feel shivers up your spine when you brush hands with people you just met. That usually means something deeper....right? Nick gets in beside me, and I’m immediately aware of the smell of his cologne. He smells great. Like...really great. God, this man really is the full package, huh? Adam sets off, and I settle back into my seat, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“So, what’s Saint Chase like?” I hear Nick ask, causing me to look back up at him. “I’ve never been here before, so I was just wondering, like, is there any fun things to do, or any good memories? I know you and Katie grew up here, so...” He seems genuinely interested, and I have no idea what to tell him. I mean, what could I say? I’m guessing Katie didn’t tell him how desperate I was to get the hell out of the town as soon as I could.

“Well....” I begin. “To be honest, Nick, I’m not the best person to ask.” I admit. “I haven’t been back here in a while. You’d be better off asking Katie if you need a tour guide...sorry.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Nick looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything regardless. I sink back into my seat again. I mean, it wasn’t like I lied...I genuinely don’t remember much about the town...or I had just tried to block out the memories so much, it actually worked.

After another agonising car journey, the car parks outside of Saint Chase’s diner. Again, like Nana’s house, it looked like nothing had changed from what I remembered. It was almost like the town was part of its’ own little universe, where the buildings and the people in it never grew up, and neither would you if you stayed there. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but still.

Katie pushes open the door, and the woman behind the counter looks up as we walk in. Before any of us could say anything, the woman exclaims:

“OH! MY! GOD! Is that who I think it is?!” She quickly runs out from behind the counter, and up to Katie and I. “It is! It’s Rose’s granddaughters!” She pulls us both into a hug, giving us a tight squeeze. Pulling away, she looks us up and down. “Remember me? It’s Jane! God, I remember when your Grandma, god rest her soul, used to bring you in for breakfast every Saturday, ever since you were about this high Katie.” She points to her knee. Straightening back up, she looks us both over again. “Aw, you both look so much like your mother. Especially you, Y/N.” She smiles, causing a pang in my heart. She looks behind us, not noticing the sad expression on my face. “Ooooh! Are these the boyfriends?” She winks. “They’re gorgeous, good on you girls!”

“Well Jane, this is my fiancé Adam-” Katie begins, immediately getting squeals of delight, and congratulations in return. “And this is his best friend Nick, who’s the best man.”

“But we’re not dating.” I finish. Even if he was really gorgeous.

“Oh that’s right! I forgot you two are getting married here!” She sighs. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on, honestly.” She steps closer to me, and her voice drops to a whisper. “But if you’re serious about not taking him honey, let me know, and I gladly will. He’s beautiful.” She gestures toward Nick. “Anyway! Let me get you four the best seats in the house. Follow me!” She orders, and the four of us do so. Jane leads us to a booth near the back of the diner and passes over some menus. “I’ll be right back to get you some drinks.” She grins.

“Well...she seems friendly!” Nick states, making us all laugh.

~~~

Later

“So anyway, Nick is completely drenched by this point. I mean, obviously, he had fallen into a pool.”

“Pushed. I was pushed.” Nick corrects, making Katie and I laugh. Adam was telling us stories of him and Nick in college, and I was feeling a lot more comfortable. Nick was hilarious, and he seemed really sweet. Maybe sharing a house with him for three weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Anyway, that’s why I immediately pulled him into the pool with me, so he could know how it feels.” Nick finishes.

“Oh, you should’ve been there, babe. We both had white shirts on. Abs for days.” Adam tells Katie. God, of course Nick has abs. Wouldn’t expect anything else.

“Really? Maybe Y/N should’ve been there, she loves ab- ouch!” Katie begins, before I gently kick her in the shin. Adam and Nick look over, clearly concerned. “Sorry, just....bashed my leg on the table leg.” She lies, and I give her a pointed look, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“Okaaaay...anyway, we’ve told a story about our college mishaps, how about one from you two?” Nick asks. Katie furrows her eyebrows for a moment, clearly deep in thought...and then her eyes light up. Oh no. Why do I have a feeling this will end badly for me?

“Did I ever tell you two about the time Y/N almost went to a midterm in her underwear?” And there it is.

“Nonononono, we don’t need to hear this story!” I gasp, my cheeks flushing red.

“Oh I think we do.” She winks, while I hide my face in my hands. And there goes my last shred of dignity. And with it, any hopes of having Nick see me as anything other than a total mess.

~~~

That Night

I was sitting on my bed, reading. Since we had gotten home from the diner, I had retreated upstairs, changed into my pyjamas and stayed there. Mainly because I was trying to avoid Nick, and any other potential forms of embarrassment before the wedding. Maybe I could just stay in there until the wedding? Sighing, I put my book down and lean back into my pillows. Not that I was paying much attention to the book anyway. Why was I like this? I mean, yeah, of course I didn’t want to embarrass myself, especially in front of a guy, but why was I going to such lengths for Nick? Why was I so hell-bent on not embarrassing myself in front of him? There must be something about him...something...different. Of course, he’s the best man to my maid of honour in my sister’s wedding, which is obviously part of it, but it felt like there was something more there. Something I didn’t understand. A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Katie, I hope you’re here to- oh!” I gasp when I see who is on the other side of the door. Nick stands there, dressed in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants. His hair was wet from a shower, and looked slightly curly.

“Hi.” He says, his voice slightly husky, causing the shivers from before to return.

“H-Hi, Nick.” I stammer. “What can I do for you?” He doesn’t answer me, and instead passes over a steaming mug.

“We made some tea, and I thought I’d bring you a mug.” He explains.

“Thanks.” I take a sip of the tea, immediately feeling its warmth pass through me.

“Are you feeling alright?” Nick asks. “You came up right after we got back from dinner, and you’ve been up here for a while, so I was wondering if you were okay.”

“Oh...yeah I’m fine, just tired from my flight.” I lie. Nick smiles and nods.

“Yeah I get that, I think it’ll be an early night for me too.” The two of us stand there for a minute, neither of us saying anything to the other. “Nice pyjamas by the way.” Nick breaks the silence, and I glance down at my Minnie Mouse pyjamas, immediately wishing I’d brought different ones.

“Thanks.” And then, back to silence. But in a way, it was a comfortable silence, one where we didn’t have to say anything to each other, and instead, just enjoy the company of each other.

“Well, I think I’m going to head off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.” He smiles. “It was really nice to meet you today.”

“Yeah, it was.” I smile back. “Goodnight Nick.”

~~~

The Next Day

“Morning sleepy head.” Katie says through a mouthful of toast as I walk into the kitchen.

“It’s 9am. This is early for me.”

“I know, I know. Just teasing.” She laughs.

“Anyway, what do you need me to do today? What still needs doing?” I ask, reaching down to grab a slice of toast.

“Hey!” Katie swats my hand away. “And about that...” She trails off. “I’ll tell you in a sec.” I hear the noise of someone coming downstairs. I don’t even have to question who it is, as I hear:

“Morning ladies.” His voice sounds huskier than it did last night. God, what is it with him?

“Hey Nick.” We reply. “Actually Nick, I need to speak to you and Y/N.” Katie tells him as I grab a glass of water. “Adam and I were talking last night, and we had an idea for some...special wedding tasks for you two.” I raise an eyebrow, and Nick gives me a questioning look. I shake my head, symbolising I have no idea what she means. Katie clears her throat. “We thought that Y/N should show you around town, Nick!” I almost choke on my water.

“What?” I gasp.

“Yeah, I mean, it gives you two the chance to get closer, which is going to be useful for the wedding.” She explains. “And it’ll help you to get to know the town again Y/N!”

“I mean, yeah, sounds good.” Nick nods. No, it doesn’t sound good. That sounds like everything I don’t want to happen. Nick was great, but I did not want to fall back in love with this town and remember all the memories I tried so hard to forget. But then, I look into the eyes of my baby sister, and I know I can’t break her heart. Especially not before her wedding. Even if it hurts me, I sigh and nod.

“Nick’s right. It sounds good.” Katie’s face lights up.

“Thanks guys!” She pulls us both into a hug. Now I definitely can’t break her heart and say no. “You two can start today.” She grins. “But don’t keep her out too late Nick, I need her back here to help make the centrepieces later.” She winks. “Have fun.” She whispers, heading upstairs.

“So...when do you wanna start?” I ask Nick.

“Well, if you want, we could go for a walk later today?” He offers.

“Sure. Just let me get some food and get ready, then we can head out.” I tell him, and he agrees, before also heading upstairs. And then, I’m alone.

Like I said before, It’s going to be a long three weeks.

[doc-pickles]

i won’t hesitate (for you) ch. 11

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter's world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

This is it, my final chapter of Hesitate... I actually cried a bit finishing this off because I’ve been working on it since early June and we’re halfway through October now. I wanted to thank you guys SO MUCH for your continued support through comments, likes, reblogs, and just general support. I know that this has taken forever to finish but I’m grateful that y’all have stuck through it with me. 

Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this final chapter.

xoxo Nina 

Pull me close and I'll hold you tight

Don't be scared 'cause I'm on your side

Know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you

I will take your pain

And put it on my heart

I won't hesitate

Just tell me where to start

I thank the oceans for giving me you

You saved me once and I'll save you too

I won't hesitate for you

  A Few Months Later… 

  “You look so handsome, I’d jump you right now if I didn’t have a surgery with Meredith to get to,” Jo grinned up at Alex as she straightened his tie, his eyes rolling as he grabbed her hands in his. “I for one am very proud that you got this office back. It’s been nice not having to fight for on call rooms when I need a nap.”

“You’re just using me for my office, you don’t even care that I’m Chief again,” Alex chuckled as Jo wore an offended look on her face at his accusation. “You sure you should be going into surgery? You’ve been pretty out of it the past day.”

Jo’s eyebrows raised, eyes narrowing at Alex as she glared at him, “Are you insinuating that I’m too pregnant to operate, Chief ?”

“No I'm telling you, as your husband , that you should take it easy,” Alex wrapped his arms around Jo, eyeing her as she continued to scowl at him. “I know you worked until your due date with Harper, but you’re taking care of a toddler and dealing with me. Maybe it’s time to take a break before you stress yourself into labor.”

Jo shrugged off Alex’s arm on her shoulder, her own arms crossed over her belly as she walked away from him. She knew she was only a week and half until her due date, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from working. 

“I’m perfectly fine Alex, I don’t need you hovering over my shoulder at all hours of the day,” Jo called over her shoulder as she walked out of his office. “I’ll see you later, I have a surgery to get to.” 

Alex watched as Jo left his office, sighing as he fell into his desk chair. He’d been Chief for two months now and had never felt a stronger need to kick his wife’s stubborn ass. Even Amelia had agreed to go on an earlier maternity leave, in fact she’d been grateful that he’d offered it to her. But Jo didn’t want to admit that she might need some help and some rest before their second child came into the world. 

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” Alex mumbled to himself as he began to sort through the paperwork on his desk. 

-

45 minutes after his wife storms out of his office, Alex’s phone dings with a text from Meredith: 

Operating in OR 3. Jo looks like shit. 

Furrowing his eyebrows, Alex decided to check out what was happening for himself. After walking down towards the operating galleries, he quietly slipped into one above Meredith and Jo’s OR. He watched with piqued interest as Meredith worked on one side of the operating table and Jo stood almost catatonic on the other side. 

“Jo, will you please go sit down,” Meredith’s voice boomed through the OR and the gallery above, her eyes moving momentarily to the woman across from her. “I can see you wincing in pain from here.” 

“They’re Braxton Hicks, I’m fine,” Alex could hear Jo’s strained tone of voice even from so far away. “Can you please stop badgering me about this? I’m fine, I’m going to work until my due date just like I did last time.”

“Last time you went into labor five days after your due date and you pushed your body so far that I had to hook you up to an IV for three days after you had Harper,” Alex’s eyebrows raised at Meredith’s words, not knowing exactly what had happened after Harper had been born. “You need to take care of yourself and your baby Jo.”

Jo’s fingers moved from her side to the operating table, gripping it tightly as she took slow and deep breaths. Alex left the gallery, moving quickly to the OR with only Jo on his mind. When he reappeared in the scrub room, he watched his wife’s body curl in on itself as she tried to remain standing upright. 

“Jo, get out of there,” Jo’s head whipped around at the sound of Alex’s voice, one hand pressed firmly against her stomach as she looked at him. “Come on, I’m not gonna ask again. You can barely stand up straight.”

Without much protest, Jo walked out of the OR and into the scrub room, ripping her mask and gown off before beginning to scrub her hands. 

“I told you I’m fine Alex,” one of Jo’s hands slipped down to the edge of the metal sink, knuckles going white as she gripped tightly. “They’re just Braxton Hicks. You don’t need to pull me out of surgery for this.”

Alex looked from his watch back to Jo, resting his hand against her back as he fixed her with a serious stare, “That’s twice in the past six minutes that you’ve had to stop what you’re doing and clench your fists. I’m pretty sure you’re having contractions. Go home babe, please I’m begging you.”

Jo groaned, turning to Alex with an angry glint in her eye as she stared him down, “I’m not going home, I am fine and I’m going to keep working. So stop nagging me.”

Taking a deep breath, Alex watched as Jo dried her hands off and turned to leave the scrub room. He grimaced as he said his next words, knowing he would piss his wife off with them, “I’m sending you on maternity leave, effective immediately. As the Chief, not as your husband.”

Jo’s entire body stiffened, stopping a foot from the door and turning back towards Alex. The angry expression on her face grew tenfold and she looked up at Alex. 

“Are you kidding me? Alex you can’t do that! I’m perfectly fine,” Jo’s voice was bordering on a scream as she pointed at Alex. “You can be concerned as my husband all day long, but you can’t use your Chief powers just because you don’t agree with what I’m doing.”

“You couldn’t even pick up a scalpel to cut in there, I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up giving birth to our kid in the middle of operating,” Alex threw his hands up, eyes narrowing at Jo. “I was perfectly content letting you stress yourself out until you just passed out from exhaustion so that maybe you’d learn a lesson, but the second you start putting other people’s jobs and lives on the line it becomes my problem as the Chief. Go home Jo and don’t come back until you're about to give birth.” 

Eyes watering, Jo stormed out of the scrub room, slamming the door behind her. Running his hands down his face, Alex let a loud groan out. The last thing he’d wanted to do was upset Jo, but her stubborn nature made things extremely difficult to work around. He knew what he’d done was a low blow, but he also knew that she wouldn’t have stopped until something happened to her or their child. 

-

It was almost 7o’clock when Alex pulled into the driveway of his and Jo’s home. Harper was fast asleep in the backseat, soft snores coming from her as Alex debated how terrible it would be if he just turned around and left. He knew Jo was going to be furious with him and he didn’t want to deal with it, but he’d promised her he would come back. He was done running and ruining things between them because he couldn’t handle a simple conversation. 

Carefully grabbing Harper and the dinner he’d picked up, Alex made his way into the house as quietly as possible. He set dinner in the kitchen and got Harper into bed before he checked on Jo. Their house, which they’d only been in for four months, was quieter than he’d ever heard it. There were no excited giggles, no music playing, no showers running. The complete and utter silence was driving him insane as he slipped into the bedroom he shared with Jo. 

She was laying in bed, on his side he noted, curled in on herself and clutching a pillow tightly. While it pained him to see her upset, he was glad that she’d at least been able to sleep for once. Jo had spent the past two nights tossing and turning in bed, sleep evading her as the baby in her womb did somersaults. Alex toed off his shoes before settling himself behind Jo, his hands running across her back as she slowly woke up. 

“Mmm what time is it,” Jo slowly turned around to press her face against Alex’s chest as best as she could with her belly between them. “I feel like I slept for three days.”

“It’s almost 7 now, Harper is asleep and I have dinner downstairs from the Chinese place you like,” Alex’s voice was low and soft as he ran his hands down to Jo’s belly, feeling the swift movements of the baby inside waking up with their mom. Jo let out a contented groan as her fingers came up to the curls at the nape of Alex’s neck, her body instinctively moving closer towards him. “I’m sorry about what happened today, you know I’d never use my power as Chief if I didn’t have to. I’m just worried about you, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. And I know you can handle it all because you're a superhero, but please let me look after you for a little bit.”

A pang of sadness ran through Alex as he realized just how much he’d missed as he watched a few tears escape Jo’s eyes. He knew this hadn’t been easy for her, the past couple months since he’d shown up throwing her whole life for a loop, but he wanted to make it up to her, he didn’t want to hurt her again. 

“Are you okay, you know pain wise? Baby still giving you a hard time,” a hard kick met Alex’s hand at his question, both he and Jo laughing at the interruption. 

“Better than before, I’m not contracting anymore,” Jo sighed, fiddling with her wedding rings as she avoided looking up at Alex. “I’m sorry… you were right about me pushing myself too much. I was in a lot of pain earlier and I shouldn’t have gone into that surgery. And… I do need to take it easy. I’m so used to just powering through all the shit that gets thrown at me by myself, I didn’t have help last time and I was with Harper for two years by myself. I love you, so freaking much Alex, but when it comes to parenting I’m not used to having someone here to help.”  

His lips pressed against her forehead, Alex held Jo tightly as he relished in the feeling of her in his arms, “I promise I’ll be here to help as much as I can. I’ll wake up every night if this kid has colic, no complaints.”

Jo chuckled, finally lifting her head and kissing Alex soundly. Her fingers wound their way back into his hair, one hand trailing down his body to rake across his chest. 

“You know, sex is supposed to help induce labor,” a grin spread across Jo’s face as Alex laughed, dipping his head down to her neck. 

“You keep that baby in there, I have a little while before my leave starts,” despite his words, Alex’s lips continued trailing down her neck, fingers following the hot trail he’d created. “Dinners gonna get cold.”

“That’s fine,” Jo’s voice was a moan as she pulled lightly at Alex’s hair. “Keep going, screw dinner.”

-

Alex is rounding his way back to his office when he sees her in the hospital again. He’d sent her on maternity leave just three days ago and she was already back, instantly raising his blood pressure. His wife had been relaxing, napping as much as she could between her manic cleaning spurts, but he could tell that she was itching to get back into the OR armed with a scalpel. 

“Jo!”

Her head swivels towards him, one hand settling on to her burgeoning stomach as she begins to walk slowly toward him. Alex can already feel his anger rising, knowing that he’d probably caught Jo trying to weasel her way into a surgery. 

“Hey, I just got here,” Jo breathed out as Alex stood in front of her. “Why are you glaring at me like I just ran over your dog?”

“You need to go home, I told you that you can’t operate,” Alex placed his hands on Jo’s shoulders, eyeing her warily as she furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re not about to trick me into letting you work just because you bat your eyelashes at me.”

“Alex, I-“

“No buts, you need to go home and rest,” Alex tried to push Jo back the way she came, but her feet stayed planted firmly on the ground. “Jo, let’s go.”

“Alex!”

He turns then, Jo’s hands gripping his arm that’s still settled on her shoulder. Her eyes are narrowed and her breathing is shallow as she stares up at him, looking almost as if she might slap him. 

“If you don’t let me talk to you, I will give birth to your child in this hallway,” Jo squeezed Alex’s arm as she took a deep breath, eyes closing as she spoke through gritted teeth. “My water broke half an hour ago, that’s why I’m here.”

Eyes blown wide, Alex finally takes in Jo’s almost disheveled state and the annoyed expression on her face as she glared at him. Her fingers were gripping his arm, nails sinking into his skin even through his lab coat as she tried to remain composed. 

“Oh shit okay, well let’s go then,” Alex pressed his hand against Jo’s back, leading her toward the maternity ward. “Wait, did you drive here? While you were in labor?”

“Let’s talk about that later, I’ve been having contractions since you left for work this morning,” Jo stopped Alex from walking further, head leaning against his shoulder as her breathing became shallow. “Jesus, I forgot how terrible this is. No more after this one, screw the extra bedrooms. I can’t push out another gigantic Karev baby.”

They slowly make their way down the halls and to the maternity ward, Jo stopping every few minutes to breathe through a contraction as Alex rubbed her back comfortingly. His gaze continued to float nervously to his watch, noticing how close Jo’s contractions were as they finally got settled into a room. Carina stepped into the room, greeting them both as she set up. “I swear if you tell me I can’t have drugs I might scream,” Jo pushed her face into Alex’s chest and let out a loud groan as Carina checked her, a laugh coming from the obstetrician. “What? Why are you laughing? That can’t be a good sign.” Looking from Jo to Carina, a grimace quickly formed on Alex's face as he realized that she’d come to the same conclusion he had on their walk over. Jo was too far along in her labor, probably almost ready to push. 

“Well your bambino has a full head of hair,” Carina smiled up at Jo, standing and motioning for the nurse standing by the door to come in. “Your baby is ready, I’m sure you will feel the need to push any minute now.” Jo’s eyes moved to Alex nervously, her expression practically begging him to help her as she grumbled, “No way, I can’t do this again. I’m not gonna do it, Alex.”

Alex took in Jo’s teary eyes and her scared expression, his hand coming up to brush her hair away from her face. She’d told him last week that she hadn’t been scared to give birth again, but the expression on her face now read otherwise, he knew her well enough to see the fear pasted on her face.

“Hey, you got this, I know you do. You are the strongest person I know,” leaning down towards her, Alex pressed his lips to Jo’s forehead, fingers swiping away the tears staining her cheeks. “You kinda have to have this baby, but I’m here for you to squeeze my hand and yell at as much as you want. Okay?” “Okay,” Jo sniffled, one hand coming up to caress Alex’s cheek. “Okay let’s do it.” -

“Hey Harps! Come to daddy!” Alex Karev didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see his daughter before, the bouncing three year old jumping from Meredith’s grasp on her and running full speed towards him. He hadn’t realized how much she’d grown just in the few months he’d been home, but feeling the solid weight of her in his arms made him realize that Harper was growing faster by the day.

“Daddy, baby?,” Harper’s hazel eyes met Alex’s own, the glint behind them the same curious look he’d seen in Jo time and again. 

“Yeah mommy had the baby, you wanna go see them,” Alex asked, eyes floating to Meredith, who wore a wide grin as she looked at the duo. “Come on, mama wants to see you!” Alex and Harper walked the short distance from the waiting room to Jo’s hospital room, both Karevs brimming with excitement as they neared the room. As he opened the door, Alex couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered at the sight of Jo cradling their newborn, their oldest settled on his hip. 

“Hey sweet pea, come here,” Jo’s voice was barely above a whisper as she beckoned Alex and Harper closer to the bed. “You wanna come meet your baby sister?”

Harper eyed the baby in her mom’s arms, a full head of dark brown curls peeking out from the pink hat she wore. The older girl wasn’t sure about the baby, but she still settled into her mom’s side contentedly, one hand reaching out to stroke her sister's cheek. “This is your little sister Mila Alexandra, but you can just call her Mila. Can you say hi to her,” Alex looked on as Harper paid careful attention to Mila, her eyes watching the baby curiously as she stretched one tiny arm out of her swaddle to grab Harper’s finger. “I think she likes you.”

He hadn’t pictured this life, never thought he’d get a second chance to fix things with Jo. But staring at his wife and their two daughters, Alex couldn’t help but realize how incredibly lucky he was. He’d come back, he’d fixed things, and he knew that he was going to be leaving any of his girls anytime soon. Jo’s fingers reach up to brush back the already unruly curls from Mila’s face, her wedding rings catching the light from the window as she settles her hand on top of the newborn's chest. 

“Why’re you standing over there? Come join us,” Jo motioned for Alex to come and sit with them, prompting him to settle Harper into his lap as he sat beside Jo. “You know, I’m happy you came back. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Well now you’ll never have to wonder.”

[officialcherubcampus]

Three Futures - The Chairman

So what happens to James, Lauren, Kerry and all the gang after Shadow Wave?

Robert Muchamore has written three stories, depicting alternative futures for James and Kerry set in the year 2031.

October 2031 - No 10 Downing Street

James Adams tipped his armchair back and stared at the portraits on the wall. He recognised Winston Churchill, but he’d never paid much attention in history class at school so he didn’t know any of the other historical figures who were glaring at him.

He’d been waiting for long enough to know every detail of the room. He’d drunk two cups of black tea because he couldn’t figure out how to work the milk dispenser and didn’t want to splash his best suit. He’d also eaten two iced fancies and a mini scone off the cake stand and grown fond of the way his well-polished shoe left an impression every time he pulled it out of the ultra-thick carpet.

James’ thirteen-year-old middle daughter Sarah had polished th shoes before school. She was the only one of James’ three daughters who still lived at home, because fifteen-year-old Ellen was a qualified CHERUB agent who preferred to live amongst her friends on campus, and eleven-year-old Gwen had just begun her second attempt at CHERUB basic training.

A glance at his watch confirmed that James had been waiting for more than an hour, but as he lunged towards a second mini-scone the door clicked. James shot out of his seat, but was disappointed to see a slim civil servant in a three-piece suit.

“We’re sorry to keep you waiting, but the PM and your sister have been in an urgent meeting regarding the Bluewater Bombing.”

“Has there been any update on the casualty figures?” James asked. “I usually keep a close eye on the news, but I had to surrender all my electronic devices when I entered the building.”

“At least a hundred dead, but they’ll find more because the roof of a department store has collapsed. There could be hundreds more shoppers trapped in the rubble.”

“Christ,” James said. “So can the prime minister still see me at all today?”

“She’s got a helicopter flight in less than half an hour,” the civil servant said. “If you’re willing to ride with her to the heliport, she’ll talk and walk.”

James nodded. “If she can, I can.”

“And your sister will be present as well, of course,” the civil servant added.

...

CHERUB campus, Basic Training Compound B

Gwen Adams had been in CHERUB basic training for sixteen days. It was going better than her first attempt when she’d only lasted eight before breaking her wrist during a jump out of a tree, but she hadn’t slept for the last two nights because the instructors kept waking all the trainees up with blasts of freezing water from a fire hose.

Now she’d been dragged out of her bed for her first one-on-one interrogation session with a training instructor. The idea of the one-on-one was to take a tired and physically exhausted recruit and subject them to a night of bright lights, choking smoke and deafening noise to try and break their spirit.

Gwen had spent the last hour trapped in a cramped steel dustbin that stank of pig manure, with a dozen vicious African bees for company and reggae firing from a huge loudspeaker stack that was so loud it made her teeth vibrate.

“Tell me why I should let you out,” Chief Training Instructor Jake McEwen shouted, as he ripped off the metal lid. “You get any stings off those nice bees?”

“No,” Gwen said, quiet but defiant.

“Pity,” McEwen said. “Next time I might have to drop the whole hive in!”

“If you keep still they won’t sting you,” Gwen said.

“Then maybe I’ll make you carry the can up a big hill, and roll it down with you and the bees inside. That should liven things up!”

Gwen didn’t give McEwen the satisfaction of an answer.

“You don’t deserve to be a CHERUB agent,” McEwen said nastily. “You didn’t get in on talent. You got in because of who your parents are - or were in your Mother’s case.”

“That’s bull,” Gwen said. “I’ve been a red shirt for four years. I’ve trained as hard as anyone who got recruited from outside.”

“You shoud have been sensible like your sister. She never even started basic training.”

“Ellen’s a black shirt,” Gwen replied. “A damned good agent. Sarah chose not to become an agent. She didn’t fail basic training. She never tried because she’s into drama and music and wanted to be an ordinary teenager. That was her decision and I respect her for it.”

“Well you haven’t got what it takes either,” McEwen said. “If you quit now, at least you’ll save a lot of suffering.”

Gwen sneered. “Is that the best you can do? You’ll have to try a lot harder than this to make me quit, McEwen.”

“How about another few hours in the container?”

“Bring it on, sir,” Gwen said defiantly.

“Your mother wasn’t the big hero everyone makes her out to be you know,” McEwen said. “Everybody loves you when you’re dead, but the Kerry Chang I knew was a moody slut. It wasn’t just your dad she slept with. She bonked half of the blokes on campus, you know.”

Gwen didn’t like anyone talking about her mum, but her big sister Ellen had given her some tips for basic training. One of them was that if an instructor is trying to torment you, the best thing to do is to waffle on for ages just to slow them down.

“My mother died from breast cancer when I was three years old,” Gwen said deliberately. “I suppose you’re right in a way. I’m sure Kerry had flaws and wasn’t the perfect person that everyone makes out she was. I just wish I could have one chance to meet her in the flesh and find out for myself.”

“Christ,” McEwen said, making a gagging noise as he gave the metal bin an almighty boot and knocked it over. “You’re such a syrupy little brat I can barely hold off from heaving my guts up all over you.”

Gwen scrambled out on to muddy ground as the can began rolling down a slight hill. As the bin rolled on, McEwen grabbed the back of Gwen’s neck, yanked her to her feet and gave her cheek a hard pinch before shoving her so hard that she barely stayed upright.

“Grab your kitbag and get back to your bunk,” McEwen growled. “I’ve got eighty-four more days to break you Gwen Adams. And you might as well quit now, because McEwen will break you.”

“If you say so sir,” Gwen said, tired and angry but more determined than ever as she squelched down the muddy path towards the trainees’ dormitory.

...

James knew that the Prime Minister’s home had several basement levels, but he was surprised to find himself shooting down more than a dozen storeys in a high speed lift and stepping out on an underground railway platform.

“How long has this been here?” James asked.

The slim civil servant smiled. “Not very long. With the current level of sophisticated terrorist attacks, it was vital to have a system that enabled government officials and senior politicians to travel between buildings in complete safety.”

As the civil servant spoke, a driverless two-car electric train could be heard rumbling towards them. As the lead car pulled into the station, James noticed Prime Minister Finch sitting in a large leather recliner. The only other passenger was James’ sister Lauren, who had to make do with one of the shiny plastic benches along the side.

James felt rather special as the train pulled up just for him. Then he felt overawed as the Prime Minister of Great Britain and current president of the European Union reached out to shake his hand.

Prime Minister Finch had a little joke ready. “I take it you’ve met my intelligence minister.”

Lauren laughed as James shook the Prime Minister’s hand.

“You want to watch my sister,” James told Finch. “She’ll be after your job in no time.”

Finch seemed to like James and laughed noisily. “Over three thousand people have died in terrorist attacks in Britain so far this year. If Lauren does want my job, she’ll not be part of a very long queue. This isn’t a good time to be Prime Minister.”

“It’s an even worse time to be the minister in charge of fighting terrorists,” Lauren added.

Lauren had come into politics almost by accident. She’d been working for the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) when an undercover mission led her to meet members of Prime Minister Finch’s New Revolutionary Conservative (NRC) party.

The newly formed break-away political party had needed an intelligence expert to give it credibility and Lauren was on the lookout for a new challenge after working for British Intelligence since the age of ten, with only a three year gap for university.

When the NRC swept to power in the 2027 general election, Lauren found herself elected to parliament and thrust into the high-profile role of intelligence minister at a time when global terrorism was spiralling out of control.

“I wish I’d had time for the scheduled meeting,” Finch told James, as the hydraulic doors shut and the automated train began rolling into the tunnel in almost total silence. “I understand your role in the expansion of CHERUB has been absolutely critcal.”

“Back when I was a teenager there were two hundred and fifty kids on CHERUB campus,” James explained. “Now we have more than six hundred in the UK. Our European campus in Spain has another three hundred from EU countries. And there’s more than enough strife in the world to keep all of them busy.”

“And the Americans?”

“The Americans have developed their own CHERUB like facility with our support. We have joint training exercises. But we have to be careful: the more people using kids as undercover agents, the greater the chances of someone finding out about us.”

The concrete tunnel ribs started to blur as the train picked up speed.

“And as well as deputy chairman of CHERUB, you’re a single father?”

James nodded. “Three daughters.”

“You’ve never remarried?”

James laughed. “With three daughters and a high pressure job? I haven’t had a lot of time for dating these past few years.”

“Well I won’t keep you in suspense,” Prime Minister Finch said. “I’ve accepted your application to become the new Chairman of CHERUB, when Zara Asker retires on December first.”

James smiled. “Thank you very much.”

Becoming Chairman was a huge responsibility and James felt nervous. He’d only been on the CHERUB staff for twelve years, but the cards had fallen in his favour: Many more experienced staff had either declared themselves too old for the Chairman’s job, suffered health problems that took them out of the running, or simply lacked the appetite for such a demanding role.

“And if you’re chairman I’m your new boss,” Lauren added.

James couldn’t resist a dig at his little sister. “At least until your lot gets voted out next summer.”

But suggesting that the government was about to get kicked out touched a raw nerve with the Prime Minister. James withered under Finch’s steely glare and the remaining ninety seconds of the journey passed in awkward silence.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Lauren whispered, when the train doors finally opened and Prime Minister Finch got swallowed by a cloud of aides, bodyguards and civil servants.

“Will she have it in for me now?” James asked nervously.

“Finch has got much bigger fish than you to fry,” Lauren said. “But I wouldn’t make a habit of pissing her off...Oh, shit!”

“What?” James asked, as Lauren looked forlornly back into the train carriage. “Lost something?”

Now it was Lauren’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“I’m supposed to be flying on the helicopter with the prime minister,” she explained. “But I’ve left all my briefing documents in the cabinet room.”

“Can’t they just scan and e-mail them?” James asked.

Lauren shook her head. “Don’t be dense. They’re ultra secret. I’m not even supposed to let the briefcase out of my sight.”

Lauren left James behind and began pushing through bodies trying to speak with the PM. James followed his sister because he had no idea what else to do. He soon found himself sharing a rapidly ascending lift with Lauren, Prime Minister Finch and a couple of her political flunkeys.

Lauren used her most grovelly voice as she told her boss what had happened. James wasn’t prepared for the way Prime Minister Finch ripped into her.

“For god’s sake!” Finch yelled. “We’ve just had one of the biggest terrorist blasts in history and you’ve left some of the most sensitive papeers in government lying on a table.”

“It’s not a problem,” Lauren said. “It’s not like they just let any old cleaner in to tidy up the cabinet room after a meeting.”

“It had better not be a problem,” Finch roared. “If those papers get leaked I don’t know what the consequences would be. You go back and pick up those documents. Have we got another helicopter?”

One of Finch’s aides nodded and said that another helicopter could be dispatched for Lauren.

“I have to arrive on time because I’m the prime minister and I can’t be seen to have my schedule disrupted by terrorism. You get your papers back and fly up on the next flight.”

After dressing down Lauren, the PM turned and spoke to her press secretary. “If anyone from the press asks why the Intelligence Minister didn’t fly with me, we say that she was held back in an urgent crisis meeting. Right?”

By this time the high-speed lift was slowing and the doors opened into a full moon, with city lights all around them. They were on the rooftop of a twenty-four storey office building alongside the River Thames. There was an RAF helicopter ready to take flight. More than two-dozen armed police officers guarded the rooftop, while a fleet of pilotless protection drones hovered in the air overhead.

One thing James had learned in life was that the more important you are, the less time you spend waiting around in airports. The British Prime Minister was airborne in the time it took to walk to the helicopter and buckle her seatbelt.

“I can’t believe I left those papers in the cabinet room,” Lauren told James, shouting over the buffeting from the rising chopper. “I’m just so tired. With all this terrorist activity, I’ve barely slept in two nights. My kids haven’t seen me in over a week.”

James reached across to put a reassuring arm around his sister’s back, but as he did he saw an orange flash out of the corner of one eye. When he looked over, James saw that one of the protection drones had launched a missile directly at the Prime Minister’s helicopter.

“Jesus Christ,” James shouted, as the Prime Minister’s helicopter’s tail rotor was hit square on by the missile.

“The terrorists must have hacked into the controls for the protection drones,” Lauren said, as they both dived for cover.

James didn’t hear half of this sentence because the exploding helicopter had lit up the sky.

The force of the blast lifted several of the armed police who’d been guarding the perimeter off their feet, blowing them over the building’s edge to certain death when they splattered the streets below.

James was luckier and found the blast slamming him back into the lift. Lauren was alongside but she’d whacked her head as she’d fallen back and now slumped at James’ feet inside the lift car.

“Lauren?” James said, as he crouched over his sister and pinched her cheek.

But she was out cold.

Even worse, James now saw that the terrorists had hacked more than one of the protection drones. Two of the small, pilotless, planes swept low across the rooftop, shooting at lines of policemen who had nowhere to hide on the flat helipad.

The cops’ body armour was no defence against 20mm anti-aircraft shells, and while some managed to get a few shots at the drone, most were annihilated before they even raised their weapons.

James looked at the lift panel and hammered the controls, hoping that they’d descend back into the building, but the lift required some kind of pass or key to operate and James didn’t have one.

He realised that if the terrorists had hacked the drones, they’d have high resolution night-vision images from the drone’s onboard cameras. As intelligence minister, Lauren was the most important person still alive on the rooftop and the drones would surely target her if the bad guys spotted her.

James looked around the lift car, hoping to see an access panel that would let him escape into the lift shaft, but if there was one he couldn’t see it.

As one drone took another sweep across the rooftop, one police officer acted dead until it was right over him. As it passed overhead he rolled over and aimed straight up with his gun. Several shots to the belly did enough damage to send the small black craft spiraling out of control, but the cop’s only reward for his bravery was a well aimed shell from a partner drone.

At least while the bad guys were munching up the cops, they weren’t looking at who was in the lift. James crawled out of the car and found what he was hoping to find: a maintenance grille on the outside of the rooftop lift shaft.

Years of lock picking experience meant he made short work of a bulky padlock holding the panel in place, but one of the drones was swooping in for a third attack run as he ripped the panel away, revealing a two-storey ladder that led down into a maintenance area around the lift shaft.

Luckily James’ best suit was a similar colour to heliport tarmac and the black beast skimmed overhead without taking a shot. As soon as the unmanned plane had passed, James scrambled back towards the lift.

But James wasn’t the only man alive on the rooftop. Three surviving police officers had seen him rip off the maintenance flap and began a desperate sprint towards it as the drone turned to make another attack run.

Their running would make the escape route obvious to the drone pilots, and while all the cops had to do was make it to the hatch, James had to double back and carry Lauren from the lift car.

“Christ you’re a big lump.” James told his unconscious sister, as he threw her on to his back.

As James staggered back out on to the roof, two drones were making attack runs from opposite sides of the gore-spattered helipad. Two of the cops had made it through the maintenance shaft and down the ladder, but the third man saw what James was trying to do and stayed bravely at the top of the ladder waiting to help James get Lauren inside.

James had spent much of the last few years working behind a desk on campus. He wasn’t terribly fit and his shoulders ached and stomach muscles strained as he waddled along with Lauren on his back.

The drones were closing from opposite sides at over a hundred and fifty kilometres an hour and James felt sure that it was only a matter of seconds before a 20mm laser-guided shell ripped through his torso and turned him into a big red smudge.

“I’ve got her legs,” the cop shouted. “Let her go.”

As James let Lauren flop off his back into the arms of the policeman, one of the drones opened fire. The three-metre-wide aircraft skimmed so close to James’ head that heat from its tiny jet engine singed hairs on the top of his head.

But instead of firing a 20mm shell at James, the drone sent a trio of missiles spiralling upwards, taking out the drone coming in from the opposite direction.

Apparently the terrorists hadn’t managed to hack into all of the Prime Minister’s protection drones and James had been saved by one of the ones still controlled by the good guys.

Still, James wasn’t about to stick around to watch dogfights and dived head first through the hatch, straining all the muscles down one side as he grabbed the metal ladder and pivoted his body until his feet hit the rungs.

He clanked breathlessly down two and a half storeys on the outside of a lift shaft that went all the way down to the secret railway twelve storeys below ground. The policemen who’d made it through the hatch had sat Lauren on a landing, then opened a fire door that led into an office whose workers had gone home several hours earlier.

“What happened?” Lauren asked groggily, as she rubbed her eyes. “I’ve got a concussion. I’ve not had a concussion in years!”

The struggle on the rooftop wasn’t over and chunks of rubble tumbled down the lift shaft as more 20mm shells punched through the helipad two storeys up. But nobody else made it through the access panel, either because they didn’t know it was there, or because they were all dead.

One of the cops smiled at James. “I don’t know who you are, but I reckon you saved all our lives up there.”

James didn’t respond because he’d ripped several muscles. As he slumped against the wall he knew he’d just witnessed one of the biggest terrorist acts in British history. The prime minister was toast, but James couldn’t think about that and all he saw in his head were the faces of his three daughters and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to find them and give them hugs.

“So who am I?” James asked himself quietly, as tears welled in his eyes.

“You’re the new Chairman of CHERUB and you’re going to do a great job,” Lauren said, as she shuffled half a metre across the carpet tiles and rested her badly-grazed hand on the ripped knee of her brother’s best suit.

...

As James and Lauren hobbled down forty-eight flights of stairs to ground level, an emergency meeting of senior cabinet ministers took place in Downing Street. The assembled ministers agreed that a decisive message had to be sent to the British people by rapidly selecting a new Prime Minister.

Three senior cabinet ministers put their names forward but the NRC was a deeply divided political party and even the candidates themselves eventually saw that they needed a compromise candidate that they could all unite behind.

When news arrived that the Intelligence Minister had survived the rooftop attack, a consensus began to form that in a time of major crisis a young dynamic minister with a background in intelligence and anti-terrorist operations would be an ideal candidate for Prime Minister.

Lauren was in the basement lobby of the office building when the Chancellor of the Exchequer called her mobile.

“We think you’re the right candidate and certainly the only one who might carry the support of the entire NRC party,” the chanellor told Lauren. “The top job’s yours if you want it.”

Lauren had just bumped her head and still wasn’t quite with it. “Top job,” she mumbled. “What are you talking about?”

“We want you to become Prime minister.”

Lauren gulped. Did she really want to make the biggest decision of her life right after a nasty bump on the head? Did a mother of two young kids really want to replace someone who she’d just seen blown up by terrorists?

“I’ll need a minute to think about it,” Lauren said.

And then she hung up.

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 4

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.5k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, ehhh lots of angst and fighting oh nooo, and mentions of sexual acts

the plot thickens and there’s no actual smut in this part i’m sorrryyyyyy but more smut is coming!! i pinky pwomise uwu

-------

"Morning, jagiya. Do you have a minute?"

You're practically vibrating with the effort of acting normal as you process Taehyung's question. What can you even say to that? Oh, sorry. Actually, can you guys come back later? I'm kind of in the middle of discovering a secret fucking society of PhysComs who are dating their clients, and I'm trying to see if there's a way I can get in on that sweet, sweet deal. Fuck no. That's not going to work. Anything other than agreeing will sound too suspicious, and you can’t let them know what you’ve discovered. At least, not yet.

"Of course." You paste on a smile as you reply, your mind still reeling as you pull the door open all the way. You’re still wearing only your robe, but it’s silly of you to shield your body when it’s theirs to ogle during work hours anyway.

“What can I do for you, masters?” You ask sweetly, slipping on your persona like a second skin to keep your thoughts safely hidden from view. Your clients should always be your first priority. Not rule breaking, and certainly not any unlikely fantasies of romance.

Something seems off about their body language. They look uncomfortable. You’re suddenly reminded of the weird tension in the air when you last saw them, and just how fragile your position is after everything that happened last night. You need to rid their minds of what they saw at dinner. They need to view you as their eager little toy again, not someone who broke or someone to be pitied.

You instantly thicken the illusion of obscenity, eager to convince them, and maybe yourself, that things are just the same as they’ve always been.

“So… what would you like from me? A blow job? Hand job?” You stretch your arm up and lean sensually against the door, your eyes half-lidded. “Do you both want to fuck my little holes and stretch me open?” You giggle cutely and start to untie the silky belt of your robe, forcing all thoughts of your ComGear out of your head so you can focus on your job, which is pleasuring your clients. 

Jimin steps forward before you can pull the robe open, and stops your hand. He carefully ties your garment back together, though he avoids your eyes, his expression grim. “No… actually, we want to talk with you.”

Damn. You thought for sure that little ploy would at least fluster them a little, and maybe get them in the mood for something, but they both remain strangely sober.

“It’s about last night,” Taehyung supplies quietly, looking down to the floor.

Well, shit. What is there to talk about? You used your safe word and ruined everyone’s fun. Are they holding it against you or something? That's not really fair when the two of them are partially to blame for distracting you by playing mind games and messing with each other. 

Then it dawns on you. Namjoon probably sent them up to apologize for their fighting. That must be why they’re acting so stiff. After all, he did say that the three of you should work things out together.

You feel a bit relieved and give them a fleeting smile of reassurance. “Masters, it’s okay. Let’s just move on from what happened last night, hm?” You want to take their hands, but you resist the urge. You really shouldn’t initiate contact unless it’s related to their pleasure. You settle for lacing your hands coyly behind your back, making your chest stand out rather provocatively. “I’ve forgotten all about it, really.”

They both still look dreadful. Worried. You finally notice that there's a hint of pity in their eyes and it makes your skin crawl with foreboding. You get the terrible sense that this is about something bigger than safe words, squabbles, and kisses.

“No, we all want to talk to you,” Taehyung explains with a slight clearing of his throat. “In the kitchen. Namjoon-hyung sent us to… come and get you.”

You can feel your heart start to race as your adrenaline spikes from a sudden shot of fear. What could they possibly want? What's changed between last night and today? Sure, logically, they could be calling a meeting for a variety of reasons, but only one scenario is circling through your mind, over and over… and it ends with you packing your bags.

“Do you want to, like... go now, or...?” Jimin mumbles, clearly uncomfortable about the situation.

You blink, feeling dizzy. Your playful aura has disintegrated in an instant and made way for something much more frigid and fearful. “Yeah… um, let me just get dressed first,” you murmur distractedly. “I’ll be down in a minute, masters.”

They nod and thankfully take the hint that you need a moment to collect yourself. The two of them head back downstairs and you shut the door behind them, your whole body numb. You hurry to your closet, trying to retain some semblance of routine despite the storm you feel approaching.

In the daily rotation of things, Friday - last night - was Seokjin’s day for him to do as he pleases with you, and that includes deciding what you wear. The apron you’d had on yesterday was one he had picked out for you beforehand. Your closet is sectioned off into clothes and costumes chosen by each boy for you to don beneath (or in some cases on top of) your utility belt on their chosen days. Some days they request a specific outfit, but most of the time it’s up to you to select from their options. Your favorite clothes to wear are probably either the oversized hoodies with cute panties and no bottoms that Jungkook chose for you, or the crop top and leggings variations that Hoseok loves to see you wear.

But Saturday is for Yoongi, and today’s outfits are what could be considered party clothes, full of strappy leather harnesses, deep jewel-toned mini dresses, and lots of high heels. Not exactly comfort clothing. You love it when they choose what you wear and dress you up like a little doll, it’s hot and everything, but sometimes you just want to wear sweatpants. Or a t-shirt and jeans.

Fuck. You grab a pair of black booty shorts and a busty sequined halter top, the closest thing to daywear out of Yoongi’s choices, and you also elect to go barefoot. If this meeting is as bad as you fear it’ll be, then you don’t know if you’ll be able to stand upright in six inch heels for very long. Sorry, Yoongi.

You blow a lock of hair out of your eyes after squeezing yourself into the tight attire. Credit to Min Yoongi where it’s due, the top does make your tits look amazing, but honestly that should be the least of your concerns right now. You almost laugh at such a trivial thought.

Once you reach your bed, you hastily grab your ComGear, hoping you have at least a few minutes to figure out something before you’re pulled away again. There’s a backlog of messages, but thankfully not too many, as you log back into the chat room.

[ PCsv02_svt ]: oh where did she go [ PCsv01_svt ]: probably got called away [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: probably havin.. sexy times B) [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: wink wink [ PCsv01_svt ]: … [ PCsv03_mtx ]: guys you shouldn’t encourage her about dating :/ [ PCsv03_mtx ]: bad things can happen too [ PCsv06_ast ]: yea sanha is always nice to me, but I know some clients can be... not so nice [ PCsv09_$px ]: yeah, thanks [ PCsv06_ast ]: oh... sorry :( [ PCsv02_svt ]: aww aashi didn’t mean it like that G [ PCsv02_svt ]: we’re all here for you, u know that right? [ PCsv09_$px ]: mm. thanks guys [ PCsv01_svt ]: speaking of which, how are things with you? [ PCsv09_$px ]: uh.. same as always. [ PCsv01_svt ]: has anything happened since last time? [ PCsv09_$px ]: no, but they’ve been out of the house a lot [ PCsv09_$px ]: they have a lot of schedules right now [ PCsv01_svt ]: I see… [ PCsv02_svt ]: oh she’s back!

You stare at the log in dismay. Well, crap. “Bad things” can happen...? What kind of bad things? Is dating clients a thing or not? You have too many questions and not enough answers, and you don’t have time to investigate any of it. The boys are waiting for you downstairs.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: so… my clients just called a meeting with me. I can’t really talk right now. [ PCsv01_svt ]: a meeting? [ PCsv02_svt ]: that’s okay hon! we’ll still be here when u get back ^^ [ PCsv01_bts ]: this is all…fuck sorry, it’s a lot to deal with right now

You rake a hand through your hair, your body and mind are just completely spent from everything that’s happened recently.

[ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s alright, we’re not going anywhere [ PCsv03_twc ]: take your time to understand everything ♡ [ PCsv03_twc ]: it took me a while haha [ PCsv06_ast ]: we’ve got your back! 150% hehe >u< [ PCsv02_svt ]: yeah! don’t sweat it hon~ be kind to yourself, especially when you need to figure things out ^^

All of their assurance pouring in nearly brings a smile to your face. You don’t know most of these people, and you can’t be sure that they aren’t all just really smart bots or spies sent by your network, but… they do seem like a supportive bunch.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: thanks [ PCsv01_bts ]: but what exactly did micha mean by “bad things can happen”? [ PCsv01_bts ]: is dating even safe? [ PCsv03_mtx ]: oh haha… [ PCsv04_blp ]: safe? Oh honey... [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: lolol [ PCsv03_mtx ]: well I just meant that some PhysComs have been… taken advantage of [ PCsv03_mtx ]: so you can’t just jump into it ^^; [ PCsv01_svt ]: i wouldn’t call anything in this line of work “safe” per se [ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s hard to advise anything when we don’t know what your clients are really like [ PCsv01_svt ]: but if you do manage to enter a relationship it can either make or break your employment [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: hell yeahhhhh B)) [ PCsv01_svt ]: for some people it’s a last ditch effort, offering intimacy to idols who are touch starved to begin with… oftentimes breaking those boundaries will changes the client’s perspective, and soon they see you as essential, regardless of any minor misconducts [ PCsv01_svt ]: while for others, the attachment forms naturally and appears to be a genuine connection, such as with sascha and joshua [ PCsv01_svt ]: but of course there’s no way to tell for sure if the client’s feelings are genuine or if they have ulterior motives, so it’s definitely a risk [ PCsv01_svt ]: if things were to turn sour in the relationship, it could lead to termination or worse… you know, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned and all that [ PCsv01_svt ]: people can be duplicitous [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: durr durrr antione smart smart [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: i’m taking notes on ur lecture sir uwu [ PCsv01_svt ]: blake [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: ^-^? [ PCsv01_svt ]: shut the hell your mouth [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: >:D

You sigh. Reading all these names and trying to keep everyone’s identities straight is making your head spin in your already addled state.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: is there a way to change the contact names in this chat? [ PCsv01_svt ]: nope [ PCsv02_svt ]: sorry boo, it’s for protection ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You groan in frustration. Nothing is making sense, you’ve found no answers, and you still aren’t sure you can even trust this chat room. On a whim, you tap on Sascha’s username, and a contact page pulls up for her within the chat app. It doesn’t give any information besides her username and a blank profile photo, but there is a call button.

Shit, what do you have to lose? If this is real and not some elaborate hoax, then Sascha should pick up… right? You could grill her, ask her questions only she would know to prove it’s really her.

A sudden buzz from your ComGear nearly scares you shitless, and you check to see that it’s just a message from Namjoon.

Sweetheart? Could you come down to the kitchen?

You take a deep breath to steel your nerves. Fuck. You can’t put this meeting off any longer. You slip your ComGear into your belt and head downstairs towards what you’re sure will be your inevitable doom.

-------

On your way down the long staircase, you take deep cleansing breaths to combat the growing knot in your stomach. You’re hoping half-heartedly, albeit rather foolishly, that maybe the boys just need your help with something harmless, like making breakfast. They do love your omelettes.

You slow down as you approach the kitchen door, and you can hear many muffled voices arguing on the other side. It sounds like they’re trying to stay quiet, but failing. You stop to listen, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Just because you got to-” “-not fair-” “I don’t like this-” “-so why should she be punished for-” “I swear it wasn’t-”

Punished? You don’t like the sound of that at all, not one bit. Just as panic starts to swarm your mind, Namjoon’s voice rises above the clamor. You lean against the door to hear his calm cadence, much more gentle than the previous raucous of the others.

"Look! Guys, I know it'll be hard. Okay? I know we've all grown very attached to her, but I think... I think this will be for the best. For all of us."

Fuck his calm cadence.

They must be talking about you, they have to be. You’re the only “her” in this house. You feel like you’re drowning in regret and fear, spiraling as your worries returning tenfold, despite your best effort to keep them at bay.

You’re going to walk through that door and they’re going to fire you, you can feel it. Namjoon’s going to look you in the eyes, and where such tenderness had been last night, now there will only be a steely gaze. It’s just business. You slump against the polished wood and bite back a dry sob, burying your face in your hands. You don’t think you can do this.

“God, you make it sound like she’s dying.” There’s Yoongi’s voice, lilted and matter of fact. “She’s not going anywhere.”

You lift your head. Not going anywhere? As in, not being fired?

Oh, bless Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. But then… if you’re not going anywhere, ergo not getting fired, then what the hell are they talking about?

“Yeah, but what if this thing doesn’t work? What if she doesn’t... want this from us?” Jungkook’s timid question draws silence from the room.

“Then things will go back to normal, right? We just… forget it ever happened.” Jin. He sounds bitter and forlorn, not at all like his usual self.

“How can things be normal after what happened last night?” Hoseok sounds even worse than Jin, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t think I can even have her as a PhysCom anymore! Something has to change.”

This declaration is met with another bout of overlapping arguments, only to be silenced once again by Namjoon.

“No, Hobi-hyung is right.” Namjoon says, his voice decisive and final. “This is a fork in the road for all of us. At the end of the week, we’ll take another vote. If things don’t improve with her, then… we’ll do what has to be done. There are always other PhysComs who can fill the position.”

What... the fuck…?

Ice crawls up your back, as if someone just dumped you into a freezing pool of water. Numbness seeps through your limbs, into your heart.

Are you really that replaceable in their eyes?

You’ve invested all your time into building bonds with these boys specifically so this wouldn’t happen. How can they be so heartless? It hurts. There’s a wrenching pain in your chest at hearing them talk about you so… so pragmatically.

It hurts because it’s exactly the way that you would handle the situation. With pragmatism.

But you know what? Fuck this. Fuck them. They took a fucking vote on the fate of your livelihood? You owe them nothing.

You’re overwhelmed, and angry, and confused, and you just can’t take it anymore. You want this guessing game to end. If they’re going to fire you, or punish you, or whatever, then you should just go in there and get it over with already. It has to hurt less than hearing them talk about you so callously.

You wait for a break in the conversation, and then ease open the kitchen door, stepping inside and doing your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Oh, there she is! Just the woman we wanted to see.” Namjoon looks up at you with a practiced smile, even though he’d just been rubbing his forehead the way he does when he’s stressed.

“Not for long,” Yoongi mutters, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly as he takes a sip.

Your gaze flickers to him as quiet, seething anger settles in the pit of your stomach, a burning ache that doesn’t go away. He has the balls to joke about this, when your career is on the line? You’d have thought Mr. Underground Rapper would understand how hard you’ve fought to get here. Does he really feel nothing, sipping his coffee while you face the guillotine?

Namjoon shoots Yoongi a weary look, then comes over to greet you. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling? Better?” He cups your cheek, his eyes full of gentle concern.

You nearly flinch away from his touch. How dare he act so kind to you when they were just conspiring about whether you’ll keep your job?

You take a step back, out of range to be touched by any of them.

“What’s going on?” You ask them firmly, deciding not to hide your misgivings. Their eyes all seem to wander elsewhere in the room, Jungkook is staring at the counter in front of him like it’s suddenly become very interesting. Taehyung is looking up at the ceiling as if counting the tiles. Seokjin’s gaze is trained straight ahead into nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Cowards, all of them.

Namjoon takes the initiative and clears his throat. It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s wearing Ryan the Bear pajamas, but you give him your rapt attention. “So, we’ve been discussing things, and after what happened last night… well, it really cemented this for us. It made the decision that much easier.”

Did it? Did it really make it easier for them to fire you after seeing you break down and cry from using your safe word? You half debate throwing a punch at that handsome jaw of his. Might as well go out swinging.

He seems uncomfortable from the severity of your glare. Good, let him be uncomfortable. God knows you’ve put yourself in some uncomfortable positions for them.

“You’ve worked very hard for us since you were hired, and since today marks your official six month anniversary, we think it’s only fitting to end these six months on a good note.”

Oh, how poetic. Come on, just get on with it. Flowery words, especially insincere ones, won’t help you find another job. They won’t help keep you off the street while you struggle to make a living for yourself.

You stare up at him determinedly, your lips pursed as you steel yourself for the blow. You will not cry.

“We want to extend your time off.”

Wait, what?

“Starting tomorrow. It would have been your second day off for this month, but we’d like to extend that to a week off instead.”

They’re not firing you? They’re… rewarding you with vacation time? Doesn’t make sense. Your mind is reeling, trying to figure out the catch.

“You can wear whatever you want, do whatever you’d like.” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, seemingly thrown off by your wide eyed lack of response. “You’re not obligated to have sex with us…”

Oh. There it is. A sex ban.

Sure, they’ll give you a nice little vacation, free of worries and obligations. What, so they can all play with Secondaries, like Jin did?

Fuck, that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Jin probably told them how good it felt to fuck another cunt and now this is their way of telling you that they want to ‘see other people’, isn’t it?

This is worse than firing you outright. They’re killing you slowly, stabbing you in the gut to watch you bleed out, like a wounded animal in the desert.

Your vision is red, rage stemming from fear and insecurity building up inside of you faster than you can comprehend.

“So you’re suspending me?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, even to your own ears.

“I… I guess you could put it like that.” Namjoon says hesitantly.

“We just want to give you a break, jagiya,” Taehyung interjects, and he does look genuinely torn up about the change. But feelings are of no use, not now that things have come to this. The only protection you have left is your own pragmatism to rival theirs.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling much too exposed in your skimpy outfit. Damn Min Yoongi and his slutty sequin tops. You level your gaze at each of them in turn. “Don’t I get a say in this? I’m an independent contractor.”

Namjoon seems befuddled by your scorching glare, but he nods after a moment, seeming to come to his senses. He’s the one person here that’s best equipped to acquiesce to your sudden formalities. “Yes, of course. Uh… do you want to step into my office? We can work something out. Draw up a formal agreement, if you’d like.”

You see a flash in your mind of the last time you were in Namjoon’s office, not even a week ago, where you had him bent over his desk, cumming all over your fingers and dripping onto the ornate carpet.

You shake your head. They don’t want you to play with them for a week? Fine. You won’t give Namjoon the satisfaction of a home court advantage. “I’ll call my handler. We can discuss this in the lounge in an hour.” You don’t have a lawyer, but Yeji is the next best thing.

Namjoon seems a little surprised at your sudden switch to a cold and business-like demeanor, but he nods in agreement.

“Wonderful,” you look between the other boys, though most of them avoid your gaze. “I hope you all enjoy your breakfast.” You can’t resist hissing the words, and you hasten out of the room before your stone cold facade can crack.

You close the door behind you and lean heavily against it, trying to find your balance again after being thrown so off-kilter. What the fuck just happened?

“Well… that could have gone better.” You hear Yoongi sigh, and the others all break out into loud bickering again from behind the door. Honestly, they’re like children sometimes.

You scoff miserably at their immaturity and inability to see how seriously they just toyed with your life, and you wipe your eyes before the tears can fall, hurrying back to your room.

-------

That could’ve fucking gone better indeed.

You press your face into your hands, trying to stifle the fury and despair bubbling up inside your chest, threatening to suffocate you. Your hard work and years of dedication, all of your training, everything you’ve worked towards, becoming valuable and necessary so you’d never be cast away again, it’s all for nothing. You’ve still ended up in this position.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? Wait around for a week as they slowly lose interest in you? The very thought is agonizing. It tugs at all your buried fears and insecurities, watching them as they each slowly forget about you. Watching yourself become useless.

No. Stop it, you don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself when there’s work to be done. Time is ticking.

When you get overwhelmed in life, you’re supposed to ask for help. But you have very limited choices for who you can ask. You’re isolated and subjective in this case, so what you need right now are some outside opinions. Objective viewpoints and thoughts about the situation that aren’t stuck in the mire of emotional complications, and tainted by your own hellish visions of the worst possible outcome.

Yeji, your handler, would be your first person to consult. She’s probably the most professional woman you know, after yourself, and most importantly, she always has a plan for any situation. You pull out your ComGear and see that it’s still on Sachsa’s mysterious contact page. She could be a second opinion. That is, if it’s really Sachsa and not some network spy.

You shake away the thought. One thing at a time.

You send a brief message to Yeji, letting her know to come and see you as soon as possible.  You tack on that it’s kind of an emergency, and could she pick up some ice cream for you on the way, double fudge ripple.

She replies that she’ll be over in fifteen minutes, which gives you just enough time to change clothes and rehearse how to explain what happened.

You shed Min Yoongi's sequined strip of fabric without an ounce of remorse and stare at your closet in dismay. None of their outfits are comfortable, let alone respectable for a meeting. Frankly, your pajamas would offer more coverage.

You feel close to tears at the simple matter of choosing an outfit. This is ridiculous.

No. They may have control over what you do, but you can still rebel, at least in this small aspect of your life. You grab one of Jungkook's hoodies and a pair of leggings from Hobi, combining the outfits into what could be considered loungewear.

Once changed, you feel a bit more like yourself, and wait anxiously for your handler to arrive.

-------

Choi Yeji is an intimidating woman. She possesses the subtlety and sting of a viper, and isn’t afraid to say what she means. She’s never shown you any great lengths of emotion, even under stressful circumstances. So it doesn’t surprise you to see her calm and collected as she walks into your room.

“What happened?” She asks while you shut the door behind her, and she sets down the shopping bag of ice cream.

Her composure helps ease your frazzled brain, and you quickly explain the events of the past twenty four hours. Well, the events she needs to know, anyway. You were stressed at dinner, used your safeword, and now they seemingly think you’re broken and need to rest, but you suspect it’s an excuse for them to distance themselves from you.

“You think you’ve fallen out of their favor?” Yeji inquires, resting the tip of her spoon in her mouth. She claims desserts are her only vice, and had joined you in the ice cream, but still kept a professional distance and had eaten hers seated on your desk chair while you remained flopped on your bed. “Why? They’ve never sent in a single complaint about your service.”

You sigh in frustration. You know, or you at least suspect, that it has something to do with the… feelings that have come to your attention recently.

But the thought of sharing your romantic dalliances with Yeji is just plain awkward. Your relationship with her has always been business focused, monitoring your diet and exercise, your needs and leisure requests. You've never called her over to talk about your love life, or anything too personal for that matter. It’s not really in her job description.

She’s your handler, not your therapist.

But you know that you can't get around telling her the reason why things have been so tense in the house, it's inevitably going to come up. If she's representing you and backing you up during this meeting with Namjoon, it's in your best interest for her to know all the facts.

That still doesn't make it any easier to talk about. “I... think I might know why.” You admit, laying on your back, covering your face with your arm as you prepare to talk about your affairs.

Yeji levels you with a knowing look. “Did the chat room help you figure it out?”

You sit bolt upright. How the hell did she find out? 

Your brain struggles to provide an explanation in a vain attempt to cover your tracks, but Yeji eases you down from your silent panic with a wave of her hand.

“It’s alright,” she chuckles, a kind smile gracing her lips. “I was the only person alerted that you’d disconnected from the network and linked to a new one. I know all about the hidden network."

"You do?" You manage to utter, too astounded to say much else.

"Of course." Yeji inclines her head. "I used to work closely with Madame Guillaume, you know."

The tension dissipates from your body to make room for the curiosity that now overwhelms you. Guillaume? That was her last name? You only ever knew her as Madame.

Yeji seems amused at your dumbfounded expression. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

You don’t know what to say. Honestly at this point, so many shocking things have happened to you that a part of you isn’t even surprised anymore to hear that Yeji knows about the PhysCom dark web. Sure. Why not?

“So is it… real?” You ask, scooting closer towards the edge of the bed.

Yeji sets down her spoon along with the empty pint of ice cream. "Yes. It's most certainly real." She folds her hands in her lap, unaware of the chocolate that's gotten around her upper lip. "But that isn't to say it's not dangerous."

You can't help the snort of a laugh that comes out of you as she talks so seriously with chocolate on her face. She looks at you askance and you wordlessly hand a tissue to her, pointing at your own mouth. "You have something…"

She blinks rapidly. "Ah, apologies." She looks over to your vanity mirror and wipes off the smudges. There's a slight lilt to her voice when she speaks, a result of the fact that Yeji always uses English around you, despite Korean being her native tongue.

You’d mentioned once that it sometimes felt weird to see others’ lips move differently to what you were hearing them say, thanks to your auto-translation chip, and she’d apparently made a note of that. Yeji has used English with you ever since, despite your assurances. It amazes you that she always goes above and beyond to make sure you're comfortable, even when it comes to speaking

Your handler clears her throat to continue. "Anyway, as I was saying. The network does have security, but no measures are foolproof. Anything you send to them has a risk of being seen by other people."

You twist your lips to the side. “Like who?”

“Well, for one, their clients could easily catch a glimpse of the chat,” she notes. “Or the information could be leaked in a security breach. You know all the leading PhysCom networks have heard whispers about this dark web you’ve discovered, and many of them would be all too eager to dismantle it.”

You automatically shake your head. You don’t know why, but the idea of the people in that chat room getting discovered, or being punished for their little spark of camaraderie… it feels wrong. Totalitarian. “But they’re not harming anyone. It’s just a group chat.”

Yeji sighs. Her lips twitch as she considers her next words. “It may seem harmless, or indeed it may even be harmless,” she states calmly. “But the higher up that one is placed, the more scared one becomes of falling. People in the higher ranks of the industry may view the chat room as a threat. Like a… PhysCom mutiny.”

“What? But that’s ridiculous!” You huff out a laugh. “They can’t possibly think we could organize a union against them. We’re illegal workers. We have no rights in society, we can’t even physically see each other.”

Sure, the risk of rebellion would be understandable in companies that employ people in respectable positions. But sex workers? That’s like being worried that drug dealers will rebel against the crooked pharmacies that supply them.

PhysComs are nothing without networks to market them and provide for their basic needs. Your career is forever tied to your network, so each network only wants the best of the best. Your reputation reflects on them as a business. So, if you get fired by your clients… your network might let you go, too.

You sigh, trying to push away such troubling thoughts. “Besides, it’s not like the people in that chat room are the only people who can fill their positions.” Your face falls a little as you continue. “We’re replaceable.”

Yeji picks up on your change in tone. “You were telling me why you think things have changed?” She waits patiently for you to explain.

You hug your knees to your chest, your gaze falling to your comforter. “I think… some of my clients might have developed feelings for me.”

You wait in silence for a beat, not daring to look up.

“Is that all?” Yeji asks, as if you’d just informed her that the toilet paper had run out.

You scoff in bewilderment. “What do you mean ‘is that all’?” You demand, a little underwhelmed by her reaction. Does she just know everything?  “That’s a huge deal! Feelings are not a part of my job.”

Yeji tilts her head to the side, her eyes cast upward as though looking for the right words. “Perhaps. You might consider it an… occupational hazard,” she says with a kind look towards you. “You may not be selling your heart to those boys, but you are selling your body, which protects your heart fiercely. After enough time, letting them touch your body… it’s inevitable they might slip through and touch your heart.” She shrugs, taking a sip of the coffee to-go cup she always seems to have on hand.

You feel exasperated, like you’ve been building up all this hot air only to have it slowly leak out of your proverbial balloon. “You don’t have to get all… philosophical about it,” you grouse half-heartedly. Yeji merely chortles.

“The insecure always cast stones at those who speak the truth,” she hums into another sip of coffee, looking over the references she’d brought with her on her phone. “Now that I’m aware of this huge deal of yours, you may want to fill in any details you, ah… forgot to mention?” She gives you a look, and you groan inwardly.

But you comply, spilling all the information of your romantic dalliances since the moment Taehyung kissed you. Yeji doesn’t hold any judgement in her face, she merely nods, taking a few notes for herself, and asking an occasional clarifying question. You also feel compelled to add in what you overheard the boys talking about before you came into the kitchen.

“They said something about a vote… and that they would hold another one at the end of the week ‘if things don’t improve’ with me. Can you believe that?” You inhale, trying to quell the anger in you before it can bubble up again.

Yeji clicks her tongue, a cold clarity in her eyes as she adjusts her glasses. “So you believe Kim Namjoon is the instigator in all of this? He would try to dismiss you, even after you confided in him?”

“He’s their leader,” you say quietly, unable to conceal the hurt in your voice. “His loyalties are to them.”

Yeji doesn’t look at you with pity, but with sympathy. You’re grateful for the distinction. Pity makes you feel worthless, but sympathy makes you feel… heard. Understood. Not something you’re used to experiencing, but it’s still a nice feeling to have.

“Well,” Yeji checks her phone, standing up to leave. “It looks like we’re just about out of time. We’d best be getting downstairs.” 

You get up as well, tugging your clothes back into place. “So, you’ll help me change his mind?”

“I must remain impartial, in order to reach a satisfactory conclusion for both parties.” She gives you a look while organizing her papers and clipping them into her briefcase. “But I’ll do what I can to negotiate you out of this so-called vacation,” she says, her voice fueled with that same resolve that she’d shown you whenever she’d been fixated on getting you something that you requested.

“Yeji.” You hesitate, then walk over and take a hold of her arm. “Just please… don’t go easy on him.” You ask, giving her a meaningful look.

She pauses and looks at you for a moment, then finally lets out a sigh with a brief flutter of her eyes. Her job isn’t easy, but then again, neither is yours.

“Alright,” Her voice is reluctant, but resolute. She gives you a brief smile with a touch of fondness, and opens the door for you. “I’ll give him hell.”

-------

You wind and unwind the drawstring of your hoodie around your finger as Yeji organizes her paperwork. The tension in the air is palpable. Namjoon sits across from you both, now dressed for the day in business casual, a white t-shirt under a blazer and slacks. He must have an interview or a photoshoot today.

Your mind wanders briefly to what he usually does when he has a schedule, asks you for a quick blowjob before he leaves. You think of that warm smile he gives you after you swallow his cum, and the tenderness of his lips as he kisses your cheek before he heads out the door.

Lewd domesticity is how he phrased the kink during his interview.

“So, Mr. Kim Namjoon,” Yeji begins, snapping you out of your memories, her voice crisp in the otherwise silent room. She’s speaking in Korean again, to more clearly communicate with him. “You and my client are in a disagreement with regards to her services, is that correct?”

Namjoon frowns. “Not exactly. We just had a… simple misunderstanding this morning.”

Yeji gives him a thin smile. “Well, she called me here, which must mean that she feels the need for professional support concerning this issue,” she continues swiftly. “There are no laws governing Physical Companions, Mr. Kim, because they are not technically legal. A black market business. Therefore, I am the closest thing my client has to legal representation, and I wouldn’t call my lawyer about a ‘simple misunderstanding’, would you?”

Namjoon’s eyes flash with something almost like regret as he glances to you. His mouth opens and closes for a moment, then he briefly shakes his head, his gaze returning to Yeji. “No, I-I wouldn’t.”

“Right.” Yeji raps her collection of papers on the oak tabletop to align them, barely giving Namjoon a glance as she begins flicking through the stack. “Now, then. My client has told me that you wish to put her on suspension, is that correct?”

Namjoon winces. “I wouldn’t say that, uh, Ms. Choi,” he says, wringing his hands together. He looks nervous, his eyes flickering from you to Yeji, and back again. “Does our PhysCom need to be present for this meeting?” He asks her, flashing a smile that would be charming and amiable, if he didn’t look so tense.

Yeji meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

“I… um, alright.” He purses his lips with a nod.

It’s weird. In all the time you’ve known him, Namjoon has always been unfazed and collected when it comes to business. You’ve never seen him look so flustered before. Since he’s putting you in this position, it’s satisfying, in a twisted sort of way, to see him uncomfortable.

He clears his throat. “In any case, myself and my members just wanted to give her a break. Simply extend her vacation time.”

Yeji looks to you, her expression almost bored. “Do you want a vacation?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.” You throw a glare at Namjoon before returning your gaze to the houseplant on your left, inspecting each leaf as you try to stay calm. You know if you look for too long at him, you’ll start getting worked up again. Your anger and resentment is still there, bubbling just below the surface. You hope he knows how much he hurt you.

Yeji turns back to him, inclining her head, her tone that of explaining something simple to someone who should know better. “It is against her will, so it’s considered a suspension, Mr. Kim.” She slips her glasses on, reading over the fine print on the paperwork. “My client is given two days off each month, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Namjoon says. “One day off, every two weeks.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow. “Yet, you wish to suspend her for an entire week. That’s over three months worth of her regular vacation time. I must say, this appears to be much more than a simple extension, as you put it. I wonder why that would be?” She flips a page, skimming the words casually. “It says here that she’s received nothing but glowing reviews from all of you since she was hired six months ago.”

Namjoon shifts uncomfortably. You can tell that he’s trying to keep up his shields, but Yeji is a formidable foe with which to spar, able to find the smallest opening in an opponent’s armor and pierce through with the speed of a rapier.

“No particular reason.” Namjoon seems to settle on the answer after calculating his words.

“No reason?” Yeji’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “Mr. Kim,” She sets her papers on the table, looking at him expectantly. “I’m afraid I can’t allow this discussion to go any further unless you have a good reason for putting my client, your Primary PhysCom I might add, on suspension for an entire week.” She shakes her head with a mild shrug of indifference.

Namjoon tugs at the cuffs of his jacket. "Well, I think we can-"

Yeji interrupts him, her words slow and purposeful. “I think… it would reflect very poorly on you as a leader to make such drastic decisions,” Here, she gives a very brief smile that could be mistaken for politeness, if there was any warmth left in her eyes. “... for ‘no particular reason’. Don’t you agree, Mr. Kim?”

Damn. Hit him where it hurts, Yeji.

Namjoon’s mouth grows slack, his expression dumbfounded. You bite back a smile, eternally grateful for being assigned such a kickass handler. You make a note to request a bonus for her next paycheck.

But now Namjoon’s face has grown dark. His fingers are tented together, and he seems lost in a silent debate within his own mind. “I didn’t want to do this…” he mutters so quietly, you almost can’t make out the words.

He inhales sharply and sits up a little straighter, his composure regained. “Ms. Choi,” he begins. “I must admit, we do have some concerns about her performance.”

Your heart drops like a stone.

“Oh?” Yeji doesn’t look up at him, but starts scribbling on one of her papers. “What might those be?”

“We believe that she’s overworked, since, as you pointed out, she is our only Primary,” he explains in almost a monotone. “Her behavior has been emotional and unpredictable lately.”

At this, your gaze snaps to him, shocked. Why the fuck would he say that?

He looks down to the floor, as though ashamed, as he continues. “She’s kissed two of our members since yesterday, which is not on her list of services. She broke down crying last night during dinner. When we went to use another PhysCom, she had a meltdown. Started screaming at us.”

Your body feels numb and on fire all at once.

"We're concerned about her professionalism."

That motherfucker.

You leap to your feet, your body moving before you can think. Yeji pulls you back from physically assaulting him, but you strain against her grip like a wild animal. “You bastard!” You spit out the insult, hair falling in your face and venom in your voice, still huffing out ragged breaths as Yeji patiently calms you back into your seat.

Your hands clench so hard you dig marks into your palms. You’re shaking with unbridled rage at his betrayal. You didn't think it was possible to be so angry. Of all people, Namjoon knows exactly how dedicated you are to your work, even when you’re exhausted, how closely you stick to your professional boundaries, even when it hurts, how tirelessly you work to please all seven of them, even if it means being used over and over again without a moment to breathe. You’ve always given everything to your job.

Now he wants to turn around and say that you’ve been fucking slacking?

“You see what I mean,” Namjoon states calmly, though there’s something wavering in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the rest of his confident demeanor. He tries to meet your gaze, tries to get you to look at him, but you refuse, twisting your head away from him before you get yourself charged with murder on top of everything else.

Maybe it would be best for you to get fired. You’d rather live on the streets than be treated like this. Tears prick at your eyes but you blink them away. You refuse to cry in front of him. You won’t give him any more ammunition to use against you.

Yeji looks between you and Namjoon, her lips forming a thin line. “Kim Namjoon,” she addresses him, her voice cold. “Do you wish for my client to remain in this house?”

Namjoon seems surprised at the question, his eyebrows lifting. “Yes, of course.”

“Then, I think a recess is in order.” She stands up and brushes off some invisible lint from her skirt.

You stand up to join her, but she holds out a hand. “No. You two need to talk this out,” she says to you, then looks to Namjoon, staring him down. “I suggest you remember why we’re here, Mr. Kim.” After a moment of silence, she walks to the door. “I’ll be back in ten.”

With that, Yeji exits, and the two of you are left alone.

You cross your arms protectively around yourself, adamantly refusing to look at him. The silence stretches between you.

“Sweetheart-” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you seethe. Proprieties be damned, you’ve had enough. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, you fucking asshole. I have given everything for you and your members, okay? Don’t you fucking dare sit there and tell lies about me, to my face!” You shout, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You know if you keep talking your rage will melt into tears, and you cannot afford to cry in front of him. You simply won’t allow it.

“I know, I know,” Namjoon’s assurance overlaps the end of your sentence. He sighs. Waits a beat.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah! You’d better be.” You still don’t meet his eyes, the betrayal and confusion is just too much. On top of all that, you’ve never lashed out in anger at any of them like this. You still don’t regret shouting at him, but your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest in fear of repercussions. Did you make the situation worse? Is that even possible at this point?

“Look.” His voice is tentative, a little afraid. “I really am sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” You counter sharply.

“Because!” Now it’s his turn to shout, though he seems to regain himself much more quickly than you. “Because... I don’t know if that woman can be trusted,” he reiterates quietly, as if afraid she might hear him through the door.

Wait, what?

“Yeji?” You squint in utter disbelief. “Of course she can be trusted, what the fuck are you-”

“Not with this.” He sighs again, rakes a hand through his hair. “Listen, you have to trust me.”

You bark a laugh. “Trust you?”

He shakes his head, stopping your objections before you can list them. “This is serious. This is… bigger than either of us.”

His voice is the only thing that gives you pause. Just for a moment. He sounds… desperate. Scared.

You slowly look over to him, and his expression confirms your suspicions. Namjoon is fearful about something, his eyes wide with worry, his hair mussed from being tugged between his fingers. He looks completely different from before, and it has you reluctantly curious.

“What do you mean?” You let him keep talking, though you’re still taking his words with a grain of salt.

“I was… working on something. A better arrangement,” He begins, his eyes reaching out to you, then darting nervously around the room, as if he’s letting you in on his greatest secrets. “But I stumbled onto something bigger. I just… I need you to take some time off for right now, and I need you to trust me that it’s for the best.”

You level your gaze at him, silently weighing your options. He’s being awfully vague.

“What does my time off have to do with anything?” You ask, your suspicion coloring your tone.

“It’s necessary to test my theory properly. If I’m right, then...” He trails off, and you garner that his success would bring about something monumental.

You stare at him. You want to take his words as truth, but he completely undermined you in front of your handler. You can’t let him off the hook so easily. “How can I believe anything you say anymore? You just blew any trust I had in you.”

“I know,” he says, hanging his head. He chews on his lip, then takes a deep breath. “That’s why I’m willing to offer some… collateral.”

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws something small and shiny. “This.” He holds out the object to you, dangling from a short metal chain. “It’s the key to my studio.” His gaze bores into yours as you tentatively reach forward to take it. “The only key,” he adds gravely.

You examine the silver peace offering, and your eyes widen at the implications of such a gesture. His whole life is in that studio. All of his art, his collections, not to mention his computer. His music. His career.

It’s all sitting in the palm of your hand.

He reaches across the table and closes your hand around the key. “You can keep it until I’ve earned your trust again. Okay?” He gives you a brief, dimpled smile, as if to assure you, though sadness and worry still swim behind his eyes.

“Now, sweetheart. Please. I beg of you.” He takes your hand in both of his own, his worried eyes imploring you to trust him. “Please, will you take this vacation?”

[emospritelet]

Desperation - chapter 12

34: “Remember when we used to leave the house? Fun times”

Apparently I can only write fluff at the moment. Must be a reaction to the shitty timeline we’re in :/

[AO3]

x

As lockdown entered its second week, Belle found that she was settling into her new life quite comfortably. Bae had improved each day, and was restless and energetic. She had him helping her with baking and pulling weeds in the garden to burn off some of the excess energy. A call from Mary Margaret Nolan, Neal’s mother and Bae’s teacher, announced that lessons would be resuming over Zoom, and Belle cleared a space at the kitchen table for Bae to participate on his father's laptop.

“I’m hoping this works,” confessed Mary Margaret, having explained her idea for the format of the lessons. “Redesigning the lessons for remote delivery and trying to think of ways to keep them engaged has been driving me nuts.”

“If you need a break, I’d be happy to do a story hour with them,” offered Belle. “Maybe we could collaborate on something; a story hour on a book you want them to read, followed by some sort of art project based on that.”

Mary Margaret beamed.

“That’s a great idea!” she said. “We could continue once lockdown ends, too.”

“I’m trying to recall what life was like before lockdown,” said Belle, with a wry grin. “Remember when we used to leave the house? Fun times.”

“Yeah.” Mary Margaret chuckled. “I guess I’m better off than most. The farm still needs work, the animals still have to be fed. I feel for those going stir-crazy in their apartments.”

“That would have been me, if I hadn’t ended up staying here,” said Belle, and Mary Margaret looked curious.

“How did that happen?” she asked. “I was wondering.”

“Completely by chance,” admitted Belle. “Rum and I kind of had a spat over the last packet of paracetamol at the store, and somehow I ended up moving in.”

“Huh." Mary Margaret pursed her lips. “Not your average meet-cute, but these are unusual times.”

Belle gave her a level look.

“He was sick, and I wanted to help.”

“Oh, ignore me,” Mary Margaret assured her. “I’m a hopeless romantic, and Storybrooke needs more happy endings.”

“Hard to be romantic when you literally can’t touch one another.”

“Then you’ll have to be very inventive.”

“Speaking of inventive,” said Belle, feeling herself blush and wanting to change the subject. “Let’s talk more about working together. I was intending to set up some after-school clubs for different age groups at the library. Any input you and the other teachers could give would be great.”

“I’ll email the staff and ask them for their thoughts,” said Mary Margaret. “Sounds like the kind of integrated program we’ve been wanting to introduce in Storybrooke. If we can get the Mayor’s approval we should be able to get more funding.”

“Does the Mayor have kids?” asked Belle, and Mary Margaret gave her a knowing smile.

“She has a ten-year-old son. Something tells me this town will be very supportive of more activities for kids after trying to entertain their own for three weeks.”

x

The Zoom lessons started well, with only a few technological teething problems, which meant that Bae spent much of his days learning and chatting with his friends, leaving Belle free to do chores and read. The first story hour was due to take place that Friday, and Belle and Mary Margaret had already discussed ideas for complementary lesson-planning. It made Belle feel as though she was achieving something in her new position, despite not having set foot in the library in almost two weeks.

Gold, alas, was still in bed.

Belle had not tried to hide how much he was worrying her, with his rattling cough and the high fever that came and went. Already thin, he was now almost gaunt, and she and Bae tried their best to tempt him with homemade cookies and cakes, along with more substantial meals from the freezer. She told herself repeatedly that at least he didn’t seem to be getting any worse, and that his quietly stubborn nature would surely help him pull through. 

On Wednesday evening she took him some tea and found him sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

“Hey,” she said.

Her voice made him look up. His eyes and cheeks were hollow, his cheeks and chin covered with almost two weeks of stubble, but there was a determined glint in his eyes. She put her head to the side. 

“You okay?”

“I’m getting up,” he said decidedly, gesturing with a finger. “I’m getting my arse up, and I’m going down the bloody stairs.”

Belle hurried to set down the cup of tea on his nightstand.

“Let me help you.”

“No no, it’s fine, I can do it.” He waved her away. “I have to do it. Bloody sick of being a dead weight around this place.”

“You’re sick!”

“And I won’t get better if I let this fucking thing keep me horizontal,” he said shortly, and sighed, running his hands over his face. “Sorry. I’m not angry with you, just this virus.”

“Anger is good in this instance,” she said, and took a step back from him. “Okay, up you get.”

Gold nodded, reaching to the side for his cane and using it to push himself upright. His legs wobbled, and he leaned hard on the cane, but after a moment he seemed to relax a little, although his smile was more of a grimace.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m taking a shower, and I’ll see you and Bae downstairs in ten minutes.”

“In that case, I’ll take your tea down with me,” she said. “We can all sit around the table and eat some of the fruit loaf Bae and I made.”

Gold nodded, his knuckles tight around the cane handle.

“Sounds perfect.”

x

He made it downstairs, much to Bae’s delight, and sat quietly at the table while Bae drank his suppertime warm milk and told him all about the lessons he had done that day. Belle warmed some soup through on the stove, setting it in front of Gold with bread and butter from the supplies that had been delivered.

“That’s fantastic, Belle, thank you,” he said, picking up a spoon. “I think perhaps my appetite’s coming back.”

“There’s plenty more, if you need it,” she said. “And more bread.”

“The bread tastes weird, Papa,” said Bae, wrinkling his nose. “It’s the same one they have at the school cafeteria. Paige says it’s made of polystyrene and fluff from the inside of the teachers’ pockets.”

Belle chuckled.

“I have to admit that I’ve thought that myself,” she said. “It certainly doesn’t come close to any of the delicious bread I’ve eaten since I came to this house. But it was free, which counts for a lot.”

“Quite right,” said Gold, dipping a piece of the bread in his soup. “We have to appreciate the kindness of those that gave it, Bae. Whether or not you think it tastes good.”

“Okay.” Bae looked a little despondent. “I was just kidding.”

“I know that.” Gold put down his spoon and pulled Bae close for a hug. “You’re a good lad. And a thoughtful one.”

“Belle and I didn’t make bread, though,” said Bae. “Maybe we should have, and then we could use this for something else.”

“We were concentrating on making your dad some treats, right?” said Belle, stroking his hair. “Making him feel better was very important work.”

“And something you both did excellently,” said Gold, turning back to his soup. “See? I’m already up and eating dinner again.” 

Bae grinned, flopping back into his seat, and Gold blew on his soup to cool it.

“Go on, then,” he said. “Tell me more of what you learned about birds today.”

x

Something woke Belle.

She yawned, snuggling in her blankets on the couch, her body warm and comfortable. Something had disturbed her sleep: a soft, distant thumping noise that she couldn’t place. Her eyes fluttered and opened, and the noise came again. Glancing at her watch, Belle groaned to herself and sat up, swinging her legs out of the blankets and getting up to head for the kitchen. She could hear the low sound of Gold humming, and assumed it was he that was making the noise. If he was already up and about at just after six in the morning, perhaps he was feeling better.

Her sock-clad feet made no sound as she padded across the floor, and she entered the kitchen silently, hands curling around the door frame. Gold was standing at the counter in T-shirt and jeans with his cane leaning beside him and a dish towel tucked into his belt, his forearms covered in flour. He was kneading dough, one hand grasping, folding and turning before pushing down with the heels of his hands. Two bowls sat on the table with towels draped over them, with a third standing empty at his side. He hummed as he worked, the rhythmic slap and thump of his hands against the dough in time with the beat, and Belle smiled a little as she watched him.

“Couldn’t face the polystyrene and pocket lint bread again, huh?” she asked, and Gold started, turning to face her with the dough ball in his hands.

“Ah,” he said, looking down. “Well. You both said you liked my bread better, so I thought it was probably time to make some.”

“You didn’t have to get up at six in the morning to make it,” she said, and he shrugged, turning back to his kneading.

“That was always my usual habit, before I came down with the virus,” he said. “I usually set the loaves aside for first rise, then do the rest of my chores. I bet the garden’s just choked with weeds.”

“I hope not, Bae and I have been working on it,” she said, coming into the kitchen properly. “Tea?”

“I’ll make it. You’ve done more than enough this past ten days.”

“Don’t burn yourself out,” she warned, crossing to the sink to fill the kettle. “I can make the tea. The last thing we need is you falling over again. Take it slow.”

Gold gave her a slanting grin, and bowed his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gave the dough a final press, then worked it into a ball with swift passes of his hands and dropped it in the empty bowl. Going to the sink to wash his hands, he flourished the dish towel to dry them off, and draped it over the bowl before wiping down the work surface.

“Wholemeal, mixed seed, oat and honey, and black olive,” he explained, as Belle looked questioningly at the bowls. “We’ll eat some and freeze the rest. Just in case.”

“You’re very well prepared.”

“I try to be.”

He grasped his cane, almost falling into one of the kitchen chairs with a sigh, and Belle shook her head.

“You’re still not well,” she said, and he opened his eyes, a tired smile back on his face.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re stubborn, is what you are,” she said severely.

“One of my few redeeming qualities.”

“Stubborn and self-effacing,” she remarked. “It’s almost adorable.”

Gold’s smile grew.

“‘Almost’?”

Belle put her hands on her hips, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. For an awkward moment she found herself recalling what he looked like with a small towel around his waist, and told herself to concentrate.

“I very much doubt the virus cares how adorable it is,” she said loftily. “If it knocks you on your ass again and you end up spending another week in bed, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was grinning now.

“A good thing I have such a competent housemate,” he said. “I’ll miss you when this is over, Belle. Bae and I will miss you, I mean. Both of us.”

She was definitely blushing now, and that image would not leave her mind, but she couldn’t help grinning back.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll miss you guys too.”